IN A PERFECT WORLD
Here’s an embarrassing memory from my childhood. It must have been in camp, because I was with some friends in a country setting. We were walking along in search of a good place to sit and relax. I noticed a grouping of chairs off to the right and started leading the others in that direction. It was a couple of seconds before I realized that, contrary to my expectation, they were not being led. The other girls had moved off to the left, where there was another seating option.
The sensible thing for me to do, of course, would have been to turn around and join them. But I’d been so pleased to find what we were looking for, and so certain that they’d agree with me, that I found it hard to switch gears. Instead of joining my friends, I pointedly sat down on one of the chairs I’d found, seething with what I guess you’d call chagrin. It wasn’t until my friends started calling and waving me over that I managed to swallow my pride and go over to where they were sitting.
What had made it so hard for me to switch gears was the fact that I was feeling somewhat mortified. There I’d been acting like a leader with a great idea, but the others refused to get with the program. Someone else had a different idea, and they ended up following her instead. Which left me feeling foolish… and which, in turn made me dig in my heels rather than acknowledge that I was in the lonely minority here.
People do this kind of thing all the time. You can see it in any house where a toddler or young child throws a tantrum when she doesn’t get what she wants. Even long after the child has forgotten what she’s crying about, the tears and the yells may stubbornly persist. To stop would be to admit defeat. It’s a matter of pride.
For grown-ups, it’s even more so. We have an inborn desire for kavod, a yearning for respect, which can lead to wonderful accomplishments but, when misused, propel us into ignominious depths.
Pride, or ego, is the factor that goads people into quarrels that can last far too long. Sometimes tragically long. It all starts when one party believes himself to be in the right. Unfortunately, the second part feels exactly the same way about his own opinion. Both parties want to be acknowledged as intelligent and in the know. The longer and more vociferous the argument becomes, the harder it is to back down.
Pride steps in to bolster our stance. Our desire to have others accord us the honor we want is always a stumbling block to achieving a peaceful resolution.
From what I’ve seen, it’s people at the two extreme ends of the security spectrum that are most susceptible to the promptings of kavod.
At the low end of the spectrum are those who feel perennially insecure. They may rarely take a stand, but when they do, they can’t bear the feeling of humiliation that comes with backing down.
Low self-esteem can skew the picture, to the point of distorting their view of reality. It begins to feel as if the whole world will see how worthless they are unless they win this battle. Thus, in the midst of an argument or a fight for precedence, they can dig in their heels even if they suspect that it’s a losing cause. They’ll stick to their guns and fight it out, even when all they really want to do is crawl into a hole and hide.
Those at the other end of the spectrum may be too secure. Their opinion of themselves and their own acumen makes them top lofty and extremely loath to admit that they’re ever wrong. The trappings of kavod feel like their due. Whereas the insecure person craves honor because it makes him feel that he’s okay, the overly secure person sees it as a validation of his high opinion of himself.
For everyone else who falls somewhere in the middle of the security spectrum, the challenge is a little less acute. While we all want to be respected and to have others think highly of our opinions, our drive for kavod may be more tempered than it is at either extreme. We certainly enjoy winning others’ esteem, but we don’t need others to prove to us that we’re worthy of respect. We don’t need to lord it over others. Sometimes we’re right, sometimes we’re wrong, and that’s okay. We may take up a position, but we don’t necessarily dig a deep hole to plant our egos in.
Peace is usually the victim when two quarreling parties dig themselves into such entrenched positions that it becomes hard to climb out unassisted. That’s why it can become the job of others, on the outside, to facilitate shalom between them. To extend a hand and help the parties out of the holes they’ve dug for themselves.
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In Japanese culture, emphasis is put on helping a person “save face.” This means avoiding situations that could cause another person shame or embarrassment. It’s meant to help preserve his self-esteem and social standing.
When people are involved in a knock-down and/or long-term quarrel and are finding it hard to see their way out of the tangled mess of stubborn pride that keeps them in the hole they’ve dug, anyone trying to help has to take into consideration the vast amount of “face” that needs to be saved. The longer or harder the fight, the more difficult it can be to back away without feeling like a loser. It may take someone else, someone neutral, to help both parties to step away from the confrontation with their “faces” intact.
Since ego, pride and self-esteem are such big factors in an argument’s longevity, they must be seriously considered when trying to bury the hatchet at last. Even if these factors are causing the quarreling parties to behave irrationally. Or especially when they are causing the parties to behave irrationally. It may take a calm, objective outsider to help bring about a resolution to a situation that has spiraled emotionally out of control.
Humiliation can give rise to the kind of rage that can wreak terrible havoc. When a person feels dishonored, his fury and mortification can lead him, and sometimes also those around him, into disaster. I remember, when translating the biography of the mashgiach, Rav Meir Chodosh, how impressed I was when I read about the way he refused to catch a talmid of the yeshiva “red-handed.” If he saw a bochur doing something he shouldn’t, the mashgiach deliberately looked the other way.
He’d rebuke them later, indirectly, in a talk delivered to the group as a whole, showing the boys exactly what he thought of their action while at the same time allowing them that all-important face-saving anonymity. In explaining this approach, he would say that catching someone “in the act” makes them feel guilty and unworthy. By allowing them to maintain their pride and self-esteem intact, he was giving them a fighting chance to actually be able to absorb his mussar.
One thing we can do to help ourselves and the people in our lives is to treat others with the same kind of scrupulous respect we want for ourselves. That way, even when disagreement does rear its ugly head, there will be far less at stake in fighting it out. The issue will not be confused by the heated demands of pride and kavod.
A fair compromise and a peaceful settlement is far easier to achieve when there are cool heads, and “saved” faces, on both sides of the fence!
