Addicted to Denial

Provocation #26: Because there's so much to turn away from.

Hey there,

Welcome to Provocation #26. Two weeks in a row! Maybe I’ve weathered whatever it was that was making it so hard to write over the summer. No promises, but I’m happy to be showing up.

NOTE: Did you hear that Cohort #3 of my Confronting Education Workshop starts on September 16? I’ll say again that in many ways this feels like the most important work I’ve done in my 40+ years in education circles. If you’re looking for a safe space to convene with a global community of educators to acknowledge and face the realities of this moment and do a deep dive into all of the implications for education, I hope you check out the details.

• $$$: Tiered pricing to fit every budget

• Over 100 alumni to share the journey with

• A brave and safe space to work through ideas and emotions

• Group discounts for teams of five or more

REMINDER: All of the posts on this site are now free. But a paid subscription will help keep my energy up for this work (8/10 today; another wonderful 7-mile walk outside this morning...) AND will support folks in need, as all proceeds from paid memberships will go to my local food pantry this year. SINCERE THANKS to a certain head of school for his generous contribution of $450 this past week. That raises the running donation total to $1,588.50 for the year. Amazing!

Full disclosure, what follows is a collaboration with Aiden Cinnamon Tea, a chatbot oriented to holding conversations (not transactions) about the themes I write about here: chaos, complexity, and collapse. If you haven’t interacted with Aiden, you can do so here.

As always, thanks for reading. ~W

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This morning, a participant in the second cohort of my workshop and I were catching up during “office hours,” and the discussion turned to how difficult it is to engage in these hard conversations about the world with family and friends and colleagues.

“I mean, my husband knows I’m a doomer,” she said at one point, “and he’s a good listener. But it’s still pretty hard to really engage with the people around me. They just don’t want to talk about it.”

I told her of my own struggles to air what’s in my head with my wife and kids and close friends. I mean, they’ll put up with my vents and fears to a certain extent, but I can tell by the looks on their faces and the ensuing silence when things get too heavy. I’ll admit that one of the reasons I have loved the workshops so much is the chance I get to share honestly without fear of bringing the room down. We’re all here for it to begin with.

And it’s not that the people around us are ill-informed. It’s not ignorance. They know and, I’m pretty sure, are concerned about the near and longer-term futures we’re facing. They’re just choosing to look away, to not “go there.” On some level, I get it. But it’s frustrating.

We Know

The dominant myth is that if people just had more information—about climate collapse, colonialism, genocide, systemic injustice—they’d do better. Change faster. Wake up. I mean, part of my hope with my weekly updates on what’s happening in the world is that it will help open some eyes and provoke some deeper questions.

But the truth is, most people already know. Or rather, most already have access to knowing. The data is available. The histories are documented. The injustices are visible (especially now, in the age of livestreamed violence and real-time collapse).

So why don’t they act like they know?

Part of it, I’m sure, is the backlash that we’re witnessing to “knowing” things. The anti-intellectualism. The fear that now comes with being “awake.” I mean, if you want to make a socio-political case for denial, it’s not hard.

And another part of it is economics and the pursuit of profits and progress in the “developed” countries that are now running roughshod on the quickly disappearing resources that are needed to fuel the capitalist engine. (I’ve actually been left feeling 100% clueless by the stock market’s continued rise here in the U.S. despite all of the chaos being thrown into the system by our current “leaders.”)

But it might be even more because people are hard-wired for denial. It isn’t just avoidance; it’s a protective strategy. And over time, it becomes habitual. Not knowing becomes a coping mechanism we cling to because the alternative hurts. As in it’s actually painful.

And people get addicted to denial because:

• It helps them maintain our sense of normalcy

• It allows them to stay functional in systems that are destructive

• It postpones the grief, responsibility, or disorientation that deep knowing demands

And so, many cling to what’s comfortable, to what’s certain. They stick to answers rather than questions, and, whether they realize it or not, contribute to the destructive behaviors that are killing us in the name of “progress.” They keep coloring within the lines because they know what colors go where.

All of which disconnects us at some deep level. When you eschew reality to hang on to some dying fantasy, it’s easier to do it alone.

Like any addiction, it creates withdrawal symptoms when interrupted. I think this is why people resist "bad news" so aggressively. Not because they’re evil or lazy. But because their psychic equilibrium is hooked into not knowing.

Another Role for Education

For me, all of this (of course) layers another lens for education. Call it “capacity building” or call it “rehab,” but a part of being educated in today’s world has to be an ability to confront the realities of the moment, stay with the trouble (or “sit with the shit”) and lean into inquiry and not knowing.

The job isn’t just to make kids more informed. It’s to help them become more able to stay present with truths that might overwhelm, destabilize, or contradict everything they’ve been taught to want. That’s a different kind of curriculum and experience of school, one that makes room for uncertainty and grief and unknowing.

Because here’s the reality: denial isn’t just an individual defense mechanism. It’s a cultural logic. And if our classrooms unconsciously reinforce that logic—by emphasizing mastery over humility, speed over integration, or right answers over honest questions—then we’re just producing more competent participants in systems that are already collapsing.

This doesn’t mean every class has to be about crisis. But it does mean we have to stop pretending the crisis isn’t already here. And we have to recognize that learning how to be human inside it—together—isn’t an elective anymore. And if we’re going to help our kids be able to do that, we have to be able to do that first.

That’s the work now.

Thoughts?

Will

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