the typology of accusation
Milan Kundera, in his work The Festival of Insignificance, presents us with a revealing dichotomy:
-“To feel guilty or not. I think everything comes down to this. Life is a struggle of everyone against everyone. This is known. But how does this struggle unfold in a more or less civilized society? People cannot throw themselves against each other as soon as they meet. Instead, they try to cast the disgrace of guilt on the other. The one who manages to make the other feel guilty will win. The one who confesses their error loses. You’re walking down the street, absorbed in your thoughts. Walking in your direction, a girl, as if she were alone in the world, without looking left or right, advances straight ahead. You bump into each other. And here is the moment of truth. Who will insult the other, and who will apologize? It’s a model situation: in reality, each of the two is both the disturbed and the disturber. However, there are those who immediately, spontaneously, consider themselves as disturbers, that is, as guilty. And there are others who always see themselves immediately, spontaneously, as disturbed, that is, within their rights, ready to accuse the other and have them punished. In this situation, would you apologize or accuse?”
-“I would certainly apologize.”
-“Ah, poor you, you belong, consequently, also to the army of apologizers. You think you can flatter the other through your apologies.”
-“Exactly.”
-“And you are mistaken. Those who apologize declare themselves guilty. And if you declare yourself guilty, you encourage the other to continue insulting you, to denounce you publicly, until your death. These are the fatal consequences of the first apology.”
Typically, the accusers Kundera speaks of are people who have more certainties than doubts. By never questioning their own responsibility and guilt, they readily accuse. They blame something or someone for their misfortunes and discomfort. Interestingly, these same certainties lead accusers to take full and absolute credit for their victories and achievements. They are certain of others’ defeats and their own victories. It seems easy to live this way, but at what cost to truth, growth, and genuine human connection?
On the other hand, the apologizers appear to have a symbiotic relationship with permanent doubt: “Was I the one who bumped into them?” To their misfortune, repeated doubt progressively becomes certainty: “It was certainly me. It was my fault, as usual.”
Kundera makes it clear that one group creates, feeds, and legitimizes the other. I agree. However, contrary to what seems clear in the novel, I don’t believe the solution is to enlist in either of these two armies. Virtue should be found somewhere between these extremes.
the value of doubt in an age of certainty
“I know that I know nothing” is the famous and often misquoted phrase attributed to Socrates, the Greek who lived more than 2,400 years ago. The Athenian claimed that only in relation to doubt and ignorance can we be certain; awareness of one’s own ignorance was, therefore, the ultimate virtue. Clearly, this idea didn’t catch on. It seems that security, the illusion of knowing, and the pretense of judging others wrong is where the sensation of safety and confidence is found.
In fact, isn’t the escape from doubt and the unknown one of the reasons for science’s existence? Science, differing from philosophy or art, exists to transform questions into answers. In science, a question that remains unanswered is failed work. Certainly, the answers found should generate new questions, but the sensation left by the answers we find, often, or in many people, especially non-scientists, is that of cessation of the need to ask again. A confident and conclusive answer kills uncertainty, doubt, and insecurity which, in the right dose, guarantee tolerance and acceptance. Socrates was absolutely secure in his intellectual humility, which implies some insecurity.
Contemporary society and culture are prolific in creating accusers. It seems that, increasingly, we are less tolerant of doubt and uncertainty. We need to have everything clear, always. Only then will we be recognized and rewarded, one might think. When the inability to question oneself prevails, “the other” always appears, conveniently, to bear the blame and mistakes.
the digital reinforcement of certainty
The mechanisms are there, in plain sight and in our hands—more specifically in our thumbs. For example, social media and the algorithms that feed their timelines lead us to see more, or only, information that aligns with our interests and viewpoints, creating what researchers now call “filter bubbles” and “echo chambers.” These digital environments seal us within worlds that mirror and amplify our existing beliefs. Thus, these networks and other information vehicles reinforce our certainties, with our consent. Moreover, they demand that we choose who and what to “follow.” Of course, we will tend to follow what interests us, what is similar to us, close, and doesn’t challenge our opinions. We are contributing to the expansion of a prison where we are already locked up, as John Berger suggests in Meanwhile. For me, the worst prison is the one that doesn’t look like one and makes us want to remain imprisoned.
