Nuanced thinking, unlike dogmatic simplism, embraces the complexity of the world and acknowledges the subjectivity of viewpoints. It is the source of democracy. It requires safe spaces for dialogue where everyone’s presence is legitimized.
A way of thinking about the world—that is, a worldview, a representation of things and the relationships between them—can be either simplistic or nuanced. For my part, I advocate cultivating nuanced thinking because, in my view, simplistic thinking is false and deceitful. When we were told, for example during the Covid period, “We can discuss everything except the numbers,” that was simplistic thinking—explicitly deceitful, because the way numbers were presented and the way “numbers” were collected were far from objective, contrary to what we were led to believe. This is the essence of simplistic thinking: presenting the world from a single viewpoint, treated as the absolute truth.
In my opinion, nuance comes much closer to the truth than simplism because it allows us to engage with the complexity of phenomena and to acknowledge the subjectivity of our perspective. Nuanced thinking is not at all weak or fragile—quite the opposite. It contextualizes different viewpoints. This is also what we call critical thinking, thinking for oneself. Nuanced thinking can even juxtapose different scientific viewpoints, because there is no such thing as scientific consensus. Otherwise, science would not be science but dogma—the very opposite of science, since science aims to observe and explain real phenomena. To do this, science formulates hypotheses, which are more or less effective and evolve over time. Some hypotheses do become axioms shared by all, of course. But the very existence of scientific disciplines is tied to nuanced thinking, not simplistic thinking.
Simplistic thinking is not scientific thinking. I base this claim on the illuminating philosophy of Gaston Bachelard, who had such a profound impact in the 20th century—a thinker who seems especially important today, given that we are living in an obscurantist era of “scientistic religion” tied to the interests of dominant capitalism. Among other things, Bachelard advocates an epistemological approach: the philosophical study of the foundations, methods, and validity of scientific knowledge, the evolution of scientific concepts, the questioning of methodologies, and the evaluation of truth criteria. I also draw on the groundbreaking contributions of the philosopher of science Paul Feyerabend, another 20th-century thinker, who dared to show that many things presented as “scientific facts” were, in reality, myths. He also denounces the tyranny of scientism and argues for a democratization of knowledge, which would entail separating science and the state (akin to secularism) to prevent the hegemony of a single worldview, as well as citizen oversight to set research priorities through popular committees rather than through experts (who are most often funded by pharmaceutical industries).
Thus, during the Covid period, the scientists who claimed to speak truths were, in fact, engaging in simplistic thinking—precisely because they were paid by pharmaceutical companies, acting in opposition to genuine science. Their approach was dogmatic, not scientific. Dogma claims to dictate truth. Simplistic dogma explains the world and forbids questioning. Simplistic explanations of the world are not just the work of isolated “conspiracy theorists”; they are also driven by various interests and manipulations legitimized in the name of the greater good. Returning to the Covid period: the vast number of state and mainstream media lies during that time—now proven false one after another, even though they were obvious at the time—were designed to manipulate public support for actions deemed by some as best for public health, but above all, best for the health of the capitalist system.
I don’t wish to delve deeply into this debate here, as it is vast and unfortunately still ongoing. But I refer to this period because it is relatively recent, shared in the lived experience of adults like us, during which—more or less consciously—we all sensed that there was a great deal of simplism in the prevailing narratives. Many of us felt compelled, simply to maintain social legitimacy, to stop thinking critically about the issue and instead pledge allegiance to simplism, to dogma—what was called the Covid doxa. It is deeply troubling that genuine scientific thinking was so thoroughly silenced and even criminalized during this time. Those who strayed from dogma were socially ostracized, labeled as dangers to others. Today, even those who led pandemic policies at the time admit, for example, that they “always knew” the vaccines did not prevent virus transmission (which is now the consensus scientific truth) and that citizens were “free to choose”—even though the official slogan in France was “All vaccinated, all protected,” a blatant lie, repeated and accepted by all. The few billionaire shareholders of the big companies who profited from this “war period” doubled their fortunes in less than two years thanks to this, even though they were already the richest people in the world. Capitalism had its epiphany, thanks to this absence of nuanced thinking.
In my view, simplistic thinking always produces systems of domination, exclusion, and the denial of large swaths of reality. And in my opinion, simplistic thinking is a true scourge, a phenomenon we must combat with the utmost vigor. To do this, it is not enough to deconstruct the simplistic thinking of “flat-earthers,” for example—we must also deconstruct all forms of simplistic thinking, including those held by the majority. I believe it is only at the cost of this self-questioning that we can progress. But this is precisely what makes addressing simplistic thinking so difficult: it is easy to see simplism in others, but subjecting our own worldview to scrutiny is extremely painful, as it can challenge our identity or the way we have constructed it. This is particularly dangerous in terms of identity, which is why, to foster nuanced thinking, I believe we must strive to create as many spaces for democratic debate as possible—spaces where opposing viewpoints are allowed to clash, facilitated by structured discussion, and where these spaces are safe—meaning that expressing my opinion, my viewpoint, or my worldview, even if radically opposed to others’, does not put me at social risk. These are “zones” where we can be fully present as ourselves in the social sphere.
It is the legitimacy of our presence, our existence, and our subjective viewpoint that allows—through confrontation with others’ ideas, via their presence as well—progress toward nuanced thinking, the realization that others see the world differently, and the cultivation of empathy for others, which is the foundation of humanism: the recognition of others as equals.
It is easy to say this in an article, in words—but putting it into practice, creating truly democratic spaces where people with radically opposing views can speak and feel authorized to be present, is another matter entirely. It is particularly difficult, first and foremost for ourselves, because we fear being destabilized. We tend to seek security instead. So this is a struggle, a construction, an elaboration—a questioning, too, of the frameworks we propose to others.
It requires real preparatory work, before even setting up the framework, to consider how we can create a structure that legitimizes everyone’s presence. It also demands genuine flexibility—a willingness to adapt the framework itself along the way, based on the contributions and needs of participants, which we could not have fully anticipated when designing it alone.
Truth, objectivity and the construction of meaning
Truth is never given but always constructed, shaped by our perceptions, our interests and the powers that define what can be said and thought. The objectivity of facts reveals itself as illusory as soon as we examine how power and media manufacture reality, transforming lexical choices - pandemic rather than epidemic - into worldviews. Expert discourses that claim to objectively describe the world are simulacra that lead to immobilism, denying the subjectivity that is nevertheless the condition of all transformative engagement. Faced with unique and reassuring explanations, presence opens to multiple explanations and founds critical thinking. The veridist religion of certain researchers, who believe they hold absolute truth while obscuring disturbing questions, reveals how knowledge can become dogma. Between simplism and nuance, between certainty and complexity, authentic thought embraces paradoxes and recognizes the partiality of every point of view. The feeling of reason, this external support that reassures us, can lead us to dehumanize the other in the name of our supposed rationality. Understanding that all truth is necessarily complex, partial and linked to our experience of the world does not lead to relativism but to an epistemology of presence where knowledge emerges from our conscious grounding in reality rather than from our illusory overview.