Making Research Fun and Relatable 🌟
*Pictured alongside the brilliant Thiago Scarelli
Hello dear visitors!
Here, I just would like to share some fun connections between various art forms, personal tales, sports, games, or whatever with my own research.
Enjoy exploring!
The Unexpected Virtue of Doubting
Some time ago, a colleague and friend shared a thought with me: the privilege we have from academia is that we are not bound by the pressure of the immediate. We have time. Time to sit with events and offer a better interpretation of them. In a world where every political and economic development is expected to be met with instant commentary, that time is not a luxury, it is a working condition. And one worth defending.
Information oversaturation is one of the defining conditions of how we understand the world today. Economic and political phenomena are no exception. The political and economic situation still matters, of course, but the way we process it now is dictated by the rhythm of the digital flow, placed on the same plane as entertainment, advertising, celebrity gossip, sporting events, and memes. They share format, speed, logic of exposure, and even the way we take them in. The digital present pushes every political and economic event towards an immediate response. So it should come as no surprise that interpretation gets trapped in quick reactions, superficial readings, and the need to take a position on any given topic right away. This reshapes the way we form our opinions, and relate to them.
At its core, forming an opinion takes effort. It requires a stretch of time between a fact and our reaction to it, a while spent reading, talking, doubting, digesting. That space doesn't guarantee clarity, but it does allow for a kind of elaboration that brings us a little closer to understanding.
The problem is that opinion now operates under a logic of immediacy. The value of what is said often has more to do with how fast it is said than with the work behind it. And that logic spans nearly every discussion on social media -- from whether the milk goes in before or after the tea, to the impact of policies adopted by a government. The problem isn't debating when the milk goes in. The problem is debating the implications of government measures with the same rigour we bring to the milk.
Seen this way, opinion becomes inseparable from the management of time. We are far less demanding about what is said than about when it is said. To arrive late is to lose centrality, visibility, presence. That pressure shrinks the space to think and pushes us to weigh in before we've properly understood what happened.
The complexity of political or economic events rarely lends itself to rapid comprehension. Events carry historical layers, conflicts of interest, collective emotions, internal contradictions. To make sense of them, you need context, contrast, distance, even a certain patience to let things settle.
When analysis is produced under permanent urgency, the pull is always towards responses built on first impressions, prior experience, and the ideological biases we all carry. This doesn't mean we think less. It means we think inside an environment that constantly interrupts us. Forming an opinion today demands a kind of agility that privileges speed, making it harder to build slower positions, ones that consider other viewpoints, or that leave room for doubt.
Doubt takes time, and time is scarce. Doubt introduces a pause into a conversation that moves far faster than we can follow. It leaves us exposed, makes us seem lukewarm, confused, uninformed, uncommitted. When opinion organises itself around instant reactions, there is more intervention and more positioning, but less tolerance for the long timescales of understanding. To recover elaboration doesn't mean withdrawing from the conversation. It means restoring a working time between action and reaction, a time where opinion can regain some of its density and its right not to be stamped out at the speed of a reflex.
To recover that density means making room for spaces where words can take their time. Where thought can organise itself without the pressure of surfacing immediately. Where action doesn't depend entirely on being seen. A space, in academia, from within universities, that promotes well-informed opinion. That intervenes less, but sustains more.
Perhaps what's at stake, in the capacity to pause before responding, to think without publishing, to build something that outlasts an attention cycle, is the possibility that academia can be more than a string of urgent answers to whatever the moment throws at us. A space capable of setting its own rhythms. Of building ways of living that don't burn out at the same speed at which we tear each other apart online.
When Prejudice Blinds Us: A Look at "12 Angry Men" and Modern Bias (Watch out! Spoilers ahead)
Diving deep into my research, I often find myself drawing parallels with some iconic films that dissect the human psyche. One such cinematic masterpiece is "12 Angry Men," which beautifully lays out how prejudices can skew our views. So, let's explore this classic together.
"12 Angry Men" is a 1957 American film directed by Sidney Lumet. The plot? Twelve jurors must decide the fate of a teenager charged with murder. While the majority are quick to pronounce him guilty, Juror #8, portrayed by the legendary Henry Fonda, isn't convinced.
Through the course of the film, our doubting Juror #8 peels back the layers of the case, highlighting inconsistencies in testimonies and questioning evidence. The movie, in essence, is a journey from quick judgment (blurred by bias) to a more deliberate, unbiased deliberation.
One key takeaway? This profound statement by Juror #8:
“It's always difficult to keep personal prejudice out of a thing like this. Wherever you run into it, prejudice always obscures the truth.”
Much like in the film, our choices, swayed by our biases, can have grave implications, not just for us, but for others as well.
For instance, take the debate on progressive taxation schemes, where higher earners pay more taxes. Despite its economic reasoning, such policies often lack political support. Why? Julia Cagé (2018) posits that the uber-rich, being major political donors, play a significant role in policy-making. The underlying popular notion is that the affluent are wealthy because they've earned it, perhaps by working harder.
In recent research, Emmanuel Chavez and I examined the income sources of the wealthiest in France. Turns out, a whopping 65% of earnings of the richest top 1 percent stem from capital gains, not hard labor. In stark contrast, about 90% of the income for the bottom 90% is earned through hard work. The question then arises: when presented with this information, do people still think the richest groups truly deserve what they get? And more importantly, in the light of such evidence should redistributive policies gain more popular support?
Interestingly, when we align our research findings with the cinematic narrative of "12 Angry Men", we notice a striking resemblance. Our study showcased that while on average voters became skeptical of the wealthy and more supportive of pro-redistributive policies after being informed about the income sources of the richest groups, those with right-wing inclinations or libertarian and utilitarian views seemed to remain unaffected. This observation seamlessly ties back to the sage wisdom imparted by Juror #8 in the film. Remember his insightful line?
“It's always difficult to keep personal prejudice out of a thing like this...”
This sentiment serves as a sharp nudge, provoking us to look within. It compels us to question: How much are our perspectives shaped by our background, faith, financial standing, our parents, or political beliefs?
"12 Angry Men" invites us to reflect, challenge our biases, and strive for impartiality in our decisions. After all, recognizing our prejudices is the first step to objective, clear thinking.
While I'm still figuring out the best way to set up a comment section here, feel free to drop your thoughts and comments in my email:
oscar.barrerarodriguez@ucd.ie