The more I learn, the more I realize that most issues are not black and white. They are often complex gradations of gray, with one “fact” leading to a multitude of questions, the answers to which shed new light on the “fact” itself. This has caused me to question the concept of belief. People base their lives on belief: Their religious preferences, moral guidelines and day-to-day actions are a reflection of _things_ they believe in.

A dictionary definition of belief is “something believed; an opinion or conviction; confidence in the truth or existence of something not immediately susceptible to rigorous proof“. That last part hints at the temporal relationship between knowledge and time. A belief is a momentary opinion or idea, one subject to change as time progresses and further knowledge is gained.

This has been on my mind a lot as I look at politicians and the level of permanent accountability they are held to regarding their beliefs. We as a society seem to value people with strong beliefs. But we value their unwavering dedication to those beliefs, as well. If a politician, for instance, changes their mind on an issue after learning more about it, we see that as typical politics; a person exploiting a group’s dedication to a belief in order to get elected, then abandoning that belief when convenient. It seems probable that some politicians are in fact opportunists. But should we project a minority bias onto a larger group who may have a change of heart and mind because they have learned something new that sways their opinion?

We elect these officials because they are esteemed citizens, intelligent in the ways and needs of their constituents and capable of navigating the political landscape. Yet we question them immediately once they deviate from the path they set out on. But each one of us lives day to day changing our minds based on new information we encounter. Why is it we hold these people to a higher standard–or more rigid standard–than we hold ourselves?

One argument for it is we elected these people based on a common set of beliefs we have. We elected them with the understanding that they would influence government to meet our needs, which are fed by our beliefs. And when they veer from the course we believed they would take, we are quick to anger: How could they so carelessly abandon the group that elected them? But why see it like that? Isn’t it equally (if not more) probable that they are now privy to information we are not that has influenced their change of heart? How often do we change our minds on a whim without some compelling reason to do so? These elected officials are, after all, supposed to be extensions of our collective minds and opinions. It is not illogical to think they would act just as we would in positions of further knowledge.

Or perhaps our reaction to them exposes something deeper about us; our aversion to change even in the presence of new and convincing information.

Even if the politicians are behaving opportunistically (exploiting a group’s belief in something to become elected, with the intent of doing something different once in office), isn’t it possible they are so educated and aware that they know more about something, or know better what’s good for a group of people, than they themselves do? I can see the danger in that argument as it tends to move toward tyranny if fully embraced. But in a republic, can we not assume that for each bad apple who wishes to exploit the people for power, there are 9 good apples wishing to exploit the people for their own good?

I suppose what influences this train of thought is an inherent optimism about the intentions of humans. Time has shown me that for all the evil that exists, there is unquestionably more good. That is why the Adolf Hitlers, Josef Stalins, Alberto Mussolinis, and Pol Pots of the world are historical rarities. They occur with certainty and will continue to do so, but they represent the potential for evil in all of us, not the certainty of it. And time has proved that humans trend toward good–otherwise our race would be extinct.

Embracing that, it seems we should, as a collective people, embrace belief changes as well-intentioned shifts necessarily made by people who are exposed to more information than most of us. When people’s minds change, it is often for the better.

To risk an interpretation folly, that’s likely why a politician runs on a platform. A platform is a foundation to build upon. It’s an expression of commonality between a politician and their base. It’s a contract that, all things considered, they will do their best–given all constraints–to help change their constituents’ society in a certain way. But once new information flows in and they can see a bigger picture, they must do what’s necessary to build upon that platform in ways that seem correct to them.

And if they fail to satisfy us with their long-term strategy, we simply won’t re-elect them.