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Watercolor drawing
“He always has to be right ... always,” Lisa lamented about her husband, Jack.
“Give me an example,” I requested.
“For weeks he said my car needed a wheel alignment, even though it seemed fine to me. He kept hounding me, so I took it to the shop and, sure enough, it was fine,” she explained.
“And how did he react to being wrong?” I asked.
“Ha! Jack never thinks he’s wrong. He said the mechanic was an idiot, and he insisted I take the car somewhere else, which I did. Same result. The alignment was just fine, and, again, Jack said they were wrong,” she replied.
In some people, the need to always be correct can reach an intense level. This unwillingness to acknowledge even minor errors in judgment or performance can create significant disruptions in their relationships, not to mention serious miscues in decision-making and behavior. In Jack’s case, he earned a reputation among colleagues and friends for being a “know it all.” The result? Many excluded him from important discussions, knowing he would shut down valuable give-and-take in favor of his own (to him) impeccably sound opinion.
“To err is human,” we often say, but some of us claim to be exceptions. Usually, the only ones these folks fool in this regard are themselves or perhaps a few naïve personal groupies, but that doesn’t discourage them from maintaining their infallibility. Of course, most of us have moments when we insist we are correct about something, all evidence to the contrary. This sort of defensiveness is common and, provided it is occasional, no big deal. But people like Jack are a different mental pedigree altogether. What drives these folks to such fanatical insistence on their flawless judgment? In most cases, both a fragile ego (think emotionally insecure) and a form of existential angst based on the fear of life’s randomness and unpredictability.
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Personal Reality
Existential angst? Well, being right is essentially an endorsement of one’s personal version of reality. It inflates the ego (“I’m smart and competent”) while also supporting the false impression that one is the master of one’s destiny (“I’m in charge”). This myth of personal infallibility and mastery supports the delusion that one is in control, so it is a cognitive mechanism for imposing order on the ambiguities, uncertainties and paradoxes of life. For such folks, admitting “I don’t know” or “I was wrong” would both damage their self-worth and, by facing their vulnerability, stoke a deep-seated fear of losing interpersonal dominance and personal power.
How do we deal with such people? That’s a tall interpersonal order. Offering feedback about how they come across usually elicits a “You’re wrong, I’m right” response. Asserting an opposing opinion or presenting overwhelming evidence that contradicts that person’s entrenched view commonly just evokes more defensiveness and even anger (which masks fear). As Jack asserted after two mechanics proved him wrong, “I know I’m right and there’s nothing anyone can do to convince me otherwise.” That sort of closed-minded, mental brick wall is not easy to penetrate.
Often, the best one can do is practice what Gandhi called “firmness in truth.” Essentially, this means stating your view in a succinct, dispassionate manner without being defensive or attempting to denigrate the other person. Don’t bother engaging someone like Jack in a debate, which will prove both futile and exasperating. In contrast, Lisa’s approach was to tell her husband, “Believe what you like, but I trust the mechanics.” When he attempted to argue, she simply shut down the conversation with, “I’m done discussing this.” Obviously, practicing firmness in truth does not soften a know-it-all’s unshakeable viewpoint, but it does tend to shut down an adversarial exchange that will go nowhere fast.
A sometimes-closed mind is one thing, but one that is locked in a mental vault is another entirely. When attempting to breach this psychological barrier, one is attacking the individual’s fundamental defense mechanism, their mental device for maintaining their self-image and fending off existential angst.
Don’t expect them to lower their shields readily.
For more, visit philipchard.com.
