Reason and Emotion
Another fundamental–essential–element of good thinking is the dialectical bipolar tension between reason and emotion. As in all true bipolar relations, neither of these, taken by itself, is valid. Good thinking exists only in the tension between the two. And there is no magic balance. Sometimes it is primarily emotion that powers good thinking; on other occasions reason rides in the driver’s seat. In either case, the other is consulted and taken seriously. Considerate thinking finds its place all along the spectrum between the two poles.
The movie, Guess Who’s Coming for Dinner? , draws its power from the tension of racism in conflict with love. Matt Drayton (Spencer Tracy) and Mr. Prentice (Roy Glenn) are convinced that their beloved children, “Joey” Drayton (Katharine Houghton) and Dr. John Prentice (Sidney Poitier) have lost their minds. The fathers are totally convinced that this interracial marriage would be a horrible mistake. They can think only of all the potential problems that would accrue were the marriage to take place. The situation comes to an impasse, until, finally, Mrs. Prentice (Beah Richards) confronts the two “old” men.
She speaks to their feelings, which she says have dried up long ago. She rebukes them for having forgotten what it is like to be young and deeply committed, as this young couple is. Her pain-laden challenge wakens Drayton’s heart and mind. Now he understands the situation as a whole, and in an impassioned speech, pours out the love and commitment to his wife that has not diminished across long years of marriage. The issue is resolved. The marriage receives the blessing of both parents.
Only as love’s emotion arises in antithesis to racism’s reason can any of them think clearly and thus see beyond their preconceived ways of thinking.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Chapter 7/9
Aging
The morning I turned forty-five, before I even got out of bed, I decided that I was now “old enough.” All my life I had heard, “You’re not old enough . . .” to remember . . . , to do that, to wear that, to understand . . . , to enjoy. . .. On that day, February 15, 1979, I decreed that I was old enough for whatever.
But that notion begat another: I may be old enough, but I was not yet “old.” So, at forty-five I began to prepare for old age. I began studying gerontology. In succeeding years, I began carefully observing elderly people. I soon concluded that most people, if they live long enough, flunk old age. At least most that I have observed did not have a happy ending to their story.
People who had accumulated wealth and all that comes with it, or who had risen to prestigious positions of leadership, or who had the sophistication that accompanies world travel and education from elite universities–people such as these I have watched, and in large measure seen them end their years in the misery of emptiness. As a result, I began in earnest to study individuals who had earned good grades in aging. I knew my time would come, and I wanted to know the joy of a life fulfilled.
Now I am an old man in my seventies. What have I learned across the past thirty years? I’ve learned that the secret of successful aging lies in the bipolar dialectic of continuity and change, the every-changing, but necessary tension between thinking–and thus, living–like a conservative and like a progressive. Tradition and novelty.
Somewhere along the way I read and bought into the idea that the secret of successful aging was the ability to adapt. Those who can’t, or don’t, or won’t adapt are shunted off the road of life, into the ditch of bitterness. Yes, adaptability is essential. It is a necessary, but not sufficient condition for a good old age. The ability to adapt is one of those poles that is invalid when taken by itself. It makes its contribution to life, to old age, only as it lives in tension with the other pole: the commitment to hold onto those things that we have staked our lives on, believe in, and have integrated into our character.
On the other hand, necessary as it is to hold onto the best of the past, conservativism is insufficient to lead us to Browning’s “best [that] is yet to be, the last of life for which the first was made.” To adopt a purely conservative stance toward life is to become stagnant, then sour, then morose; it is a guarantor of misery.
It takes both. Some of us will need to maintain more continuity with the past, and keep more traditions, while others will need to venture more into the new cultures that continually emerge. But all of us must conserve that which we most value and believe in. All of us must adapt to some of the unavoidable novelty that seems so foreign to the world in which we spent most of our lives.
Myself, I hold to the matchless personal and social value of traditional marriage with its associated lifetime vows. In a world that increasingly distances itself from the natural, favoring rather the man-made modifications and replacements of nature, I am a determined conservative of the natural, the wild, and that which is essentially untouched, left in its apparently chaotic biodiversity. The blue bib overalls and western-style hats that are part of my rural Oklahoma heritage and that I still wear much of the time help give continuity to who I am.
On the other hand, I am on good terms with Gmail, blogging, Twitter, cell phones, and solar panels. I relate easily and comfortably with the generation of body piercings, tattoos, iPods, and MTV. They speak a different language, dress differently, and represent a culture completely foreign to what feels natural to me. But I made the choice back when I was forty-five that I would gradually become a naturalized citizen of this new nation, the nation of the younger, because, as is commonly said, I know that we are more alike than we are different.
It has not been easy to live feeling the strong pull from both poles. I have often lost my balance, often allowed myself to be pulled down, often failed to live the tension. Often I think I could relax and feel more comfortable if I allowed myself to completely polarize, but that would be to choose to lose so much that is vital.
The morning I turned forty-five, before I even got out of bed, I decided that I was now “old enough.” All my life I had heard, “You’re not old enough . . .” to remember . . . , to do that, to wear that, to understand . . . , to enjoy. . .. On that day, February 15, 1979, I decreed that I was old enough for whatever.
But that notion begat another: I may be old enough, but I was not yet “old.” So, at forty-five I began to prepare for old age. I began studying gerontology. In succeeding years, I began carefully observing elderly people. I soon concluded that most people, if they live long enough, flunk old age. At least most that I have observed did not have a happy ending to their story.
People who had accumulated wealth and all that comes with it, or who had risen to prestigious positions of leadership, or who had the sophistication that accompanies world travel and education from elite universities–people such as these I have watched, and in large measure seen them end their years in the misery of emptiness. As a result, I began in earnest to study individuals who had earned good grades in aging. I knew my time would come, and I wanted to know the joy of a life fulfilled.
Now I am an old man in my seventies. What have I learned across the past thirty years? I’ve learned that the secret of successful aging lies in the bipolar dialectic of continuity and change, the every-changing, but necessary tension between thinking–and thus, living–like a conservative and like a progressive. Tradition and novelty.
Somewhere along the way I read and bought into the idea that the secret of successful aging was the ability to adapt. Those who can’t, or don’t, or won’t adapt are shunted off the road of life, into the ditch of bitterness. Yes, adaptability is essential. It is a necessary, but not sufficient condition for a good old age. The ability to adapt is one of those poles that is invalid when taken by itself. It makes its contribution to life, to old age, only as it lives in tension with the other pole: the commitment to hold onto those things that we have staked our lives on, believe in, and have integrated into our character.
On the other hand, necessary as it is to hold onto the best of the past, conservativism is insufficient to lead us to Browning’s “best [that] is yet to be, the last of life for which the first was made.” To adopt a purely conservative stance toward life is to become stagnant, then sour, then morose; it is a guarantor of misery.
It takes both. Some of us will need to maintain more continuity with the past, and keep more traditions, while others will need to venture more into the new cultures that continually emerge. But all of us must conserve that which we most value and believe in. All of us must adapt to some of the unavoidable novelty that seems so foreign to the world in which we spent most of our lives.
Myself, I hold to the matchless personal and social value of traditional marriage with its associated lifetime vows. In a world that increasingly distances itself from the natural, favoring rather the man-made modifications and replacements of nature, I am a determined conservative of the natural, the wild, and that which is essentially untouched, left in its apparently chaotic biodiversity. The blue bib overalls and western-style hats that are part of my rural Oklahoma heritage and that I still wear much of the time help give continuity to who I am.
On the other hand, I am on good terms with Gmail, blogging, Twitter, cell phones, and solar panels. I relate easily and comfortably with the generation of body piercings, tattoos, iPods, and MTV. They speak a different language, dress differently, and represent a culture completely foreign to what feels natural to me. But I made the choice back when I was forty-five that I would gradually become a naturalized citizen of this new nation, the nation of the younger, because, as is commonly said, I know that we are more alike than we are different.
It has not been easy to live feeling the strong pull from both poles. I have often lost my balance, often allowed myself to be pulled down, often failed to live the tension. Often I think I could relax and feel more comfortable if I allowed myself to completely polarize, but that would be to choose to lose so much that is vital.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Chapter 7/8
Activity and Rest
A fundamental dialectic is the bipolar movement between activity and rest: day and night, six work days and a sabbath, break time during the work day, the growing seasons and winter, two hours of driving on the road followed by a rest stop, (federal law allows truckers thirteen hours on the road and mandates at least ten hours off duty before driving again, although many studies show this to be an inadequate rest period). If we stay only at one pole, we eventually burn out; if we stay too long at the other pole, we accomplish little or nothing. We need both rest and activity.
So it is with thinking. Think too long and your mind gives out. On the other hand, don’t quit too soon. I remember when our university bestowed an honorary doctorate on a wealthy south Texas farmer/business man. In his acceptance speech he said he often was asked the secret of his success. He told us it was just three words: “A little more.”
Thinking is work. In the early stages of becoming a considerate thinker, it can be hard work. The mind balks and says, “Leave me alone.” When this occurs, see if you can give it just “a little more.” Try to think of just one more “other hand” possibility, one more aspect of the antithesis, or another facet of either thesis or antithesis. Just one more try, then give it a rest.
The oak tree and the grape vine need winter’s dormant period so they can digest, stabilize, and incorporate the gains of the growing season. They need winter also for rest, restoration, and recovery. The birds of the air, the beasts of the field, the reader and writer–people like you and me–all need daily sleep. Some of us get by on a little less, others of us seem to require a bit more, but we slight our sleep only at great risk.
When the mind tires of cerebration, it calls us to move, for a while, toward the other pole: mindlessness. Myself, I check CNN online for a news update, get a snack from the kitchen, play a card game with my wife, go outside and enjoy the wide diversity of my native plant yarden, or watch my little flock of bantam chickens. It might be a good time to go shopping, visiting, or to bed and sleep. Do just about anything, but give thinking a rest.
I spoke of thinking as hard work, particularly as we begin deliberately to think according to the dictates of the dialectic. The “a little more” stretches the mind, even as a little more stretches our physical muscles. Just as we grow stronger lifting weights, gradually increasing the weight, so our minds grow stronger as we gradually demand more of them.
Think, think a little more, retreat, rest, allow time and space for re-creation. Cognitive ability will grow. Some of us will require more, some less mental rest and restoration. Give yourself whatever time is required to enable you to come back with readiness and enthusiasm. The time will come when thinking is no more tiring than walking or talking. The dialectic calls for some kind of rhythmic movement between activity and rest. Think about it.
A fundamental dialectic is the bipolar movement between activity and rest: day and night, six work days and a sabbath, break time during the work day, the growing seasons and winter, two hours of driving on the road followed by a rest stop, (federal law allows truckers thirteen hours on the road and mandates at least ten hours off duty before driving again, although many studies show this to be an inadequate rest period). If we stay only at one pole, we eventually burn out; if we stay too long at the other pole, we accomplish little or nothing. We need both rest and activity.
So it is with thinking. Think too long and your mind gives out. On the other hand, don’t quit too soon. I remember when our university bestowed an honorary doctorate on a wealthy south Texas farmer/business man. In his acceptance speech he said he often was asked the secret of his success. He told us it was just three words: “A little more.”
Thinking is work. In the early stages of becoming a considerate thinker, it can be hard work. The mind balks and says, “Leave me alone.” When this occurs, see if you can give it just “a little more.” Try to think of just one more “other hand” possibility, one more aspect of the antithesis, or another facet of either thesis or antithesis. Just one more try, then give it a rest.
The oak tree and the grape vine need winter’s dormant period so they can digest, stabilize, and incorporate the gains of the growing season. They need winter also for rest, restoration, and recovery. The birds of the air, the beasts of the field, the reader and writer–people like you and me–all need daily sleep. Some of us get by on a little less, others of us seem to require a bit more, but we slight our sleep only at great risk.
When the mind tires of cerebration, it calls us to move, for a while, toward the other pole: mindlessness. Myself, I check CNN online for a news update, get a snack from the kitchen, play a card game with my wife, go outside and enjoy the wide diversity of my native plant yarden, or watch my little flock of bantam chickens. It might be a good time to go shopping, visiting, or to bed and sleep. Do just about anything, but give thinking a rest.
I spoke of thinking as hard work, particularly as we begin deliberately to think according to the dictates of the dialectic. The “a little more” stretches the mind, even as a little more stretches our physical muscles. Just as we grow stronger lifting weights, gradually increasing the weight, so our minds grow stronger as we gradually demand more of them.
Think, think a little more, retreat, rest, allow time and space for re-creation. Cognitive ability will grow. Some of us will require more, some less mental rest and restoration. Give yourself whatever time is required to enable you to come back with readiness and enthusiasm. The time will come when thinking is no more tiring than walking or talking. The dialectic calls for some kind of rhythmic movement between activity and rest. Think about it.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Chapter 7/7
We polarize for two or three reasons. When we take a polar position on anything, it gives us a sense of security. Polar positions are absolute. They leave us with no questions. A correlative of this is that we polarize because at the polar position we do not have to think. And, as always, it is easier to follow our comfortable crowd. Security, with no need to do the work of thinking, and plenty of company.
But the power of a magnet lies in neither its positive nor its negative pole. Rather the power resides in the tension between them. Were we to decide against negatives and make it all positive, or vice versa, we would be left with a piece of mere metal.
We are called on, regularly, to pick a pole: conservative or liberal, pro-life or pro-choice, freedom or determinism, capitalism or communism, socialism or individualism. “Which are you,” we are asked? Every time we adopt a polar position, something is destroyed, something vital. Reality, life, and truth exist in those polar tensions.
If we insist on the supremacy of individual rights and reject the claims of society, our thinking is invalid. If we claim that individual rights must be subordinated to the needs of society, our thinking is invalid. Neither pole, taken alone, is ever right. Only with the support of a healthy society can an individual attain her full potential; only when composed of a diverse body of well-developed individuals can a society maintain its health. The bipolarities of life are true, they are right but only in relation to each other, only as the tension is acknowledged.
Nor should we look for truth in a middle-of-the-road balance. Reality, life, and truth exist along an unceasingly shifting, fine line somewhere between the poles. Think of the tightrope walker with her balancing pole. It is rarely held perfectly horizontal. Sometimes it is tipped a little to the left or right, and sometimes it is tipped rather deeply one direction or the other, whatever is needed for the walker to maintain her balance. At times we see the pole tilted rapidly back and forth, from one side to the other.
But the power of a magnet lies in neither its positive nor its negative pole. Rather the power resides in the tension between them. Were we to decide against negatives and make it all positive, or vice versa, we would be left with a piece of mere metal.
We are called on, regularly, to pick a pole: conservative or liberal, pro-life or pro-choice, freedom or determinism, capitalism or communism, socialism or individualism. “Which are you,” we are asked? Every time we adopt a polar position, something is destroyed, something vital. Reality, life, and truth exist in those polar tensions.
If we insist on the supremacy of individual rights and reject the claims of society, our thinking is invalid. If we claim that individual rights must be subordinated to the needs of society, our thinking is invalid. Neither pole, taken alone, is ever right. Only with the support of a healthy society can an individual attain her full potential; only when composed of a diverse body of well-developed individuals can a society maintain its health. The bipolarities of life are true, they are right but only in relation to each other, only as the tension is acknowledged.
Nor should we look for truth in a middle-of-the-road balance. Reality, life, and truth exist along an unceasingly shifting, fine line somewhere between the poles. Think of the tightrope walker with her balancing pole. It is rarely held perfectly horizontal. Sometimes it is tipped a little to the left or right, and sometimes it is tipped rather deeply one direction or the other, whatever is needed for the walker to maintain her balance. At times we see the pole tilted rapidly back and forth, from one side to the other.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Chapter 7/6
Living the Tension
At times truth may lie so close to one pole that it seems to be polarized. The difference is that, no matter how close to one pole, it still feels the pull of the other. Once polarized, however, we feel no tension at all–and thus, are out of touch with the real world, the world of tensions. Today, talking with you, I may sound like a flaming liberal, just like the dogmatic liberal. The difference between me and the liberal is that I am still aware of the conservative pole and the values and challenges it holds. Thus, next week, talking with her, I may sound just like a hidebound conservative. Again, however, I have not allowed myself to choose a pole, I am still in the tension, the living, moving tension. Truth, reality, and life exist along a fine line that continually moves between the poles.
Too many of us are uncomfortable with tension, change, and the relativity of living this spectrum. In our desire for stability, we want to be solidly anchored like a great oak tree. We are called, rather, to the stability of the eagle soaring high in the air, apparently with no support. The eagle, however, riding the wind currents and thermal air columns, is as secure as the oak. But it is a living security, not a fixed and static one. Life has to be engaged moment by moment. We can never lock into safety.
So learn, when confronted by an either/or situation, to stop and consider the possibility that a bipolarity is involved, in which case we should not accept the either/or that we are presented with. If the occasion is bipolar, we recognize that it is both/and, and must make a judgment about where across the spectrum we should take our stand. Make it habit always, in the face of either/or, to consider and be prepared to deal with the bipolar.
At times truth may lie so close to one pole that it seems to be polarized. The difference is that, no matter how close to one pole, it still feels the pull of the other. Once polarized, however, we feel no tension at all–and thus, are out of touch with the real world, the world of tensions. Today, talking with you, I may sound like a flaming liberal, just like the dogmatic liberal. The difference between me and the liberal is that I am still aware of the conservative pole and the values and challenges it holds. Thus, next week, talking with her, I may sound just like a hidebound conservative. Again, however, I have not allowed myself to choose a pole, I am still in the tension, the living, moving tension. Truth, reality, and life exist along a fine line that continually moves between the poles.
Too many of us are uncomfortable with tension, change, and the relativity of living this spectrum. In our desire for stability, we want to be solidly anchored like a great oak tree. We are called, rather, to the stability of the eagle soaring high in the air, apparently with no support. The eagle, however, riding the wind currents and thermal air columns, is as secure as the oak. But it is a living security, not a fixed and static one. Life has to be engaged moment by moment. We can never lock into safety.
So learn, when confronted by an either/or situation, to stop and consider the possibility that a bipolarity is involved, in which case we should not accept the either/or that we are presented with. If the occasion is bipolar, we recognize that it is both/and, and must make a judgment about where across the spectrum we should take our stand. Make it habit always, in the face of either/or, to consider and be prepared to deal with the bipolar.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
chapter 7/5
Other of the most general bipolarities of life are:
Community Character
Tension Release
Solitude Company
Work Sabbath
Worship Service
Being Doing
Doubt Belief
Decision Habit
Environment Genetics
Is Ought
Situation Rules
Act Wait
Yin Yang
Universal Singular
Serious Lighthearted
Individual Community
Personal Social
Again, truth exists in the tension between the poles. Note that it does not rest in the center between them, in fact it does not rest at all. Truth–and life and reality–move all along the spectrum between. Today, in this situation, relative to this moment, it may lie in the center, but later in the day, when the situation has changed, it may be closer to one pole and further from the other, still feeling the tension from both directions.
Community Character
Tension Release
Solitude Company
Work Sabbath
Worship Service
Being Doing
Doubt Belief
Decision Habit
Environment Genetics
Is Ought
Situation Rules
Act Wait
Yin Yang
Universal Singular
Serious Lighthearted
Individual Community
Personal Social
Again, truth exists in the tension between the poles. Note that it does not rest in the center between them, in fact it does not rest at all. Truth–and life and reality–move all along the spectrum between. Today, in this situation, relative to this moment, it may lie in the center, but later in the day, when the situation has changed, it may be closer to one pole and further from the other, still feeling the tension from both directions.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Think like an Octopus
Reminder that the book this blog, Think like an Octopus: the Key to Becoming a Good Thinker, is now available from Amazon or Barnes & Noble.
Chapter 7/4
Notice that the Bible doesn’t merely state that God is sovereign. It also emphasizes human freedom. But it doesn’t just emphasize human choice and responsibility, it also claims God’s control. We want to affirm that both are true, independently of the other--objectively true. But we live in a world where everything exists in relation to other things. Nothing exists independently of anything else. Thus, truth always exists in some relational context. Bipolar kinds of truths are true only in relation to each other. I reiterate, neither is true by itself.
Our common response to bipolarities is to either accept the copout notion that they are a paradox, or else we polarize. We agree they are contradictory, that the truth of one implies the falsity of the other and vice versa, so we feel compelled to defend one and attack the other. This is the root of many of our problems: we cannot accept the tensions inherent in bipolarity. If we affirm the truth of one and reject the other, the tension is eliminated. But we fail to consider the necessity of tension in the real world.
Everything exists and is held together in tensions of all sorts. If all tension--muscular, cellular, and other--were eliminated from our bodies, they would collapse into a protoplasmic heap. Tension is a necessary part of reality. Only inappropriate tension is a problem.
Our common response to bipolarities is to either accept the copout notion that they are a paradox, or else we polarize. We agree they are contradictory, that the truth of one implies the falsity of the other and vice versa, so we feel compelled to defend one and attack the other. This is the root of many of our problems: we cannot accept the tensions inherent in bipolarity. If we affirm the truth of one and reject the other, the tension is eliminated. But we fail to consider the necessity of tension in the real world.
Everything exists and is held together in tensions of all sorts. If all tension--muscular, cellular, and other--were eliminated from our bodies, they would collapse into a protoplasmic heap. Tension is a necessary part of reality. Only inappropriate tension is a problem.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
Chapter 7/3
Both or Neither?
So much for an attempt at definition. What am I talking about? The simplest approach to understanding bipolarity is to picture the horseshoe-shaped magnet. We know that each pole of the magnet is charged, one positive, the other negative. Neither of the poles is the more important, neither the more necessary. If both poles were to be made positive, the magnetism would be lost. So if both were negative. The opposite poles set up a magnetic tension between. The magnetism is dependant on the tension rooted in this opposition of the poles.
Many of the most basic features of our world exist in bipolar tension with each other. Take, for instance, the classic tension between of the sovereignty of God and human freedom. These seem to be complete opposites, incompatible with each other. In its strongest statement, if God is the sovereign ruler of the universe, then everything that happens is as he directly ordains. Everything is done precisely as God desires, with no option for variation. Humans are left with no freedom of choice. On the other hand, if humans are genuinely free, they may contradict God’s desires and may do so on a regular basis, in which case, God is not sovereign in the strongest sense. Similar bipolarities characterize many of the basic realities of life and our understandings of it.
Quite commonly, these contradictions are accepted as paradoxical. The reference to paradox is intended to make contradictories acceptable while leaving them inexplicable. We need to note that the idea of contradiction, in the strict logical sense, means that one element--pole--must be true and the other must be false. When two things contradict, they cannot both be true. In a paradox we have that which seems to be contradictory, yet in which both elements seem to be true.
An understanding of bipolarity enables us to make sense of this and present a reasoned resolution to these difficulties. In contrast to many understandings of bipolarity, the concept I present affirms, not that, while they are contradictory, both poles seem to be true. Rather, I affirm that in a bipolarity, neither pole is true--not by itself. Just as a magnet’s positive or negative pole is magnetically useless if it exists by itself, so in bipolarity either pole is untrue, if taken alone. Both poles are true, but only in tension with the other pole.
So much for an attempt at definition. What am I talking about? The simplest approach to understanding bipolarity is to picture the horseshoe-shaped magnet. We know that each pole of the magnet is charged, one positive, the other negative. Neither of the poles is the more important, neither the more necessary. If both poles were to be made positive, the magnetism would be lost. So if both were negative. The opposite poles set up a magnetic tension between. The magnetism is dependant on the tension rooted in this opposition of the poles.
Many of the most basic features of our world exist in bipolar tension with each other. Take, for instance, the classic tension between of the sovereignty of God and human freedom. These seem to be complete opposites, incompatible with each other. In its strongest statement, if God is the sovereign ruler of the universe, then everything that happens is as he directly ordains. Everything is done precisely as God desires, with no option for variation. Humans are left with no freedom of choice. On the other hand, if humans are genuinely free, they may contradict God’s desires and may do so on a regular basis, in which case, God is not sovereign in the strongest sense. Similar bipolarities characterize many of the basic realities of life and our understandings of it.
Quite commonly, these contradictions are accepted as paradoxical. The reference to paradox is intended to make contradictories acceptable while leaving them inexplicable. We need to note that the idea of contradiction, in the strict logical sense, means that one element--pole--must be true and the other must be false. When two things contradict, they cannot both be true. In a paradox we have that which seems to be contradictory, yet in which both elements seem to be true.
An understanding of bipolarity enables us to make sense of this and present a reasoned resolution to these difficulties. In contrast to many understandings of bipolarity, the concept I present affirms, not that, while they are contradictory, both poles seem to be true. Rather, I affirm that in a bipolarity, neither pole is true--not by itself. Just as a magnet’s positive or negative pole is magnetically useless if it exists by itself, so in bipolarity either pole is untrue, if taken alone. Both poles are true, but only in tension with the other pole.
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