The Dialogue Venture

Archive for the ‘Dialogue and Media’ Category

Here’s the sort of thing that gets my attention: 

• A born-again Christian telling me she has no problem with evolution
• The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff supporting a repeal of “don’t ask, don’t tell”
• George W. Bush proposing a moderate immigration policy
• The head of a regional hospital advocating single-payer healthcare
• Leaders from the Tea Party movement and MoveOn.org saying how much they crave dialogue
• Catholic leaders advocating for the poor (a “liberal position”) and against abortion (a “conservative position”)

You see the common thread here? All these statements strike a dissonant chord. They make us think, “How can those people take that position when they also believe this?”

I find these voices terribly important.

To understand why, first consider the voices we usually hear. Spend any time with the news media, and you’ll find yourself hearing, on any given issue, the same things from the same people—over and over and over. If a news segment covers abortion, for instance, it will most likely feature a pro-choice advocate touting a “woman’s right to choose” and a pro-lifer promoting “the rights of the unborn.”

Now the positions behind those sound bites may have merit. But the endless repetition of the same catchphrases by the same people obscures whatever nuance these positions may have. “Of course he’d say that,” we think. “He’s a [insert political party or special interest group here].”

But then someone zags when we expect her to zig. Or she holds two positions that we’ve been led to believe are contradictory. There’s your dissonant voice.

These are important, I think, for two reasons. First, when people express a belief contrary to their historical position or perceived self-interest, it implies that they find the belief itself compelling. I don’t think it’s a slam-dunk that a hospital CEO would support a single-payer system. So when James Barba of Albany Medical Center does, it’s an opportunity for us to see single-payer differently. If he’s for it, the thinking goes, maybe it’s worth another look.

Second, these dissonant voices can explode our stereotypes. Over the years, I’ve been guilty of painting the born-again Christian community with too broad a brush. Like many people, I could see them as uniformly literalist, creationist, and overly focused on abortion and gay marriage. So when a priest’s wife touts the beauty of evolution as the means of God’s creation, or I see born-agains advocating for the environment and social justice, it forces me to rethink my image. More accurately, it forces me to discard the image—and listen to each unique person with his own unique voice.

Dissonant voices can point out areas of truth. Dissonant voices can help us see our “opponents” more clearly—and thus treat them more respectfully. See how many of these voices you can hear in the public square.

There I was, all ready to pronounce judgment and damnation on the two pilots who overflew Minneapolis airport a couple of weeks ago. This was unforgivable! The lives of passengers were at stake! How could any pilot make such an error?

Then I read this op-ed piece, and I realized my own error.

The article, by Peter Garrison—a pilot and contributing editor to Flying—provides a glimpse into the cockpit on a long-distance flight. Apparently it is a mind-numbing experience. Computer systems do the bulk of the flying, with no need for human input. The cockpit itself is tiny and doesn’t allow for much movement. The pilot’s job, for long stretches of the flight, is to monitor the instruments, hour after hour after hour.

Now, does that excuse the pilots of Northwest flight 188? You can still make a case that their lapse was inexcusable; indeed, the FAA has done so—and taken action. 

So what did I do wrong? 

I rushed to judgment. I assessed the situation and decided on the right and wrong of it without hearing from the other side. Garrison’s op-ed helped me to understand the situation from the pilot’s perspective. While I still might think the mistake was egregious, I now get what these folks are dealing with—and my compassion for them grows. 

Now imagine what could happen if I were in a policymaking position. Without Garrison’s perspective, I might write this off as the unique problem of two wayward pilots. Having read Garrison, I have to consider whether we need systemic change—more regular hours and sleep schedules, say, or different protocols—to support pilots more effectively. Overlooking the need for such systemic change, if that is indeed the underlying cause behind the incident, could have catastrophic results. 

This sort of thing is what makes dialogue so vital. Dialogue brings us face to face with the perspectives of the other. We cannot help but hear the context behind the decision, error, or insight that horrifies us. Even if we don’t agree—even if we still have to revoke licenses—we can have more understanding. Policymakers, by dialoguing in this way, can get the fullest possible picture and thus make the most effective changes, not just the measures clamored for in the heat of the moment. 

Perhaps this begins to answer last week’s post. Perhaps, when people ask why dialogue is important, we talk about the pilots of Northwest flight 188 as just one example.

Years ago, before I had a better hold on my temper, I screamed at a star player during a kids’ softball game. It was stupid and reprehensible. The game was emotionally charged, and I lost my cool. I promptly apologized to anyone and everyone who would listen.

My point here is that we all say insanely stupid things now and then. So I am not here to pile on Joe Wilson. Instead, I want to explore what his outburst during the president’s health care speech—and the aftermath thereof—can tell us about dialogue.

Many commentators have already covered the obvious: that “you lie!” is emblematic of the remarkable incivility that has pervaded recent headlines and town hall meetings. But where does this incivility come from? The language gives us a clue: it’s the kind of speech used by those who (a) have deeply held beliefs or vested interests and (b) perceive them to be under dire threat. Threats induce our fight-or-flight response, so Joe Wilson spoke fighting words.

The problem is, we can’t dialogue like that—so we can’t resolve anything that way.

Dialogue, by our working definition, requires a clear mind and a listening heart—an openness to the other—so we can think together toward the truth of the matter. We need this “thinking together” because no one has a corner on the truth. But we cannot cultivate the required openness if we cling to our beliefs as the only way to perceive the issue.

The health care debate is a great example. There are many good ideas on the table. But how can we think together about them if we do not open our minds and hearts? Rejecting openness just leaves us with the same vested interests and tired phrases that obscure the dialogue: “you lie,” “death panels,” etc.

Then there are the strange mechanics of apology in our current age. Whenever someone says or does something inappropriate on the public stage, he quickly apologizes. Pundits just as quickly parse the wording of the apology and conclude that it’s not enough (or it’s not sincere). The offender may apologize again, and that’s not enough. Ad nauseam.

This raises two lessons for dialogue—one based on truth, the other on grace. First, dialogue cannot proceed unless the participants share a commitment to honesty. So apologize only if you’re sorry; to craft a faux apology leads to mistrust and distracts from the dialogue at hand. Second, if you receive a sincere apology, forgive and move on.

How do these lessons promote dialogue? Consider that dialogue often involves discussions of sensitive issues among people who disagree. Discussions get heated, and yes, people can say intemperate things. That requires a mechanism for honest apologies and ready forgiveness. The participants can’t be expected to maintain their openness and trust—and thus advance the dialogue further—if “offenders” issue insincere apologies and “offendees” let their resentment linger. 

If we’re going to move forward on social issues, we need dialogue. That, in turn, requires us to open our minds and hearts and keep them open, even when the discussion boils over. 

But how do we get to this openness in the first place? This, I believe, is where the Divine can play such a powerful role. Good topic for next week.

I was at an interfaith shouting match, and a dialogue broke out. In the process, it yielded a glimpse of how the web is changing civil discourse.

The setting: a moderator in Interfaith Forums, a wide-ranging discussion board on all things spiritual, started a thread on proselytization. As with most threads, it generated a lively discussion among an eye-opening cross-section of posters: an atheist, a born-again Christian, a Baha’i, a pagan, a Hindu, and others.

Put all these perspectives, voiced by all these intelligent, strong-willed people, into a room—actual or virtual—and sharp words usually follow. This was no exception. Before long, the discussion had evolved (devolved?) into an exchange of verbal volleys, with a helping of attacks and sarcasm thrown in.

Now if this had happened at a dinner party, or a mixer, or any other live event, the discussion could have fallen apart quickly. You know the pattern: two or three people with passionate opinions and loud voices go at one another vociferously, sending the content of the discussion to the extremes. If you have a more nuanced opinion, you can’t get a word in edgewise.

But this was different. The beauty of online, of course, is that you can read—and respond to—anyone’s comments at any time. That’s what happened here: someone posted a “quieter” comment, someone else responded in kind, and before you knew it, there was a dialogue within the thread.

Many thinkers worry about the web as a medium that gives everyone with a strong opinion her say at full throttle, with no filtering mechanism (such as the editor in traditional media) to help ferret out the truth. I worry about that too. And yet this downside of the web is also its upside: it gives moderate perspectives more of a voice than ever.

Now take this observation to a macro level. Our culture at large acts very much like our dinner party example: the people with passionate opinions and loud voices grab the media attention, promoting the extremes and eliminating the middle. (Think of the abortion debate.) The very nature of traditional media is primarily one-way, so when the extremes capture media share, there are few ways for nuanced voices to make themselves heard, let alone start a dialogue.

The web, by contrast, gives everyone a voice and is by nature two-way (or, more precisely, all-way).  In addition, it draws together people of similar concerns and different opinions from all over the world. As a result, we have more opportunities for dialogue than ever before. Our job is to take advantage of them.

Does the web facilitate dialogue? Oh my, yes. Is the web good for dialogue? Only as good as we make it.