Dichotomy: a division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different

Dichotomy is really an ugly word. It might as well be a communicable disease or a species of invasive fungi. Like a dry, hacking cough, its ragged edges lacerate the air with each forced breath, again and again and again. Once used to identify conflicting literary themes and management systems, it has wormed its way almost exclusively into the worlds of politics, social media, and news. And it’s killing us.

We have always been, by nature, a people of division, I think. That is, there have always been those who hold fast to one belief, one practice, one system, and those who hold contrasting views, practices, and systems. Google a list of dichotomies, and you’ll find evidence to this truth:

good vs. evil

static vs. dynamic

absolute vs. relative

body vs mind

sacred vs. profane

open vs. closed

The list goes on, testifying to the power of dichotomy, both past and present. We are eager to identify these dichotomies in our classrooms and boardrooms, in how we live and how we govern. I can still recall feeling as though I’d won the lottery when I correctly identified good vs. evil as the dominant dichotomy and theme of a novel we were studying in high school. There was one correct answer (still another dichotomy: right vs. wrong), and I had delivered up the Holy Grail. A trophy for me, and consolation prizes all around for the losers.

Lest you think I will lapse into a defense of relativism or inclusivism (as defined by the current intellectuals and forced onto the collective consciousness), I cannot ignore the rational and absolute parameters of dichotomies. A dichotomy says This, not this. It reasons If A is true/right/good, then B cannot be. A dichotomy argues Choose a side/position/action and reject the opposing side/position/action. And within these parameters, even parameters for those who advocate You can have your truth, and I can have mine, there are those who reject others who argue My truth is THE truth, and yours is not. Their inclusive position–ironically but logically–excludes those who do not share their claims, and the parameters of dichotomy remain intact.

But it’s not the intellectual or philosophical properties or parameters of dichotomies I fear. It’s our physical, emotional, and spiritual responses to them that frightens the bejesus out of me and threatens to push me over the precipice of despair and futility into abject hopelessness. There is a necessary and life-giving force in dichotomies. In the tension between one side and another, we may give birth to clarified, qualified ideas and positions. That is, tension may breed productive struggle, which may in turn, result in something new and better than either original idea or position. In some occasions, compromise may rise, like a phoenix, from the ashes of this tension.

Sadly, may is the conditional word here. And even more sadly, we see little evidence of this type of phoenix rising from political, social, economic, educational, or cultural ashes today. When we stand solidly on one side of a dichotomous issue, there appear to be more of us who fail to consider the potential of productive struggle and choose instead to stand at the edge of the chasm that separates us from our foes, armed and eager for the battle. Our cause eclipses our civility and humility. We see an enemy that bears no resemblance to ourselves or to any decent, thinking individual for that matter. Then, armed with a cause and facing an evil enemy, we believe we are more than justified to use any means to win, to tip the dichotomy successfully and permanently towards our side. In this world of dichotomy, the end always justifies the means, and Machiavelli, a willing flag bearer, confidently leads the way forward.

So when we face our enemies, we take courage in the belief that we do not have to listen to them, do not have to respect them, and, above all, do not have to acknowledge any part of who they are or what they believe as legitimate and worthy of consideration. Dichotomies often bring out the adolescent in us. We say or write snarky things about our enemies–behind their backs or to their face. We wage smear campaigns, using whatever resources we can muster. We take heart in our conviction that it is all about me because, quite simply, we choose to believe that it is all about me. And as we wield the sword of righteous indignation, we take no prisoners.

What has happened to us? How have we become so entrenched in our current dichotomies (conservative/liberal; absolute/relative; open/closed) that we actually prefer to hunker down and plan the next attack rather than pull ourselves from the trenches and walk in an attitude of cooperation and humility towards our enemies? When did we become such fascists with such searing passion to suppress opposition?

I have spent the better part of my life trying to help students look critically at opposing ideas and positions, in hopes that they could ultimately and wisely discern which side of the dichotomy they would assume. I have spent an equal amount of time teaching students how to respectfully disagree with their opponents. Once, I actually put my career on the line when I advocated to a group of educators that there would always be dichotomies made up of exclusive sides and that our role as educators was to help students understand these sides while living respectfully and compassionately with those on other sides. On the surface, this seems like an educationally and morally responsible thing to advocate. But dichotomies will be dichotomies, and the other side of this one? Well, this is the side that argues that it is not enough to help students understand differing views. This is the side that insists that we teach students to accept and live according to the right view. And the right view, of course, is the view of whomever is in power or believes that they should be in power.

Stalemate is a real and probable consequence in this Season of Dichotomies. In demonizing our opponents and their ideas, we can find no way productively forward. So, day after day, our airwaves are filled with name-calling and dire predictions of what the world will become if one side or the other wins. Night after night, we are whipped into frenzies as political, social, and cultural battles rage brightly. Exhausted, we drag ourselves into sitcoms or funny cat videos, hoping to entertain ourselves into oblivion. Oblivion at least for one night, for we know it will all begin with a vengeance again tomorrow.

Honestly, I don’t believe we have reached stalemate because of the strength of our opposing views but more so because of our inability and unwillingness to respond to these views with civility and compassion. There will be dichotomies as long as there are humans to identify and use them. This is not–and really should not be–the issue. The issue is how we choose to respond to them. Clearly, there are things worth defending and fighting for, and we have countless historical examples to prove this. Few will argue that we should not have fought in response to Hitler’s Final Solution. And even fewer will argue that Hitler’s truth–that all Jews were vermin and therefore should be exterminated–was as legitimate as any other truth.

If we have exhausted all attempts at genuine understanding, at respectful disagreement, and at compromise, then there are times when we must fight. Thankfully, there have been more times when we could–and did–choose other responses to conflict. Regrettably, we seem to have forgotten this.

Biologist, paleontologist and scientific historian Stephen Jay Gould writes:

I strongly reject any conceptual scheme that places our options on a line, and holds that the only alternative to a pair of extreme positions lies somewhere between them. More fruitful perspectives often require that we step off the line to a site outside the dichotomy.

Stepping off the line to a site outside the dichotomy? For some dichotomies, this is certainly an idea worthy of consideration. There are may instances when thinking outside the box or off the line has resulted in satisfying and lasting solutions. And for those dichotomies characterized by more extreme positions? I think we could take some instruction from novelist Tom Robbins who writes:

There are two kinds of people in this world: Those who believe there are two kinds of people in this world and those who are smart enough to know better. [Still Life with Woodpecker]

There is something to be said about being smart enough to know that, at our core and certainly in the eyes of our Maker, we are brothers and sisters who share common struggles, common joy and pain, and a common world. If we are smart enough to know this, surely in response to our shared humanity, we should be smart enough to treat each other as we would like to be treated. And if we are smart enough to know this, certainly we should never forget that the opposing ideas we hold have their very humble beginnings in matter, in human cells that look far more alike than different under a microscope.

In the end, we can choose to let our response to dichotomies refine us or kill us. I’m all for responding in such ways that refine us. We can start by affirming our opponents as fellow human beings and by genuinely seeking to understand their views. Then, we can respond with civility and earnest empathy, even as we engage in the difficult and necessary work regarding our political, social, cultural, and philosophical differences.

And as for Machiavelli? We simply have to fire him as our flag bearer and castigate him for a view which we must abandon. In this Season of Dichotomies, the end should never justify the means.