Over the past week or two, Iâ€™ve had a number of vigorous and civil conversations about police behavior, the use of force, and race in America. Emerging from those conversations are several points that, I think, are underrepresented right now in the public square. So here is what Iâ€™ve heard and learned and come to believe:
- We need to listen more and listen better. As I wrote in another article, â€œBy listen, I donâ€™t mean waiting impatiently for the other person to stop so I can have my say. I donâ€™t mean listening through the filter of every belief Iâ€™ve ever held. I mean listening that is deep, openhearted, and fully attentive, that strives to experience the other person as she is, to accurately hear what she says.â€ Â Read more here.
- We need more both/and. Can we deplore the destruction of property in Ferguson and inquire into the dynamics that gave rise to the underlying anger? Can we express concern about police use of excessive force and note the difficult line that officers walk in carrying out their duties? Can we uphold the value of individual responsibility and acknowledge the broader social trends that make assuming responsibility an uphill climb? If not, why not?
- We need space to explore without shame. The dynamics behind the incidents in Ferguson, Cleveland, and other places are new to many people (mostly white people). To fully understand any concept new to us, we humans inevitably fumble around, ask clumsy questions, make rookie mistakes, so that eventually we get it and can be effective in addressing it. Exploration is difficult, however, if we fear being labeled immediately as bad or unacceptable just for asking questions. This happened after 9/11 with the label un-American; I hear it happening now with the label racism. Are some people who ask clumsy questions racist? You bet. Do some hold truly good intent despite their klutziness? Indeed they do.
- I wonder if, just maybe, we can restart the conversation in a different place. I have heard commentators address their white readers along these lines: â€œYou are blind to the fact that racism is systemicâ€”baked into our system. Just by being white, you benefit from it. That makes you part of the problem.â€ Wherever this statement is on the accuracy scale, it usually puts white readers on the defensive, which derails the conversation and leaves us even more polarized. What if we addressed white readers this way: â€œDid you know that racism is systemicâ€”actually baked into our system? Hereâ€™s what I meanâ€¦.â€ By separating the system from the individual initially, we might be able to spark not defensiveness but curiosityâ€”and, from curiosity, engagement.
- There is a world of hurt around race, and it hurts on all sides. I spent part of yesterday listening to the experience of a friendâ€”a teacher who felt threatened by the aggressive behavior of two students and mentioned it to management. In response, because she is white and the students are black, her entire work group was sent to a seminar on unconscious racism. The shaming she felt is palpable in her storytelling. No, I am not saying that white pain is equal to black pain: not even close. What I am saying is that an acknowledgment of pain from everyone, to everyone, might be a first step in the long, arduous process of opening our hearts to one another.
What do you thinkâ€”not about the incidents themselves, but about the conversation they have sparked in the public square? What does it tell us about the way we do dialogue?