Lately I’ve been thinking about how many of our disagreements and insurmountable differences with other people boil down to differing perceptions of risk.
Whether you keep your house relatively clean or somewhere on the Grey Gardens spectrum depends on how risky you think it is to let dirt and filth accumulate.
Whether you think major cities are fine places to live or so dangerous you wouldn’t set foot in them “even with armed guards” (something a family member actually said to me about NYC) depends on how large you think the risks are (and on your news sources).
Whether you pursue weight loss or eschew diet culture depends on how you assess the dangers of disordered eating and body shame compared to the much-touted links between higher weight and poor health outcomes—and whether you believe that those correlations amount to causation, aka true risk, or whether they could be explained by other factors.
Whether you see alternative medicine as sketchy or worth a shot, take supplements by the fistful or use them as little as possible, think vaccines are important public-health measures or literal poison or something in between—all differences in perception of risk.
Of course, perceptions of risk are also perceptions of reality: there are real risks associated with every activity, and we might correctly assess them or not. The truth is that many alternative-medicine approaches are dangerous, supplements are barely regulated and carry risks because of that, and vaccines are overwhelmingly safe and effective.
Yet perceptions of both risk and overall reality are shaped by our information ecosystem. Depending on the ideological stance of your media and social-media sources, you might be fed amped-up assessments of risk related to vaccines, crime, the healthcare system, mainstream media, and more. And media outlets across the political spectrum have an incentive to sensationalize certain reports of risk, like those claiming that a certain diet could shave years off your life or cure disease.
Risk perceptions are also driven largely by emotions, and for that reason they can be incredibly resistant to change. Years ago, my view of gluten as impossibly dangerous was disconnected from the reality that gluten poses a minimal risk to me, as someone without celiac disease—and yet no one could convince me of that. Multiple medical tests, friends and family pushing back on my self-imposed dietary restrictions, my own body’s lack of clear response to a gluten-free diet: none of these things by themselves could change my perception of risk.
Looking back, I think many of those things did help plant seeds of doubt, which eventually grew into an awareness that my problem was something other than gluten—in my case, it was disordered eating that triggered many of my digestive issues and other health problems. No single argument or piece of data changed my mind, but the good ones did help make change possible.
If you’re spending time with family over the holidays, it’s worth keeping all this in mind when any issues arise. You might try viewing your disagreements as differences in perceptions of risk, and see if that helps you shift into a more empathetic stance. They’re trying to keep themselves and their loved ones safe, just like you, even if they have different ideas about how to do it. Of course you don’t have to agree with their perceptions, but you can treat them with compassionate skepticism rather than outright opposition.
Here are a few posts from our archives that explore how to do that in more detail:
As I mentioned above, this is the last newsletter of the year for free subscribers. Paid subscribers will get one more email on Christmas Day, as well as a special Q&A below about weight and wellness.
You can ask your own question here for a chance to have it answered in an upcoming edition—and if I answer yours and you’re not already a paid subscriber, I’ll comp you a 30-day subscription so you have a chance to read it.
I’m a higher-weight person with several chronic health problems/symptoms (digestive issues, joint pain, fatigue, brain fog), and many health professionals have told me over the years that my symptoms would improve if I just lost weight. I’ve heard this from conventional, integrative, functional, alternative, etc. providers. Of course I’ve tried losing weight, but it never sticks and I usually end up bingeing, and I’ve gotten heavier and heavier over the years. Now my doctor is urging me to take Ozempic/Wegovy, but I’m wondering your take on whether there’s another way to deal with my symptoms. Is weight loss really the only way for me to be well?
