I recently came across a timely article in our local newspaper written by a former colleague. The subject was how to heal our nation from the strife and conflict we witness daily. No small task, that.
The pastor, daunted by the assigned undertaking, notes the importance of healthy communication in helping facilitate such healing. He is quick to point out that the purpose of dialogue is not necessarily to eliminate disagreements but to make them productive and growth-producing, rather than leading to ever-greater chaos.
How might this be achieved? By basing all communication on “common values of truth and respect” which, among other things, involves “listening responsibly.” Perhaps most importantly, it must include prayer and, more generally, “[turning] to God for help.”
Shortly after reading this, I came across an editorial in the journal Inside Higher Ed by David R. Harris, president of Union College, a small elite liberal arts school in upstate New York. The subject was free speech. Notably, in the fourth paragraph he makes this startling admission: “I oppose free speech on college campuses.”
Contrasting the kinds of speech one might encounter on the street, Harris suggests that the college environment should focus not so much on what is said – what position one takes on any given subject – but HOW it is said.
We should strive “for something more than speech,” he cautions, adding that “It is not enough for individuals to speak freely.” Rather, speech should involve what he calls “constructive engagement.”
He goes on to explain how such constructive engagement works. It should include “unscreened, sincere questions,” responses that are “respectful,” and be based on “evidence and reasoned argument.”
In a certain sense, the two writers seem to be on the same wavelength. But there’s a catch. (Didn’t you just know there would be?)
In a thoughtful article entitled, “The Civility Trap,” by R.R. Reno, editor of the theological journal First Things, the reader is alerted to an often-hidden problem with any attempt at civil discourse.
Having first established the absolute necessity of civility and manners for any healthy society, Reno offers a surprising caveat: “Calls for civility,” he writes, “are rarely innocent.” Say what?
In making his case, he references sociologist Norbert Elias’ two-volume history of manners, The Civilizing Process. It was Elias who pointed out that “a strict code of manners” is closely connected with the elite in every society, however defined.
Moreover, civility is “an instrument of prestige, but it is also…an instrument of power.” Whoa!
Reno concurs. “Correct manners,” he writes, “set apart the well-bred few from the demotic many. They help elites recognize one another: ‘Ah, he’s one of us.’” They serve as tools “for ruling out challengers as ill-bred, crude, and vulgar, which is to say, illegitimate.” Indeed, they often subtly determine “who can and cannot speak about public affairs.” So defined, manners are endemic to all social hierarchies everywhere.
“In eighteenth-century France,” citing but one example, “the ruling class emphasized politesse and civilité: discreet speech and exquisite manners. These social virtues masked the ruthless pursuit of power and status in the royal court and elsewhere in French society. The effect was to soften and humanize the social milieu of the leadership class. Politesse also served as a barrier to entry into the elite and its high-stakes game of competition for [high-station].”
We today have a similar system of elaborate manners that also serves to maintain the boundary between elite and non-elite, between who’s in and who’s out.
Our day’s “cardinal virtue,” Reno asserts, somewhat counterintuitively, is “inclusivity.” It is “the quality or trait that has become the sine qua non of elite respectability.”
“The old Protestant denominations that minister to the elite proclaim it. The toniest private schools congratulate themselves on their commitment to inclusivity, as do the most selective universities. It is a mantra for Fortune 500 companies.
“During the reign of Louis XIV,” he continues, “no Frenchman would be admitted to high society without politesse. Today, no American is permitted into our leading institutions without the very different but equally prized habit of inclusivity – and for the same reason. Like politesse, inclusivity is thought to ease, disguise, and protect the relentless pursuit of wealth, power, and status by elites.”
“The paradox,” he adds, “is plain to see. One includes, but only those who include. Those who lack the quality of inclusivity must be excluded in order to maintain unblemished that which is worthy, noble, and meritorious – the spirit of inclusiveness.”
But this paradox is, oddly, not debilitating. “This is the way the elites always operate. The medieval knight is chivalrous, but only to those deserving of his regard. The low and mendacious must be dealt with firmly. The French aristocrat is polite to those who share his politesse, but not to the indocile servants who get the back of his hand.”
Today, any who refuse the language of inclusivity are, by definition, suspect. And in one of its greatest ironies, such “inclusivity” allows the “civil” person to criticize or reject the “uncivil” person without fear of appearing “non-inclusive.”
It is therefore naïve to think calls for civility are nonpartisan. Elite manners always have political valences. Having the “right” political views themselves are status markers.
I recently watched an interview with a television reporter who related the time she was invited to a state dinner for Queen Elizabeth II at the White House. It was to be a very refined affair. Somewhat intimidated, she sought advise on how to navigate the ritualistic intricacies of proper table etiquette.
Holding the wrong political views, or going off the approved “script,” might be akin to using the wrong fork or wine glass while dining in polite society.
Thus, we must be clear-eyed about civility. For in many respects it is an “establishment virtue.”
“Calls for civility invariably aim at shoring up elite control over who can and cannot take part in public affairs. These calls are not abstract appeals to virtue. They are meant to limn the boundaries between who is and is not qualified to govern, who is and is not authorized to speak.”
Inside the bubble, in other words, for those possessing their secret decoder rings, the often-hidden rules of the club reign sovereign, as indeed they always have. The rules may change and evolve, as in some sense they must, to keep the barbarians outside the gate and to insure group identity. Yet, curiously, all this can be pursued quite unconsciously so that the rules are invisible even to those who in lockstep unfailingly obey them.
When it comes to free speech, I’m a lot closer to the pastor than the college professor, though both views merit caution. The question arises: who gets to decide what is healthy speech? Conversely, who gets to decide what speech is out-of-bounds and unhelpful? What, in other words, constitutes “common values of truth and respect” or “constructive engagement”? Can’t both just as easily suppress speech?
In the end, the solution to bad speech is more and better speech. Our world is not served by silencing speech about which we disagree, whether subtle or overt. We must be willing to be offended even, for our worldview is hardly absent bias, political and/or social.
Short of that, voices such as Jesus’ might never be heard.