I’ve often heard people tell me to “be positive”, and I can see the value of positivity on some level. It’s what allows us to keep going, to build a better world, to live a better life. I’m sure you know all that, though, so let’s be honest: it’s a boring take. If that’s all I have to say, you’ll think I have lost my edge. With that in mind, therefore, let me tell you what I consider to be the immense value of negativity.

I’m not talking about being a miserable, down-in-the-dumps git, obviously. When I think of negativity, I think of it in the strict sense: negation, or negative statements. For instance, Nunavut in December is not warm, rock music is not quiet, I am not an Italian, and so on. And in many cases, we may construct positive statements that true as well, as in the case of a simple binary like “Nunavut in December is cold (i.e., not warm)”. However, this is not always the case.

For example, consider another one of the statements I made. “I am not Italian.” This is statement is remarkably inclusive. For while I’m certainly not Italian, I may be Canadian, British, Croatian, Russian, Korean, Indian, Egyptian, or something else entirely. There are, to put it another way, far more possibilities left open in this statement than there would be if I said plainly, “I am Canadian,” which is true. And sure, if you asked me, “What’s your nationality?” and I told you that it was “not Italian”, you’d probably be annoyed with my evasive (and, for all you know, possibly prejudiced) response.

But having said that about how this kind of negativity is frustrating when asking simple questions about (I say with the appropriate humility) simple individuals, consider how this might be more useful when thinking about groups or communities. When I think of Canada, for example, which John Ralston Saul described as a “Métis [mixed] nation”, what use is negativity? “Canadians are not Americans.” “Canadians do not support fascism.” “We do not support bigotry, or prejudice, or racism, or classism.” The negativity of these statements conveys enough information to begin to paint a broad picture, while also remaining inclusive, which I believe Canada at least tries to be. If I were to say, for instance, that Canada is Christian, that would not only be false but wrongfully exclusive.

Thus, I’d argue, the value of negativity is in its profoundly rational inclusivity. By eliminating the obviously false and untrue, we refrain from jumping to conclusions and leave room for a diversity of possibilities. “Diversity” has become a bit of a buzzword, perhaps understandably so, but I do not believe this should detract from its value. The benefit of a diverse community is possibility and insight, and diversity can only be permitted in a culture of rational negativity. Rational because it is not reactionary, but measured and thought-out. It is disproven rather than proven, and distinguished rather than defined. Or, to put it simply, negativity’s not all as bad as you think.