Most of us like to think we are open to views that differ from our own. That openness is tested when someone questions a decision we are already leaning towards. At that point, being open has to mean more than simply hearing a different view; we must still be able to question our own view. That is what correctability requires.
It does not mean keeping every decision open indefinitely; at some point, we have to decide. Nor does it mean changing our minds simply because someone disagrees. It means something narrower: when a serious objection arrives, can it still make us stop and examine a view we already prefer?
The time to ask, “What could make us reconsider this view?” is before we become too attached to it. To answer that honestly, we need to understand what our current thinking rests on. Which assumption carries the most weight? What evidence would materially weaken the case? These questions are easier to answer while the decision is still open—before we have argued publicly for a position, invested heavily in it, or begun to think of it as our decision. As our commitment grows, we may start requiring stronger reasons to reconsider.
The decision can also become personal, tied to how we see ourselves. A challenge to the conclusion may then begin to feel like a challenge to our competence or judgment. We may hear, “I think the reasoning rests on a wrong assumption,” but experience it as “I think you got this wrong.” An important distinction can then become easy to lose: what does the objection tell me about the decision, and what do I feel it says about me? If those two questions become indistinguishable, defending the decision can quietly become a way of defending ourselves.
When a challenge feels personal, we may respond before we have fully examined it. Our first instinct may be to defend the view we prefer—to explain the missing context, point out what the other person has overlooked, or show why the concern does not change the conclusion. The objection may indeed be wrong or incomplete. But we should reach that conclusion only after examining it on its own terms. Can I explain what they are saying in a way they would recognise as fair? Which part of my reasoning does it challenge? If they are right about that point, what should change in how I see the decision?
Taking an objection seriously does not mean agreeing with it. Reconsidering a decision is not the same as reversing it. We may take a serious objection fully into account, examine the evidence again and still reach the same conclusion. Even then, the objection may still matter: it may change the timing, our level of confidence, the safeguards we put in place, the size of the commitment, or how we assess an underlying assumption. What matters is not whether the decision changes, but whether the objection was allowed to test it.
This is why correctability and conviction are not opposites. Correctability allows us to reconsider when there is good reason; conviction allows us to decide and act.
That balance can come under pressure when people are watching. Changing course may look like inconsistency; acknowledging that someone else’s objection affected our thinking may feel like a loss of authority. But reconsidering our view in response does not mean giving up authority over the decision. We are still responsible for weighing the evidence, making the final decision and owning its consequences.
Can I remain responsible for the decision without feeling bound to the view I started with?