In wistful moments, I imagine going back in time to stop myself from some of the poorer decisions I've made in life. So many ways I could have better spent the two hours wasted watching Bruce Willis and Brad Pitt in "12 Monkeys."

Of course, that's exactly the premise of the film: attempting to change the past and, through your efforts, actually bringing about the present you're trying to avoid.

The concept of metaphysical biofeedback has real-world implications. Biologists at last resolved years of debate whether we are shaped by genetics or environment, finally agreeing on what should have been obvious from the start: it's both. Considerably more profound, however, is how the way we act influences our environment, which automatically influences us.

Simple environmental analogies illustrate how this works. Dump biological or chemical waste in your own backyard and you end up poisoning yourself. Alienate co-workers in your office, classmates in school or neighbors down the street, and you find yourself surrounded by hostile individuals in a world of your own making.

And that, in turn, makes you increasingly defensive, combative and irascible. Whether the circle you create is vicious or virtuous, it finds expression in this week's addition to the Ethical Lexicon:

Reciprocal determinism | noun

The social cognitive theory that attitudes, behaviors and the environment influence and are influenced by one another in a continuous cycle.

Developed by the renowned social cognitive theorist Albert Bandura in the 1970s, the theory is recognizable in families, classrooms and workplaces. Our beliefs and attitudes guide our behaviors; our behaviors create the culture around us; the culture around us influences what we believe and how we relate to others. Lather, rinse, repeat.

In a virtuous circle, reciprocal determinism gives us Trader Joe's, the store where employees love to work, customers love to shop, and advertising is unnecessary because the brand sells itself. When the circle turns vicious, we end up with a culture of reflexive combativeness, unreasoning ideology, political gridlock and senseless violence.

Last year, California State University, Long Beach political science professor Kevin Wallsten conducted a national survey asking subjects if they would ever endorse using violence to shut down a speech promoting a "personally offensive" position. Eighty percent of Americans responded "never," with minimal difference between Republicans and Democrats.

That sounds reassuring. However, while 93% of baby boomers repudiated violence as an acceptable response to disagreeable speech, among Gen Z the number was only 58%. If six times as many young people find it acceptable to respond to words with violence, who's to blame? Reciprocal determinism suggests that we all are.

Nothing brings this home more poignantly than the brutal, senseless murder of Charlie Kirk. Watching clips of Charlie's campus debates, it's hard to miss the uniqueness of his style. He virtually never belittles or insults those who challenge him. Instead, he rallies an impressive library of facts and offers coherent arguments with a rare blend of confidence and dignity. Few manage to hold their own with him, and college crowds often respond with applause.

To frame his murder as an issue of free speech may be true; but that misses a far more existential point. The horrific attack is symptomatic of our growing refusal to meet facts with facts, reason with reason, logic with logic. We are witnessing the death throes of civil society, accelerated by ideologues on both sides who passionately believe they are saving the world.

It no longer matters who started it. Every one of us has an ethical duty to reclaim our culture as it spirals toward anarchy, whether we're participants, bystanders or spectators.

When confronted by ideas you find objectionable, you can cancel the speaker by shouting them down, walking away or silencing them permanently. That way lies chaos. Instead, show moral courage by engaging them in respectful discourse. Once they know you've heard their point of view, perhaps they'll trust you enough to listen in return to yours.

If your argument has greater merit, you might just convince them you're right. If any of their arguments are sound, you can find common ground. Imagine how one simple conversation could begin to heal our culture, could ultimately recreate our world.

See more by Yonason Goldson and features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists; visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Ben Mater at Unsplash