The hedonism of certainty

I was watching a very short reel on Instagram the other day. I don't remember exactly what it was about, but it was presenting an opinion, accompanied by some vague references to data or research to validate this person's point of view.

It happened to be an opinion I already agreed with. So, when the video ended, I noticed in myself a sense of satisfaction, a quiet pleasure. And I thought, "A-ha! Gotcha!" I had caught myself in a moment of joy, purely stemming from confirmation bias. A simple process of my stupid little brain going:

"I believe x about the world. I am now presented with data supporting x. Oh yes, so nice. I was right. I am safe. I have understood the world. I know how its cogs turn. I am safe."

I like to think of myself as a critical thinker. A skeptic. An inquiring mind. I take pride in the idea that I hold my beliefs lightly. That I don’t associate my personal value with my beliefs and can therefore shift my opinions when presented with new data.

But it seems I, too, am a human being, drenched in insecurity, burdened with the fear of this chaotic, unpredictable, uncontrollable world. And I, too, have moments where I take pleasure in a false sense of certainty and in the idea of control, of clarity, of having peered through the glass to see the hidden levers at work.

And it was in that exact moment, where I felt that pleasure, that I understood. It’s precisely when I detect that feeling that I need to be as vigilant as ever. That’s where we fall victim to our own biases and insecurities. That’s the moment to challenge our beliefs, to feel exposed, to embrace the fear of uncertainty.

It's not a coincidence that all conspiracy theories, half-truths, and pseudo-intellectual mambo jumbo play precisely on that human need for certainty. They present themselves not as possibilities or perspectives, but as absolute truths. They package themselves as airtight narratives, neatly tied together with pseudo-evidence and emotional appeal. They offer certainty beyond doubt, a place where everything makes sense, where no gaps remain, and no questions linger. They give you both the questions and the answers, pre-framed within their worldview. And by doing that, they don’t just feed you information, they erode your curiosity. They disarm your capacity to ask new or different questions, to explore beyond the frame they've set. It's not just misleading, it’s paralyzing.

After watching the reel, I looked up the papers mentioned and read more about the topic. As it often happens with complex matters, things weren’t as simple as the person in the reel made them seem. I had to shift my point of view. I had to accept that it’s one of those cases where nuance matters. And that, based on the data I could find, I couldn’t comfortably land on either side. I had to sit in that very uncomfortable middle ground.

It’s an awkward place. I imagine it as a chair that looks normal but whose seat is ever so slightly rotated, just enough to make sitting on it feel wrong. Or a ledge with a few sharp spikes that never quite let you settle. Not painful. Just uneasy.

But the more often you choose to sit there, the more you recognize that so much of life exists in that in-between space.
And still, it doesn’t get easier. You thought I’d say it becomes second nature, but no.
It remains unsettling, if not terrifying, at times.

But you do learn to live with it.
And more importantly, you learn to look for security elsewhere: in a flexible belief system, a resilient mind, a healthy lifestyle, in deep and meaningful relationships.

But opinions?
Those mofos won’t make you feel safe.
You better let that idea go.