Exploring the Roots of Conflict: An Inquiry into the Nature of Duality
A Beezone Essay
The Hidden Divide
It begins in the kitchen, as the game of ‘Clue’ would suggest, perhaps over dinner or breakfast. The parents, older and wiser now, sit across from each other, and the table between them serves as both a bridge and a courtroom table. The question and case at hand seem simple enough: Should they allow their son and daughter to spend the night at a friend’s house? The father, always cautious and skeptical, especially regarding his daughter, says no. He doesn’t know these people. What if something happens? The mother, becoming more trusting and open as the children grow older, says yes. The children need to be with their friends and develop more independence; only then can they learn about freedom and responsibility. They need to grow up.
The conversation escalates. Beneath the surface, it is not really about their children at all. It is about control and freedom, security and trust. Fear whispers in the father’s mind: If I let go, I risk losing what I love. Fear stirs in the mother’s heart: If I hold on too tightly, I risk pushing them away. And yet, neither of them speaks of fear. They speak only of right and wrong.
Is this not the nature of all conflict? What begins as a disagreement over a practical decision quickly becomes something deeper, something personal. And when neither sees the true source of their resistance, the argument turns into a battle, each convinced the other is the opposition.
A Question of Opposites
Is human existence fundamentally shaped by a persistent tension between opposites? From the moment we become self-aware, do we not find ourselves caught between “I” and “other”? This division feels instinctive, yet what if it is also the seed from which all human conflict grows? If the individual is split in two—self and other, me and you, subject and object—does this same split ripple outward into families, communities, societies, and even entire nations?
But is this division inevitable? Or is it merely a habit of mind, a way of structuring the world that, once seen clearly, might be transcended? If we trace this duality back to its root, what do we find?
The Inner Tension: “I” and “Other”
At some point in our earliest awareness, we come to know ourselves as distinct from everything else. I am not my surroundings. I am not the people around me. I am me. And yet, what is this “me” except a contrast to everything it is not? The moment we define ourselves, we define the other. It is a division we cannot seem to avoid.
Psychologists like Carl Jung have pointed to this tension, suggesting that the “shadow self”—the parts of ourselves we do not wish to see—gets projected outward, onto others. Could it be that much of what we call conflict is, at its root, this process playing itself out? When we fear or hate another person, are we merely encountering an aspect of ourselves that we refuse to acknowledge?
Fear: The Root of Division
Beneath this division, what is the core emotion that fuels it? If we look deeply, does it not always return to fear? The Hindu scriptures say, “Where there is another, there is fear.” The mere existence of an “other” implies potential threat, an uncertainty that must be guarded against. This primal fear, unexamined, gives rise to the full spectrum of human discord.
If fear is the root, then what grows from it? In lesser but still powerful forms, it manifests as jealousy, greed, hunger, sloth—all variations of the same fundamental anxiety. The desire to possess, to dominate, to retreat into comfort or apathy—all stem from an unresolved division within. The so-called “seven deadly sins” may not be arbitrary moral failings but expressions of an underlying existential fear that pervades the psyche.
Individual to the Collective
If this psychological split is universal, does it naturally extend into the structures we build? Families, communities, political systems—do they all mirror this fundamental division? The conversation at the dinner table between parents is the same conversation taking place between political leaders, between social factions, between entire nations. One side demands control, security, and preservation. The other calls for freedom, exploration, and change.
And what of politics? Governments, institutions, entire ideologies often seem to thrive on the creation of opposites: left and right, conservative and progressive, us and them. Is this just human nature, or is it something we unconsciously perpetuate because we assume it must be so? Could it be otherwise? More concerning, however, is when this opposition escalates beyond discourse and into control. The rise of authoritarianism, the use of police and state power to suppress perceived threats, and the ease with which fear is manipulated to justify oppression—these are the dangers of a society trapped in unconscious psychological opposition. Religious conflicts, too, emerge from this same pattern. One belief system defines itself in opposition to another, each claiming ultimate truth, each demonizing the other. Wars have been waged in the name of gods, yet beneath the surface, is it not always the same battle—the struggle to define identity by negation rather than understanding? Those who are unwilling or unable to grasp the significance of their own historical and psychological conditioning remain blind to the fact that they are not just participants but prisoners of this pattern. In such a system, power solidifies not through understanding, but through force, ensuring the cycle of fear and division remains intact.
Madness of the Collective
If individuals are caught in this cycle, then what of the leaders they elevate? History shows that collective identities often produce leaders who embody their people’s hopes, fears, and unresolved conflicts. A leader is rarely a singular mind acting independently but rather an expression of the collective psyche, shaped by the very tensions that define society. This is where the madness takes hold—leaders rise, not as balanced figures, but as amplified manifestations of their nations’ contradictions.
The 20th century stands as a glaring testament to this phenomenon. The rise of totalitarian regimes, the ideological battles of the Cold War, the rapid acceleration of technology—each development was driven by leaders who channeled the psychological and historical burdens of their people. Whether for progress or destruction, these figures wielded power as a mirror of the divided human mind. The world saw both the heights of innovation and the depths of atrocity, all stemming from the same underlying forces: fear, opposition, identity, and the insatiable need for resolution.
When collective identities harden into rigid opposites, the result is an endless struggle—whether between political ideologies, economic systems, or even scientific advancements that are weaponized rather than shared. The same pattern that begins in the individual psyche expands outward, forming the architecture of history itself.
The Double Bind
Each attempt to resolve a conflict seems to birth a new one. Does this mean we are trapped? Every revolution that seeks to replace an oppressive system eventually becomes rigid in its own way. Every peace agreement contains the seeds of future discord. Is this because we are always working within the same framework—the framework of opposition?
Some traditions suggest there is a way out—not by choosing one side over the other, but by seeing through the game itself. What happens if, instead of trying to resolve duality, we begin to question its grip on us? Can we perceive the space where opposites arise without immediately being pulled into them? What might that awareness do to the way we live, the way we relate, the way we structure our societies?
Before any outward conflict or argument can truly reach a resolution, both parties must first recognize the principles and emotions driving their positions. This does not mean they must abandon their beliefs, but they must understand that their struggle stems not only from personal and psychological frameworks but from a never-ending cycle of conflict and solution. No issue, no problem, no disagreement can ever be fully resolved until the inner conflict that fuels it is brought into awareness. Only then does real dialogue become possible. Only then can understanding replace the frightening and dangerous illusion of division.