10. The Conflict Resolution Crisis

This generation of ours seems so highly lacking in conflict resolution skills that it appears quite pathetic. It is not unusual to find oneself in the midst of a conversation where yet another person is boasting of cutting someone off and of their zero-tolerance policy for misunderstandings or arguments. In the virtual world, where everyone can find their tribe, unfortunately, such behaviour is amplified a million-fold by other fellow agree-ers and "choose yourself-ers."

This is not something to be boastful of. It might be an indication of a character defect, of a lazy disposition to serious conversations, an inability to endure awkward moments, and an inability to slog through the intrinsic tension that comes with disagreements. In short, it might be a sign of cowardice, immaturity, laziness, or all three. Worse, it might even be a sign of ingratitude. For what else but ingratitude can inspire a person to expect greener pastures elsewhere when the rest of the world is covered in snow? Only an animal is willing to sever its limb to escape a trap when that trap can be evaded by careful planning and contemplating a solution.

As such, countless friendships, relationships, and kinships—that had so much potential—die at the first sight of turmoil. Given how mundane some of these disputes are, the threshold for turmoil seems to be the lowest it has ever been. The most basic form of friction is enough to drive a permanent wedge, prematurely ending a relationship. What should be understood as common to all relationships—disagreement, misunderstanding, wronging the other party, talking over one another, the willingness to be heard exceeding the willingness to listen, the impulse to punish overtaking the impulse to forgive, etc.—is otherwise seen as an unacceptable violation of unrealistic terms and conditions.

It is here where the ego shows its true colours, here where pride steps in to do what it does best: elevating and soothing the current self at the expense of the future self. This is where someone is cut off for not lowering themselves enough, for not listening well enough, for not caring enough, for not apologising enough, for trying to debate the obvious, etc.

It has become commonplace, one might even say somewhat encouraged, to sever ties to a relationship, despite its depth and history, if it disturbs one's peace. Mental health, which has gained the attention it rightly deserves, is almost always given as the primary reason for such decisions. Any wise person, any mental health worker, any person recovering from the brutal wages of the thankless job of relationship altruism—would all agree to the utility of preserving one's peace, to the importance of discernment, of not being naive. They would all agree that one should give out their trust with care. They would all be united in this higher truth that speaks to the importance of self-preservation. And they would be right.

The issue presents itself when, in addition to these earners of stripes, these soldiers of noble wounds who have willingly fallen on a grenade, these scalded firemen who got burnt on the job trying to save people from violent fires—find amongst their soothing choral singing, noodling voices from a horde of infants singing violently along. Infants proudly professing the same wisdom without the requisite experience. Allow this to go on long enough, and the result is the popularisation of a self-serving narrative; mental peace is the priority, and therefore anything disturbing it is expendable and should be dispensed with. The baby, flying mid-air with the bathwater, has a desperate look on their face knowing what is about to come should there be no sign of hands reaching out to grab them.

The best way to retrieve the baby from the bathwater is not taking away the narrative but rather adding to it; anything disturbing one's mental peace should be dispensed with, but only after effortful attempts have been made to salvage the friendship, relationship, kinship, etc. Given the subjective nature of "effortful" and "attempts," it immediately becomes obvious that a brutal self-reflection and self-honesty are also required. Unfortunately, most of the outside world does not have access to the presence of these latter traits outside of the individual themselves. Given this consideration, it is easy to understand why few are stretching out their arms, attempting to grab the crying baby mid-air. Such a narrative would require more effort than the average human is willing to give. As such, "death by a thousand cuts" could not have been coined in this era of ours, when "death by a single cut" continues to be worn as a badge of honour.

The cause of this ineptitude at resolving conflict cannot merely be the seemingly omnipresent narrative of choosing oneself. In an age where mental health is The Eye of Providence, at the top of the value pyramid, it can easily be used as a global scapegoat for most failed interpersonal matters requiring self-reflection, accountability, and a fibrous moral character. Mental health is the shield, the bow, and the arrow as it is used not only to defend oneself from psychological confrontation with one's weaknesses and swallowing the dreadful pill of accountability, but it can also be weaponised and used to inflict pain through actions that willingly ignore the ramifications they might have on a loved one.

"I choose myself" is meant to be contextual and applied when one has made significant efforts in preventing/addressing a dispute. One cannot merely "choose oneself" at the outset, for the axiom loses its meaning and significance. Done right, "I choose myself" could be an antidote to those who are not being valued sufficiently, and can be liberating to the one who decides and knows that their attempts at mending a bond have regrettably proven futile. Such a decision can prevent the fatal cut from landing. However, on one who has suffered being cut twice, and who has a history of only allowing one or two cuts before ending a blossoming bond, "I choose myself" is a deception. It is an escape; from the responsibility of enduring difficult conversations, from experiencing awkward and unpleasant feelings, from having to be wronged/wrong and moving past it, from the fear of a change in roles that might come with a reframed relationship, etc.

With these fragile terms and conditions, a society that tiptoes around issues emerges. Close friends choose not to risk confrontation and, therefore, resolve not to criticise, counsel, advise, or offer suggestions. This is because a dispute can potentially lead to "I choose myself," even among the very people who should know our intentions.

Maybe the more one can stay put and intentionally silent during those moments of tension during a disagreement, maybe if one can look the one they have wronged in the eye and maintain eye contact without feeling the need to break the moment by interjecting a word or two, maybe then we can work ourselves up to a place in society where we can handle conflict in a mature way. Maybe, like most things, the intention is the main thing required: the intention to be good at resolving conflict, the intention to be better at giving apologies and meaning them, without the need to explain for relatability. Maybe we need to be good at being uncomfortable.