Schulz discussed one of the processes whereby people come to the conclusion that others who disagree with them aren't just wrong but evil.
Suppose two people are having a disagreement; doesn't matter about what, so let's pick on politics.
Around here, the dominant group I deal with is Republicans, and not just Republicans, but the brand of Republican that is convinced that the president isn't just wrong about anything you want to bring up, but out to destroy society as we know it.
Now, the process would go something like this. They say that Obama is a socialist. I respond by saying he isn't and laying out whatever evidence I believe backs up my point.
The first reaction is that I must be ignorant. If I only knew what they know, then surely I would abandon my wrong-headed ideas and agree with them. But as the conversation continues, they discover that I do have all the information they have.
The second reaction would be that since I'm not ignorant, I must be stupid. That has to be the only explanation for my not being able to come to the same conclusion they've come to. But those who know me know that although I'm not the male equivalent of Marilyn Vos Savant, I can think my way relatively intelligently around a problem.
That can then lead to the last part of the process: that I am either evil or under the influence of evil. How else could I be a smart guy and look at their evidence and still be so very wrong?
Of course, I could be participating in the same process.
Now, if we all wind up coming to the conclusion that those we disagree with are evil or under the influence, you can see how quickly actual communication breaks down.
Shulz suggests that one way to keep the conversation going, at least in a group situation, is for someone to suggest the possibility of being wrong. The dynamic there is that someone else will respond by saying, "Well, now, you might have a point."
But I'm not sure that works with individuals, and what I'm seeing all to frequently these days is that often and admission of possible error brings about the response, "Well, of course you are. 'Bout time you started to come around."
We can't live our lives without some certainty; we'd be paralyzed otherwise. But these days we seem to have a surfeit of certainty about too many things.
Still, Schultz has a point. Maybe in the interest of fostering communication we should be the ones who take a chance and admit we might not know so much about whatever topic we believe so fervently that we can't possibly be in error. Maybe that would preserve enough relationship to eventually bring about a serious conversation.
Of course, I could be wrong.
