The narcissism of great similarities

It has been observed that the greatest conflicts begin with very small things; and that often no one but the warring parties can see the differences that generated so much animosity. Moreover, as time passes, not even the heirs of these parties can see the differences. The Sassanids no longer know who the Greeks were; the Greeks no longer remember that at that time they still called themselves Romans; and the Romans have already somewhat forgiven the Normans and the Ostrogoths.

The likelihood of differences being forgotten is not enough to prevent conflicts. At the time conflicts arise, what seems to matter most are these differences; and it's no consolation that in the long run they cease to be noticeable. Despite this, even when a conflict begins, and not only between countries, it is the similarity between the parties that allows the differences to be so important. The different parties invariably describe themselves as very different from each other; clashes of civilizations, like those of planets, are, however, much less frequent than one might imagine, and opponents belong together more than one might imagine.

An agreement between two people, or between two countries, as exemplified in a treaty signed by the parties, is an agreement regarding the truth of certain propositions or the desirability of certain resolutions. But this similarity is understood flexibly. It has been observed that it is part of these agreements not to take offense if one or both parties suspect that the other understands common propositions and resolutions somewhat differently. It is, however, a duplicity with measure, weight, and measure, and therefore accepted with good grace in foreign ministries and by psychologists.

It turns out that far greater anger than that aroused by minor differences is aroused by major similarities. We bestow our greatest resentment upon those who agree with us on every substantial point. It's not really disagreements that attract the greatest anger; when you look at it closely, they're always minor differences; and minor differences even warm the souls of those who have them. It's rather agreement that is felt as an insult; as if the other party, by agreeing with us, were confiscating something very substantial from us.

We thus greet the agreement of others with fury. The great model is that of Queen Snow, in the well-known story. What worried her and drove her to never stop asking questions of her mirror was not that there might be people different from her, but that there might be someone like her. Her antipathy toward little Snow, an innocuous activist, indicated concern that she was being secretly replicated. She worried that a member of the younger generation might steal her appearance. Like Queen Snow, nothing bothers us so much about our fellow human beings as the fact that they might resemble us.