Introduction
“All life is war.” Such was the view of the great English philosopher and man of letters John Cowper Powys (1872–1963), found throughout his work, and aphoristically expressed in this dark saying he invariably attributed to Heraclitus (ca. 500 BCE).
Heraclitus had indeed admonished Homer for wishing to rid the world of conflict when, in his view, to do that—even if it could be done—would be the surest way to destroy the world. For Heraclitus held that it is only out of conflict or strife (ἔρις [eris]), a collision of opposites, that the harmony of the world is established in the first place, and Heraclitus declared conflict to be the source of all good things.
Whatever we may think of such views, it is undeniable that conflict of one sort or another is always with us.
And it is equally undeniable that the thing to do with any conflict is, wherever possible, to resolve it. Here, at least, we ourselves would wholeheartedly agree.
All the same—and surprisingly, given the overarching importance of the topic of conflict and its resolution—there is in our view hardly any topic more widely misunderstood.
If we want to be more effective at resolving conflicts, a good starting point is to look at conflict in a different way from the usual one.
Over the next couple of weeks, in this three-part article, we will indicate at least one promising way of doing so—an approach to resolving conflicts that falls naturally out of the new epistemology.
—Ellen and James
Resolving Conflicts by Sidestepping Them—Part I: What Conflicts Are
“We first raise a dust and then complain we cannot see.”
—Bishop Berkeley, Principles of Human Knowledge (1710)
Conflicts are best avoided.
By this I do not mean the truism that it is best, where we can, to avert conflicts before they arise. For, try as we may to anticipate difficulties, we can ward off all conflicts no more than we can prevent all failures.
What I mean is, rather, that once conflicts come to light they are best avoided in the sense of “sidestepped, bypassed, skirted ‘round.” And this can, with sufficient care and cunning, be accomplished in every case.
Learning to bypass conflicts without compromising anything that matters to us requires, once again, a way of thinking about conflicts and their resolution that diverges from our more usual habits of thought.
Varieties of Conflict
Everyday life is full of conflicts. I have invited a friend to tea at four o’clock, only to discover I am due at the dentist’s up in town for a check-up at three. I need more bookshelves in my study, but the only remaining wall space is used for hanging pictures. Two bills urgently need paying, and I shall be overdrawn at the bank if I pay them both before the end of the month.
Granted, I cannot, in normal circumstances at least, keep two appointments at the same time. Nor can the same space be filled by two different things at once. And I certainly cannot spend the same money twice. Yet a conflict over time, space, or resources only arises where I am unwilling to let go of either of the contending alternatives, and where, at the end of the day, I cannot figure out how to have it both ways.
If I were prepared to put off the dentist or my visitor, to sell some books or hang the pictures in the hall, to bear the wrath of either of my creditors, then a conflict would not arise, or at least would not survive a moment’s thought. Likewise, there would be no conflict if I found room for a freestanding bookcase, or arranged an overdraft facility or post-dated cheque, or gave my friend tea at the café opposite the dentist’s.
For there to be a conflict there must be—at least the appearance of—two or more purposes, neither ready to be sacrificed, and yet each calling for the sacrifice of the other.
The general form of every conflict is, “We cannot eat our cake and have it,” or, in other words, “We believe we are forced to choose between incompatible aims we are loath to give up.”
To be in a conflict is thus to believe something-or-other to be the case, to have framed our situation, however tacitly, a certain way.
To deal with a conflict is to deal with a belief, a set of assumptions, a way of framing things.
To adapt our earlier remark in respect of problems: “There are no givens; if you think you have a conflict, think again—you are thinking about it wrong.”
Conflicts are of our own making. It is we ourselves who have framed or construed matters as we have.
Even where conflicts appear in one of the three starkest, most compellingly intractable forms—the staking of multiple claims to the same time, space, or resources—the tyranny of the logical either-or is delusive.
When the logician pronounces, “the same thing cannot be both A and not-A,” we must reply, “That ain’t necessarily so, for it all depends on the question we are asking. And speaking of ‘question’, we must first stop to question the way we have framed our ends.”
Is the name of the game to take tea in my sitting room or to chat with my friend over a hot drink somewhere? to put bookshelves on the wall or my books on shelves? to get a cheque in the post or have it clear by month-end?
The greater the extent to which the conflict in question involves complex contending views, interests, priorities, and agendas, the greater our freedom of choice in how we look at it.
Next week: Conflicts versus disputes.
© Copyright 2010, 2023 Dr James Wilk
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