C
Confirmation Bias - Cooperation
Confirmation bias
Confirmation bias is our way of collecting evidence for the story we already believe and quietly ignoring what doesn’t fit.
If I’ve decided I’m unlovable, every rejection supports my point of view, and I downplay every sign of care that doesn’t fit my story. If I’ve decided a group is dangerous, lazy, or stupid, I’ll notice examples that support my story and scroll past anything that doesn’t.
Confirmation bias is how our brains save energy. My brain made me do it is not an excuse for harmful behavior.
We like being right. So we filter new experiences through old conclusions. Online algorithms are more than happy to help, feeding us stories that prove us right and others wrong.
We’re responsible for noticing our own bias, but we’re also swimming in systems that profit from keeping us convinced we’re right.
The trouble comes when confirmation bias keeps us stuck in painful loops:
“I always screw things up.”
“People like that can’t be trusted.”
“Nothing ever changes.”
Those loops shape who we listen to, who we avoid, who we dehumanize, and who we never give a second chance.
So we start by questioning ourselves most when we’re certain about something or someone. It’s harder on us to do that, but sometimes our lives, and the lives of others, depend on us not believing everything we’re told.
See: stories, data, doubt, shame, stereotypes, curiosity, equity.
Conflict
Let’s get personal for a moment. I can be condescending, rude, defensive. I can come across as uncaring. I can raise my voice and get animated. And that’s just when I’m in conflict with the people I love.
It’s uncomfortable writing those sentences, knowing that good communication and good conflict will rarely utilize these cultivated skills. That doesn’t even include the times when I shut down or disappear during conflict.
It’s also too easy to say, “Well, I care, therefore these things are excusable.”
I can argue. I can debate. I can go toe-to-toe with most people around a lot of subjects. I can give them their space and respond thoughtfully, humorously, and kindly. I’ll even invite these situations into classrooms and conversations.
However, the more personal it gets, the more conflicted I become. The more I feel the need to defend me while defending a position. I’m guessing I’m not alone here.
That’s where conflict goes awry for a lot of us. We conflate the defense of ourselves with the defense of a position or an idea. Our ideas or beliefs are so sacrosanct that we’re unwilling or unable to bend.
That has less to do with us being right, and more to do with us being scared. Scared of losing face in front of someone. Scared of being wrong after holding a belief for so long. Scared of our identities crumbling in the face of appropriate critique.
In safer relationships, that fear mostly looks like being dismissed or losing connection. In unsafe ones, it can be fear of real harm. Either way, it can train us to stay quiet instead of finding healthy ways to name differences.
I’m lucky that the people around me generally don’t confuse my ideas with me. I know not everyone has that kind of space. It helps me to be willing to change when I’m wrong, which is more often than I’d like to admit.
See: communication, boundaries, anger, repair, courage, community, power.
Conformity
Sometimes we need to conform to know how to be different.
We need moments where we don’t stand out. Moments when we choose to shrink.
That’s the operative word here, choice. Conformity can keep us safe or make us feel like we’re a part of something bigger. It can also push us to become someone we’re uncomfortable being.
When we conform, we edit our identities to be more acceptable to a wider group of people. It’s an act of lowering, rather than letting your freak flag fly.
Do it enough, and we forget we even have a freak flag (and everyone has one).
Let’s be honest, for some of us conforming wasn’t a choice; it was survival. As adults, when we have more room, we get to play with when we blend in and when we don’t.
So, be intentional about conforming if you can. Hide when you need to, but not so long that you forget who you are and what matters to you.
If the people around you keep asking you to pay for your entry into their group with bits and pieces of your identity, then it might be worth it to wonder if these really are your people.
See: belonging, complexity, courage, boundaries, shame, community, authenticity.
Connection
Connection is like a long, satisfying exhale when we realize we’ve been holding our breath.
It’s found in the moments when we realize we’re not lonely anymore.
Connections happen in big, obvious ways: lifelong friendships, deep partnerships, families that hold. They also happen in tiny moments: shared laughter with a stranger, a barista remembering your name, a neighbor checking in after a storm.
When we feel a connection or make a reconnection, our bodies respond. We relax into it. We are wired for connection, which is both beautiful and risky.
When we’ve been hurt, it can feel safer to numb that need, to go it alone. Most of what makes life feel meaningful has some form of “with” in it, even if that’s just one person or one small circle where we feel known.
Like breathing, our longing for connection is automatic. Building it can be awkward, slow, and worth every moment.
See: attachment, community, disconnection, belonging, intimacy, loneliness.
Constructive
Build something new. That’s it. That’s what it means to be constructive.
Construct confidence. Put together IKEA furniture. Build relationships. Make progress on that Lego set. Practice communicating better.
It doesn’t have to be hard, labor-intensive, or overly life altering.
Just. Build. Something. New.
See: creativity, courage, curiosity, experiment, communication, collaboration.
Control
Control is what we reach for when the world feels like it’s too much.
If I can just plan enough, predict enough, hold on tight enough, maybe nothing terrible will happen.
Often, our desire to control is a hunt for certainty and a search for safety. We think if we can control something, then we can predict an outcome, which means less anxiety, less fear, less chance of being blindsided again.
Sometimes that’s noble. Often it’s misguided. And it can do real harm when it goes unchecked.
The trouble with control is that it keeps demanding certainty from a world that doesn’t make those kinds of promises. It tilts us toward power over instead of power with. Friends, partners, kids, coworkers, even our own bodies. When we clamp down seeking to control, we stop relating and start possessing.
And that’s just at the personal level. Control is also a social strategy.
Some of us move through systems, cultures, and politics built to keep us comfortable and in charge. Others move through those same systems being managed, policed, or “kept in line.” Many of us play both roles: controlled in one arena, controlling in another.
By itself, control isn’t bad. We need some control to steer a car, keep a boundary, say no, regulate our nervous systems. For some of us, tightening our grip was how we survived for a long time.
It just doesn’t work as well once we’re trying to build relationships rather than avoid harm. When control becomes our main strategy for feeling safe or important, life narrows. We stop relating with people and start arranging them.
In my experience, acting as if we have influence rather than control offers a different way forward. Influence is a little more honest. It knows we can shape, invite, resist, and disrupt. It believes that being brave and having courage means showing up when the outcome isn’t guaranteed.
That’s one of the hardest lessons in life, I think: there are no promises, no guarantees, just this single moment. And, how we choose to show up for it.
See: power, anxiety, boundaries, safety, agency, systems, trust.
Cooperation
Work together, move in the same direction, reach a goal. There, you’ve cooperated.
It might mean taking turns, cleaning up together, slowing down or speeding up our pace, or just following the rules.
It doesn’t erase differences or voices. They just aren’t the primary focus. The goal is.
Get the kids to school; clean the house; finish the project; set up the event; cooperation shows up when there are things we have to do together that don’t require a lot of back and forth.
That’s also why we have to be careful with it. Cooperation can be misused to stifle voices so that “we can all just get along.” This is often true when those with more power want to sidestep those with less.
Cooperation is enough for some things. Not everything needs a committee and a brainstorm.
Cooperation can grow into collaboration when we hear all the voices in the room and are more open to creative solutions and a longer process of deliberation.
Like walking, then running. We first learn to cooperate, then collaborate. If we do both of them well enough, then we might develop an ethos of cocreation.
See: collaboration, equity, power, community, cocreate, care.