The Dialogue Venture

Archive for the ‘Dialogue and Civility’ Category

When I was in high school, I dated a young woman who had big plans for my future. At one point she sensed that God was calling me to be a great evangelist; at another time, a pastor of my own church. She somehow saw in me the raw material for the “godly man” she wanted to marry.

Looking back, I wonder if she ever really knew me. (It wasn’t her fault: I didn’t know me back then either.)

During one of our many phone calls, we fell to talking about some situation that flew right in the face of my limitations. I just couldn’t find my way through the obstacle at hand. She would have none of it. Instead, she quoted to me—loudly—St. Paul’s observation to the Philippians: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

“I don’t know,” I stammered. “I’m more complex than you think—“

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” she boomed.

There’s that talking at again.

In my own rudimentary way, I was in the same space as the people from last week’s post. By saying “I’m more complex than you think,” I was trying to speak from my own perspective, my own experience.

But Girlfriend was speaking at. She was presuming to know my capabilities better than I did. That might have been valid if she’d spoken from a deep knowledge of me. But she didn’t. Instead, she spoke from an external standard, applying it in a way that it was probably never meant to be applied.

Contrast Girlfriend’s approach with a practice from the Quakers. For hundreds of years, they have used a method called the Clearness Committee to discern the voice of their “inner teacher” in the face of life transitions and quandaries. A person assembles five or six trusted people to hear her story and ask her honest, open questions, with no hint of leading or giving advice. The goal is to clear away the person’s mental clutter and thus allow her to hear the inner voice that will guide her toward a resolution.

Totally opposite from talking at. It even goes beyond talking with. It’s listening with. If we aim to dialogue with our “adversaries,” we would do well to listen with—entering their mindsets, thinking as they think, and asking respectful questions. 

When was the last time you were talked at? Have you ever responded well to it? How’d you manage that? When was the last time you were talked with? How was it? Share your experiences in the Comments section below.

Lesson 2 from our bumper sticker of last week:

Imagine a group of recent immigrants (with limited English skills) and lifelong U.S. citizens in a room to discuss language issues. Before the dialogue has any chance to make progress, a citizen lets loose with the statement in our bumper sticker.

That’s bad dialogue practice. Obviously. But what makes it bad? There are many answers, but one in particular may help us think more clearly about how we do dialogue.

Let’s start with the basics: the people involved. Each of us is exactly one person. We bring exactly one person’s perspective to any dialogue: a perspective that feeds (and is made up of) our heritage, our experiences, our unique thought processes, our relationships, our time in history, our gifts, our faith.

Outside of hard evidence and factual statements, this is all we can bring to any dialogue. In other words, we speak from what we know. The process of dialogue is, in part, about getting to know more—specifically the perspectives, insights, histories, etc., of the other people in the room.  

See how this might work in our hypothetical example. The immigrants in the room could relate their struggles with learning English, or the pain they feel when disparaged by English speakers like our bumper-sticker fellow. The citizens might share their disorientation in a suddenly multilingual culture, or their frustration when talking to tech support experts with limited English skills.

All these sentiments, even the hot-button ones, come from personal experience and—when spoken civilly and deeply heard, without defensiveness or anger—can advance the dialogue. It is sharing with.

Contrast that with “You need to learn English.” By saying this, our bumper-sticker guy is suddenly prescribing an action for someone else—whether it fits her experience or not, whether it even makes sense for her or not. He is now speaking at.

Speaking at objectifies the listener. Mr. You Need To might as well be talking to a wall for all the listener matters in this conversation. He is also assuming that he knows what’s best, not only for the non-English-speakers in the room, but for the society at large. That’s more than one person can know with certainty.

Do “you need to” statements ever have value? Sure. People in interventions can tell their alcoholic loved ones they need to quit drinking. Doctors should tell concussion victims they need to follow instructions. More often than not, however, we know less about what x should do than x herself. We can suggest, we can ask careful questions to help her find her own solution, but rarely can we get anywhere by speaking at.

As our bumper sticker (and its many cousins) make clear, we do a lot of speaking at. We need a lot more sharing with. Only through sharing with can we learn from one another, draw more perspectives into each discussion, and build the collective wisdom that, often, has the best chance of bridging divides and solving dilemmas.

I just lived through an example of speaking at, and I’ll share it next week. But what about you? When’s the last time somebody talked at you? When has someone talked with you? How did you feel in each case?

Uncle Sam wants YOU

to learn English

—bumper sticker

I saw this bumper sticker while driving up the interstate yesterday, and after the automatic cringe, it got me thinking about a much larger question than the wrangle over English speaking.

To get to that question, however, let’s probe the bumper sticker a bit more. It seems self-evident that learning the language of the country where you live carries many advantages. If I moved to France (please, O Lord), I could get a job, buy stamps, and find a good dentist way more easily by knowing and speaking French. On a broader level, I could contribute more of myself to my new community—through volunteering, writing, promoting political candidates, etc.—by knowing and speaking French.

So in the United States, learning English enables you to transact your business and make a difference in ways that not learning English can’t. Because of this, you might even say that Uncle Sam would be delighted if non-English-speakers learned English, so they can bring their whole selves to the public square.

None of that changes the fact that the bumper sticker is aggressive and cringeworthy. So here comes the larger question:

How on earth can we hear truth—even a grain of it—in an opinion expressed so offensively?

In an ideal world, of course, the people who express opinions this way would become more civil in their speech and their inner lives. In our imperfect world, there’s a strong temptation to simply ignore these folks. And to ignore any hint of what they express.

Maybe that’s the right thing to do. But here’s why it might not be.

I remember a cartoon in which one fellow at a bar said to another, “All I know is, if you’re against pollution, it can’t be all bad.” See the problem? As we dismiss someone we find obnoxious, we also dismiss his perspective—lock, stock, and barrel—and wind up in a place where we don’t want to be.

Examples? Here’s one to start us off: I’m very worried about the growth of the national debt. Have been since long before it became the cause célèbre of the right wing. But I find it very hard to express that opinion when the more rabid wing of the Tea Party has shouted it—and various distortions of it—from the housetops. I feel almost squeezed into the position of “If you’re against the national debt, it can’t be all bad.”

I’ll bet you can think of a hundred other examples. Go for it. Write about them in the Comments section below.

Marianne Williamson’s letter to Sarah Palin didn’t exactly make front-page news when it first came out. But it’s required reading for anyone who cares about dialogue.

Williamson, a spiritual teacher who, by her own admission, is not a conservative, wrote her letter when Palin was using the language of guns to encourage “taking aim” at her opponents. In theory, Williamson could have joined the popular chorus in mocking Palin mercilessly.

Instead, she tried to engage Palin. And the way she did it is enlightening.

Right from the start, Williamson admitted her position in the public square—both what separates her from Palin and, unusually, where they find common ground. “I don’t share your politics but I do share your country,” she wrote. “I am writing to you now as a fellow American and also as a woman who, like you, puts my spiritual journey above all else.” By asserting that common ground, she looked to build trust where none existed before.

Then she went one step further. Rather than diss Palin’s recent book from afar, she made the effort to read it. What a concept! Williamson found a lot to like and said so, establishing more solidarity. She also found a lot to dislike and said that too—in a respectful, civil manner.

Then she made her plea: a carefully reasoned argument for Palin to stop using gun metaphors in her public appearances.

I could describe the letter more, but check it out and you’ll see what I mean. If we could bring such honesty and gentleness to our own dialogues—if we could first seek out common ground and strive to build trust—we just might connect with our adversaries as never before. Part of building that trust involves absorbing, in depth, what “the other side” believes; in doing so, we show a respect that will come through in our dialogues.

Have you ever reached out to an adversary like this? How did you do it? What were the results? Do tell.

Bertie Simmons opened her remarks by saying, “If we can’t imagine what civility looks like, we can’t do civility.”

She then showed us what it looks like.

Simmons was a panelist at last week’s Citizens’ Civility Symposium 2010, sponsored by the Institute for Civility in Government. (Check out my last post for a broad overview.) Compelling and drop-dead funny, she spun the remarkable tale of her tenure as principal of Furr High School in Houston—and how she used civility to transform the culture.

That culture was tough, to say the least. The school had no fewer than 15 gangs. On her first day, one student threw another through a plate glass window. Another day brought a near riot to the hallways.

Simmons wondered whether she was cut out for the job—especially because 75% of the students were Latino, 25% were black, and she was (in her words) “white and old.” How could she possibly lead such a school, let alone make a lasting impact?

She got an early boost from a cultural phenomenon she hadn’t known about. Many Latino and black children learn from day one to hold their grandmothers in high esteem. As it turned out for Simmons, being “old” translated into being a grandmother. So she had an in.

And she leveraged it with a bold reach across divides. After the near riot, Simmons convened 42 leaders from the 15 gangs in one room—and asked them what it would take to make peace. What she heard amazed her: the depth of mistrust and disillusionment that these young people felt toward the system, the pervasive sense that they had been left behind.

How big was the divide? The gang leaders stunned Simmons with their belief that 9/11 never happened. They’d all seen things like that in movies; why couldn’t the government produce the same sort of “movie” and just make the whole thing up?

So Simmons took it upon herself to prove 9/11—by arranging a field trip to Ground Zero.

It took a great deal of planning and fundraising, but the trip took place, and the gang leaders got to see the devastation for themselves. In the process, Simmons built trust and got a penetrating look into the mindsets that drive many of her students.

That is what civility—and dialogue—look like. That is one way they bear fruit.

Simmons closed her remarks with the quote from Oscar Wilde that I mentioned last week. It, too, is a model for us as pursue dialogue: “Run your fingers through my soul. For once, just once, feel exactly what I feel, believe what I believe, perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once, just once, understand.”

So what will it take to make us civil? And what is civility, anyway?

Monday’s Citizens’ Civility Symposium, sponsored by the Institute for Civility in Government, addressed a whole range of issues, including these. The all-star cast included the former vice-chair of the 9/11 Commission, the chair of the National Endowment for the Humanities, two other (active or retired) members of Congress, the co-founder of the Johns Hopkins Civility Project, a renowned Christian social critic, and a Houston principal who brokered peace among the 15 gangs in her school.

The plenary panels focused on two topics: civility on Capitol Hill and civility in our communities. The insights came fast and furious, and I believe the Institute will post a video of the proceedings on its website. For now, a few highlights:

Youth Will Be Served

Young people were a leitmotif throughout both panels. As former Rep. Bill Archer (R-Texas) sees it, any initiative to instill civility in public life must begin with children. NEH chair Jim Leach took it one step further, noting that the young—who, surveys have found, are substantially more tolerant than their forebears—will need to train the rest of us in civility. Several speakers mentioned the need for families to teach civility, especially around that rapidly disappearing icon of family life: the dinner table.

Just Be Nice? Not on Your Life

Does civility equal politeness, or “making nice,” or papering over differences? None of the above. Leach cited the requests of some campaign contributors—“as you’ll recall, we helped you get elected, Senator, and now there’s a vote coming up, and we’d sure like it if you voted this way”—as uncivil speech wrapped in polite clothing. On another front, former 9/11 vice-chair Lee Hamilton said, “You want the system to have a clash of ideas, and you want those ideas put forth robustly. But there is a line you do not cross.”

Echoing this, Os Guinness argued for a different type of public square: not dominated by one faith, not thoroughly secular, but a place where everyone is free to bring faith into the discussion while working within the framework of justice and fairness for all. Guinness believes that a truly global public square is beginning to emerge, and even those who considered civility a sign of weakness—like some Christian conservatives—are realizing it’s in their best interest to take their place in that public square.

Where Did Incivility Come From?

P. M. Forni, from Johns Hopkins, cited four principal contributors to today’s incivility: stress, anonymity, lack of time, and lack of restraint. In that context, he asserted that we cannot solve incivility until we correct our current overemphasis on self-esteem in children, because they are growing up with the idea that their needs and desires should be their top priority. Parents need educating, he said, in the idea that social intelligence—including the ability to be civil—is, if anything, more important for success than the intelligence measured by IQ tests.

What Do We Do Now?

Tell our elected representatives we don’t want divisiveness, and call them out on uncivil behavior when they display it (Lee Hamilton). Build relationships across the divide long before the tough issues come up (Rep. Henry Cuellar, D-Texas). Be careful and precise with the language we use: don’t describe a fellow American as a fascist when we lost so many American lives fighting fascism in World War II (Leach). Don’t underestimate the power of one person to change things (Bertie Simmons from Furr High School in Houston). To reach the uncivil, speak to their interests as well as their ideals (Guinness).

And finally this, from Bertie Simmons quoting Oscar Wilde: “Run your fingers through my soul. For once, just once, feel exactly what I feel, believe what I believe, perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once, just once, understand.”

Your turn. If you were there, what did I miss? (A ton, I know.) If you weren’t, what do you think? Please click on Comments below and put in your two cents.