Am I right?

Have you ever noticed what an attachment most people have to being right?

My husband and I split the domestic chores, including running the dishwasher. I prewash every dish. He just throws them in the machine. It used to make me crazy. I spent years being irritated when I unloaded a dirty dish. After all, what is the point of doing a task if you don’t do it right the first time?

Eventually I gave up. Gave up trying to convince him to do it my way, and gave up being angry with him. After all, he’d say, if a dish is still dirty, just run it through a second time. He has absolutely no incentive to change (I’m not so obnoxious he’ll do it to shut me up), because from his point of view, there is no problem.

That small, ongoing interaction between us has been illuminating for me.

Perhaps, in most cases, being right is just a matter of perspective. One of the big issues on which most of us have an idea about what is right is abortion. People who believe it should be an available option feel passionately about it. People who believe it is immoral are equally sure they are right. If an alien landed here from some other galaxy, where life was generated differently, what would that alien consider correct?

Of course, there must be some absolutes. Murder, for example, is certainly wrong. But is it wrong to kill in self-defense? In wartime? To alleviate the suffering of someone dying in pain? In the abstract, I may have an opinion, but would my opinion change if I were the one trying to defend myself, or if my town was being invaded, or if someone I loved was the person in pain? The nuns who educated me would say I’m headed down the slippery slope of situational ethics, but the Jesuits would appreciate my carefully parsing the issues.

I’ve been thinking about whether this need to be right transcends cultures. My mum was Canadian, and I did a lot of my growing up there. Canadians are much too polite to tell you you’re wrong, but they aren’t immune from thinking it. Much of my family is British. They won’t usually bother to inform you if they think they’re right and you’re not, but you might get the facial expression worth a thousand words.

I travel quite a lot in Latin America, and have many Hispanic friends. As a culture, Latinos are non-confrontational (in Spanish, nobody drops a dish; the dish drops itself), but they definitely know when they’re right and you’re wrong. I used to have a boyfriend who was a Greek Cypriot. He was a lovely man, but goodness knows, he was sure he was right. My Chinese friends aren’t ever shy about setting you straight when you’re wrong.

The need to be right transcends even the Arab/Israeli divide. My Israeli friends are always outspoken and clear about their position. My Arab friends, while much more indirect and concerned with courtesy, are equally sure their viewpoint is the most valid.

To be politically correct, let me add, of course, that these are generalizations and (like all such generalizations) based on a very small sample of people.

That pretty much exhausts my familiarity with other cultures. You may have intimate knowledge of others, and I’d be interested in your take on this. It may also be true that the need to be right doesn’t exist in some more primitive, innocent cultures, like the ones Margaret Mead studied in the last century. But most of them probably own televisions now, and are watching the Polynesian equivalent of Fox News, or MSNBC.

The last few days a friend of mine, Mark Hendricks, has been helping me learn some new software. Mark has a natural grasp of the technical, while learning anything technical is an uphill battle for me. He’s really been a prince. Mark’s politics couldn’t be much further from mine, but if I were to decide I’m right and he’s wrong, that would probably get in the way of the immense gratitude I’m feeling toward him right now.

A number of people in my family, particularly two of my sisters, are very conservative. I, of course, am not. But if we let that divide us, if we were each attached to being right and making the other wrong, we wouldn’t benefit from the tremendous love and support we share with each other.

The thing about needing to be right is that is separates us from each other, and that’s so sad. More than sad; it’s artificial. We’re all part of the fabric of life, part of each other, and I believe, part of God. We can’t really separate ourselves from one another. The attempt to do so just creates pain.

I’m pretty sure I’m right about this.