When I was home in Kalamazoo a couple about a month ago, I tried to catch up on my local newspaper reading. This is important since my wife Julie writes for that paper. I happened to catch a column, that I normally do not read, but the headline was intriguing -- "Her Cause and Its Effect." The column belonged to Miss Manners, who as we gather by her pen name, gives advice on how we human beings should behave in public.
A young woman who is a social activist wrote in saying that many of her friends were getting married and were showing off their diamond engagement rings to her. As she put it, she had issues about those diamonds given their origins.
Nevertheless, she was happy for her friends' engagements. So when her friends showed off their diamonds, she wanted to explain her position about them. But normally she would end up stammering and saying something like, "Very nice."
"This usually makes me feel very uncomfortable and hypocritical," she wrote, "like I am accepting these stones as being okay. How do I get away from the constant feeling that I should let them know how I really feel about the ring?"
Miss Manners strongly and somewhat dismissively advised the young woman that any political statement would be met with resistance and hurt feelings. She ended her advice with these words:
Miss Manners assures you that people do not absorb moral lessons from those who trample on their feelings. Rather, they forever associate the unpleasantness of the spokesperson with the cause itself. So if the certainty that you would hurt your friends' feelings is not enough to satisfy you into mere murmured politeness, how about the certainty that you would hurt your cause?
Now, I believe it is important to be sensitive to people's feelings. That comes from a belief that all people have worth and dignity. So, I would do everything in my power to attempt to make people feel comfortable in most situations.
But I also believe that there are those times, rare, perhaps, but important, when one should speak up. Because not to do so would mean nothing would change. If the young woman did speak up about her feelings about diamonds, it is probably true that she would cause hurt feelings. But I can guarantee you that if she did not speak up, nothing would change and her friends would take her nice comments as approval of the purchase of those diamonds without giving a second as to how they were produced.
It is truly a question of what battles we choose to fight. I choose to speak up when someone makes a racist, homophobic or sexist comment. I might also speak up about issues concerning war and peace, the environment and intolerant religion. Even so, I will use whatever grace and charm I have to make the other person feel comfortable.
It is bad form, according to Miss Manners, to talk about politics because that does hurt people's feelings. That advice follows our grandmother's admonition to not talk about politics or religion in polite company.
But why is this? Why should we avoid these topics which, to my mind, are the most interesting topics one could talk about? I believe it is because politics and religion involve our important values – values about life and death, work, love, sex, distribution of wealth, marriage, gender, sexual orientation, the environment, and that which we do to merely survive, eating, drinking and finding shelter.
But there is another component to this combustible mixture of ideas and values: lack of certainty. Since we are talking about values and not facts, we can never be 100% sure about our position on a political or religious issue. And I have noticed over the years, people argue most vociferously when they are unsure of themselves, as if to say: I am trying to convince more than you of the rightness of my position; I am trying to convince myself.
People who are confident in themselves and their values have no need to yell at, manipulate or antagonize you or to control the conversation. They just say what they believe and let it go at that. In other words, it is people's lack of certainty that makes them anxious about other people's ideas and thus increases the odds that unpleasantness will erupt. If we were not threatened by others' ideas and beliefs, then it would be possible to express our political and religious views in polite company. We would even be able to disagree without being disagreeable.
This brings me to an issue that can cause great discomfort, conflict and yes, hatred: the Confederate Flag. I felt called upon to speak on this issue because of my travels with my wife Julie to the South this past week to see her parents in Florida. On the way down, we stopped in Montgomery, Alabama to see Dexter Avenue Baptist Church, Martin Luther King, Jr.'s church.
We had trouble finding it and so we went to the Visitor Center to get some information. There, a woman helped to explain not only where the church was, but also about the Civil Rights Memorial and the Rosa Parks Museum. She was kind and gracious. She reminded me of a friend, a southern woman who had the talent of making anyone in her presence feel comfortable; a talent I wished I had. The way of Southerners is to show a grace and kindness that often seems lacking up here in our colder climes.
But when we went to the Civil Rights Memorial, I noticed that there were armed guards, which is strange for a mere museum. We were informed that there were still threats of violence this time from the children of Klu Klux Klansman who are even more extreme than their fathers. So, there is the paradox of the South -- a gracious and friendly people and a stubborn, unmitigated prejudice.
Not that I am speaking as if we are holier than thou. We have our problems too, right here in the Detroit metro area. We have people of color living in oppressive conditions, our communities are segregated in housing and education, and we experience violence, too.
But I do not believe that you will find good people here justifying those conditions or any symbol that supports those conditions. For example, no good person would say that a gang sign was worthy of our adoration.
Recently, I read an opinion called Rebel flag is historical written by Laura Buchanan in The Shield of The University of Southern Indiana of March 1, 2007. In it, she claimed that the Confederate flag is acceptable to the people of the South because of its historical significance. She said:
It's the same reason why Fairview, Kentucky has not demolished the Jefferson Davis Monument and a statue of the Confederate president stands at the University of Texas at Austin… Like it or not, 11 states seceded from the Union in the 1860s, formed its own government, elected its own president and created its own flag. This era of American history cannot be ignored. We cannot ignore it simply because of some yahoos with white sheets who have adopted it as the flag as their own.
Indeed, Ms Buchanan makes the case that to remove it is to give into the hatemongers. It would be treating it like the swastika which has lost its meaning of good luck because of the Nazis. The Confederate flag does not have to suffer the same fate, Ms Buchanan insists.
So, I was troubled and puzzled to read the words of Laura Buchanan defending the use of the Confederate Flag, I hear her attempt to save a symbol which for her represents something good, the Southern way of life and perhaps a commitment to state's rights. But I also hear an attempt to explain away the evil that has been committed in the name of that flag. Now, I take her at her word when she claims that to eliminate the Confederate flag would actually be giving into the hatemongers and that it would be then seen as a detestable object like the Swastika. I believe in her sincerity. It is not my intention here to disrespect her, but only talk about our important values. In doing so, perhaps we could find some common ground.
It is clear to me that she despises the violence of racists who attack and humiliate people of different color, different religion and different politics. It is also clear that we both want to live in a society where people's civil rights are respected: that all people are treated with dignity. For her, the Confederate flag is much like the American flag is for us.
Generally, our American flag represents the principles of our democracy. But we know that our government has done some awful things in the past: for example, the creation and maintenance of slavery, the destruction of Native American culture, the internment of Japanese-Americans during world War II, the massacre at My Lai during the Vietnam War, and presently the torture of Iraqis at Abu Ghraib and the violation of the basic civil rights the prisoners being held on Guantanamo by our government. There is much in our history that we could look at that causes us shame. But the American flag does not merely represent those events. It also calls forth to us that which is best in our democracy. For even African Americans, Native Americans, Japanese Americans, Vietnamese Americans, and Iraqi Americans honor our flag. Our flag is a source of pride for us even if it is not a simple symbol of goodness and purity.
I think the same is true for Ms Buchanan concerning her feelings for the Confederate flag. She mentions the swastika as being lost as a symbol of good luck because it has now become associated with Nazism. In other words, its meaning has become clear and simple.
It is evil.
Therefore, we ask ourselves: Is the Confederate flag like our American flag, complex in meaning and yet aspiring to the best that is in us or is it like the swastika whose meaning is simple and clear.
The Confederate flag for Ms Buchanan is more like our American flag – complex and yet still positive, but for many Americans, especially African Americans, it represents simply and clearly something that is negative and evil, much like the swastika.
For what good can an African American find in that symbol? What good has been done for them in its name? What principles does that flag represent that suggests that African Americans are full and equal citizens? The answer is none. It is that simple.
When we came back north from Florida, Julie and I went to Abraham Lincoln's birthplace in Hodgenville, Kentucky. We went to the museum and were ushered into a rustic small theater and watched a short movie about Lincoln's boyhood. He lived in a log cabin no bigger than an average size living room with a door and one small window. After the movie, we went to gift shop looking over the books mainly. We were both interested in Doris Kearns Goodwin's book, A Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln. It was a little pricey, but eventually we gave in and bought it.
We talked to the woman clerk about Lincoln and she said a remarkable thing: Lincoln was the most religious president in our history. That was surprising since I knew that he was no member of any church and never really talk about being terribly religious as I could recall. But the woman made the point that he quoted the Bible more than any president. Well, that made sense since Lincoln learned to read from the Bible and knew the power of its poetry and meaning intimately.
But what made the comment even more interesting is that we heard the exact words from two other people: the Ranger who was the guide in the Memorial Building that enshrined a replica of Lincoln's home and a local businessman who sold Lincoln memorabilia.
Fascinating. The exact same words all from good people who live in Hodgenville. I just listened and said nothing in reply. It was not my place to do so. There was after all, no harm in their believing that.
Later as we were traveling north, Julie read to me from Goodwin's book and she came to a passage about Anne Rutledge, the woman who broke Lincoln's heart. Her death affected him greatly. Goodwin comments on how Lincoln's lack of faith in a Christian heaven made it all the harder to accept. She said:
Had Lincoln…lived in a large city when Ann died, he might have concealed his grief behind closed doors. In the small community of New Salem, [Illinois] there was no place to hide – except perhaps the woods toward which he gravitated. Moreover, as he brooded over Ann's death, he could find no consolation in the prospect of a reunion in the hereafter. When his New Salem friend and neighbor Mrs. Samuel Hill asked him whether he believe in a future realm, he answered no. "I'm afraid there isn't," he replied sorrowfully. "It isn't a pleasant thing to think that when we die that is the last of us."
Now, I suspect that those three Hodgenville people are a religious people. So, when they read about Lincoln's use of the Bible in his speeches and writings, they came to the conclusion that he is very religious. And they would tell others that, thus reinforcing their belief in the greatness of Lincoln who is great partly because he was a true believer. There is nothing unusual about this process. We all do the same. One of the reasons we go to church is to affirm our beliefs, that is to firm them up. It helps us to make sense of the world; it gives us comfort and strength. We just hope that whatever beliefs we may have that they are a response to what Lincoln called the better angels of our nature. I suspect Ms Buchanan lives in a community that supports her beliefs about the Confederate flag. And thus it would mighty hard for her to think differently about it. So, if she were to listen to me today, she might think that I did not know what I was talking about, or that I was being rude or something. She might get some support on that latter idea from Miss Manners.
But I would hope that we could enter into a meaningful dialogue and be unafraid. I hope that she could hear me about my concern about making this country strong, which means improving our relationships with each other. And I do believe mere manners will not do it. We need to go beyond superficiality of being nice for the sake of propriety. For there is the idea of social grace that is deeper than that. It refers to a commitment to the idea that every person has worth and dignity.
One of the best ways of demonstrating that idea is to tell you a story from Daniel Goleman's book Emotional Intelligence: Why it can matter more than IQ about what he called Emotional Brilliance.
It is a story about a man named Terry Dobson, who is not the religious broadcaster and psychologist, but one who learned the Japanese art of aikido, a martial art based on the idea of using gentleness and surrender when facing an aggressive foe. Dobson was on a train in Japan one afternoon when a huge, bellicose, and very drunk laborer got on. The man was screaming and threatening people including a woman with a baby and an elderly couple. Dobson felt called upon to intervene. But he recalled the words of his teacher: “Aikido is the art of reconciliation. Whoever has the mind to fight has broken his connection with the universe. If you try to dominate people you are already defeated. We study how to resolve conflict, not how to start it.” Even though Terry had agreed t this credo, he now saw his chance to use his skills to quell the man. But just as he got up and the drunk started toward him with threats, something interesting happen.
Hear Daniel Goleman as he tells the rest of the story:
But just as the drunk was on the verge of making his move, someone gave an earsplitting, oddly joyous shout: ‘Hey!” The shout had the cheery tone of someone who has suddenly come upon a fond friend. The drunk, surprised, spun around to see a tiny Japanese man, probably in his seventies, sitting there in a kimono. The old man beamed with delight at the drunk, and beckoned him over with a light wave of his hand and a lilting “C’mere.” The drunk strode over with a belligerent, ‘Why the hell should I talk to you?” Meanwhile, Terry was ready to fell the drunk in a moment if he made the least violent move. ‘What’cha been drinking?” the old man asked, his eyes beaming at the drunken laborer.
“I been drinking sake, and it’s none of your business,” the drunk bellowed.
Oh, that’s wonderful, absolutely wonderful,” the old man replied in a warm tone. You see, I love sake, too. Every night, me and my wife (she’s seventy-six, you know), we warm up a little bottle of sake and take it out into the garden, and we sit on an old wooden bench He continued on about the persimmon tree in his backyard, the fortunes of his garden, enjoying sake in the evening.
The drunk’s face began to soften as he listened to the old man; his fists unclenched. ‘Yeah ... I love persimmons, too...,” he said, his voice trailing off. ‘Yes “the old man replied in a sprightly voice, “and I’m sure you have a wonderful wife.”
"No,” said the laborer. “My wife died Sobbing, he launched into a sad tale of losing his wife, his home, his job, of being ashamed of himself.
Just then the train came to Terry’s stop, and as he was getting off he turned to hear the old man invite the drunk to join him and tell him all about it, and to see the drunk sprawl along the seat, his head in the old man’s lap.
That is emotional brilliance.
This story is a teaching fable for all of us, to let go of our pride and consider what is truly important: having good relationships with people. Relationships based in compassion, good will and good faith.
With that in mind, if I could, I would want to enter into a dialogue with Ms. Buchanan with the purpose of finding common ground. Perhaps she could convince me of her cause. But I would have some questions for her: Would it not be emotional brilliance to give up on the Confederate flag? To let it go to the dustbin of history? Do you really need it to express the good that exists in the South today? Are they not other ways to do that? And wouldn't giving it up, letting it go, be a gesture of good will and sensitivity to a people who have been so victimized in our history?
It is not easy to give up on a cherished belief and a cherish symbol. I know that. But if you and many other Southerners could let go of that flag such that it would become only be a relic of a time long gone by in the South, it would be a day of grace. And you will have helped us in the healing of our relationships. And what is more, you will help your cause of demonstrating true Southern grace and charm.
I offer you these ideas with the greatest respect. And I know that no matter what your beliefs, we are after all, proud Americans and people of worth and dignity.
