(RNS) My 19-year-old son and I have spirited discussions about rock music from the pivotal years of Elvis to the Beatles.

He is remarkably well informed about seminal performers like the Coasters and the Drifters and one-hit-wonders like the Cadillacs, as well as the Fab Four’s progression from bubblegum pop to “Sgt. Pepper.” He thinks I should amend my dim view of the Beach Boys.

We come to our opinions by different routes: I lived through the original and can remember the words and the emotions they stirred, while he has downloaded songs from iTunes, studied the genre in college and had his own joy of discovery.

Opinions, of course, are just opinions. They make for stirring conversation but cannot claim the weight of fact or truth.

In this divided and tormented era, we hear much about “fundamentalism” and “originalism” in both religion and civic life, as if studying original texts and discerning original intentions would remove all opinion and fuzziness from our sources of authority. Such views would have us believe that it is possible to know absolute truth and to have indisputable answers to today’s wrenching questions.

But it’s really just another form of bullying — trying to seize the moral or intellectual high ground and labeling opposing opinions as sinful, unpatriotic and contemptible. It’s an attempt to win an argument by declaring the argument already settled — in the proponent’s favor, of course.

Biblical fundamentalism, for example, wants to win arguments by quoting stray verses of Scripture and declaring them God’s unalterable will. Progressivism, no less eager to win, sees the contradictions in Scripture, the historical anomalies and authors’ time-bound worldviews.

Constitutional originalism wants to win arguments by quoting 220-year-old texts and pursuing the impossible task of reading the minds of the original authors. The competing view says the Constitution’s enduring strength has been its ability to be amended, revisited, and applied in fresh ways to radically new circumstances.

When the point is to win arguments and seize power, however, both sides dismiss reason and supplant faith with idolatry. Meanwhile, the wrenching questions remain, and the atmosphere for addressing them has been poisoned.

A case in point is the recent shooting in Tucson, Ariz. After a time of shock and mourning, what comes next? Some saw a need to reconsider open sales of assault weapons. Others pursued the nuance of keeping the mentally unstable away from gun stores. Others said the behavior of one man shouldn’t change a larger situation. Others voiced deep concern about government tyranny.

These are arguments worth pursuing, but simply shouting “Second Amendment!” or “Gun nuts!” isn’t a helpful way to do so. Whatever that amendment meant in 1791, the world has changed. A living authority takes those changes into account. By the same token, the deep-seated fears of government intrusion that motivate some people need to be heard.

Similarly, some blame overheated campaign rhetoric — the other side’s, of course — and pleaded for less toxic political debate. Others doubt any connection between a lone gunman’s actions and anyone’s political rhetoric.

Yes, in any argument worth having, each side thinks itself correct and the other side as misguided. But the way to deal with competing views isn’t to declare the argument itself wrong and the other side as evil or stupid.

No viewpoint owns the debate, and none can dictate its outcome. Democracy has no place for the bullying that pursues ideological absolutes.

(Tom Ehrich is a writer, church consultant and Episcopal priest based in New York. He is the author of “Just Wondering, Jesus” and founder of the Church Wellness Project. His website is http://www.morningwalkmedia.com. Follow Tom on Twitter (at)tomehrich.)