Late in the evening of the presidential election last November, as Barack Obama addressed the nation for the first time in his role as President-elect, a Facebook (and real life) friend of mine named Brandon posted the following status update:
“Brandon is sad that Americans are so naive.”
He meant, of course, Obama supporters were naive; they had fallen for all the nonsense about hope, change and belief. I took issue with Brandon’s remark, and it prompted a couple days of discussion and disagreement between us.
To his credit, Brandon reflected on his post, retracted his statement and offered a reflection on what he had intended to express.
What struck me about the tenor of reaction that night was not that Republican evangelicals were disheartened—duh—but that they believed they could express their feelings in a public space without caring about how their remarks would be received by friends who disagreed. Did they have no Obama supporters among their Facebook friends? Were they able to be so blunt in their reaction because their community consists entirely of people who share their views? Or, did they simply not care?
I’m not concerned about people who used appropriately critical language against one side or the other; statements that express reasonable support or disagreement are fine and necessary in a public space. I’m speaking about those among us who traffic in the cold language of culture war; those who never have sat over coffee with someone who holds the opposite point of view; those who never have strained to make themselves understood by someone with a wholly other position; or, worse, never have strained to make themselves listen to the other side express its views.
It’s really this practice of listening—and its attendant benefits of richer understanding, more nuanced communication, and a more informed worldview—that is one of the main casualties of culture war. Listening does not mean forming a rejoinder while “waiting for this idiot to finish.” It means paying attention in a way that causes you to consider what it’s like to hold another person’s position. It means seeing that position as embodied—as coming from within a fully human experience that has formed their views.
It means having your mind subtly changed, not necessarily so your position changes, but so your understanding does. The people lamenting on Facebook the night of the presidential election, along with those on the other side who acted like poor winners, were not imagining human interlocutors. They were not imagining real human interaction of any kind. They were speaking freely into a space where they believed no one existed who would not share their views.
American Christianity is in need of many things, but one thing we need most is a deep examination of our speech. How do we communicate with those who do not share our views? How do we respect our brothers and sisters with whom we don’t see eye-to-eye on core issues? If we care at all about persuading people who disagree with us, then what needs to happen to our speech in order for us to be persuasive?
The first step, I’d wager, is to get to know those people; listen to them. When we do, we’ll realize that if we’re going to make any sort of progress, we’re going to have to stop talking as if we’re the only ones listening.
