AM I, ARE YOU, A PEACH OR A COCONUT…?
0400 by Jeff HessWe all want to grossly oversimplify and bifurcate our world into dichotomies, into black and white. There are, of course two kinds of people, those who embrace the aforementioned and those, wiser, people who think that is pure rubbish. Like determining if a person is a peach or a coconut.
Oliver Burkeman, writing in Are you wasting your warmth? for The Guardian, explains:
Peach people are soft on the outside, immediately friendly and familiar, but if you mistake that for real intimacy, you’ll soon hit the hard stone that protects their inner being. Coconuts have tougher exteriors, but get past that and they’re sweet inside. Americans, according to stereotype, are peaches; the French, like the Russians and Germans, are coconuts. Meyer’s faux pas was a case of the two messily colliding.
Like any attempt to split humanity neatly into two, the peach/coconut divide is absurdly oversimplified. But it’s also useful.
While Burkeman wrote this piece more than two years ago, I find relevance in our current political nightmare. Are Democrats Peaches? Are Republicans Coconuts? Does the dichotomy go the other way? What about those of us who supported Bernie? Is this just silly?
We live in a hyperconnected world; even if we’re annoyed by Those Other People, why also feel insulted, instead of just chalking it up to different customs? Why, in 2014, can an American still genuinely offend a Brit by not buying a round, or a Brit a South Korean by handling his business card too casually (I speak from experience)? Partly, Trompenaars shows, it’s because each side’s value system is logical, yet seems to render the other’s downright crazy. In one survey, he asked people if they’d lie for a friend whose driving got him in trouble with the police. Most Swiss wouldn’t dream of it: how can society survive if you can’t trust people to tell the authorities the truth? Venezuelans disagree: how can society survive if you can’t trust people to stay loyal to their friends? “Both logics are logical,” Trompenaars says, which is one reason multinational firms that try to impose woolly corporate values on their worker— “integrity”, say—are surprised to discover it doesn’t work.
That Republicans are idiots (if your a Democrat) and Democrats are evil (if your a Republican) (and that both Democrats and Republicans are mindless sheep if you’re third-party kind of person) does feel logical from your point of view, but is that logic helpful or simply easy?
I once got into a discussion with a friend over the non-mathematical use of the word rational. Am I rational to think what I think? The short answer is, of course I am. The longer answer, as we discovered over a couple of hours and a lot of coffee, is really, really complicated. Rationality, like the other r-word, reality, is twisted. Our wetware, our individual psychological history, requires that we see our world in certain lights. We are the sum of our experiences and not even twins share all experiences. If there are more than 7 billion individuals on the planet in this moment, then there are more than 7 billion realities.
How the fuck do we deal with that if we want to segregate those more than 7 billion realities into just two camps?
We don’t. We can’t.
What we can do is to be open to the limits of our own programming and seek to be our own coders by processing the constant torrent of data in ways that might help us not make easy, snap judgements.
That’s tough, but how else do you crack a coconut?







