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Elizabeth Warren says that during a 2018 conversation, Bernie Sanders stated that a woman could not be elected president. He categorically denies it. Both statements cannot be true, so one of them must be lying, right? Not so fast.
Have you ever had a fight with someone and tried to discuss it and work it out a day or two later? As you each relay your recollections, you become more and more convinced that the other person either wasn’t present at the same fight you were or must be lying. If you’re really perceptive, you might notice that he or she seems to feel the same way. The planned rational discussion devolves into, “Yes, you did,” and “No, I didn’t.”
If this sounds familiar, it is almost impossible not to feel angry and hurt at this person’s blatant “misremembering” the “facts” of the fight. But, the truth is that most likely neither of you is lying but neither of you is remembering the facts, either.
Memory is not like a photograph or an exact replica of a moment. Memory is influenced by perception and perception is like a prism—facts go into our brain but then our brains attach meaning and interpretation to that information. Things like motives influence how and what we remember, but so do our past experiences, expectations, feelings, and biases.
Our brains are wired to remember information in our environment and we are motivated to think good things about ourselves. As humans, we are motivated to believe that we are good, rational people so we better remember our positive behaviors than our negative ones.
Further, we attribute our negative behaviors to the situation ("I’m yelling because you aren’t listening") and our positive ones to who we are ("Despite your behavior, I was able to keep my voice calm because I am a rational person"). During an argument, our natural defenses are to protect our own ego and to armor up again anyone who threatens it.
If someone is fighting with us, they must be at fault because what good person would argue with us? When we argue with someone, what is most salient is their behavior—we can observe their body language, tone of voice, and their words. When we are fighting, our mind tends to pick out the negative behaviors of the person with whom we’re fighting. So we remember every eye roll, every “pfft” and every negative comment.
The same cannot be said for remembering our behavior during an argument. Because we are motivated to see ourselves in a positive light, we tend to overlook our negative behavior or excuse it away when it conflicts with this motive. Therefore, our memory is particularly faulty when it comes to remembering our negative behavior.
But, the funny thing about perception is that it is a two-way street. The person we’re arguing with is driven by the same psychological principles. In an argument, you are the person they’re observing and, you guessed it, they are observing your every eye roll, “pfft,” and negative comment. So when you get together afterward and tell the other person the argument as constructed by your memory, you can see how it can be very different from the argument as constructed by their memory. In the end, each of you only remembers half the story and even that half is rife with subjectivity.
So how does all of this relate to the feud between Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders? After all, at the time in question, they were not arguing so, surely, memory is better when there is no motive for ego protection?
Of course, the answer is no. But why? Because in every interaction only you are privy to your true feelings and motives. And because you know what is in your heart, you sometimes speak in ways that assume everyone else does as well. However, sometimes this can result in you saying something that another person, with their own internal feelings and beliefs, can misattribute a meaning to that is very different than what you intended.
In the Warren-Sanders case, let’s look at how each of them could remember the conversation so differently. (Remember, this is just speculation as to their actual conversation.)
Let’s say the two are having a conversation about how to defeat the current president in the next election. Perhaps they have been discussing what kind of person it would take to withstand his barbs or to convince the American voter that she or he is a worthy candidate.
Sanders, knowing how he truly feels and, perhaps assuming that the totality of his life’s work means others do too, could have carelessly worded a thought in such a way that another person hearing it might be able to interpret as negative. For example, Sanders could have made a comment about wondering if a woman who stood toe-to-toe with Trump could win the vote. Warren, after a lifetime spent being a strong woman who has gone toe-to-toe with many men, may have heard this comment as an assertion that a strong woman could not win the presidency.
In Sanders’ mind, he is voicing recognition that Americans still hold a bias against women, especially women who seek power. To him, his comment is an assertion of support for women. In Warren’s mind, Sanders’ comment is consistent with her experience that men think a woman can’t be elected president.
Over time, each will come to remember this interaction very differently. Sanders, because the comment was not a profound one—it didn’t express anything contrary to how he actually feels—may not remember the actual exchange at all. He will simply rely on his true thoughts and feelings to “know” that he would never say that a woman could not be elected president. Warren, because the comment was very profound to her, will remember it very well because of what it meant to her.
The original misunderstanding could have been avoided if Warren had explicitly asked Sanders to clarify his statement. This may have prompted Sanders to re-frame or explain his statement and Warren could have let Sanders know that as a wealthy, white male running for president, he cannot be so careless in how he talks about women, no matter what might be in his heart.
A final confirmation of the way memory is subject to our personal interpretation can be gleaned from last Tuesday night's debate. The issue of whether Sanders said a woman could not be president came up. Sanders categorically denying having said this; Warren clearly recalled that he did.
But what happened after the debate is what's important. Warren is caught on audio saying to Sanders, "You called me a liar on national TV." In reality, Sanders did not use those words. He denied that he had said a woman could not be president. And repeated it when asked for clarification from the moderator.
Warren, through the filter of her beliefs and experiences, processed this denial as tantamount to implying that she was lying. Or at least, it felt to her like he was calling her a liar, even though he never used those words. As such, only Sanders knows if that is what he was implying or if he was simply defending himself against an accusation.
Unfortunately, this case of he said-she said is being played out in a public forum and, like that day-after-an-argument talk for many of us, neither seems to be able to acknowledge any “truth” other than their own.
