Hear me out on this one. I have a thought I am wrestling with. This is a thought experiment.

Let’s consider a scenario that might seem simple on the surface but is actually quite complex when you dig into it. It’s about affirming or validating some aspect of someone’s identity—specifically, at their request.

Alright, picture this: you have a friend who drinks alcohol occasionally. One day, they ask you to affirm or validate to another friend that they are not an alcoholic. Seems straightforward, right? After all, you know them well, and you’ve never seen any signs of alcoholism. So, you might be inclined to reassure the other friend that they’re not an alcoholic.

But here’s where it gets tricky. What if they’ve been doing a fantastic job of hiding a problem from you? What if they are struggling with alcoholism but have managed to keep it under wraps, even from themselves? In this case, by affirming their identity as a non-alcoholic, you’re not just stating what you believe to be true—you’re potentially validating a lie, one that might be leading them further into self-destruction.

See, the issue here isn’t just about telling the truth. It’s about the very nature of truth when it comes to identity. If they’re lying to themselves, they might not even know what’s truly going on inside their own head. And if they don’t know, how can you possibly know? People are incredibly adept at self-deception, and this is especially dangerous when the stakes are high, like in the case of something as destructive as alcoholism.

So what’s the solution? One might argue that you should refuse to affirm or validate anything about someone’s identity unless you’re absolutely sure of it. But how often can we ever be sure? Knowing what’s going on inside another person’s mind is a daunting, almost impossible task. Yet, when it comes to something that could harm them or others, the stakes are too high to get it wrong.

I’m starting to think that we shouldn’t be asking others to validate or affirm these deep, internal aspects of our identity at all. They can’t see inside our minds. They don’t know our internal struggles, our self-deceptions, or our true intentions. In many cases, we’re asking them to take part in a game they can’t win—a game where the rules are unclear and the stakes are our very sense of self.

Sure, there are some labels we use for ourselves that can be easily verified. If I tell you I’m a bricklayer, and you’ve seen me at work, there’s not much risk in affirming that identity. But even then, how much do you really know? You might hesitate to recommend me for a job building a chimney because you can’t be sure if I’m a good bricklayer. Identity is complex, and reducing it to simple labels often sells us short.

And that’s another problem with labels—they turn us into one-dimensional characters. I’m not just a bricklayer. I’m a veteran, a father, a husband, a collector, and an enthusiast of many things, including fishing. If I limit myself to one label, I’m reducing the richness of my experience and who I am as a person.

So, when it comes to identity, there are labels we can verify and labels we can’t, labels that are harmless, and labels that carry significant risks. If your identity is something deeply personal and internal, something that only you can define, then there’s no way I can validate it. It’s yours alone. Only you can affirm or validate that part of yourself. Asking someone else to do it is an exercise in futility because there’s no external standard by which it can be measured.

Now, if your identity is tied to something external—your career, your role in a community, your achievements—then sure, someone external to you might be able to validate that. But when it comes to the deeper, internal aspects of who you are, the responsibility for affirmation rests solely with you.

And here’s where the danger lies. If I blindly affirm something out of politeness or social pressure, I might be doing you a disservice. I could be reinforcing a self-deception, colluding with a part of you that might be lying to yourself. That’s not honesty. That’s not in your best interest. And frankly, it’s not something I want to be a part of.

In the end, I believe we need to take a hard look at how we approach identity, both our own and others’. We must be cautious in asking for validation and just as cautious in giving it. Because sometimes, the most honest thing we can do is to admit that we don’t know—and maybe that’s okay.

In conclusion, I’ve laid out my thoughts on the complexities of affirming or validating aspects of someone’s identity. But this is just one perspective. Do you see where I’m coming from? What am I missing? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this—how do you navigate these ethical dilemmas? Let’s start a conversation.