Against demonization and rhetorical total war

Against demonization and rhetorical total war March 11, 2019

 

Sunrise in the Mojave
Dawn in California’s Mojave Desert, a very familiar area to me since my earliest memories
(Wikimedia Commons)

 

There was an interesting episode in domestic American politics at the end of February and the beginning of March.  Many articles appeared on the subject; I choose two of them, largely at random, so that you’ll know what I have in mind:

 

“Warren takes aim at Pence: He’s not a ‘decent’ man”

 

“Joe Biden Backtracks After Calling Vice President Pence ‘a Decent Guy'”

 

***

 

I worry about the state of civil discourse in the United States.  Or, perhaps more accurately, about the lack of civil discourse.  It was one of the major reasons that I could not support the presidential candidacy of Donald Trump.  But, as a conservative, I’m also painfully aware of the incivility of the Left.  My positions, and those who hold them, are routinely maligned as hateful, racist, misogynistic, callous and uncaring, and so forth.  It isn’t enough, for many people, to view those with whom they disagree as mistaken.  No, such deviants must be evil.

 

Here are three articles on that topic:

 

“Our Culture of Contempt: The problem in America today is not incivility or intolerance. It’s something far worse.”

 

“A dean is stepping down over her university’s decision to drop Chick-fil-A”

 

“Two-Faith Nation: When it comes to cultural issues, there is no center-left.”

 

***

 

The same, obviously, is true of many religious disagreements.

 

Several years back, an anonymous emailer, an advocate of the “heartland” geographical model for the Book of Mormon who (for more than a year, and sometimes multiple times a day) had been sending me notes (typically including well-designed, personalized memes and images) denouncing my sympathies for Mesoamerican models, wrote me a final note.  He had, he said, listened to General Conference the previous weekend.  Something that one of the speakers had said convinced him that what he was doing was wrong.  He told me that I would never hear from him again.  And I never have.

 

A few days ago, out of the blue and completely to my surprise, I received a note from an extremely vocal critic of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who has had some very harsh things to say about me, publicly.  He apologized.  It was a gracious gesture, and I was happy to accept his apology.

 

Here, though, is a contrasting case:

 

Over the past few days, in one place, my supposed propensity to call people “faggots” has been noted.  And if that’s typical of my public language, how hateful must I be in my private discourse?

 

But I don’t believe that I’ve ever called anybody a “faggot.”  Ever.  Publicly or privately.  It’s a word that I strongly dislike.  And I don’t use any other such word pejoratively, either.  Denigrating people over their sexuality, using it as an insult, is not something that I do or have ever done.

 

One fellow chimes in to note that, years ago, when he was struggling with concerns about his faith, he wrote to me, apparently seeking help.  I responded by mocking him, saying that I had shared his letter with a class of mine.  We apparently all had a good laugh at him.

 

It’s difficult if not impossible to respond to such anonymous public allegations.  Not only do I not recall such a story, I can’t imagine myself ever doing what this person alleges.  I’ve spent more hours than I can possibly count over the past two or three decades, privately trying to help people sincerely struggling with faith issues.  I don’t ridicule them.  I sympathize with them.  I feel for them.  I take their questions as seriously as I know how.  On the other hand, I doubt that this fellow is altogether lying.  My guess is that there is some kernel of truth in what he says.  But what is it?  It would be very helpful to see what he wrote to me and exactly what I wrote back to him.  I would never mock a crisis of faith; I would certainly never do so before a class.  I will, however, respond critically to poor logic and to triumphalism.

 

Anyway, a discussion has now ensued about what my “vile” behavior says about me and my supposed religious beliefs.  Perhaps, it’s been suggested, I believe that simply having received the ordinances of the temple is enough to save me, without any need for ethical behavior or kindness.  Salvation by temple alone, I suppose.  More likely, though, I don’t actually believe anything, religiously speaking.  How else to explain my life-long viciousness?  My apparent incapacity, according to at least a couple of anonymous folks online, ever to have an honorable thought or do a decent thing.  I’m in it for the money.  Or the status.

 

The apparently increasing tendency in American society to demonize those who disagree with us on political and religious issues is sad, and very discouraging.  I can’t help but think of the utter disintegration of Nephite society just prior to Christ’s visit to the New World, as it’s depicted in 3 Nephi 7.

 

Can we do anything to arrest the trend?  We can certainly resolve not to participate in such behavior ourselves.  We can resist claims that individuals who disagree with us are flatly evil, simply because they disagree.  Which means that we should be very skeptical of stories about them — especially anonymous, one-sided stories — that purport to demonstrate their limitless depravity.

 

There are genuinely evil people.  Joseph Stalin was.  Adolf Hitler was.  Jeffrey Dahmer.  Ted Bundy.  El Chapo.  Ayman al-Zawahiri.  Mike Pence probably doesn’t belong in that list, though.  Nor does Harry Reid.  Nor do Ben Shapiro and Nancy Pelosi, Chuck Schumer and Mitch McConnell.  Nor, however shocking this may be to a few, do I.

 

 

 


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