I was listening to a politics and culture radio show recently. The subject at hand was a controversial social policy being enacted by a provincial government. The policy pertains to a matter that tends to be quite divisive. The host of the radio show talked to people who had differing perspectives. It was clear that the issue and the proposed policy ignited frustration and anger. At one point in the conversation, the host asked someone who had a strong opinion what they would say to a person who held a view on the other side of the issue.
I was intrigued by the response, not because of the particulars of the issue and the views, but because of the frame of how the question was answered. The person, with whom I mostly agreed, did not respond with what they might say to someone who held an opposing view. Rather, the person described what such a person thought, felt, wanted, cared about, and didn’t care about.
In other words, the response outlined what THEY thought, what THEY cared about, how THEY failed on some basic measures of humanity, compassion, and democracy.
As I said, I happen to share much of the viewpoint of this person on the issue that they were addressing. What diminished my energy in listening was the tendency to assume that we now just what others think and feel, particularly those who disagree with us. We ascribe positive motivation to ourselves and negative motivation to our opponents.
THEY hate democracy.
THEY are anti-Christian.
THEY don’t want freedom for others.
THEY are not really believers.
THEY don’t care about faith.
THEY don’t care about the country (or the church, or the institution).
THEY don’t care about minorities or about those with little power.
There are, of course, examples of people who proudly hold undemocratic, hateful, or destructive views. However, as the non-profit I work with often states, “Most people are better than their theology” (quote from a friend David Goa, something his dad used to say).
As someone who has pushed against some of divisive ideas in evangelical church and culture, I have, at times, been on the receiving end of people saying that they know just what I think or what I feel about Christian faith or teaching. I have also, in my own work, fallen into the tendency, at times, to act as if I know just what others (THEY) think or feel or believe. I have sometimes fallen into this tendency without giving comparable attention to the actual humanity of a person or to the nuances, or potential positive motivations of their views.
Some people hold views very different than yours for reasons that are not necessarily hateful. Seeking to understand, rather than stating what THEY think and then moving quickly on to argument, might actually help others to understand our perspective more, not less.
I experienced, in 25 years of being a pastor, that much of evangelical culture was tremendously adept at assuming to know what THEY (those outside the evangelical fold) knew and thought and cared about and believed. As I aim to outline a more hopeful theological vision, I hope not to repeat the same dehumanizing tendency simply from another cultural location.
You could perhaps try it as an exercise in faith and in democracy. The next time you find yourself upset at an opinion opposed to yours, consider just why people might hold that view, even with positive motivation. How do they see themselves as trying to make a positive difference in the world? How are they aiming to stand up for people, other than themselves in positive ways?
Appreciative Inquiry is a decent resource here. Liked your article. Helped me think.