I’m a big fan of dark literature, murder mysteries and psychological thrillers. One of my favorite poet-authors is Edgar Allan Poe, and the subject is my favorite of his short stories. In it, the narrator (a prisoner during the Spanish Inquisition) is tortured by realizing his seemingly inevitable, painfully gradual demise by falling into a deep pit or having his body severed by the razor-sharp edge of a slowly descending pendulum (Poe, 1852).

Uncle John’s post about balance had me thinking about the Yin/Yang equilibrium the way it’s described in a variety of domains… (the phrase “Yin/Yang equilibrium” really doesn’t do justice to the universal principle, but since this is a blog post I’m not going to try and scratch the surface). Constructing equilibrium in our recollection of events helps inform philosophical, psychological, behavioral, scientific, theological and even ideological perspectives.

That which creates can destroy. The brain returns to cognitive constancy. Every reaction has an equal and opposite reaction. Violence begets violence. Karma returns to us what we project. What goes up, must come down. What has a front has a back – the bigger the front, the bigger the back (Ohsawa, 1973; Benedict, 1991).

Here’s the thing about balance. Balance is not constant. The extremities of balance do not last, nor do they necessarily decelerate linearly. Balance is altered more predictably in physics and nature than when humanity becomes involved. This impacts the debate over climate change. The acceleration of oscillations in weather patterns can be partly attributed to man’s influence; we have evidence this is so, but it is not clear how or to what level man swings that particular pendulum. We don’t know if he possesses the necessary force to slow it down.

Here’s the other consideration when we apply the pendulum metaphor. Yes, always, the bigger the front, the bigger the back. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and this remains so — in a vacuum. Falling objects accelerate at the gravitational force of 9.8 m/s² in a vacuum, where there is no force other than gravity. In a vacuum, there would be no way to change the speed or extent of the pendulum’s swing. It would swing eternally.

It’s a good thing we don’t live in a vacuum! It means that we have free will. A carnivorous, smoking, drinking, sugar addict can choose to go on a strict whole grain diet, exercise self-control, live a macrobiotic lifestyle and probably prolong his life (Benedict, 1991). He has that option because he has the power to place his foot on his own pendulum anytime he’d like.

But once we introduce frictional force, unless it is introduced at the precise center position, and the force is exerted directly downward, the front decelerates, and the back decelerates behind it. There’s a little bit of Yin but a little more Yang; then a little less of each, until there is a small amount of both, and eventually, inevitably, the balance evens or again accelerates, like a kid stopping himself on a swing. The front is briefly smaller than the back. One side must give first. That is the problem with ideological extremities returning to homeostasis.

So back to Poe and how the narrator’s choice relates to balance. In Poe’s classic tale, the prisoner suddenly finds himself tied to a board directly below the pendulum, which is gradually descending toward him. In the story, the pendulum is just about to sever the rope over his heart when he frees himself and rolls into the pit, choosing that method of death over the messier and more definite one… and he is caught at the last moment by his rescuer.

By now, anyone can see danger approaching; our nation, our prisoner, is nearing its own destruction. Our political pendulum swings along a single axis; we can only choose our places along it. All of us, on both sides of the ideological divide, take part in the motion of the blade as we watch it move in one dimension. Players with the best and most selfless of intentions stand near the center with a firm grasp on the rod and a better view of the room; they see that it is necessary to decelerate the swing and slow the descent, but they differ on the cause of the motion, and so differ on the solution.

Those players on the left observe a great pull from the players on the tip of the blade on the right; they observe the acceleration, but only on the side to which they face. Their natural reaction is to pull the blade down. Their own contribution to the oscillation hasn’t changed in their view. Sure, there may be some pull on the left, but it’s always been the same, hasn’t it?  Certainly, the political extremism behind them hasn’t erupted to the same level as the atrocities they can observe right in front of their eyes… and so they pull left. The moderate right sees the larger acceleration to the left, but from their vantage point, they do not see what’s behind them, at the right edge. What they do see is condemnation flanked by hypocritical behavior at the left edge. And so, they pull. And for every pull, for each larger swing of the blade, there is an equal and opposite swing; the players lurch forward and back. The bigger the front, the bigger the back – to an outside observer. But while standing at any point ON the blade (except dead center) the motion appears uneven, and so they try to equalize a force which is already equal, as the pendulum descends.

The Overton window is always at the center of the blade. Balance – utopia – that which is found in the center, is what they are striving to maintain. When you are standing on a swinging object, and staring intently at the center, you don’t see it move. You are not observing any force along the axis at the point of suspension. When the suspension point is moved left, the center shifts left. The Overton window remains comfortably centered, but the players on the right are forced left and must move closer to the edge to maintain their position. More move to the right edge. Greater oscillation occurs. Those moderates still grasping the rod have obliviously shifted left, never having moved a muscle.

This two-dimensional force of social and political power is beyond that which any number of mere players can exert. It is a force that renders their exertion pointless. The players believe they are acting in the best interest of the poor prisoner, slowing the trajectory of the blade, reducing the force causing the descent. They push, and pull, and scream at those on the far edges of the blade to come down. But the whole time they are not looking up. They are only aware of two opposing forces; they can’t see the pressure on and around the support structure by an immeasurably more powerful force.

Ultimately, the prisoner – our nation – is faced with a choice. The pit, or the pendulum. He can fight to free himself from his bondage and leave the board, facing an unknown in the depths below; perhaps by some miracle being saved.

Or he can remain, helplessly watching the scene play out until the pendulum rips him in two.

Benedict, Dirk. Confessions of a Kamikaze Cowboy: A True Story of Discovery, Acting, Health, Illness, Recovery, and Life. Avery Publishing Group, 1991.

Ohsawa, George. The Unique Principle: The Philosophy of Macrobiotics. United States, George Ohsawa Macrobiotic Foundation, 1973.

Poe, Edgar Allan. Tales of Mystery, Imagination, & Humour: And Poems. Vol. 1. Clarke, Beeton, 1852.