I’ve been giving considerable thought lately to the way people change their minds. Not necessarily because they’ve learned anything new, but because somebody has apparently decided that what was unacceptable yesterday is perfectly acceptable today.

I find this fascinating.

 

Years ago, if you said something outrageous in public, people would look at you like you’d just escaped from a government research facility. Today, you can say precisely the same thing, and they’ll invite you to discuss it on television.

Naturally, I wanted to know how this happens.

That’s when I discovered something called the Overton Window.

Now, as I understand it, this window determines which ideas society considers acceptable at any given moment. Things outside the window are considered unreasonable, while things inside are considered perfectly normal.

Apparently, the window can move.

And from what I’ve observed lately, somebody has been moving the damn thing all over the place.

This presented an opportunity.

I’ve got several opinions that could benefit from a little adjustment, and rather than go through the tedious business of reconsidering them individually, I figured I’d simply install a new window.

So I went to Home Depot.

I approached the customer service desk, where a fellow in an orange apron appeared to be enjoying an unusually peaceful afternoon.

“Excuse me, do you carry Overton windows?”

He gave me a puzzled look.

“Overton? Never heard of them.”

“Really? Everybody’s moving them. I need one to change my views on a few things.”

He looked at me for a moment, then glanced toward the windows department.

“Have you tried looking over there?”

I explained that I wasn’t looking for an ordinary window. I needed one that could change what I considered reasonable without requiring me to actually do anything.

He suggested I speak with someone in management.

I thought that was an excellent idea. Management seems to have considerable experience changing what’s acceptable, particularly when it comes to prices, employee policies, and customer service.

Unfortunately, the manager wasn’t familiar with Overton windows either.

I found this rather disturbing.

Here we have an entire society moving these windows around, and the largest home improvement retailers don’t even stock them.

I began to suspect some kind of monopoly.

Consider the possibilities. With the proper window installed, you could wake up tomorrow morning and discover that an opinion you’ve held for forty years is suddenly fashionable again.

You wouldn’t have to apologize for anything. You wouldn’t have to explain yourself. You could simply announce that the window had moved.

Politicians seem particularly adept at this procedure.

One day, an idea is unthinkable. The next day, it’s being discussed. A week later, somebody introduces legislation, and before you know it, everyone is pretending they supported it all along.

Nobody admits to changing their mind.

They just reposition the window.

Of course, I’ve since learned that an Overton Window isn’t actually something you can purchase. It’s a description of the range of ideas people are willing to accept, and it moves as public attitudes change.

I understand that perfectly well now.

What I don’t understand is why everybody else gets to move it, but when I try to buy one, I’m treated like I’ve wandered into the wrong department.

I’m still considering installing one myself.

Preferably a double-pane model, insulated against political hot air, with a locking mechanism to prevent unauthorized adjustments.

And I’d like mine to open in both directions.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about public opinion, it’s that people are perfectly willing to look through a different window.

Just as long as somebody else opens it first.

P.S. The fellow at Home Depot did offer to show me some sliding windows. I declined. I’ve seen enough sliding standards lately to last me a lifetime.