How Politics became Polemics

A sad story?with a potentially very bad ending about a man in a bar, a message on my timeline, a minister and the noble art of the dialogue.

A man in a bar.

Let me share a story with you. A few weeks ago, my friends and I decided to grab a meal together and ended up hanging out at a local pub. We found some stools and settled around a barrel table at the bar, creating a cozy and rustic atmosphere. Amidst this setting, there was an individual who appeared to be quite melancholic, leaning against a glass of Duvel, evidently seeking an audience. Surprisingly, his gaze landed on our group, and he seized the opportunity to start a conversation.

Without any formal introduction or preamble, he launched into his story. "I ended up exceeding the speed limit by just one kilometer," he grumbled with a hint of irritation. "A mere one kilometer, mind you, within a 30-kilometer-per-hour zone. These folks are nothing short of swindlers, I assure you. They operate like thieves in the night, taking advantage of innocent people. You won't believe who's responsible for this 30-kilometer-per-hour zone nonsense—those ardent environmentalists, my friend. Trying to maintain a speed of 30 is like chasing smoke. You're forced to constantly hit the brakes and keep an eye on the speedometer. Meanwhile, cyclists breeze past you from all directions, as if sharing some inside joke. It's like navigating through a dangerous labyrinth. While they label it as a safety measure, the true motive is nothing more than politicians lining their pockets."

I glanced at the politician among our group, sensing a bit of awkwardness given their involvement in politics.

"Absolutely, they're just enriching themselves at our expense. And then they act surprised when society faces problems. And let's not even get started on those electric vehicles they're promoting. They catch fire at an alarming rate, putting on a dazzling display. Mark my words, we're close to witnessing the first fatality. These supposed champions of the environment? It's all a joke! A green cult, if you will. Filling their pockets while preaching. And for going slightly over the limit, they hit you with a 53 Euro fine within a 30-kilometer-per-hour zone. As if that's not absurd enough, it's like something out of Kafka."

Beside me, the politician maintained a polite smile without uttering a word. Our conversation continued as if unperturbed by his remarks. Meanwhile, the lone individual at the bar took a sip of his Duvel, evidently seeking an audience, but realizing we were not going to engage in his monologue.

But here's where the story takes a different direction—when it enters the realm of social media.?

A message washed up on my shore.

Just a few days ago, as I scrolled through my timeline and stumbled upon a post resembling a beached whale, colossal and lifeless. The image featured a 53 Euro fine for exceeding the speed limit by a mere kilometer in a 30-kilometer-per-hour zone. The caption was equally striking: "Can you believe this? Pure Kafka."

To my surprise, numerous individuals not only acknowledged his sentiment but also echoed it, forming a virtual chorus of agreement. It seemed as if they were all playing the same tune: corrupt politicians, the challenge of adhering to the 30-kilometer-per-hour limit, electric cars going up in flames like performers in a show, oblivious cyclists, the fervent environmental movement, and those who resist it. The sentiment expressed in that post permeated the virtual space.

I couldn't help but question why this decaying topic was surfacing on my feed, prompted by algorithms. The realization hit me that I stand on the side of bicycles, electric vehicles, and reducing emissions. I believe that cars have no place in the historical heart of our cities. The algorithms seemed to be prodding me to join the virtual chorus of indignation, which I resisted.

However, despite my reservations, I found myself tempted to disrupt the echo chamber and challenge the constant chatter. Inadvertently, I triggered an unnecessary online conflict, akin to a skirmish in a virtual battlefield. But here's the rub—such digital battles lack conventions. They're dubbed "flame wars," and there's no room for negotiation. It's a domain where opponents are ruthlessly attacked, and surrender is out of the question. The battle rages on until exhaustion sets in, leaving behind a scorched landscape.

We are living in this OMO world.

Yet, many people view this as purely online, detached from reality. However, the demarcation between online and offline is becoming increasingly blurred, evolving into a merged realm called OMO, indicated by the "M" of "merging." This convergence is evident when real-world events, like the storming of the Capitol, mirror the actions that have unfolded countless times in the digital space. Unfortunately, this virtual world is also home to a pernicious growth, much like the evil parallel universe of the Upside Down in "Stranger Things." It thrives on the real world and, once it gains strength, manifests its ugliness relentlessly.

As in "Stranger Things," the signs of this phenomenon are discernible for those willing to see. I couldn't ignore the looming threat, and so, I felt compelled to respond. When I encounter attitudes glorifying speeding or condoning threats to pedestrians and cyclists as expressions of freedom, when dissenters are labeled traitors, left-wing extremists, or members of a "green cult" deserving punishment, and when civic responsibility is considered a sign of weakness, I sense that the world is turning upside down. This feeling prompts me to react, as I perceive a significant danger: increasing polarization, a destabilized balance between freedom and unity, and the emergence of a troubling form of mob rule.

A minister crossing the line.

?

Let me share an example that highlights the risks of social media. A while ago, a minister did something that set off alarms. During a mainstream media interview, he deliberately attacked a fundamental value – the significance of motherly love. He knew exactly what he was doing. He made an extreme, controversial statement that he knew would spark outrage and go viral.

The twist is that this controversy exploded on social media. People reacted intensely, sharing and commenting. It was like wildfire. Here's the kicker: this isn't just an isolated incident. It's a reflection of a larger problem – the increasing trend of pushing boundaries and testing limits.

What's concerning is that this wasn't an ordinary person making this statement. It was a minister, someone in a position of power and influence. Instead of uniting, his words sowed discord. This is a classic example of how extreme rhetoric can fracture the fabric of society.

So, why did I, like so many others, feel the need to react? Because we're at a point where silence can be dangerous. Allowing such extreme statements to go unchallenged means we're letting the line be crossed. It's a signal that our collective values and shared understanding are being tested. This isn't just a matter of online outrage – it has real-world consequences.

We're living in an age where statements can spread like wildfire online. And if we don't stand up and say something, if we don't draw the line and defend what we hold dear, we risk allowing the very foundations of our society to be undermined.

?

Politics become polemics.

When even ministers start taking increasingly extreme stances that attack the foundational values of our society - such as the immeasurable value of motherhood - they're resorting to polemics, not dialogue. And that's far from harmless.

What both have in common is the involvement of two parties with differing viewpoints. But the similarities end there.

In a productive dialogue, the aim is to find a solution that transcends these viewpoints. No, not just the middle ground, not a lukewarm blend of both positions, but rather a fresh concoction of ingredients and recipes from both sides. This soup, known as the Belgian compromise model, is rarely palatable.

A true dialogue goes further, seeking new ingredients and a new recipe that accommodates both parties. It involves listening to each other's arguments, learning from them, and being motivated to eliminate conflicting interests by jointly devising something new. In a dialogue, there are two winners and no losers. It's a collective victory, making it the cornerstone of a healthy society.

A dialogue never begins from an extreme position. It's civilized, constructive, inclusive, sportsmanlike, and requires knowledge, skill, composure, trust, and often patience—traits that are becoming scarce.

Unfortunately, the easier path of polemics is increasingly chosen, even by our policymakers. They're driven by social media, clickbait, opinion polls, and the ever more extreme stances of those who wield fierce polemics as their weapon. They cling fanatically to their extreme positions, distancing themselves as far as possible from the perceived adversary.

The moment someone presents a counterargument or displays a willingness to listen, that individual is instantly torn down. In a realm dominated by polemics, dialogue is hopeless because dialogue thrives on openness, which is vulnerable.

It's likely that when one party opts for polemics, others follow suit and become entrenched in their own Great Certainty. This results in two winners and two losers, depending on who you ask, but in reality, everyone loses and no one wins. All that's left is scorched earth. Polemics are uncivilized, destructive, exclusive, and unsporting. Anything goes. Conventions cease to exist. It's a dirty war.

When policymakers embrace polemics, they make dialogue impossible. Then, they appear surprised, offering old political explanations for the rise of anti-politics and societal polarization. Desperate for attention, they adopt even more extreme positions. They fail to recognize that by employing polemics, they shirk their duty: to build a better society. Complete ungovernability looms, and consequently, very dark times lie ahead.