The Counterpuncher

Likely all of us have been a counterpuncher at one time or another. In fact, most folks I know are counterpunchers on a frequent basis, varying in intensity from very mild to aggressively hostile. Having counterpunched with the best for decades, I know the dynamics all too well, and still retain some of the impulses. My mostly negative characterization of counterpunchers does not mean that they cannot be good, kind, and loving people. They certainly can be. Except…except possibly when in the grip of the need to counter.

Counterpunching is the opposite of an uplifting conversation (see 1.4.17 post), which is respectful and expansive, even in the midst of significant disagreement. A counterpuncher makes an immediate and negative or critical response to anything he does not like or agree with. No thought is given to the issue. No attempt is made to understand in greater detail, or to ask clarifying questions. The counterpuncher knows all he needs to, and he does not like what he hears. Something has to be done about it, now. In this state, he sees all black and white. Subtlety, sophistication, nuance, and grayness usually characterizing even the most mundane issues are lost to him. Reflective thought is nearly impossible.

A counterpuncher’s observations or comments are not necessarily wrong. He may have solid, objective reasons for his view. The problem is the underlying negative motivation, such as to win or to punish. And the style, which is usually attacking to some degree, accompanied at best by an understated aggressiveness, and at worst by outright hostility. The greater the counterpuncher’s emotional investment (the more anger/fear) in the issue, the worse the response.

Whatever a counterpuncher’s area(s) of sensitivity, his threat detectors are usually on peak alert. Anything triggering those will likely produce an asymmetric response roughly corresponding to the level of fear (or the fear-driven outrage) generated and experienced by the perceived threat. Incidentally, the fear is normally below the level of consciousness and thus not recognized.

Counterpunching fails the water test. In Eastern thought water moves with wu-wei, effortless effort. It will get to where it is going, yet it forces nothing. But forcing is frequently the counterpuncher’s main weapon. Unhappy with what is happening, he seeks by nearly any means to change the situation to his liking, including ad hominem attacks, avalanches of facts or pseudo-facts, misrepresentations, or outright lies. But even when calm and at least superficially calm, underlying the counterpuncher’s actions is often a need to prevail in some way, and to force that outcome if needed.

We often rightly associate counterpunching with big-issue disagreements, such as ones about education, politics, capitalism, global warming, or religion. But if my experience is illustrative, most counterpunching takes place in our day-to-day existence involving family, friends, colleagues, people we care about. Some counterpunchers would as soon attack you for not liking the same novels they do as for voting the “wrong” way. I have seen couples subject each other to near-unending barrages of countering, the emotional ante rising with each exchange. Nothing positive is left standing at the “end.” A particularly common and deceitful trick is “deflecting,” or “reversing.” Perhaps a spouse says she feels a remark by her partner was disrespectful. The counterpunching partner ignores her issue completely, and attacks her with his own concern, such as telling her she never listens to him. Neither gets his/her issue dealt with, but the merry-go-round of emotional and relationship malfunction continues.

Another devious trick is used when a person offers a long or complex observation or opinion. Intentionally, if unconsciously, ignoring the context, the counterpuncher looks for one small avenue in that complexity to attack. Honestly addressing the issue raised by the other person in its fullness is a non-starter. That requires the counterpuncher to give up his emotionally-charged fixation on triumphing. A fellow I used to teach with was quite remarkable in his ability to ignore context, even one he established. I would say something that I knew from prior experience he agreed with. Every time I did this, he found something to disagree with. He never once batted an eye, lost in his own world of countering. Otherwise a very nice fellow.

Because counterpunching is generally framed in win-lose terms, it easily diminishes the quality of relationships. Even when not directly countering each other, couples (and friends, colleagues) may use seemingly casual and lightweight, but attacking, remarks to keep the other person off balance. These are borderline sarcastic or critical comments about anything the other person is doing or saying, often passed off as jokes, which they assuredly are not. “Why didn’t you put the potatoes back in the fridge?” Delivered one way, this is fine. Delivered another, as a not-so-subtle effort to put down the other person, it is not fine. Manipulative and controlling, the essence of most countering, direct or indirect.

Troubled and troubling they may be at times, most counterpunchers do us a rare service. They give us the opportunity in real time to practice our skill in constructively and respectfully managing interactions, and in disciplining our own less desirable behavior. We should be most grateful.

Thoughts for dealing with counterpunchers:

·       Do not underestimate the seriousness with which they take themselves and their issues.

·       Generally, do not express an opinion that is not neutral or supportive. If you must, choose your battles very carefully, and recognize the likely adverse outcomes.

·       Do not directly contradict or disagree with them. Indirect disagreement may work better, if at all.

·       Accept that most counterpunchers are in a state of need and non-learning, rationally unreachable.

·       Thus, never assume a sound rational argument will carry any weight at all.

·       Use careful and non-attacking questions to maneuver the conversation in a healthier direction.

Are we lacking courage if we do not challenge the counterpuncher? Not necessarily. More than 99% of the contentious issues that I fussed with, either as a counterpuncher or the recipient, never needed to be challenged or refuted, and certainly not in a hostile manner. Even when about at least superficially serious issues, the disputes meant little in the great scheme of things.

But what if you are interacting with someone whose views are truly odious, even hateful? Yes, what then?

He Raises Little Dust

Years past I had the opportunity to study with a Japanese Zen/Taoist master. I spent an hour or so with him every week for a few months, trying to get a grip on life, the world, my place in it. Like many Zen adepts, he loved ambiguity and the inherent indescribability of the universe. He answered questions indirectly, if at all. Often his look was the only response. 

Occasionally I would encounter a man studying with the master at the same time, and we would have tea together. His calmness and peace, his serenity, his gentleness and obvious care for others were amazing. These were traits I very much wanted, and raised the matter with the master. His comment: “Those traits already exist within you. Do not seek to acquire. Search for what you must get rid of to reveal them.”

At our next session, the master was slightly more responsive regarding his other student. The first words were, “He raises little dust.” Mystified, I asked what he meant. “Simple is better than complex. He exists easily in the world. Spend the week meditating on that.” I worked hard on this puzzle, meditating every day in a mindless space. Late in the week, I realized that the man had few or no encumbrances, attachments, or emotionally-infused opinions. Seeking this state myself, I asked him how he arrived at his peace and ease with the world.

“Like a sculptor who saw a block of marble and removed all the unnecessary material, that is what I had to do with myself. I was carrying the weight of all the world, angry at this, frustrated at that, fearful of yet another thing. Nothing went right. To accomplish anything, even the smallest, I felt I had to move mountains, to exert great effort. Everything had to be forced to get what I wanted. At least that is what I thought. I saw the world as resisting me everywhere, exhausting me, emotionally and physically, as I tried to bring it in line with my needs. My wife and family were getting extremely tired of my behavior. But my work with the master brought me to the realization that the fear, anger, frustrations, and unhealthy needs came from within me. I needed only to give that up.”

As I had more conversations with him, I began to see what “raising little dust” meant. He was wide-open, willingly vulnerable, yet without fear. His humility stood out dramatically. He possessed few opinions and those he held lightly, even when important to him. He said that he no longer argued with anyone, seeking instead to engage in understanding. Creating emotional and intellectual safety for the other person mattered a great deal to him. His gentle curiosity about the world and people in it were remarkable. Watching as he interacted with me I could see that he flowed as easily through conversations as water through a channel. I once mentioned that he seemed to embody the Tao. He thanked me, and said, “Early on I was encumbered in all kinds of ways with harmful emotional junk. Losing most of that took ten, often painful and frustrating years. I am thankful to have achieved some modest success.” I have not yet met another like him.

These conversations had a big impact on me. I wanted badly to live lightly in myself and in the world. But the doing was far harder than his caution implied. Even small bits of progress were long in coming. And the work goes on yet. It seems that we become better in the sense of living lighter and being more at peace by becoming less. All areas of life, intellectual, emotional, physical, and spiritual, may need pruning, allowing us to remove our fears, attachments, unhealthy needs, mis-perceptions, and defenses. Above all perhaps, it seems that we must rid ourselves of any need for the world, and other people, to do our bidding, likely our biggest and most unhealthy attachment.

If I have learned anything over the years from this early interaction, it is that we already are what we want to be, an aspect of Eastern wisdom. We have little need to add anything. The challenge is identifying and removing the undesirable accretions adopted over the years, as we would the barnacles on a ship’s hull that impede its speed and functioning. And it is a huge challenge, entailing great courage to even uncover aspects that we would prefer to leave deeply buried. Equally difficult, and far longer lasting, is the effort to overcome decades of severe “dust-kicking.” But the man I met showed that it is doable, if we have the will.

Is Righteous Anger Righteous?

Well, is it? Maybe. It all depends. But first a little about anger in general.

Anger is a natural human emotion. Part of the “flight or fight” syndrome, it is an evolutionary response to a very dangerous existence in our distant past. Today most of us are ambivalent about anger. Sometimes we see it as damaging, and sometimes understandable, even helpful. But at its base, most anger is about resistance to the way things are going or others are acting.

A student whose self-directed anger for doing poorly on an exam could spark her improvement. But if that anger causes only to enduring self-recrimination, then it is damaging. Anger causing emotional or physical abuse is clearly very bad. But anger arising from an insult or wrong we have experienced is understandable. As will that coming from a terrible shock, perhaps an auto injury to a spouse. But it is less understandable if we dwell endlessly on the trouble, or lash out uncontrollably at others.

Regardless of the reason for anger, it is very dangerous if ungoverned or not properly directed. Some even think it is completely unhelpful, as Thich Nhat Hanh implies, “Anger is the energy people use in order to act. But when you are angry, you are not lucid, and you might do wrong things. That is why compassion is a better energy.” Doing wrong things means more than making poor decisions, important though that is. It is also about the harm we do to others when we are not in control of our emotions or actions.

Righteous anger is a bit different from “everyday” anger. It implies a moral need to correct something wrong, evil, unfair. In religious terms, God’s anger---think Sodom and Gomorrah---is always righteous, involving punishment for sins. While we can use the term in a lot of situations, it is often applied to a perceived worthy cause, perhaps a social justice issue. Some argue that righteous anger is needed because of the seriousness of the injustice or wrong.

But Buddhism suggests not, as Alan Wallace says in his fine book, Tibetan Buddhism From the Ground Up:

“Righteous hatred” is in the same category as “righteous cancer” or “righteous tuberculosis.” All of them are absurd concepts. This does not mean that one should never take action against aggression or injustice! Instead, one should try to develop an inner calmness and insight to deal with these situations in an appropriate way. We all know that anger and aggression give rise to anger and aggression.

While Wallace uses “righteous hatred,” it is easy to apply to anger, a lesser form of emotional upset. Having a righteous cause is one thing, and often a very good thing. Seeing ourselves as being righteous and acting righteously in relation to that cause may be very different. Self-righteousness, the sense of moral superiority, can lead to harmful expressions of anger, often reciprocated, as Wallace suggests. The anger is justified by the positive nature of the goal and the “moral backwardness” of those others who cannot see as we do. Being completely right and energized by anger, the self-righteous may well lack humility, undermining compassion and respect. 

Further, constant and unhealthy focusing on the perceived wrong or injustice may cause the righteous anger to become endless and self-justifying, feeding on itself and growing. This can be exacerbated by our becoming attached to both the idea of righteous anger and to the anger itself. Worse, the anger may be seen as the cohesiveness binding a focused group together. Insufficient anger may be seen by group members as a weak commitment to the goal. Outrage easily becomes a virtue, a goal in and of itself---a dangerous condition for both group members and outsiders. For some, righteousness is like an addiction, needing to be fed often with anger and outrage. Aldous Huxley saw the danger: “To be able to destroy with good conscience, to be able to behave badly and call your bad behavior ‘righteous indignation’ is the height of psychological luxury, the most delicious of moral treats.”

So, what is my answer to the title question? I believe that all anger, including righteous anger, is harmful. Why is anger necessary to right a social wrong? Can we not see an injustice and act calmly, if determinedly, on that? Wallace counsels us to acquire “inner calmness and insight” when confronted such a challenge. Some may argue that righteous anger energizes them. Fine. Except that when the energizing force has done its job (moving them to helpful action), the hostile emotion may stay in the person’s repertoire of emoting and acting. Naturally, the anger is visited upon those seen as perpetrators of the wrong, or upon those who do not agree about the wrong or the methods to deal with it.

Martin Luther King, Jr, said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” His life was dedicated to overcoming enormous hate-filled obstacles and people, to changing society for the good. His impact, even today, is immeasurable. Did he rage against the horrors of racial injustice and those who perpetrated it, a righteous cause if ever there was one? No, he did not. He approached everything and everyone with peace and non-violence. He understood, as those captured by righteous anger may not, that like darkness and hate, anger begets only anger. His lack of anger certainly did not enervate or incapacitate him, nor did it keep him from accomplishing great things.

Someone once posed a dilemma scenario for The Dalai Lama, a man as committed to non-violence as anyone. He is in a hut meditating. A man enters who wants to harm him, perhaps even kill him. The Dalai Lama happens to have a pistol (I love that, but it’s only a scenario). The question is posed, “Your Holiness, what would you do?” As he was being attacked, the Dalai Lama says he would remain calm and shoot the man in the leg, and then go bandage his wound. Anger is not needed even to save his life; he is hardly paralyzed without it.