Identity, Ambiguity, and Self-Reflection

Kimberly Best, RN, MA and Trey Best, BA

This month's newsletter is a special collaboration between generations. Many of you know that I'm the proud mother of 5 grown children. When my youngest son was just a child, our family went through a significant transition as his father and I divorced. During those challenging years, my son watched me return to graduate school in conflict management and later build my practice from the ground up. He observed firsthand as I applied new skills, made mistakes, learned, and grew. Now 22 and off to graduate school in Philosophy, my son has developed an extraordinary natural ability for conflict management. He possesses what negotiation expert William Ury calls the ability to "go to the balcony"—observing himself and others objectively when in conflict, with remarkable compassion.

Our conversation began as we discussed how deeply polarized and entrenched many people seem to be in today's social and political landscape. We noted how discussions across differences increasingly devolve into anger rather than understanding, with people appearing unwilling or unable to truly listen to perspectives different from their own. As we explored this troubling pattern, our dialogue evolved into a broader examination of identity, ambiguity, and the critical practice of self-reflection.  Our conversation was so fascinating- with Trey’s perspective as a philosophy major and mine as a mom and conflict manager- we decided to collaborate on a newsletter.

In my years as a conflict mediator, I've noticed a pattern that emerges when disagreements reach their most entrenched point. At this critical juncture, people often cling to their positions with an intensity that suggests something far deeper than the surface issue is at stake. What I've come to understand is that many conflicts aren't just about the topic at hand—they're about our very sense of self.

The Comfort and Trap of Certainty

"A possible situation of many conflicts, whether it is with friends, coworkers, family, or romantic partners, stems from a vehement insistence upon correctness. 'I am certainly right, you are in fact, wrong'." - Trey Best

This observation from philosophy rings true in my mediation practice daily. When someone plants their flag firmly in the ground of absolute certainty, what we're witnessing isn't just stubbornness—it's fear disguised as conviction.

Just as fear creates decision-making tunnel vision in organizations, our personal identities can create perceptual tunnel vision in conflicts. The lens through which we view the world narrows dramatically when we feel our core beliefs are under threat. Our thinking becomes binary: right/wrong, us/them, good/bad. The messy complexity of real situations gets flattened into simplistic oppositions that feel safer to navigate.

But there's a paradox here. The very certainty that feels like protection actually leaves us more vulnerable. Like organizations that implement rigid, defensive measures that create new problems, individuals who refuse to examine their positions often end up isolated and stuck. Trying to find simple answers to complex situations can leave a lot of holes and frustrations.

Another way we might fool ourselves into creating a false sense of certainty emerges when we believe we know what's better for someone else.  While I wish I could find a gentler way to say this, I firmly believe that thinking we know what is best for someone else reflects a profound arrogance that further narrows our perceptual tunnel. We only see snapshots of others' lives while they themselves are living a full motion picture, with context and experiences we cannot fully grasp. Like the rigid organizational measures that create new problems, attempting to control others' paths or judge their choices creates resistance and disconnection. True wisdom acknowledges that we can only control who we are now and adapt to changes as they come. We cannot guarantee outcomes, no matter how confident we are that our steps are the right ones to a predetermined destination—attempting to do so only deepens the paradox of certainty leaving us more vulnerable, not less.

The False Safety of Relativism

Some try to escape this trap by retreating to pure relativism: "You may think that what I am doing is wrong, but that's only from your perspective." This move seems to open space for differences, but often it's just another defense mechanism—a way to claim immunity from genuine self-examination while still asserting correctness.

Both absolutism and unexamined relativism share something critical: they're reactions driven by self-preservation. When our identities feel threatened, we instinctively protect them—not just our opinions, but who we understand ourselves to be. We may fail to realize that others experience what we may not see and probably don't even intend: we are wearing armor. This invisible shield that we believe protects us actually prevents the very connections and growth opportunities we desire.

Why Identity Feels Like Survival

Why do we react so strongly? Because our identities aren't just labels—they represent investments we've made in becoming who we are.

"Essential to identity is its act of construction and subsequent iteration. We pick characteristics that we wish to identify with and then set them forth into the world by performing them." - Trey Best

Think about what this means in conflict. When someone challenges a belief you've built your life around—whether it's your political affiliation, your parenting approach, or your professional expertise—they're not just questioning an opinion. From your perspective, they're invalidating years of choices, commitments, and efforts that have shaped who you are. This is why conflict often triggers what feels like survival instincts. Our identities are the vehicles through which we pursue our deepest human needs: connection, purpose, security, and meaning. When these identifications are challenged, our core desires feel threatened too.

The Growth Beyond Identity Protection

The great irony is that what feels like self-preservation often becomes self-destruction. When we hold too tightly to our current identities—refusing to let them evolve or be examined—we cut ourselves off from growth. We think we're going to lose our identity if we loosen our grip, but instead, we're preventing ourselves from growing into fuller versions of who we could be.

I've seen this repeatedly in mediations. The person who absolutely refuses to consider alternate perspectives often ends up isolated, their relationships damaged by their rigidity. The team leader who can't acknowledge a mistake loses the trust and creativity of their staff. The family member who insists on being right sacrifices connection for the hollow victory of not changing their mind.

The path forward isn't abandoning identity—it's allowing it to evolve through the practice of self-reflection.

Self-Reflection as a Practice, Not a Punishment

"The tool in which the authoritarian tendencies of conflict can be adequately resisted is self-reflection. Self-reflection is rooted in critique, not in the sense of ruthlessly targeting that which is negative in an object, but instead the procedure of taking a step back from the object in order to attempt to view it in a larger context, positive and negative." - Trey Best

This is crucial to understand. Self-reflection isn't about beating yourself up or dismantling everything you believe. It's about creating space to see your beliefs and reactions within a wider context. It's holding up a magnifying glass to examine not just what might be wrong with your perspective, but to understand your perspective as a whole—its origins, its values, its blind spots, and its wisdom.  It’s sometimes about changing the “or” into an “and”.  A lot of things are not binary – this or that.  We can find a space in self-reflection that can hold two truths – this and that.

Why do we resist this process so fiercely? Because it requires stepping back from the immediate fight-or-flight response of conflict and entering a space where "entire personal foundations could be challenged." That's genuinely frightening. It feels safer to double down on certainty than to invite ambiguity.

But here's what I've seen time and again: the temporary discomfort of self-reflection leads to greater freedom, while the temporary comfort of rigid certainty leads to constriction.

Practical Steps Toward Self-Reflection in Conflict

As a conflict mediator, I've found certain practices help people begin the process of self-reflection even when it feels threatening:

1. Notice your physical reactions. When you feel yourself becoming defensive, angry, or shut down in a conversation, take these bodily signals as invitations to pause rather than react.

2. Ask curiosity questions. Instead of immediately countering an opposing view, try asking: "What experiences led you to that conclusion?" This creates space for understanding while giving you time to examine your own reaction.

3. Look for the legitimate need in opposing views. Even in positions you strongly disagree with, there's usually a legitimate human need or concern trying to be addressed. Finding it doesn't mean you have to agree with the approach.

4. Consider the origins of your certainty. Ask yourself: "How did I come to believe this so strongly? Was it through careful examination or through cultural inheritance? What would happen if I held this belief more lightly?"

5. Practice saying: "I need to think about that." This simple phrase creates space between stimulus and response, allowing for reflection rather than reaction.

The Hidden Value in Our Differences

A crucial insight often lost in conflict is that our differences aren't merely obstacles to overcome—they're potential sources of strength and wisdom. When we reflexively reject perspectives that differ from our own, we don't just damage relationships; we deprive ourselves and our communities of the resilience that comes from diverse thinking.

Consider how nature relies on diversity for sustainability. Monoculture farming is vulnerable to single threats, while diverse ecosystems demonstrate remarkable resilience. Similarly, teams, organizations, and societies benefit from cognitive diversity—different ways of thinking, analyzing problems, and approaching solutions.

Behind most deeply held beliefs lies a legitimate reason—an experience, a value, or an insight that matters. When we dismiss others' perspectives outright, we miss the opportunity to understand these reasons and incorporate their wisdom into more comprehensive solutions. The person whose political views seem incomprehensible to you has arrived at those views through a lifetime of experiences that have shaped their understanding of what creates safety, fairness, or freedom.

This doesn't mean all perspectives are equally valid or that harmful views should go unchallenged. Rather, it means approaching differences with respectful curiosity before judgment. It means asking, "What might this person understand that I don't?" even when we strongly disagree with their conclusions.

The most innovative solutions to complex problems often emerge from the creative tension between different perspectives. When we can hold space for this tension—rather than rushing to eliminate it through agreement or victory—we access possibilities that no single viewpoint could generate alone.

The Allure and Cost of Self-Righteousness

One particular pattern I've observed repeatedly in entrenched conflicts is the powerful pull of self-righteousness. There's something uniquely satisfying about the absolute certainty that we are right and others are wrong. This feeling deserves special attention because of how seductive it can be.

Self-righteousness feels good for very understandable reasons. It delivers an immediate sense of moral clarity in a complex world. It provides a temporary boost to our self-esteem. It simplifies our decision-making ("I don't need to consider their perspective because I'm right and they're wrong"). And perhaps most powerfully, it gives us a sense of belonging to a community of the enlightened who share our correct view.

The neurochemistry behind self-righteousness is compelling too. Research suggests that when we experience self-righteous indignation, our brains release dopamine—the same reward chemical triggered by food, sex, and certain drugs. We become, in a very real sense, addicted to the feeling of righteous certainty.

But the price we pay for this momentary satisfaction is extraordinarily high. Self-righteousness:

• Prevents genuine connection, as others experience us as closed and judgmental

• Blocks learning and growth, as we've decided we already have all the answers

• Creates blind spots that lead to poor decisions based on incomplete information

• Generates defensiveness in others, escalating conflicts rather than resolving them

• Isolates us in echo chambers of those who already agree with us

• Eventually atrophies our capacity for nuanced thinking

I've seen promising collaborations collapse, marriages end, and workplace teams disintegrate—not because the initial conflicts were unresolvable, but because self-righteousness made the participants unable to step back and reflect. The fleeting pleasure of moral superiority cost them relationships, opportunities, and growth.

The antidote to self-righteousness isn't self-doubt or abandoning our values. It's cultivating what philosopher Harold Palmer calls "confident humility"—holding strong values while remaining open to the possibility that our understanding is incomplete. It's recognizing that even when we're mostly right, we're rarely completely right. It's acknowledging that we cannot predict with certainty how our actions will unfold into the future, and that others have the right to their own journey even when we believe we know better.

There's a persistent human tendency worth noting here: it's far easier to focus on finding what's wrong with everyone and everything else than to turn that critical lens inward. Our brains are wired to detect problems and threats in our environment—a useful survival mechanism that becomes problematic in complex social conflicts. When we direct all our analytical energy outward, criticizing others becomes our default mode, while self-reflection remains underdeveloped. This imbalance feeds self-righteousness, as we become experts at identifying others' flaws while remaining novices at recognizing our own. The discipline of intentionally redirecting that critical energy inward—not as self-punishment, but as honest inquiry—is what separates those who grow through conflict from those who merely endure it repeatedly.

The Ongoing Journey

"Self-reflection is not a singular act but instead a continual process. One does not self-reflect and then become enlightened." - Trey Best

This is perhaps the most important point. Self-reflection isn't a one-time event that permanently resolves our tendency toward rigid thinking. It's an ongoing practice that helps us navigate the tension between needing stable identity and being open to growth.

When we commit to this practice, something remarkable happens in conflict. Instead of experiencing disagreement as an existential threat, we can approach it with curiosity. We can hear others more clearly when we're not simultaneously defending our self-concept. We can make space for perspectives different from our own without feeling diminished by their existence.

The most effective leaders, team members, partners, and community members I've worked with share this quality: they are committed to no ideology more strongly than they are committed to their own continuous learning and growth. They understand that embracing complexity and ambiguity isn't weakness—it's the foundation of wisdom.

A Word on the Challenge of Self-Reflection

Self-reflection isn't easy. All of us can only see what we see, and we do not know what we do not know. Studies show that each of us have numerous blind spots in our self-perception—research from organizational psychologist Dr. Tasha Eurich and her team found that while 95% of people believe they're self-aware, only about 10-15% actually are by objective measures (Eurich, T. "Insight: The Surprising Truth About How Others See Us, How We See Ourselves, and Why the Answers Matter More Than We Think," 2017).

I think of self-reflection as holding up a mirror. Sometimes people in our lives hold up a mirror for us to look in and that mirror truly does not reflect who we are.   Yet sometimes the mirror reveals parts of ourselves that can be hard to face. My kids have always held me accountable by holding up these mirrors and so have my best friends.  They show me aspects of myself I couldn't otherwise see.  This can be times where “the truth hurts.”  It is also the place where growth and intimacy deepen.

If we can get out of judgment and accept the complexity of being human, we can grow—and we can grow together. One of the things I've realized is that life is an experiment. Every single second is one we've never been in before. Sometimes we'll get it right, and sometimes we're left with a hard lesson and pieces to pick up. That is simply life.

The most profound growth often comes not from achieving perfection but from embracing the journey of continuous self-reflection, with all its discomfort and revelations. When we can approach ourselves with the same compassion we hope to extend to others, the mirrors others hold up become not threats to our identity but invitations to greater wholeness.

Conclusion: Planting Seeds

In my mediation practice, I've come to see my role not as fixing conflicts but as planting seeds of self-reflection that may grow in their own time. When people in conflict begin to examine their own certainties with the same scrutiny they apply to others, the entire dynamic shifts.

Remember: we don't have to choose between having an identity and being open to change. The richest, most meaningful identities are those that have been examined, tested, and allowed to evolve through the courage of self-reflection.

The decision to remain closed-minded is just that—a decision. And like all decisions, it can be reconsidered. The alternative isn't chaos or loss of self; it's a more expansive, nuanced understanding of who you are and who you might become.

As Trey wisely notes: "If restrictive identifications feel like a comfort that actually leads to self-destruction, we find that critique leads to a feeling of discomfort that actually holds the potential for a way in which to move past mere self-preservation and toward a world mutually inhabited and shared."

In the end, that shared world is what conflict resolution is really about.

Want to learn more about your personal ability to self-reflect? 

This Interactive Workshop Explores

• The science behind emotional intelligence and its impact on conflict

• Understanding emotional triggers and hidden biases

• The Anger Iceberg: what lies beneath surface emotions

• Key components of Emotional Intelligence and how to strengthen them

• Practical tools for increasing your EI and supporting others

• Includes an interactive workbook

• Includes personalized Emotional Intelligence Assessment

https://courses.bestconflictsolutions.com/products/courses/emotionalintelligence