Shared tragedy is a powerful force that binds people in unexpected ways. The survivors of plane crashes, those who fought side-by-side in war, and victims of natural disasters find ways past their differences and to the core of humanity that defines us beyond what we otherwise identify with or as. The sense of common ground is a perspective that transcends time and distance to weave emotional ties that some people carry until their final breath with a kind of loyalty we expect more of birds that mate for life. When I look at the painful, angry divisions that have further fractured the indelicate and unbalanced state of the world today, I wonder if things need to get more tragic before they might ever get better – or, at least, somewhat normal.
I want to believe we don’t have to hit the bottom to climb out of the morass we are buried in. I once thought my sense of civic duty and political savvy could make me an instrument of change if I stayed engaged and demonstrated leadership through the innate ability to influence others, which has always come easily to me. But I’ve become less confident as I have become more unsure about what is true, relevant, or necessary. The art of making things possible and serving a greater good becomes increasingly abstract when there isn’t a clear point on the future horizon to point to.
I worry about my moral certainty. I’ve always accepted that I might be wrong, but my intellectual confidence has guided me to hold being correct as my default until someone proves me otherwise – and I welcome that happening. As CEO of my company, it was a way of being playful and demonstrating generosity. I welcomed being challenged and rewarded those who opened my eyes to things I wasn’t seeing. But lately, it seems that isn’t good enough. It is not a game, and the stakes are far too high.
We quickly choose sides around what is right or wrong. If we disagree and I am right – then you must be wrong. We remain defiant and at odds and resolve nothing. Taking the position that “I am right, and you are wrong” widens the divide. It energizes the distrust, hate, and propensity for violence that has become too common in contemporary political discourse. By placating your adversaries with “you are right, and I am wrong,” you only devolve into passive aggression and worsen matters. And agreeing to disagree, which is, in essence, I am right, and you are also right, is lazy and disingenuous: it lacks the rigor and honesty we need to bridge our differences in meaningful ways. There is a better way. I think the only way forward: I am wrong, and you are wrong.
This provocation moves us away from certainty and arrogance toward curiosity and tolerance. It demands that we ask powerful questions and opens the door to finding common answers—or at least honest discussions that allow us to respect our differences.
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