The Liberator Persona

On a (what Florida considers) cold night, I accompanied a friend and her co-workers out for a few celebratory drinks for her birthday. It only took a few hours for the majority of the group to scatter, leaving me, my friend, and one random co-worker behind to test our alcohol limits. 

At first, we all got along fine and then somehow, the conversation turned to politics. I’ll skip the gory details, but it got ugly. (At one point, I called her co-worker stupid.) What caught my attention about this debate was how unrelenting both sides were, neither one willing to give an inch to the other’s opinions. There was some part of me that felt we were desperate to change each other’s entire philosophy on politics. I should have dropped the whole conversation, but the alcohol kept insisting that if I could just bring up the right point, she would fold and see the world in a new light.

I have experienced this scenario countless times, yet something about psychological reasons behind our argument stuck in my brain like a splinter. I spent the next few weeks attempting to breakdown an unnamed idea that encompassed the entire art of debate, human psyche, and personal outlooks, all relating back to why the two of us found it impossible to yield our differing opinions. 

The answer came to me in the unconventional form of an old Superbowl advertisement. A long, long time ago, in 1984, Apple released a commercial that mimicked Orson Well’s book,  “1984.” If you haven’t seen the ad, the whole premise is essentially mindless drones (representing humanity) marching towards a screen that preaches conformity. While all these people absorb what the giant head is communicating to them, an unnamed woman runs in and smashes the screen with a sledge hammer, breaking Big Brother’s hold on the masses. 

It clicked instantly. It felt like we were both trying to be that unnamed woman. We were going to be each other’s liberators and silence the hypnotic source that kept us blinded from reality, even if we had to kill each other to do it. In the end, only one of us could be right, or both of us were wrong. And while we both wanted to play shepherd, we never questioned if we were one of the sheep.

The reason this bothered me was because I started to wonder how many times in my life I’ve attempted to play the liberator without having any clue what I was talking about. It can be a perplexing question to wonder if you’re arguing tirelessly because your opponent is someone who can’t be reached (or saved, in a sense), or if they know you are talking out of your ass.

I started to apply this liberator persona to other frustrating conversations I’ve had. There have been discussions where a stray observation of life turned the chat to a fierce debate. I wanted to determine if the conversation turned because I was some kind of visionary genius above the mental capacity of my peers, or if I was a bumbling idiot who needed to shut up. 

I don’t know if there is any kind of answer to gain out of this post, but it made me ask questions of myself I never had before: How does one distinguish if you are attempting to lead people to a better place or off a cliff? Are you the odd man out, because you are making a profound statement that most don’t understand, or are you just an asshole? How can you know if an idea is brilliant or asinine when you’ve only seen things through your own eyes and are set in your ways?

Neither me, nor my friend’s co-worker, walked away that night gaining much insight into why we believed what we believed. We argued and cursed and ended in a vicious stalemate that did nothing to broaden either of our horizons. But if I could learn anything from our political temper tantrums, it was that I’m not always the most brilliant person in the room (not that I really ever claim to be, but I’m using it as a metaphor.) I took the time to stop and question if I ever actually listen to what my opponent is saying, and to hopefully apply it to future conversations. Sometimes you must acknowledge when you are just running with the herd.

“They say the only people who tell the truth are drunkards and children. Guess which one I am.”

― Stephen Colbert