Order and Disorder

Most of us have distinct views on order and disorder, generally with a strong tendency to prefer the former. Disorder presents us with ambiguity, a condition often giving rise to feelings of uncertainty, which many of us dislike. Order provides comfort, security and regularity, and the desire for it is understandable.

Although clearly different, order and disorder cannot be seen as completely separate concepts, nor can they be seen as absolutely good or bad. A certain amount of disorder is needed for us to grow, as when our bodies are stressed at the gym or in running. Lifting the same weight endlessly or running the same distance at the same speed does not produce growth. As with physical growth, so it is with our spiritual, emotional, and intellectual lives. To move forward, in whatever realm and however we define this, we must be temporarily off balance---subject to some disorder. As the author Gail Sheehy put it in slightly different terms, “Growth demands a temporary surrender of security.” 

The desire for order and disorder co-exist simultaneously in the same person, although in different ways. Additionally, these two elements can be seen as occupying a continuum with total order on one end and total disorder on the other. While we all have a “set point” on the continuum where we customarily reside, we will move back and forth from this point to some degree as a situation, our mood or time pressure changes. Each of us has a unique need for less or more order. 

Investigators have determined that humans have a very interesting psychological process known as the need for closure. Quoting from Jamie Holmes’ fine book, Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing: “Developed by a brilliant psychologist named Arie Kruglanski, a person’s need for closure measures a particular ‘desire for a definite answer on some topic, any answer as opposed to confusion and ambiguity.’”  

The need for closure partly expresses a person’s level of desire (often unconscious) for structure or order. This desire is normal and, like most human characteristics, is a matter of degree. Some folks with a very low tolerance for ambiguity actively, often aggressively, seek closure in the form of definitive answers. Those with higher tolerances will search less actively for answers or will be quite happy with open-ended conditions. But things are more complicated than this because any person will not have the same tolerance level for all situations. For example, I am very comfortable with disorder in my writing, actively enjoying it. I don’t work from any sort of grand plan, but allow thoughts to emerge around a general theme for a chapter or the blog. Initially I am unconcerned about whether those thoughts fit or not. This high tolerance has both beneficial and undesirable sides. It does allow me to productively fiddle with seemingly unrelated concepts, but it also can cause me to move very slowly and occasionally to get really stuck. 

On the other hand, I am quite intolerant of ambiguity when I think there is conflict or emotional distress between me and another person. I want that resolved as quickly as possible. This is helpful in the sense of moving toward what I hope is a healthy resolution. But if I am not careful, I can become too active in trying to create a non-ambiguous solution with the other person, in essence forcing an outcome.  

As a consultant I have had a number of experiences related to a person’s need for order. Once when conducting a workshop for a company, I had the group engage in brainstorming, a free-wheeling discussion where no idea is off limits and where the goal is to generate as many ideas as possible in a given time. One man had a very high need for closure and showed it by continually trying to force the group to a decision before we had heard all the ideas. It clearly distressed him that he could not get to a conclusion. Interestingly, when I spoke to him privately about his efforts, he was unaware of the challenge and trouble he was creating for the rest of us. Instead, he defended himself by saying that he was really trying to help, which he sincerely believed. 

On a broader stage, political partisans of any persuasion appear to have a great need for closure—for answers that tell them exactly what they should (and want to) believe about their and the others’ parties. This definitiveness means that thought is not needed, and is in fact an impediment to creating and maintaining a fictional world---a process aided greatly by continual recitations of the given liturgy on any topic. These liturgies provide certainty; they provide THE answers. The more frequently this recitation occurs, with oneself or with others, the more pronounced is the sense of moral and practical rightness. However, since the world is hardly a simple place, amenable to simplistic and consistent answers, this partisan behavior is clearly damaging both to the believers and the society as a whole---reality will out.  

There is no absolute level of tolerance of ambiguity, or desire for closure, that is considered optimum. The key for our well-being is to know our closure propensities in various situations, and to understand how and why they work or do not work, taking into account not just our own needs, but those of others. As I said in the last post, this understanding is often best arrived at by getting help from others, our mirrors. Regrettably, while desperately needed by many of us, we usually recoil from such engagements because they create emotional disorder, paradoxically the very thing we need for emotional growth.