The danger in reading Keen is mistaking his central thesis for naïveté. Because Keen shows how enemies are constructed, the careless reader concludes: enemies don't exist. Because Keen shows dehumanization is institutional, the careless reader concludes: all enemies are projections.
This is not what Keen argues. Keen's position is more difficult and less comfortable: some enemies are real.1
The difference is not between "real" and "imaginary" enemies. The difference is between enmity and opposition.
A nation can have genuinely irreconcilable interests with another nation. A person can have genuine conflicts with another person. These are opposition — real, persistent, potentially zero-sum.
But enmity is different. Enmity adds a psychological dimension: the conviction that the opponent is not just opposed but hostile, not just different but evil, not just a competitor but an existential threat to the self's survival.
Keen's insight is radical precisely because it is not absolute: you can have opposition without enmity. You can compete fiercely, fight realistically, defend yourself effectively — while maintaining the opponent's humanity and avoiding the paranoid conviction that they are subhuman.
Tragic realism is the position that holds three truths simultaneously:
First: Institutional machinery creates homo hostilis — the hostile human is constructed, not inevitable. Dehumanization, paranoia, gender destruction, authority override, theological framing — all are choices, not facts of nature.
Second: Some conflicts are genuinely irreconcilable. Some enemies are real in the sense that their interests are incompatible with yours. Some differences cannot be resolved through dialogue because they are not based on misunderstanding — they are based on genuine opposition of will.
Third: Even in genuinely irreconcilable conflict, you can refuse enmity. You can oppose without dehumanizing. You can fight without paranoia. You can defend without making your opponent into a demon.
This third position is what tragic realism names: the possibility of opposition without enmity, competition without contempt, conflict without the conviction that the opponent is subhuman.
Enmity becomes institutionally inevitable when opposition is framed as existential. When the conflict is framed not as "we have incompatible interests" but as "they threaten our survival," enmity follows naturally.
But this framing is a choice, not a necessity. The same conflict can be framed as: "We have genuinely opposed interests. We will fight for ours; they will fight for theirs. Neither of us is evil; we are simply competitors."
In this second framing, opposition remains real — the stakes may be high, the outcome may be zero-sum — but enmity is not required.
The mechanism is straightforward: if you frame your opponent as a threat to your existence, you must dehumanize them (because you cannot coexist with demons), you must believe in paranoia (because demons are cunning and hidden), you must accept that they can never change (because demons are unchangeable evil).
But if you frame your opponent as a worthy competitor with whom you happen to be in genuine conflict, you can maintain their humanity while fighting them fiercely.
Keen acknowledges the hard limit: tragic realism becomes insufficient when the opponent is attempting to dehumanize you.
If your opponent has already decided to see you as subhuman, then refusing enmity makes you vulnerable. You maintain their humanity; they do not reciprocate. You practice dialogue; they use your openness as an exploitation vector.
This is the uncomfortable recognition that tragic realism must face: the stance of maintaining opposition without enmity is only viable if enough of the opponent's group reciprocates. In a context where the opponent has already committed to enmity, non-enmity becomes a luxury you cannot afford.
This is not an argument for abandoning tragic realism. It is a recognition of its boundary conditions. Tragic realism works best in contexts where both parties have some capacity to refuse enmity. In contexts where one party has already committed entirely to dehumanization, tragic realism becomes defensive — you maintain your own humanity and your own non-enmity, but you cannot extend it to an opponent who has refused it.
The crucial framing: the goal is not the elimination of all enmity (which is naive universalism), but the radical reduction of enmity while accepting that opposition will continue.
This is the tragic realism: you accept that you will always have competitors, that some conflicts will be genuinely irreconcilable, that opposition is a permanent feature of human existence. But you refuse the additional layer of enmity — the paranoia, the dehumanization, the conviction that your opponent is subhuman.
The goal is to move all conflicts into the opposition-without-enmity category wherever possible, while accepting that some will remain in the enmity category, while working to prevent new conflicts from becoming enmified when they don't need to be.
This is radically different from the naive universalist dream (eliminate conflict entirely) or the paranoid realism (accept enmity as necessary). It is the tragic middle ground: conflict continues, but enmity can be reduced.
Political realism argues that nations pursue power; idealism argues that nations pursue values. Realism is often mistaken for cynicism (all conflict is inevitable, all enmity is justified).
Tragic realism splits the difference: acknowledge that conflict is real and persistent (realism) while refusing the conclusion that enmity is therefore necessary (anti-cynicism). You can be realistic about conflict while maintaining idealistic conviction about the possibility of non-enmified opposition.
The handshake: realism about the persistence of conflict need not require cynicism about the necessity of enmity. A more sophisticated realism accepts opposition as permanent while treating enmity as optional.
Psychology understands that accepting loss is part of mature development. But there is a difference between accepting loss and becoming embittered by it.
Tragic realism in the psychological sense is the capacity to accept that you cannot get what you want (the opponent will not capitulate, the conflict will not resolve your way) without converting that loss into hatred of the opponent.
The handshake: accepting that the opponent has genuinely won (in a particular contest, in a particular conflict) requires a psychological capacity distinct from accepting that they are evil. The same capacity that allows you to lose gracefully in sports (the opponent was better, I accept that) can be extended to larger conflicts.
Behavioral-mechanics describes the machinery that converts opposition into enmity: propaganda, dehumanization, paranoia, authority override. The inverse machinery would convert enmity back into opposition.
But tragic realism suggests something different: opposition can be structured in ways that resist enmification. If you design the opposition without demonization, without paranoia machinery, without authority permission for cruelty, the conflict remains opposition rather than becoming enmity.
The handshake: understanding the machinery that creates enmity enables the design of opposition structures that resist that machinery. Bitter rivals in sport remain rivals, not enemies, because the institutions structuring their competition actively prevent enmification (rules, referee oversight, explicit norms against dehumanization). The same institutional design could apply to larger conflicts.
History shows multiple examples of cultures that maintained fierce competition without enmity over long periods. Ancient Greek city-states warred constantly but recognized each other's humanity. Medieval Europe had perpetual dynastic conflicts without the total enmity of later nationalism.
The pattern breaks down in modernity because nationalism, ideological conflict, and mass communication enable enmification at scale. But the historical example shows: opposition without enmity is not impossible — it is only that modernity has specialized in enmification.
The handshake: history reveals that enmity is not the natural endpoint of opposition. Specific historical conditions enable opposition without enmity; other conditions (nationalism, industrialized war, paranoid media) convert opposition into enmity. The historical trajectory is not inevitable.
Creative fields maintain fierce rivalry without enmity as a matter of course. Painters compete for attention and market share; musicians compete for audiences and patrons. The competition is real and can be bitter.
But the best creative traditions maintain mechanisms that resist enmification: explicit recognition of rival artists' talent, participation in shared artistic communities, transmission of craft knowledge even to competitors, the understanding that a strong rival sharpens your own work.
The handshake: creative fields have already solved the problem of opposition without enmity at an institutional level. The mechanisms are: recognition of opponent's genuine skill, shared commitment to the craft (not personal destruction), understanding that opposition makes both parties stronger. These are not sentimental — they are pragmatic recognition that creative excellence requires worthy opponents.
Diagnosis: Where in your life do you confuse opposition with enmity? Where do you convert competitors into enemies?
Listen for the shift: from "they oppose my goals" to "they are hostile to me"; from "they won" to "they cheated"; from "I disagree with their position" to "they are evil."
Practice: Find a context where you have genuine opposition (competitive game, professional rivalry, ideological disagreement) with someone you respect.
During engagement: practice the distinction. Oppose fiercely. Fight to win. But do not add the enmity layer. Do not dehumanize. Do not paranoid-interpret. Remain curious about their position.
After engagement: notice — can you accept losing without converting it to hatred? Can you acknowledge their strength without concluding they are evil?
Integration: The question is not "can I eliminate opposition?" (No — it's real.) The question is "can I oppose without enmifying?"
Can you maintain this distinction over time? Can you be rivals without becoming enemies? Can you fight again?
Accepting tragic realism means giving up on universalism. You will not achieve a world without conflict. You will not eliminate enmity entirely. You will die — and so will your civilization — with some conflicts unresolved, some enemies real, some battles unwinnable.
This is not pessimism. It is the recognition that growth comes from opposition, that excellence requires worthy competitors, that a life without any conflict would be a life without any friction, which is a life without any shape.
The uncomfortable recognition: you want some enemies. You need competition. The question is not how to eliminate opposition but how to oppose without letting it corrupt you into enmity.