It’s the first word or the first sentence I see swirling around after waking up.
The second thought? Coffee! Strong coffee!
“180 degrees” surfaced on the horizon of synapse-world. Without explanation, without justification, but with inklings. The small, quiet inkling of why these two words came to dominate this morning’s story.
Over the last ten years, this one question kept surfacing, and it won’t let go of me. Because it concerns me too, and shapes many other people in the everyday struggle to do the right thing. The combative element has to do with one’s own ideas about how to conduct a life. At least I think so. “Is my thinking on this matter correct?” Questions like that can turn pretty predatory when it comes to the sleep you urgently need.
Back to the 180-degree concept.
In practice, this is an everyday procedure. Most commonly you see it with hikers, cyclists, and drivers. They set off somewhere with the destination of somewhere else. No sooner have they arrived, spent a few units of time here and there, than they simply turn body, bicycle, motorcycle, or car 180 degrees and walk, drive, or fly in the opposite direction.
That’s called a turnaround. Some call it a homecoming, or a reversal.
So far, so locomotion-friendly and understandable. But what gets up my nose are the turnaround-doers who busy themselves with turning character, attitude, and values. Fundamentally, I find it valuable when a once-held opinion gets corrected because new insight demands it. So far, so scientific. It gets a bit borderline when turning to exactly the opposite direction is caused by reasons other than “just” insight and knowledge. I’m thinking here of politically motivated about-turns.
As an observer from the north of America — Canada, that is — a few names stand out who have nailed their about-turning to the flagpole, or printed it on their banner. Presumably the wind turned at some point, and the flag first stood up, and only then turned around.
Eleven years ago, this figure showed up in US politics with a dominant orange colour in his face and hair. He wanted to become US president. And that sent a few names, now well-known, up the Florida palm tree. One politician, now deceased, called the candidate crazy, unfit, unelectable. That was before the election. After the election, Lindsey became one of his closest allies.
“Liar and narcissist” is what another politician stuck to the candidate’s lapel. Before the election. After the election, Ted became his supporter and defender in the Senate.
This man called the candidate a con artist. Before the election. After the election, Marco became Secretary of State last year.
This politician delivered the fat headline when he compared the candidate to Hitler. Before the election. After the 2024 election, JD was elected Vice President.
Yes, there are many of these performers of the about-turn. But that’s not, in itself, the subject occupying me. What interests me is the inner process — the battle in the upper storey — that led to the 180-degree turn. Or that can lead to it.
When career is at stake, when one’s own stance means no longer belonging, or when the fear of retaliation gets the upper hand, then opinion can tip. Understandable enough. I mean, we all struggle again and again with fears of this kind. And our wonderfully equipped brain is often no help in preserving the personally chosen values and ideas about change in life. Yet the cauliflower in our head is nonetheless willing to pitch in with justifications for the change of heart. That’s a genuinely nice gesture.
Whoever stands at the crossroads of their own long-held opinion, left to its own devices by the next step, will not spend a peaceful night. After all, many things come into play to first walk the changed path and then to justify it as well. Rhetoric is happy to help out. That makes it easier to become a turnaround-doer. After all, the explanation sits there on the table, logical and understandable.
Is it opportunistic, then, or simply pragmatic, when old values have to be thrown overboard? I don’t know. But I remember — very reluctantly — some of my own turns, of which I’m not proud at all. Thinking back on my changed course of action, I asked myself whether I’d packed the justification — or rather the excuse — in my suitcase before the decision, or after.
What I did learn, at least: the price of the 180-degree hike is too high. If my decision harms other people — psychologically, above all — then I cannot justify that. If I throw my opinion in the wastebasket against my own hippie-esque philosophy, then I cannot defend that. After all, I worked out my attitude toward life and toward living beings over the last 71 years. Including unwanted about-turns.
I did not feel good about it.
Sometimes I picture dinner-table conversations in families, when children and spouses start peppering the politically involved family member with questions. How must this person feel, having to plausibly explain his actions to the family?
Or worse still, when the person wants to explain to himself why the decision turned out this way and not another?
Damn it all, it’s hard and dangerous to walk the path of humanity.
But bottom line: better than the alternative.
