The Dialogue Venture

Archive for the ‘Other people’s good ideas’ Category

Maybe it was a conversation that healed a friendship…or a comment over lunch that helped you see a hot-button issue in a new way…or an email exchange that softened your heart and maybe even changed your mind…or a sit-down with your partner to sort out a family issue.

Whatever the specifics of your story, I invite you to share it here.

In writing this blog, I’m painfully aware that I am bringing exactly one perspective to the topic of dialogue. One perspective is good, but many are better. The more stories we hear, and the more viewpoints we hear from, the richer and more effective our own dialogues can become.

Confidentiality, of course, must be honored, and I wouldn’t expect you to share sensitive stories. But if you have an experience you can share, feel free to do so—either in the Comments section below or through my Contact form. Thank you, as always, for visiting here and caring about dialogue.

Recently, on the main listserv and Facebook page for NCDD (the National Coalition for Dialogue & Deliberation, of which I’m a board member), we discussed signs of disaffection with the federal government.

There certainly seem to be a lot of them these days.

Part of the discussion centered on Americans Elect. In case you haven’t heard, this group aims to nominate a presidential candidate in a nonpartisan fashion through an online convention in which any registered voter can participate. The successful candidate (with a vice presidential candidate from the other established party) will represent the views of millions as expressed through their participation in an online survey. The goal appears to be a mobilization of the grass roots through the technology that has given everyone a voice.

Americans Elect isn’t the first group to emerge along these lines. No Labels “supports reforms, leaders and legislation that will help fix America’s broken government and break the stranglehold that the extremes currently have on our political process.” The Coffee Party USA is “a grassroots, non-partisan movement that aims to restore the principles and spirit of democracy in America.” (Quotes come from the respective websites.) And in terms of mobilized disaffection, we barely need mention the Occupy movement and the Tea Party.

I see all this as a hopeful sign. Not everyone does, however.

Amid our listserv discussion, someone posted a scathing article on this topic by the distinguished Mark Schmitt in Democracy. He writes that third-party movements and similar organizations are essentially fantasies meant to redirect our anger away from the hard work of reforming the system. The problems with these movements, according to Schmitt, are threefold: they are started not at the grass roots, but by consummate Washington insiders; they promise to break the duopoly of American politics when that duopoly is enshrined in the very structure of our government; and their policies are vague.

Schmitt’s points raise questions that should be asked of these organizations. The duopoly argument, especially, deserves serious consideration. But I wish he had given one other factor its due: the groundswell of public sentiment behind these movements, regardless of their origins. This sentiment is particularly in evidence in the Occupy movement and the Tea Party. Reforming the system, as he mentions, is important—but so is building and channeling sentiment against the inertia and despair into which government gridlock so easily casts us. It may be that these movements are a necessary first step to mobilizing a critical mass for change: the kind of critical mass that is powerful enough to inspire serious reform.

Or perhaps Schmitt is wrong and they’ll spark serious reform by themselves. Think Tahrir Square (though a direct import of that model to the U.S. seems logistically difficult at best).

What do you think of third parties and reform movements? Are they a waste of time, a distraction from real reform, “people’s movements” with real possibilities, or something else?

Hello, my friends. It’s so nice to be back with you.

A few weeks ago, I told you about an upcoming dialogue to which I’d been invited—a conversation with a dozen evangelical Christians about LGBTQ issues and the Church. As you may know, the words evangelical, LGBTQ, and dialogue do not often appear together in the public square, so this gathering promised to be extraordinary.

It was all that, and then some.

I don’t think I can describe it any better than I have in this Huffington Post piece on the dialogue. The article includes some questions that the dialogue raised in my mind: new (to me) possibilities about the way we might think about not only LGBTQ issues, but the future of the Church itself. The comments on the article, on the whole, have been more thoughtful than one sometimes sees online, so you may want to check them out—and add your response. I’d love to hear your thoughts, there or here.

When a pillar of our quasi-evangelical church came out in 1989, I had just started rethinking the whole issue of gender, sexuality, and the Bible. So I was not prepared for how torturous the resulting church discussion would be.

Partly because of this event, LGBT people and issues have been dear to my heart ever since.  Perhaps this was God’s way of preparing me to become an Episcopalian—a Christian denomination riven by hostility over LGBT issues. Perhaps it was God’s sense of humor that placed me in my specific corner of The Episcopal Church: a liberal (i.e., welcoming-to-LGBT-people) church in a conservative diocese in a liberal national church in a conservative worldwide church.

But wait, there’s more. Once a year, I serve as a representative from our church to the diocese’s convention—which makes me a quasi-liberal surrounded by ardent conservatives.

This is a tense and painful place to live. To be sure, I am one of many comrades in this place: a sort of no-man’s-land in the culture wars. But we are outnumbered—and surely outshouted—by those on either side.

So why would anyone in his right mind continue to live there?

Here’s why I do: Because I will not abandon my LGBT sisters and brothers to a theology I find deeply flawed. Because I believe that my conservative sisters and brothers have great gifts to contribute to the world at large. Because I believe that dialogue has power. Because God calls me to peace and compassion, not to anger and the severing of relationships.

This is why I am deeply honored to have been invited to a most exceptional dialogue. Evangelicals for Social Action has asked a dozen pastors, therapists, scholars, students, writers, and “other struggling saints”—gay, straight, liberal, conservative, what have you—to a two-day conversation about LGBT issues. We will convene in November to get to know one another, share our stories, explore our perspectives, and generally live side by side for a short while.

The dialogue will not be easy. But the very fact of it thrills me. And if the emails we’ve exchanged so far are any indication, this could be something special. No one has brought up the “clobber passages” in the Bible. No one has debated genetics or biblical literalism. Instead, we’ve explored deeper issues of sexuality and gender and personal stories. Some of the participants, at least, are well versed in bridging divides. They bring rich and eye-opening experiences to the table.

If you are the sort to pray, please pray for this gathering. If not, please think of us in November. We may not change the world. But perhaps God will make us a tipping point for reconciliation—or at least one tiny example of living in peace and compassion despite our differences.

Every now and then, I come across an article with penetrating insight into an issue I’ve vaguely pondered. Writing like that is too good not to share.

That’s why I’m passing along the March 28 blog post from Miki Kashtan. A longtime expert in Nonviolent Communication, Miki writes with extraordinary clarity, from the depths of her own soul, about many issues that confront our world. This past week she turned her attention to two aspects of the horror in Japan:

1. The decline in media coverage, even as the nuclear crisis persists, and what it might say about our cultural attention span.
2. The hubris that has permeated our culture—even, perhaps, our entire era—and its ability to hurt our future. In the West, we live and breathe a legacy that, for more than two centuries, has touted the sanctity of “progress” and controlling our world at the expense of other values. To what extent should recent events (the Japan catastrophe, climate change, etc.) spur us to rethink this mindset on a fundamental level?

We might revisit these issues sometime in the future, but for now I can’t do better than point you to Miki. Take a look, and feel free to respond, either here or on her blog.

The next three weeks have me engaged in activities that, unfortunately, will take me away from our weekly discussion here. I’ll pick up again with new thoughts in January, but in the meantime, here are a few worthwhile sources to check out: 

• The Interfaith Amigos. A priest, a rabbi, and an imam discuss—with extraordinary grace and intelligence—the very issues we cover here. Check out, for instance, their article about dialogue with people who believe their way is The Only Way.
• The Clearness Committee. A brilliant method for hearing the Divine voice, Clearness Committees come to us from the Quakers. A person with a life decision or issue gathers five or six others whose entire job is to ask honest, open-ended questions—no judgment, no advice, no chitchat—in an atmosphere of quiet attention. Typically, these questions (and the person’s responses) generate ever deeper questions and responses, clearing the way for the person to hear the “divine teacher” within. I’ve participated in one or two of these, and they can be life-changing for both the “focus person” and the questioners.
• The Prior’s Column. The prior of “my” monastery (I’m an associate) has lived the spiritual life for many years, and his insights—particularly around meditation, prayer, and the monastic way—carry a great deal of wisdom.

That’s it for now. I wish you the most blessed of holidays.

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.