A monk once remarked, “Imagine being bitten by a snake, and instead of focusing on healing from the poison, you chase the snake to understand why it bit you and to prove that you didn’t deserve it.” The moral is that healing requires letting go of retribution, revenge, or even validation. It’s natural to seek explanations for emotional pain, but this instinct keeps us trapped in suffering and animus. Sadly, this metaphor reminds me of people on both sides of the political aisle.
What I see that they don’t is that most people’s validation is inconsequential, especially if I sincerely acknowledge myself as worthy of respect and dignity. If a white guy calls me the N-word in traffic during my morning commute, I’m not shaken by it at all. I’m heading to a university to give a lecture on civil discourse; he’s probably going somewhere to day drink. I win! However, I know people who would organize a ten-block protest march if they had the same experience. Frankly, I’m too busy enjoying my life and trying to make a difference to be bothered by racists, be they motorists, cyclists, or pedestrians.
This does not mean I ignore the real problems in America’s sociopolitical landscape. As far as my own work is concerned, I know our education system is in dire need of reform. I know the prison industrial complex is something we need to address. I know black Americans lag behind other groups in education and income. I am hardly putting my head in the sand. My acknowledgment of these issues just looks different from the ones popularized by mainstream media as “the black perspective.”
I see the world through what Kenneth Burke calls the “comic frame.” In Attitudes Toward History, Burke describes how different frames rhetorically influence our views and interpretations of the world. The comic frame interprets failings as ignorance, not evil, and emphasizes correction over punishment. It allows reform without spiraling into weapons-grade outrage.
Contrast this with the “tragic frame,” which sees conflict through outrage and punishment. It’s grounded in indignation and views human fallibility as sin that must be purged. Right and wrong are rigid: my side is morally superior, and villains must be destroyed. Corrective measures become scapegoating, blaming one figure or group for social ills. Such measures manifest as “trainings” promising purification through suffering. Sound familiar? It’s reminiscent of Maoist struggle sessions—or their American counterpart: DEI trainings fueled by erudite nihilism.
It may be clear which frame is more conducive to a free and liberal democracy. When it comes to human interaction, specifically deliberation or debate, the comic frame is conducive to
1. The principle of charity (give the other the benefit of the doubt and assume good faith);
2. Steel-manning (helping the other person improve their argument instead of tearing it down);
3. The heuristic principle of “Hanlon’s Razor”: “Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.”
Of course, this is not to say that the comic frame disallows the recognition of malice; it just says that we shouldn’t start there. Through conversation, we can still discover malice in the other and work to remedy its effects.
Contrast that to the tactics potentially aligned with the tragic frame.
1. Cynicism (the general distrust of others’ motives)
2. Paranoid attribution bias (the tendency to interpret ambiguous behavior as malicious)
3. A kind of reverse Hanlon’s razor: “Never attribute to stupidity what can be blamed on malice.”
Phenomena like QAnon and election denialism were brought to us by the tragic frame.
When people look through the comic frame, we may get comfort with pluralism, viewpoint diversity, epistemic humility, and civil discourse. When people look through the tragic frame, we get advocates of reverse racism, cancel culture, election denialism, demonization of immigrants, and riots at the US Capitol building or downtown Los Angeles.
In my own work, I’ve concluded that DEI’s failure stems partly from its tragic framing. Take implicit bias: through a tragic lens, all humans harbor anti-Black animus—whether they realize it or not. That animus must be named and purged, especially in those who deny it. It’s a warped take on Habeas Corpus: a person is guilty until proven guilty.
Through a comic frame, everyone resembles Forrest Gump—tripping into microaggressions and short-sightedness that a tragic frame interprets as evil. “You shouldn’t think like that!” can become “Have you considered thinking about this?” The need to address missteps remains. Importantly, the comic frame includes self-reflection. When a self-aware person sees a gaffe, the response is: “There but for the grace of God go I.”
DEI’s downfall was its white-knuckled embrace of the tragic frame. The comic frame may have been a more successful approach. Keep in mind that this approach doesn’t negate the existence of racism or the significance of historical injustices. It is an approach, not a conclusion, and it can prompt us to focus less on an aggressor’s motives and more on a person’s, group’s, or community’s healing and progress, less on perpetual grievance and more on lasting empowerment.
In short, the monk’s aforementioned statement is about prioritizing healing over punishment. Healing from the snake’s venom must take precedence over endlessly chasing the snake
.