Sowers of Discord
Thoughts on New Year's Resolutions
Recently, I saw an exhibition of artists’ renditions of Dante’s Inferno. I was struck by the Sowers of Discord, who inhabit the eighth circle of Hell. The Sowers of Discord stir up trouble and disrupt peace in families, among friends, and in society. For Dante, their archetype1 is Bertran de Born, whom Dante condemns for all eternity to carry around his own severed head.
You may be thinking that I have just written the most eccentric opening ever to an essay about New Year’s resolutions, but I promise I do have a point. I have long been amused that the typical New Year’s resolution is to start a diet or a new exercise regime. Of all the possible ways we could make our lives and the world better,2 why these? Could we instead imagine spiritual resolutions that would make us and those around us happier? For my part, this year I resolve to be a Sower of Concord—to resist unproductive wrangling and instead promote peace and harmony.
I cop to having been a Sower of Discord in the past (and will grudgingly admit that I still am at times). It is just too tempting to continue arguments long after they have become pointless. For example, when I was in my twenties, I had a friend who was a cat person. I love dogs to a perhaps inordinate degree, so I could NOT let that stand! We would be peacefully hanging out, and I would abruptly say something insulting about cats or pontificate about the virtues of dogs just to provoke a dispute. Such tendentious adjectives as “bitey” and “indifferent” for cats and “devoted” and “playful” for dogs were tossed about. Such canine exemplars as seeing-eye and search-and-rescue dogs were offered. The name Balto may have come up. It was all in vain: unsurprisingly, my friend didn’t want to be argued out of his love for cats.3 So what did all that arguing gain me?
Set Them Down
And on the other hand, I continue to have a terrible time dealing with those Sowers of Discord I encounter online and in life. We can be a Sower of Discord not only by starting trouble, but also by perpetuating it. When I get into a discussion that is the least bit inharmonious, I feel upset long after the discussion is over. Full of l'esprit de l'escalier, I want to come storming back days later with my incisive point, like that drunk person who keeps slurring, “And another thing. . . .” I think we’re all familiar with this phenomenon—there’s even that joke about the guy who can’t sleep because “someone is wrong on the internet.”
When I get caught up in online discord, I have found it helpful to think about the last story in Jon J Muth’s wonderful children’s book Zen Shorts. A young monk and an old monk are journeying together and come upon a river. A rich, arrogant lady is standing at the river, refusing to wade across. The old monk cheerfully picks her up with all her packages and shuttles her over. On the other side, she brusquely takes her items and takes her leave. The monks continue on their journey, but a few hours later the younger monk bursts out, “That woman was so rude! She didn’t even thank you after all you did for her!” Gently, the older monk replies, “I set the woman down hours ago. Why are you still carrying her?”
I admit that I have a tendency toward “still carrying” conflicts that have upset me, but the old monk’s wise words help me to set them down.
Replace the Fundamental Attribution Error with the Principle of Charity
We commit the Fundamental Attribution Error when we think that other people do things we don’t like because of intrinsic character flaws—and at the same time we excuse our own behavior because of our circumstances. We tend to put the worst construction on others’ words and actions but give ourselves leeway. George Carlin cites a quintessential example: ever notice how everyone who drives faster than us is a maniac, while everyone who drives slower is an idiot? We, of course, drive at exactly the right speed.
I really struggle with the Fundamental Attribution Error. I am quick to assume that other people who thwart me do so out of malice. Just the other week I was at a farmer’s market, and there was an old lady standing in front of the arugula bin. The market was not crowded at all; it would have been a simple matter for her to shift over a couple of feet, but she would not budge. I waited patiently next to her for several minutes, and finally I reached over and politely asked, “Darf ich?” (“May I?”) She shook her finger at me and scolded, “Abstand halten!” (“Stand back!”). I immediately defaulted to such ageist thoughts as “Is there anyone more intransigent than an older person who has staked out her spot?” I indulged in dark ruminations about how seniors have apparently forgotten what it’s like to be in a rush. I thought of this cartoon:
When we employ the Principle of Charity, by contrast, we give the other person the same benefit of the doubt we would give ourselves. We assume that they are a good human being with perfectly reasonable motivations, just like us. For example, the lady at the farmer’s market might not have seen me until I invaded her space, or she might have been sincerely worried about Covid, or she might have wanted some of that tasty arugula for herself and was just about to scoop some up when I so rudely interrupted her. Fredrik Backman, in his excellent novel Anxious People, has a helpful way we can remind ourselves to use the Principle of Charity:
Ask yourself three questions before you flare up. One: Are the actions of the person in question intended to harm you personally? Two: Do you possess all the information about the situation? Three: Do you have anything to gain from a conflict?
The Principle of Charity ensures that our interactions with other people will be more harmonious and productive; it turns discord into concord.
Meditate and Laugh
When I encounter an especially difficult person, I practice a lovingkindness meditation that my friend Jana taught me a few years ago. You can try it too and see if it helps:
Find a comfortable place to sit and close your eyes. Pay attention to your breath: inhale on a count of four and exhale on a count of six to help you focus. If your mind starts to wander, remember that that is totally normal and gently, and without blaming yourself, bring your attention back to your breath.
When you are feeling relaxed, silently repeat these words to yourself: “May I be safe, may I be happy, may I be healthy, may I be peaceful and at ease.”
Then, think of a person you love and repeat this wish for them. Next, think of a neutral person—someone you just saw on the street, for example—and send the same wish to them. Now think about a difficult person and repeat the same wish for them. Finally, send the wish to all living beings.
Take as much time as you need after these words, continuing to pay attention to your breath. When you are finished, open your eyes and resume your day.
I have found that sending these wishes to a difficult person helps me to understand that they are a human being with their own struggles. Moreover, the meditation has helped me to discover that difficult behavior arises from a lack of peace in one’s own life; when we feel discordant, we sow discord. But when we feel at peace, we sow concord.
My favorite strategy for dealing with my feelings of irritation and judgment, though, is to try to see the humor in the situation. For example, at the start of the pandemic I stopped by a local farm stand.4 It’s about the size of a two-car garage, so people are typically in and out pretty quickly. I was waiting outside in a long line, when I noticed that a man had been in there for a ridiculously long time—so I timed him. He was in there for fifteen minutes! What on earth could he possibly be doing in there all that time? I wondered to myself. So I imagined that he was not in fact on earth and had found a portal to another dimension. Thinking this way helped me laugh at him—and at myself—rather than stewing.
To return to the arugula lady at the first farmer’s market, I managed to laugh at myself then too. Just the week before, at the same farmer’s market, an older gentleman had wandered into the road with his shopping cart and just stood there, blocking the road for almost ten minutes. The whole time, a guy in a BMW was waiting to drive through, but no force imaginable could make the old guy move. (Perhaps he was auditioning to be Larry in the cartoon?) And then his wife came out of a store, and together they rummaged around in the old guy’s cart, sorting and re-bagging the items right there in the middle of the street. I watched the whole scene and was highly amused! I reminded myself of this story when I was feeling irritated at the arugula lady, and I reflected that it could have been worse—I could have been the guy stuck in the BMW.
The Duty to Retreat
So much for poky people at farmers’ markets. But what about when the other person is truly horrible? What happens when the Principle of Charity or meditation or a sense of humor are inadequate to the discord the person is sowing? People like this do exist, especially on the internet.
Throughout Europe, it is common for dogs to be off leash. European dog-owners will tell you that keeping a dog on a leash can lead to aggression. Why? Because leashed dogs can’t run away when they meet other dogs, their only recourse when they feel threatened is to attack. A dog who is off leash, on the other hand, is free to retreat. My dog, Lynn, is afraid of everything and regularly exercises this freedom to run away.
Our culture likes to mock people who run away from conflicts and to lionize people who fight. Think of Brave Sir Robin, in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, who is ridiculed because he “bravely ran away,” or of the sneering label “beta males.” American popular culture, from classic westerns through superhero movies, praises people who solve their problems through violence. This belief—that it is better to escalate a fight than to avoid one—lies behind “stand your ground” laws, which remove the “duty to retreat” and permit anyone who feels threatened for any reason to use deadly force against the perceived threats. Pointless conflict and worse are the result. In fact, as all dogs know, running away works. Who would have thought that dogs would be smarter than (some of) us? It takes wisdom to resist the pressures from our culture and our own pride, and to understand that there are situations where prolonging a conflict causes everyone to lose. Sometimes retreat is the best way forward.
When All Else Fails, Go Outside
Zoomers5 (and readers who know Zoomers) will recognize the phrase “Go outside!” from online arguments. (“Touch grass” is another version.) The expressions are snarky, but there’s some truth here. Every single time I have felt angry or upset after an argument and then gone outside, my bad feelings have simply dissipated. I look around and think, Why was I so mad? So this is my advice to myself and to you, dear readers: Go outside! Take a deep breath, and take in the view! Stride, or run, or climb! Smell the trees and touch the grass (or snow)! It works!
How about you, readers? Have you made New Year’s resolutions? Do you have tips for dealing with Sowers of Discord—and avoiding becoming one? Please share your thoughts in the comments!
The Tidbit
Enjoy this video, from Monty Python and the Holy Grail: “When danger reared its ugly head / he bravely turned his tail and fled. / Yes Brave Sir Robin turned about / and gallantly he chickened out.” But, seriously, isn’t discretion the better part of valor here? It is SMART to run away from a three-headed giant!
Dante believed that Bertran de Born had fomented rebellion between King Henry II and his son, Henry the Young King. Unfortunately, Dante, a product of his time, also condemned to the eighth circle any non-Christians who proselytized to Christians. Hopefully we all disagree with Dante about this.
Far be it from me to criticize anyone who wants to eat healthy food and exercise more! As a vegetarian who prefers kale to cake (really!) and who loves to hike, I applaud anyone who wants to adopt healthier practices, at any time of year.
The irony is that I now love cats and enthusiastically pet every cat I encounter.
You may have noticed a theme. My efforts to speedily carry out my errands are constantly being thwarted at farm stands!
“Zoomers” is another word for Gen-Z—people born since about 1997.
Well said (as always), Mari. At Unchained At Last, the nonprofit I run, we recently introduced a policy we call "assume positive intent."
It's not at all easy to follow that policy.
I love this piece. As well as the advantages of practicing loving kindness & getting out into nature I'll also attest to the benefits of self-reflection in making sense of arguments. I particularly recommend the question 'but why do I believe x'. The answer is often not because it's most likely to be true, but because it suits us.