Death of the dialectic
The term “dialectic” has been used in connection with many philosophers, from Plato in the ancient world to Marx in the modern era, but here I’ll primarily discuss the version associated with G. W. F. Hegel.
Let’s start with a definition of dialectic. There are numerous versions, but here’s one from Merriam-Webster that I’ll use for the purposes of this post: “Any systematic reasoning, exposition, or argument that juxtaposes opposed or contradictory ideas and usually seeks to resolve their conflict; a method of examining and discussing opposing ideas in order to find the truth.”
Now back to Hegel. The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy explains his method thus: “One concept is introduced as a ‘thesis’ or positive concept, which then develops into a second concept that negates or is opposed to the first or is its ‘antithesis’, which in turn leads to a third concept, the ‘synthesis’, that unifies the first two.” Essentially, you have two opposing ideas (a thesis and an antithesis) that clash, wrestle with each other, and are finally merged into a new, more complete idea (a synthesis). Immediately, that synthesis becomes a new thesis, against which a new antithesis arises, and the process repeats, over and over.
A crucial aspect of this battle is that neither of the two original ideas is destroyed during the conflict; instead they become parts of a better idea that encompasses aspects of both. Hegel often used the term aufhebung, roughly translated into English as “sublation” or “overcoming,” to explain the working of the dialectic. The term encompasses the seemingly contradictory implications of both preserving and changing; it describes retaining the useful portion of an idea while moving beyond its limitations. So when two ideas clash, it is not a matter of one annihilating the other and emerging whole; rather, the inferior aspects of each argument are pared away and the best or most useful portions of the ideas merge into something coherent—a new, stronger idea that is an alloy of the two original separate ones.
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This kind of dialectical process—this creation of a more complete synthesis from two opposing ideas—seems almost extinct these days. Particularly in the 21st century, in our debates about politics and economics, the dominant sentiment seems to be that the other side must be destroyed. Democrat or Republican, socialist or capitalist, there is an absolute certainty that one’s own side (the thesis) is entirely right, while there is no validity to the ideas and claims of the other side (the antithesis). The “enemy” must not only be defeated; their very existence must be expunged.
Beyond being a simplistically binary view of things, such an endeavor simply makes no sense. Imagine darkness trying to destroy light; would darkness exist without an opposite to define it? So much of what one side believes or represents only makes sense with regards to its antithesis. The Biblical book of Proverbs says, “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” I think that sentiment applies to contrasting ideologies quite well. Here’s how Christianity.com expounds on the proverb: “The concept of ‘iron sharpening iron’ obviously implies at least two pieces of iron. It would be impossible for one tool to become sharper without the presence of the other. Left alone, both blades would be dull and quite useless.” The clashing of ideas is as generative as it is destructive. Defeating your opponent in individual battles is fine; it proves the worth (or “sharpness”) of your ideas. And losing sometimes is fine, too; it exposes the flaws and weaknesses in your arguments and allows you to adapt (or “re-hone”) appropriately. But seeking to exterminate the other side and forever end the conflict? That only means depriving your side of a sharpening iron, without which it would no longer define itself coherently or precisely, thus becoming vague and flabby.
Moreover, no matter how much you may disagree with an opposing side, it is the height of folly to deny any validity to their ideas or concerns. Liberals or conservatives who dismiss the other side entirely are essentially ignoring huge numbers (up to half!) of their fellow citizens, refusing to genuinely explore or understand their rivals’ motivations and beliefs. It’s easier to simply deride the others as “deplorables” or “libtards” and wish for their extinction. Meanwhile, capitalists who have profited nicely from our economic system shake their heads in bewilderment when those who have been trampled by the unfettered market undertake campaigns for more social equality, while those same socialists willfully ignore the enormous benefits and overall rising tide that capitalism has produced over the last few centuries. Neither side wants to acknowledge the merits of the other, or consider that maybe the best outcome is some kind of synthesis between the two ideas that incorporates their best aspects while shedding unnecessary or unhelpful baggage.
It was a failure to synthesize that precipitated the great battle of democracy against fascism from the 1920s through the 1940s. The rapid ascent of capitalism that began with the Gilded Age, and the associated fantasy of “rugged individualism” that Herbert Hoover later embraced, did not ultimately create the desired utopia (except for those few at the top). It instead led to the replacement of trained craftsmen with mass production and assembly lines, the concentration of wealth in the hands of bankers and industrialists (with little left over for the working poor), and an emphasis on individual achievement at the expense of social solidarity. These factors, along with the ravages of World War I, tipped the scales too far in one direction, making the healthy interdependence necessary for democratic citizenship impossible for many people, particularly in the wake of the economic crash of 1929 and subsequent depression. Stripped of their sense of dignity and self-determination, those who felt helpless and victimized fled into the arms of Germany’s National Socialism and Italy’s Fascism. The United States fortunately avoided a fascist fate (although there were those, including Charles Lindbergh, who strongly supported it) by investing in social safety nets under FDR (social security, unemployment, etc.) and curbing the power of banks and industry. But it would require another global war and millions of lives lost before the balance could begin to be restored.
Having watched the rise of fascism in the wake of World War I and the Great Depression, and identified its roots in social and economic alienation, the West sought to avoid such a mistake after World War II. America recognized the need for greater social safety nets and fairer distribution of wealth, not just to protect its own future, but also the future of war-ravaged European nations who might succumb to communism as they had to fascism. So the U. S. enacted the Marshall Plan to help rebuild our allies and former enemies in western Europe, and undertook a similar rebuilding in Japan. From the 1930s to the 1970s, the democratic West tempered the excesses of individualistic capitalism with a healthy dose of collectivist socialism, recognizing that humans need a balance of individual freedom and social solidarity.
But recent decades have seen a tearing down of our social safety nets, as well as an increase in income inequality and a reduction in social capital. As such, no one should be shocked that we have lately witnessed a rise in both the authoritarian, quasi-fascist populism embodied by Donald Trump, as well as the state-run, aggressively re-distributive socialism represented by Bernie Sanders. We have forgotten the lessons of the mid-20th century and are once again allowing extreme individualism and unfettered markets to lure us away from the thoughtful synthesis that we constructed in the wake of the Great Depression and the Second World War. We are becoming a society out of balance, and history has shown that the farther the pendulum swings in one direction, the more precipitously it will eventually swing back.
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So how do we achieve balance? I think a useful concept can be found in Eastern philosophy: the Taoist idea of yin and yang. The Ancient History Encyclopedia defines it thus: “The principle of Yin and Yang is that all things exist as inseparable and contradictory opposites, for example, female-male, dark-light and old-young. The principle, dating from the 3rd century BCE or even earlier, is a fundamental concept in Chinese philosophy and culture in general. The two opposites of Yin and Yang attract and complement each other and, as their symbol illustrates, each side has at its core an element of the other (represented by the small dots). Neither pole is superior to the other and, as an increase in one brings a corresponding decrease in the other, a correct balance between the two poles must be reached in order to achieve harmony.”
Traditionally, yin is negative, dark, and feminine, while yang is positive, bright, and masculine. But neither side is simply “good” or “right” with the other being “evil” or “wrong.” Both sides are necessary, and both speak to crucial aspects of human nature. Yin and yang recognize that our world is never static; life is change and we must constantly apply our wisdom to help achieve balance. As the old adage says, life is a journey not a destination. But we often act as though there is an endpoint to humanity—that we can achieve certain ideas (capitalism, democracy, etc.) that are indisputably true and represent an end to our quest (or to history itself)—and in doing so we are committing an egregious mistake. An understandable mistake, granted; we hate to live with uncertainty, wanting instead the comfort of surety and the satisfaction of feeling that our ideas are right. We want the knowing mentality instead of the questioning mentality. But such an attitude will only lead us astray, resulting in confusion or even destruction.
For example, religion regularly displays this drift towards one-sidedness and orthodoxy, and in doing so it always produce a powerful antithesis that challenges it. When the worldliness and corruption of the late-medieval Catholic Church became too much to bear, it spawned the stringently pious reforms of protestants like Martin Luther and John Calvin. And throughout history, religions that have engaged too exclusively with secular or worldly concerns have inadvertently given rise to some sort of mysticism that embraces the emotional and the ecstatic: think of Kabbalah in Judaism, Sufism in Islam, or Jesuit and Carmelite monasticism in Christianity. There is a need for balance in all religious faiths—between an elevating spiritual and a grounding secular, between a priestly dogma and a personal mysticism—and the continuing quest for synthesis of these opposites is what keeps a faith attractive and robust.
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Here in 21st-century America (and in the West in general), it troubles me to see how capitalist democracy, having emerged triumphant from World War II and the Cold War, is once again succumbing to excess materialism and an aggressive elevation of the individual, thereby starving the spiritual and collectivist sides of human nature. The relentless rise of corporations that only seem to benefit a few owners and shareholders, the constantly uncertain and often degrading gig economy for the rest of us, the crass commercialization of all aspects of our lives—these are the hallmarks of our current age, and they are making it increasingly difficult for many people to feel a sense of dignity and personal agency. We are passively ignoring (or sometimes actively deriding) the communal needs of people, rather than respecting them and seeking to incorporate their most useful aspects. In doing this we risk the resurgence of fascism and communism—extreme socialist ideologies that arose before in response to extreme individualist ideologies. Capitalist democracies around the world find themselves increasingly weakened and dangerously exposed, battling those collectivist populisms that are tearing away at the very foundations of our democracies. By failing to seek a synthesis—by dismissing ideas antithetical to our own preferred ones, or even seeking to exterminate them—we only create an even stronger antithesis, and the resulting clash will unfortunately prove far more destructive than it otherwise would.
The writer F. Scott Fitzgerald famously said, “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.” Yet humans often act as though our individual and collective struggles with contradictory ideas—be they political, economic, or moral—is a failing. We instinctively seek to identify one side as the clear winner and abolish the other from our minds and societies. But this is folly. Success in the arena of ideas does not involve destroying the other side but rather continuously engaging with it, learning from it, even incorporating parts of it. Although it can be difficult and often uncomfortable to believe two seemingly contradicting things—e.g., humans are individuals who seek personal freedom and chafe under restrictions, and humans are social animals who crave belonging and will conform in order to be part of a group—such cognitive dissonance is where the magic happens. It is in the skirmishing and subsequent synthesizing of opposing ideas that genuinely healthy societies are born.
When we can hold two opposed ideas in our head at the same time, we gain possession of those two pieces of iron, and as they clash together they sharpen each other, paring away the excesses and weaknesses of both ideas until we expose and recognize the essential truths within each point of view. This is the way a synthesis is born, through which we can truly grow and advance in our understanding of each other and our world.
Postscript:
In his masterful book Sapiens, the historian Yuval Noah Harari offers this wonderful perspective on the necessity of embracing contradiction and engaging with opposing ideas: “Cognitive dissonance is often considered a failure of the human psyche. In fact, it is a vital asset. Had people been unable to hold contradictory beliefs and values, it would probably have been impossible to establish and maintain any human culture. If, say, a Christian really wants to understand the Muslims who attend that mosque down the street, he shouldn’t look for a pristine set of values that every Muslim holds dear. Rather, he should enquire in to the catch-22s of Muslim culture, those places where rules are at war and standards scuffle. It’s at the very spot where the Muslims teeter between two imperatives that you’ll understand them best.”
Addendum (06/04/20):
In the above post, I mentioned interdependence as necessary to keep a democratic society healthy. I think this is a point worth expanding on, and I will start by clarifying the term. Whereas independence means being fully self-sufficient and not having to rely on anyone else, and dependence means being powerless and relying entirely on the assistance of others, interdependence features a balance—a synthesis, if you will—of those two states. Interdependence is when we are mutually reliant on each other; the balance of power is roughly equal, allowing us to assist each other and achieve our common interests with dignity and fairness for all.
Unfettered market capitalism drives portions of society too far in the direction of independence. A purely market-driven society promotes extreme individualism and leads to gross disparities in wealth, such that those at the top no longer feel any need for their fellow citizens (except as customers or cheap laborers). These wealthy individuals send their kids to private schools, lived in gated communities, and park their money in offshore accounts. They do their best to avoid paying taxes that support things like public education and unemployment benefits. Because they no longer see their fellow citizens as equals or as necessary partners, they lose much of their commitment to democratic principles like equality and fairness.
On the flip side, there is “nanny-state” socialism, wherein people become so reliant on the government to meet their needs, and so willing to let bureaucrats make decisions and run the show, that they no longer engage with their fellow citizens to solve problems, instead devolving into total dependence on the state. In this scenario, we induce a stagnant society that provides a surface-level equality at the cost of healthy competition and risk-taking innovation. As such, we lose the important democratic principles of self-determination and personal responsibility.
For a vibrant and adaptable democracy, we have to strike a balance. But our default mode has been to ignore imbalances—economic, political, racial—until they reach a critical mass and result in a violent recoil in the opposite direction. A better (although more challenging) approach is one of continuous synthesis, in which we recognize that our everyday decisions are part of the balancing act, and that by engaging in the process of synthesis on a constant basis, we are much more able to prevent the terrible upheavals that have plagued our nation in the past. As with so much in life, if we’re willing to put in the hard work today, our future results will prove far more fruitful.
Addendum (06/29/20):
I’ve long since come to realize that Ecclesiastes is right in that “there is nothing new under the sun,” and so pretty much every worthwhile idea I have has already been had by others. This was demonstrated by my coming across this quote from Martin Luther King, Jr. only a few weeks after completing my article. In his sermon A tough mind and a tender heart he explains the need for those two contrasting but complementary things, noting that “Life at its best is a creative synthesis of opposites in fruitful harmony. The philosopher Hegel said that truth is found neither in the thesis nor the antithesis, but in an emergent synthesis which reconciles the two.” He then goes on to explain how Jesus understood the need for blending opposites (e.g., a tough mind and a tender heart). So yeah, Dr. King said it earlier—and better—than me, but at least I can feel that I’m in good company!
