civility

Review: Humility and Hospitality

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Cover image of "Humility and Hospitality" edited by Naaman Wood and Sean Connable

Humility and Hospitality, Naaman Wood and Sean Connable, editors. Integratio Press (ISBN: 9780999146354), 2022.

Summary: Conference papers responding to a proposal that the virtues necessary for civility are humility and hospitality, particularly considering the qualifications that may be placed on this idea.

There have been many calls for a recovery of civility in our public discourse, and not least, in our universities. In the summer of 2017 Spring Arbor College sponsored the Forum 4:15 Unconference to consider the conditions necessary for civility. This was in the wake of several recent books by Richard Mouwm, Tim Muehlhoff, and Os Guinness putting forth their own proposals for how Christians might pursue civility in the public square.

The book is organized around a keynote presentation by Calvin L. Troup followed by a series of responses “interrogating” his proposal. Troup began by exploring the temptations and conditions that hinder civility and then proposed that the two Augustinian virtues of humility and hospitality are necessary conditions that underlie civility.

The responses that followed explored the nuances to considers and the problems that may occur with this proposal.

Mark A.E. Williams argues that not only are these Augustinian virtues necessary, but an understanding of Augustinian substance. In a world in which no one believes in substance, it is hard to reach agreement on what justice or civility is.

Michelle Shockness, writing from a social work background, observes that hospitality is an interaction that may be tainted by “Empire” in way that make host-guest relationships oppressive if the work of guests is not honored, if guests cannot say “no” and if the relationship cannot function with fluidity.

Susangeline Y. Patrick builds on this idea in missiology, proposing American Christianity needs to embrace a reverse and covenantal theology, where the recipient culture also hosts and all embrace a covenantal hospitality between God, people, and the land.

Naaman Wood also writes on this idea and the damages of colonialism and a recent denunciation of the doctrine of discovery. In North America, hospitality as a prelude to civility must take into consider the founding violence of those who colonized the land.

Jaime Harris considers the inhospitable character of churches toward LGBTQ+ persons, claiming that they, the churches, are the persecuted ones, while rejecting this persecuted minority. Too often, incivility has been useful.

Annalee R. Ward and Mary K. Bryant raise the question of the virtue of integrity and how it may challenge civility, using as a case study, the Barmen Declaration of 1934, which spoke against the Christian nationalism of Germany under Hitler and the complicity of the national church. Integrity reminds us that humility and hospitality cannot assent to everything.

Mark Allan Steiner, noting both the lack of trust of evangelicals in American culture and the Constantinian tendencies in their political engagement, argues that suffering, and not just humility and hospitality, must be embraced, using efforts for racial justice as a model.

John B. Hatch, in the concluding response, strikes a similar note in calling for the humility of prophetic lament, the acceptance of persecution, and the eschewing of attempts to grab at power rather than the uncritical support in recent years of Donald Trump.

This collection of essays certainly explores well the challenges of practicing civility with the diverse constituencies that make up our diverse landscape with one large exception. I do not find any discussion of how one practices civility toward the many conservative people who make up the country, as well as the many disaffected from working class and some ethnic communities attracted by the politics of Trump. While the “Unconference” participants ably dissected Troup’s proposal, it felt like preaching to a progressive choir. There was no similar critique of over-reaching contemporary liberalism, and the ways the lack of humility and hospitality in these quarters may be amended.

In sum, I think the basic proposal of humility and hospitality to help mend our frayed civility one worthy of consideration but the character of the responses appears to have given up on the exercise of these virtues among the population drawn to the politics of our former (and perhaps future) president. I think we must wrestle with the question Jesus raises in Matthew 5:46: “If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that?”

____________________

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.

Review: The Space Between Us

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The Space Between Us, Susan Wise Anderson. [No publisher information], 2020.

Summary: An argument for a Christ-rooted civility in our politically and culturally polarized climate.

Sarah Bauer Anderson grew up in a political household, with a father, Gary Bauer, who briefly attempted a presidential candidacy. As Sarah grew older she found herself differing with her family on a number of issues they once saw eye to eye. She realized that to not allow those differences to separate them, it meant taking steps to move toward them without feeling the need to make each other into one’s image. She writes this book to describe how her Christian faith informs her approach to closing that space between us–not by agreeing on all the issues but on agreeing on the worth of each other–and even discovering that we like each other and are able to work on matters of common concern.

She chose connection versus distance with her family and describes in pairs of opposites some of the other choices we may make to close the space between us. She contends we need to be present with those with whom we disagree rather than deserting them for our echo chambers. She observes how Jesus included those “out of bounds” in his ministry rather than remaining boxed in. She describes learning that it is more important to develop a posture of wisdom, kindness, and generosity than to be “right” in our positions. Also, there is value in distinguishing beliefs, convictions, and opinions, rather than raising everything to the level of non-negotiable belief.

She urges choosing a politics of faith rather than fear. She distinguishes between enforced peacekeeping and the peacemaking that says that all of us in all of our differences are needed–we need each other. We learn to focus on commonalities rather than exclusivities. The Lord’s table teaches us that we may be re-membered rather than divided because of the one who was broken to make us whole. We recognize that instead of shaming those who disagree with us, we can choose to be curious, and draw closer. We can engage rather than build walls. We can learn names rather than using narratives to exclude. We meet new situations with wonder rather than confining expectations and allow for mystery rather than requiring certainty.

There are some common threads that run through this. Do we live in light of the work of Jesus or only cultural expectations? Do we value positions more than people? And do we choose animus over the value of those with whom we differ?

Emerging from the divisive politics of the last two elections, racial divisions, and the quarrels that arose around public health measures, we have had a glimpse of the abyss of allowing these things to drive us apart? Anderson invites us to step back from the abyss and toward each other. She shares her own journey with her family and others. There are some who consider the divides irreparable, and a politics of division essential. Anderson argues otherwise and describes the richness of drawing toward those with whom she differs, both harder and fuller than hanging with our own echo chambers. Most of all, she invites those of us who name Christ to follow the Christ who was broken for us, who made peace with his broken body.

The Adults in the Room

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Remember when we were kids and we got in a quarrel because we both wanted the same crayons or toys, and an adult stepped in and helped us to figure out that we either had to share and work it out, or go to our rooms? Usually we figured out that some crayons or toys and being in the same room was better than no toys and our own rooms. When we were older, when we got into fights over a disputed call playing baseball or basketball, we eventually figured out that playing the game was more fun than continuing to argue or going home. We’d call a do-over, or flip a coin and get on with the game. We were learning to be the adults in the room when no adults were around.

Watching our political discourse, and the social media discourse around it. I find myself wondering where have all the adults gone? What I’ve seen over the last number of years is an escalating fight that has lost the sight that you need an opponent, an opposition, those who are on a different team to have a good game–that it is the game and not the fights that matter (unless you are talking about hockey). Of late, it seems that the objective is not merely winner take all and leave nothing on the table. It is winner subdue or wipe out all and be the last ones standing. Suddenly it is OK to show up in public buildings with assault weapons, destroy property, and threaten the lives of public servants and their families.

The game I’m talking about is our country–this troubled place of 330 million people drawn from all over the world, from every religious faith and none, living in rural, urban and suburban settings, black, white, brown, and more. Increasingly, the question may be asked, could the fabric of our union unravel, and what could that mean?

For so many years, I think we’ve thought, “it could never happen here.” Except that it has within our very short history. It was called the Civil War. Over 600,000 young men from the north and south died because inflammatory talk escalated from words to a contentious election, and shots fired.

As a Christian, the most troubling part of that history was that churches mirrored the divisions in American society. People who believed they worshiped the same God, read the same Bible and recited the same creed didn’t care that they were deeply divided from each other. Most churches, north and south, didn’t care that blacks also worshiped the same God.

It doesn’t appear to me terribly different today except that the vitriol comes via social media and competing news networks, rather than old fashioned newspapers.

It can happen here. Children who play with matches often don’t really understand that you can burn down the house until they burn down the house. Then there are those who don’t seem to care about the house as long as they are the ones wielding the matches.

There are so many different doomsday scenarios for how it could unravel. Anne Applebaum, in The Twilight of Democracy fears the rise of authoritarian government. In a place that appears to be unraveling, a strong leader who sets things in order, no matter what else they do, has an appeal. David French, in Divided We Fall (released yesterday), thinks we could be headed toward a bloodless secession as red states and blue states ideologically harden and the United States becomes two or more separate “countries.”

I find myself wondering at times that Octavia Butler in The Parable of the Sower might be more prescient. She portrays a dystopian United States of 2024, rife with disasters both ecological and political, and where street gangs rule (writing in 1993, she portrays a California increasingly ravaged by fire seasons).

One of the interesting things that I’ve noticed is that when you listen to those doing the fighting, they all love the country and are deeply concerned about it. Granted, many of their concerns are different. What troubles me is that our binary, zero sum thinking that says you have to choose between caring for mothers and the unborn, that you have to choose whether to care for blacks or police, that you have to choose whether to care for business or God’s good creation, is leading to destroying the very place we love. Have we lost the creative imagination and skill at negotiation found at the intersection of both-and?

It’s time, and past time, for the adults in the room to step forward, and for those who should be adults to act like it. We cannot keep escalating our toxic discourse, including our toxic social media postings that are just kindling for the fire. Whether our future is authoritarian, or one of Balkanization, or civil war in our cities (which we have already tasted in some places), each signals the death of “the land that we love.” Each signals the triumph of the argument over the game.

I don’t know if it is too late at a national level for “adults in the room” to matter. All I know is that I want to work for solutions in terms of “we” rather than “us versus them” wherever I can. If someone has to be my enemy for me to be part of your party, I’m not interested. Perhaps it is quixotic to hope that there will ever be enough adults in the room to expect our political leadership to act this way. But that is just politics. There is so much more to life in this country than politics, which we’ve made into a kind of god. Perhaps the best thing at times is to dismiss this as childish and start looking for adults of integrity who will seek the common good, not as political messiahs, but as public servants.

All I know is to start with us, dear reader. Will you be an adult in the room? Will I? And who else can we get to join us?

Fostering Civil Spaces on Social Media

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Social Media: Image by Gerd Altman via Pixabay, [CC0 1.0]

Several good friends have recently announced their intention to leave Facebook until after the U.S. national elections in November. Their reason is their own mental health. The level of argument, vicious attacks, false or misleading claims, and fake news are putting off increasing numbers who once thought these sights to be a fun and social way to keep up with friends. Is that the way it has to be?

In recent years I’ve been increasingly involved both as a participant and a page administrator on Facebook and have seen the good, the bad, and the ugly. The good has been conversations, particularly around books, where people have shared about their love of books, what they love reading, what they don’t (and these can be polar opposites), and discussions where people learn from each other, and about new genres of literature and authors they might like and learn from.

The bad have been arguments where people go beyond reasoned and vigorous exchanges to slogans, epithets, and dismissive remarks in increasingly heated exchanges. Others often just shut down and leave.

The ugly comes when people resort to personal attacks on the character of each other, or of other figures, or even bullying and abusive behaviors.

What have I learned about creating civil spaces?

  1. If you are expecting perfection, forget it. People have bad days. Some people only want to assert an idea without defending it. People misunderstand each other. There are “trolls” and downright mean people. The truth is, we have bad days with the people who are closest to us.
  2. Probably the best thing that can be done is to have clear rules about posting online. Social media researcher J. Nathan Matias has found that clear posting rules with clear consequences both reduce harassment and increase participation. On my book page, I bar any personal attacks, profanity, and bullying, and any “marketing” posts for books (open that door and that is all you get). Others can include things like off-topic posting. Positively, I encourage respectful dialogue, and focusing on our common love of books. I think it doesn’t hurt to remind people why a group exists.
  3. Moderators or page administrators have to be willing to enforce rules. This is easier when you have them. It can mean shutting down toxic threads, deleting posts that violate your rules, and posting reminders about page or group rules when needed. I try to send a friendly message to those who break rules the first time. With most people that’s enough. Often they even apologize, especially when they realize they are dealing with a person rather than an algorithm. The only person I ever banned was someone who called another member “stupid.” When I messaged him about it, he called me “stupid.” NEVER call page admins names!
  4. Watch “vigorous” interactions closely. I try to let them go as long as they don’t degenerate to name-calling or personal attacks.
  5. Learn the limit’s of your particular page or group’s capacity and exceed them at your peril! Sometimes you discover them when you exceed them! I’ve found you can talk religion as long as you don’t go negative on others. Politics–forget it in this climate. Controversial issues? Sometimes, the issue is how “in your face” the post or comment is to opposing positions.
  6. On pages I curate, I try to mix it up to allow for diversity–serious with light, posts appealing to a variety of interests, posts from diverse authors and sources, with a healthy dose of humor–even if it is lame! While we have basic page standards, I want people to know that we don’t want this to be an echo chamber but a place where different people can meet.
  7. I try to promote engagement. Sometimes over a hundred people respond to the “Question of the Day” on my page, and many others check out the contributions.
  8. I avoid commenting on many posts except when I’m directly asked a question. I want people to have a sense that the page is about all of us, not just me.

And a few things about other pages and groups:

  1. Know and follow the page rules and never cross the admins.
  2. Engage what others post as well as respond when people engage you. Be friendly, and a little humor never hurts as long as it is not belittling to the other person.
  3. Don’t be that person who talks incessantly, or dominates posts.
  4. Learn to distinguish between things you disagree with, or are different from your experience, and genuinely objectionable behavior where you are disrespected. Don’t get into it with with such folks–just message the admin. They may not immediately spot your interaction if there is a lot of activity. This is what they get paid the big bucks for (usually nothing!).

Mostly, it comes down to the things that make for good conversations in any setting. Funny how we forget these when we are online. That, I suppose, is where the rules really help.

One final thing. Kindness never hurts.  Often when there is an unexpectedly strong response, there is often more going on than meets the eye. For example, someone responded very strongly to an article I posted on vaccines one time. As we interacted, I discovered the reason why. The person had lost a family member to an extreme reaction to the vaccine. The conversation moved from a discussion that could be controversial to a connection with the deep pain that comes from loss. A saying that is variously attributed is perhaps a good thing to remember in all our online interactions:

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

Review: Confident Pluralism

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confident-pluralism

Confident Pluralism, John D. Inazu. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2016.

Summary: Recognizing the deep fissures in American society and the necessity of maintaining some kind of civil union in the face of the scary alternatives, this book explores the constitutional commitments and civic practices that make that possible.

One thing almost no one would disagree about today is that the United States faces deep divisions over a variety of issues, conflicting beliefs, and groups in competition and sometimes conflict. The question is whether we will find ways, not to eliminate our differences, but to “compose” our differences, to find ways to live together, to reach understandings, and to respect each other, and allow the robust expression of our diverse ideas and lifestyles. As John Inazu admits, this may be messy, but the alternative is downright scary.

Inazu, as a professor of law and political science, brings together the work of these disciplines in framing both the legal, indeed Constitutional commitments, and civic practices that make confident pluralism possible. He begins by arguing that there are several key freedoms rooted in the first amendment that need strengthening:

The Voluntary Groups Requirement:

“Government officials should not interfere with the membership, leadership, or internal practices of a voluntary group absent a clearly articulated and precisely defined compelling interest” (p. 48).

The Public Forum Requirement:

“Government should honor its commitment to ensure public forums for the voicing of dissent and discontent. Expressive restrictions in these forums should only be justified by compelling government interests. Private public forums that effectively supplant these government-sponsored forums should in some cases be held to similar standards” (p. 64-65).

The Public Funding Requirement:

“When the government offers generally available resources (financial and otherwise) to facilitate a diversity of viewpoints and ideas, it should not limit those resources based on its own orthodoxy” (p. 79).

I consider these important proposals, having worked with religious groups on a public university campus who had imposed on them leadership selection practices that would prevent them from choosing leaders according to the beliefs and mission of the group and that threatened the withdrawal of funding and access enjoyed by other groups if they did not comply. It can be very scary when the a small group comes up against the institutional power of a large university, but the greater loss, it seems to me is the chilling effect these measures have on the expression of religious beliefs that may not conform to the “orthodoxy” of the university and the lack of opportunity for other students to encounter and engage such beliefs. Whatever pluralism that survives such measures is neither robust nor confident. I would attest to the kind of strengthening of first amendment protections which Inazu proposes.

Inazu then goes on to discuss the civic practices that sustain a confident pluralism and that result in what he sees as the desired outcome of such practices — warm, respectful relationships across our differences. He begins by proposing three civic aspirations:

  1. Tolerance: a willingness to accept, if not approve, genuine differences.
  2. Humility: a willingness to accept our own limits and to be open to what we might learn.
  3. Patience: learning to persist and endure in understanding when this is not easy and when mutual understanding does not come quickly.

He explores two problems that any of us who have tried to discuss controversial notions on social media have faced: the hurtful insult (you are stupid, naive, a bigot, etc.) and the conversation stopper (that’s just close-minded, extremist, homophobic, racist, etc.). While freedom of speech certainly protects such statements, it shuts down any kind of civil discourse, what Inazu calls “living speech.”

He then considers the ethics of collective action: protests, boycotts, and strikes (pretty relevant, huh?). Are the boycotts of Abercrombie and Fitch, Hobby Lobby, Mozilla (for its selection of a CEO who had donated to anti-LGBT rights causes) appropriate? On balance, as messy as it can be, he would say yes provided we pursue tolerance, humility, and patience.

And that brings him to the last chapter. Throughout the second section, he speaks of two people, Jerry and Larry. It turns out they represent two people, Jerry Falwell, the preacher, and Larry Flynt, the pornographer. At one time they had been both personal and ideological enemies, with Flynt printing a vicious parody of Falwell and Falwell countering by suing him. I will leave you to discover how it happened, but the two became friends toward the end of Falwell’s life, traveling around the country debating, disagreeing, but exchanging Christmas cards, family pictures and weight loss tips. They vehemently disagreed about many things but Flynt wrote, “the ultimate result was one I never expected and was just as shocking a turn to me as was winning the famous Supreme Court case: We became friends.” Inazu argues that it is not agreement that we will necessarily achieve but the finding of common ground and the bridging of relational distance where “them” becomes “us”.

I’m persuaded that Inazu’s slim book needs to become a manual for all of us who care about finding a way to bridge the divides in our society before inflammatory words descend into civil war and anarchy or harden into tyranny and oppression. While I believe the political protections Inazu proposes are vital, the virtues of genuine tolerance of difference, humility about ourselves, and patience that takes the long view are most essential. Will we allow these virtues to sustain our pursuit of the common ground of our shared humanity, and our shared citizenship in this “democratic experiment?”

 

Review: Adventures in Evangelical Civility

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Adventures in Evangelical Civility, Richard J. Mouw. Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2016.

Summary: An intellectual memoir, tracing Mouw’s efforts to find common ground while maintaining reformed and evangelical convictions.

“Evangelical civility.” It sounds like an oxymoron to some. Yet for those who know Richard Mouw’s work, or have the privilege of personal acquaintance with him (which I do not), you know that there is at least one example of a person for whom both terms are true without contradiction.

In this “intellectual memoir,” Mouw shares with us his own intellectual journey and engagement with others. We have closely written chapters on his studies in philosophy and theology, his wrestling with “antithesis” in Van Til, the reformed doctrine of total depravity, and how far common grace goes in providing a basis for common ground with those who are not among the elect.

Mouw also traces his engagements with other thinkers and theologians throughout his career. Perhaps most fascinating was his relationship with John Howard Yoder. What could a Calvinist and Anabaptist find in common? In this and other relationships there were differences to be sure, and yet surprising places of common ground. This is true for him in encounters with Catholics, and more controversially perhaps, with Mormon scholars. Mouw also recounts his work at Calvin College and later as President of Fuller Theological Seminary, a place that allows for “big tent evangelicalism.” In a chapter on being a public intellectual, he writes of a non-Christian academic friend’s challenge:

” ‘You have a problem, Mouw,’ he said. ‘Right now Fuller manages to maintain the highest level of scholarship with a strong connection with grassroots evangelicalism. But that can’t last. Either you are going to start dumbing things down or you are going to move to the ‘ivory tower’ thing.’

    In candor I have to admit that my secularist friend may have been a little too optimistic in his reading of the present relationship between the evangelical academy and popular evangelicalism. There is a ‘mind’ within the evangelical movement, but there is a serious gap between what the mind says and how the rest of the body often acts. In our public life, especially in recent years, we evangelicals have consisted embarrassed ourselves by mindless behavior. My friend was offering important advice, however. To the degree that there is some mutual support between the evangelical academy and the grass roots, we need to work hard to keep the mutuality strong. If the creative tension cannot be maintained, the results will be tragic. The two components of evangelicalism need each other. Neither can sustain a healthy evangelical character without the other.”

These words give a good example of the convicted civility in search of common ground that is the thread running through this memoir. In his concluding chapter, he makes an interesting point in noting that conviction and civility are never actually in tension because the Christian is called to both and the practice of civility is itself rooted in conviction. This last chapter exhibited, to me, a great deal of vulnerability. He returns to qualms he expressed in opening pages about whether the quest for common ground concedes too much, and yet argues for this as the way of faithfulness as well as consistent with his own calling in life. And he concludes with the example of one of his predecessors at Fuller, E. J. Carnell, whose call to theological humility in his inaugural address was roundly criticized and whose life ended in a profound depression in a hotel room where ingested an overdose of sleeping pills. He quotes a portion of that address, with which I will conclude:

“Whoever meditates on the mystery of his own life will quickly realize why only God, the searcher of the secrets of the heart, can pass final judgment. We cannot judge what we have no access to. The self is a swirling conflict of fears, impulses, sentiments, interests, allergies and foibles. It is a metaphysical given for which there is no easy rational explanation. Now, if we cannot unveil the mystery of our own motives and affections, how much less can we unveil the mystery in others.”

It has been said more simply, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle” (Attributed to variously to Plato, Philo, and John Watson). Perhaps this is the common ground of our humanity that calls us to civility in the hard and common battle of life. Mouw’s memoir is indeed an exemplar of civility without sacrificing conviction.