Many years ago, on leaving university, I was asked to go to a windowless office in the Mall to see if I might be interested in becoming an agent of the British secret service. Over a series of interviews, it became clear that I was not cut out to be George Smiley, let alone James Bond. A single bit of wisdom that I picked up in that process has never left me, though. At one point, the interviewer set out the hypothetical details of a complex conflict in a distant corner of the world in which I was theoretically stationed.
What steps would I take to advise the desk in London of how to respond to this crisis? I set out a few embarrassing platitudes about gathering information from all sides, before coming to a firm opinion and a clear course of action. When I’d finished, my interviewer leaned back in his chair.
“There is a crucial question you haven’t asked yourself,” he said.
“There is?”
“Why do we need to have a strong, settled opinion about this conflict at all?”
In the years since, as strong, settled opinions about everything from homeschooling to hijabs have apparently become essential markers of personal identity, I’ve often been reminded of that put-down. It came to mind watching Oprah’s interview with Meghan and Harry and the inevitable, fevered which-side-are-you-on? arguments that followed. “Do I need to have a strong, settled opinion about this?” a voice in my head asked. On balance, I guessed, “probably not”.
Eel or rock?
