In this essay, I will explore how dyadic sink states (traps that couples get stuck in) can come from the zero-sum-ization of otherwise helpful monisms.
The first example one thinks of for a dyadic sink state would be an argument or fight; however, as this essay argues, not fighting can be a dyadic sink state too.
The first example of an unhelpful monism might be money: money isn’t bad per se, but being obsessed with money is bad.
Monisms (including money) can be the very things our culture values the most; that is the reason they become monisms. Thus, pacifism – one of the monisms mentioned here – is highly valuable and important. The point is not that the monism is bad, but that it is bad in excess – and our culture sometimes values it in excess. Just as money is very useful, but greed is bad; just as hierarchy is necessary to run a large organization, but authoritarianism is bad; so too the monisms in this essay are bad in excess, or when used in the wrong way. Pacifism could be bad if it prevents people from expressing their real feelings.
Moreover, any monism – helpful or unhelpful – can be turned into a status competition. Thus, one can have a contest over who is a better Christian or Buddhist, who is more polite, or who is more peaceful. Art can lead to stressful artistic competition; wisdom can lead to righteous feelings of being wiser than others. At that point, these things may become unhelpful monisms that contribute to zero-sum behavior. They no longer represent a break from zero-sum values, but become zero-sum themselves – a way of winning arguments.
1. The “stop the bully“ monism
It’s important to prevent bullying. But do abuse and bullying make a good monism or one-factor explanation for relationships? It seems to me that we need a complex vocabulary to talk about relationships. We couldn’t manage relationships if our sole concern were preventing abuse. If someone is a bully then presumably they should be more concerned about bullying and try to avoid it. If a person too-easily thinks of their partner as a bully then it might be productive to let go of the “stop the bully” monism. Not every bad thing that one’s partner does is a kind of bullying.
Some particular problems with bullying as a monism:
1. Misuse of the monism
We cannot assume that it will always be used correctly. We might imagine the bully monism being used appropriately by a person who is being abused by her partner. But what if it is used by a person who is annoyed because he feels mildly criticized by his partner. “What a bully, saying such things,” he says. It’s important to recognize that once a metaphor or idea is “loose in the field,” it does not automatically get used the way anyone might want it to be used. The inventor of the metaphor or idea might say “no, that’s not what I intended,” but it’s too late. That’s why we need a complex vocabulary rather than an abuse monism.
2. Competition to censor bullies
One could imagine getting into a status competition over who is more willing to censor bullies. The desire to censor bullies can then turn into a zero-sum game.
Therefore “stop the bully” as a monism, obsession, or one-factor explanation is not necessarily helpful, even though there are many particular situations in which is helpful.
2. The “pacifism” monism
In my view, absolute pacifism in the sense of never being aggressive, never criticizing, and never being annoyed with one’s partner is humanly impossible. You can’t stop yourself from having negative thoughts. Instead, the pacifism monism can mean “saving up” attacks to use against your dyadic partner, perhaps thinking that they must never be used.
However, if a major fight breaks out (within a dyad or couple), all attacks are unleashed. The purpose of this dyadic sink state is to ensure that fights will never happen, thus preserving the peace. Unfortunately, it also ensures that the partners will never share their real feelings with one another except during major fights. This is peaceful but it is not sustainable.
It is also possible to have a zero-sum contest over who is the most peaceful. People then assert that they were more peaceful than their partner, which means they are entitled to win the argument.
A possible example of the the “pacifism” dynamic is the stereotypical “nice guy (TM)” problem, where the nice guy appears to be good and kind, but once he feels rejected, he unleashes his anger in a not-so-nice way. Is it possible for anyone to be good and peaceful all the time? It seems like a pacifism monism is not always productive in relationships. Once again, a larger vocabulary is needed to understand the appropriate behavior. The problem is not niceness: it is niceness, the monism.
There is a difference between the kind of niceness where one is effectively “holding it in” (focusing on self-restraint and nothing else) and the kind of niceness where one has other concerns as well, such as kindness and authenticity. I would argue that the former is an unsustainable monism while latter, perhaps, is sustainable.
The nice guys then want to know: if I shouldn’t do the pacifism monism, what should I do? However, this work argues that narratives about what one “should do” are not always good. Avoiding these narratives is a major goal of Nexus State Theory, and may even be the definition of self-control. It is not that discarding narratives will make one automatically successful in dating. Rather, over time, experience with people, with oneself, and with communication – without relying too much on narratives – is likely to lead to “success” although this success may take many forms, not just the types of success promoted on the internet. Being comfortable not having a romantic relationship is a kind of success. Having friends is a kind of success, as is reading a good book or going for a walk. This is the kind of “winning” that matters.
The “nice guy” problem then stems partly from a zero-sum-ization of pacifism: some people assume that niceness is the key to achieving “victory” in relationships rather than simply something one does for its own sake. Likewise, one may assume that “holding in” negative thoughts should make one superior to one’s partner and grant victory in disputes.
Pacifism becomes a zero-sum monism when people are peaceful “at” one another; that is, when people are performatively pacifist and when status derives from pacifism.
3. The “wise criticism“ monism
In this mode, people point out each other’s moral failings. This is sometimes framed as “giving advice.” However, it usually happens that the advice recipient knows their life perfectly well – much better than the advice giver. There is no way that the advice giver can understand the interpersonal dynamics that are at stake. Why does the recipient need the advice at all? My answer is that humans often have moral failings to which they are partly blind, but that are obvious to others. The advice giver takes a “wise leader” role in this exchange by pointing out the recipient’s moral failings.
From a certain perspective, the recipient wins from this exchange and the wise leader is being helpful. After all, if someone points out our faults, we can try to fix them. The wise leader has no one to help them with their faults – how lonely! Moreover, the wise leader must carefully protect themselves against all criticism, otherwise their own criticism will fall flat. But this may prevent them from surrendering to life. This is not a moral failing per se but it might not make them happy. “Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” says Shakespeare.
However, a feature of today’s society is that there is a lack of consensus about moral issues. In the extreme case, one can have an older, more traditional parent trying to give relationship criticism to a transgender child – it might not work very well at all. However, there many cases that are less extreme, but are still problematic.
The zero-sum-ized wise criticism monism would mean that people criticize one another in order to gain status, that they feel criticized where no criticism is intended, or that they compete to wisely criticized one another. I would argue that the wise leadership monism is less likely to be taken to extremes nowadays within a marriage. However, it is still a problem for many couples. Sometimes, people resist wise advice from their dyadic partner and want emotional support instead.
The special role of the wise leader is that they have permission (or give themselves permission) to point out the other person’s obvious moral failings. It can be challenging to have two-way moral criticism, because one person will say “you have this failing” and the other will say “your failing is telling me that I have this failing.” Thus, in many social situations, one member of the dyad sets themselves up as the default wise leader. If the advice recipient becomes wise themselves and tries to give advice back, it can complicate matters: the wise leader likes being wise and doesn’t particularly want their own faults to be pointed out. Everyone has faults, after all.
Confucius, for instance, would say that an adult child should never give moral advice to their father. The existence of clear hierarchies prevents arguing and instability, perhaps – if the son critiques the father, what will happen? Will the father take the advice? More likely, it will just lead to discord.
“The Master said: ‘When the father is alive, watch the son’s aspirations. When the father is dead, watch the son’s actions. If three years later, the son has not veered from the father’s way, he may be called a dutiful son indeed.’” (Analects).
In Star Wars, it is Darth Vader – the villain – who tries to reverse the roles on Obi Wan. (“When I left you, I was but the learner. Now I am the Master.”)
In the best case scenario, pointing out moral failings comes with the sentiment that “you have something to learn in this situation.” In the worst case, it sounds like “you’re a bad person” or “I’m better than you.” It is not always bad to be reminded of one’s failings, but (as with all monisms) all things should be done in moderation.
In fantasy, the wise leader is often portrayed as a wizard. For example, some advice given by Yoda in Star Wars (and the corresponding moral failing) include:
“Do or do not. There is no try.” (You lack confidence or determination.)
“Judge me by my size, do you?” (You’re being judgmental.)
“I sense much fear in you.” (You’re afraid, in a morally bad way that leads to anger and hatred.)
Some advice given by Gandalf:
“Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement.” (You’re being judgmental.)
“He that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom.” (You’re unwise.)
“Despair is only for those who see the end beyond all doubt. We do not.” (You’re speaking with hubris about your knowledge.)
In Game of Thrones, there is no wise wizard. This illustrates the declining role of the wise criticism monism in our society. I suggest that part of the reason for this declining role is that lack of a shared enemy or villain whom we want to triumph over (e.g. the USSR) and against whom we can define ourselves. They are atheists; we are Christians. They are communists; we are capitalists. In the absence of these defining tensions, it is hard to say exactly what we value morally.
Wise criticism becomes zero-sum especially when being wise is more about the status of being wise as opposed to helping others.
Nexus State Theory 