Us AND Them

This was originally published at Misfits Theology Club.

Think about that proverbial uncle, that older, white man sitting across the table from you at that otherwise innocuous party. He makes a comment about “colored” people and you can see the desperation in his eyes for validation. In my experience, anyway, that guy is not looking for validation for his racist ideas, but simply asking to be treated as a human being.

This is the dilemma of the moment: cancel culture. Do we invalidate people because of their backward, out-dated, of offensive ideas? Do we cut off and remove people from our lives because they act inappropriately?

It’s a positive dilemma, despite its problems. It shows we’ve moved beyond the phase of ignoring the offense. That was our old stand-by response, right? We’d hear the Uncle and see the desperation in his eyes and change the subject, leaving both of us feeling empty and unfulfilled.

Because it’s a two-way dilemma.

It’s not just that we struggle to separate other people from their words and actions, but we have the same struggle when it comes to ourselves, as well. If someone judges our actions inappropriate or ill-advised, our first reaction is to take it personally.

“I love you, Uncle Jim, but that’s a really offensive thing to say,” just doesn’t cut it.

It should, by the way. “I love you, but,” should be enough to validate the person and also address their problematic words and actions. It just so rarely works that way.

A lot of that is because we get defensive. We don’t hear the “I love you,” at all or we hear the “but” as invalidation of that love. We hear that phrase as conditional love, which is often more a burden than a comfort. “I want to love you, but you must change.”

Theologically, Christians affirm that love is the only way to change the world. We won’t get anywhere by forcing people into change, through threats, fear, or shame. We live in a world, though, where all of those things are baked into every system. If there are no consequences to selfishness, people will just be selfish.

This is seen in the theological notion of total depravity. Humans are inclined to selfish, sinful activity and only God can change them.

This isn’t wrong, of course, but how, precisely does God change people? Is it through threats of bodily harm? Do we fear Hell so much, we decide to behave? Is it shame or the withholding of love and affection? Those approaches may actually affect what people do, but none of them changes a person.

God so loved the world that God deigned to become a lowly human, live among us, and be executed for showing us a picture of what we could be. Jesus reserved his condemnation only for those prominent figures who refused to acknowledge their own faults and failures.

Love may not be the cheapest, easiest, or most efficient way to get people to say and do the words and actions we want from them, but it is the only way for any of us to become the kind of people we were created to be.

It’s not enough to tell Uncle Jim that’s he’s valuable, regardless of his offensive words and actions, he has to know it, to feel it, to be loved. Part of the problem may be his past damage – that others have treated his so poorly he no longer knows how to receive love – but more likely than not, the root cause (for him and for us), is our inability to separate the value of people from the things they do and say.

That’s not to say we can’t have boundaries. If Uncle Jim is going to continue saying racist things, he’s not going to get a public forum – as far as I can help it – although I have to be careful to continue those conversations in private so as not to transmit my opposition for his ideas to the man himself (and to show I’m not writing him off with his beliefs).

We also have to protect ourselves in those cases where our foundational, bedrock ideas are in direct contradiction to those of someone else. Someone who believes in non-violence is going to be able to sustain only limited interaction with someone who’s quick to justify a fight. They may be able to dialogue and show love for one another in certain circumstances, but they probably can’t be roommates.

We have to work hard to define our relationships in ways that treat people as people (including ourselves) – even if that’s our main disagreement with them. We are called to love our enemies, but that’s much easier if we’re the ones who’ve labeled them enemies than if they’ve intentionally set themselves up in opposition to us.

I imagine this also requires some measure of relationship to begin with. If the only connection we have to each other is disagreement about a certain idea, we cannot see each other as human beings. The offensive words and actions must be secondary to the humanity of our opponents. I must understand you in order to really understand what you say or do.

That doesn’t mean you let the words or actions go, but you must address them in the context of the person you know. And we have to be fair to their humanity – which, at least if you’re a Christian, is equally valuable to the humanity of everybody else.

It’s one thing to stop watching a TV show or not buy concert tickets because the ideas of the actors or musicians are offensive to you – there is no personal relationship there – it’s quite another to say “you can’t work on my car, because you don’t care about the poor,” or “you can’t bag my groceries because you haven’t recognized your white privilege.”

Morality is not a battle to be won. Christians believe love is already victorious, we’re just waiting for the effects of that victory to work their way through the world. Whatever ideas or actions we wish to see eradicated are already dead; we don’t need to kill them again, and we definitely don’t need to kill those people clinging to the corpse.

Racist, sexist, selfish, and offensive words need to be addressed, for sure – ignoring is no longer an option – but we have to remember hate harms both victim and perpetrator, even if in different ways. If we can’t walk beside both parties, with the care and concern appropriate to their specific context, we’re not living out the gospel.

No one gets written off or we’re no better than “them.”

I Have Seen the Enemy...

We are a divided people. Not just the United States, or any other nation, but humanity itself. We like our divisions. We like to have an adversary. We like the competition. We like to win.

We like to win so much that we're often willing to risk everything, including our own future, to do it. Our economy is messed up because the whole field of economics was once built on the notion that people will act in their best interests. We're smarter than that now - at least our economists are. The rest of us, though, we just like to win. Honestly, though, it's almost as if we like seeing the other guy lose more than we like winning ourselves.

It's political season here again (when is it not, though, really?) - which means all sorts of crazy, wacky things going on - largely because of our love of winning and preternatural desire for division. In the US we've really just got two camps - Red and Blue. Despite the problems it creates for us, both in the present and the future, we've decided to stick with this failed dichotomy for better or worse. We've found ourselves in a situation where nobody really likes Red or Blue, but both sides are too stubborn to give up and start over.

There is no bigger picture. Just the next poll. The next primary. The next news cycle. The next election.

In NC, we've seen the legislature double down on this bathroom bill that will almost certainly cost them the Governorship. Why do they do it? Well, the individual legislators who pass such bills are representing gerrymandered districts that largely keep their party in power no matter what they do. The real danger for these guys is someone attacking them from the fringe during a primary. So the GOPers have to run right and the Dems have to run left and the rest of the country gets left alone in the middle.

You're seeing it on the national level, too. Paul Ryan is trying his darnedest to be a good legislator. Like or dislike his policies, the guy really takes his job seriously and he appreciates the responsibility of governance. He reluctantly became Speaker of the House because his party was imploding and he's working hard to be a national leader. He spoke his mind about Trump, echoing what a whole lot of people think - that they're just not sure of this guy (like, as a human being, let alone a Presidential candidate).

This is what we want our politicians to do - be rational, think long term and inclusively. But, of course, his House compatriots are already running from him; the party whips - who are supposed to use those proverbial whips on his behalf - have distanced themselves and thrown him under the bus (or the Trump Train, as it were). It's for the same reasons as the guys in NC - they have safe re-election battles, so long as they don't appear to moderate, conciliatory, or, you know, distinguished, in their ideas.*

You can look at all this politically. The two party system leads to Gerrymandering, which leads to dysfunction and a run to the extremes. I don't want to diminish the real value that ridding ourselves of entrenched parties (and all the special favors they give themselves in the Congressional rule book) would do for our governance and piece of mind as a nation.

At the same time, this is really a deeper symptom of our desire for division, categorization - for winning. We like the way we think. Sure, some of us seek out critique and challenge from time to time, but usually it's in the hope that we'll strengthen our resolve and improve our ability to defend out own ideas. We like having predictable opponents, too - we like a familiar enemy, one who's weapons we know and expect, an enemy we don't have to pay attention to, so much as flick away like a mosquito or a moth.

In the end, though, despite our disagreements and engagements and downright fights, the real problems stem from inside ourselves. We're creating enemies where they don't exist and living into the false enemy narratives people try to pin on us. Yes, we've got different perspectives on things and those can't always be bargained or compromised into workable solutions. But we also lack a world in which there can be a winner. Short of genocide, you're not getting rid of disagreement. We still have to live together. Wouldn't it make sense to live in communication with each other? To work out our different perspectives on their own merits, rather than attaching them to demonized generalizations like Red and Blue?

Life is not a zero-sum game, neither is politics or society or really anything at all. A win-win scenario is not a mutual disappointment, no matter how much our political game wants us to believe it is. The same goes for the fights we have in churches and families, with neighbors and our spouse. No one can get everything they want, but no one would be happy if they did (despite dreams to the contrary). We need each other. We need our differences. What we don't need is the use of those differences to divide us. It hurts everybody and nobody wins.


We're all just people - unique, valuable, and defying categorization. If we'd just treat each other this way, I think things would be a good bit easier on all of us.




*Sorry to not be fair and leave the Dems out of this, but they're just not in control of enough stuff to really make a great case. They got the smoking age in California raised to 21, which is odd and certainly a liberal base-pandering maneuver, but, really, outside of RJ Reynolds, who's going to complain much about that one? It's also not going to cost them anything.

Power and Accountability

Dorian Johnson, who was with Michael Brown when he was killed in Ferguson, Missouri, gave his account of the events of the day. He said the two were walking in the middle of the street when a cop told them to move to the sidewalk. They talked back a bit and things got ugly. Then deadly.

I don't know if that story is true, half true, or completely made up. I wasn't there and, thankfully, since I don't have cable, I've not been inundated with every last detail and opinion on the matter.

I do find the story immanently believable though, because it so fits with the kind of thing I've seen over and over again.

I know a few police officers. I met and spoken with many on various occasions, almost always off-duty. They seems like normal, committed, sensible people. When I've encountered police officers "in the real world," however, it's almost always been a negative experience. My experience with cops has been of the power-trip, hair-trigger temper, angry for no reason variety. Perhaps it's the company I keep?

I've been screamed at by police officers for having a conversation with a homeless man. I've seen teenagers thrown up against cars for little more than being black. I've seen the intimidation first hand.

I won't go so far as to say these particular police officers are normative or even numerous - but they exist. I've heard plenty of cops talk about co-workers who are jerks or take the job too seriously. I imagine the police officers who are calm and committed to upstanding service simply avoid the kind of activities that give their profession a bad name.

The problem comes, though, when a particular class of people - namely the urban (largely black) poor - have only experiences with the worst examples of policing. When you only know angry, power-tripping cops (or the nameless, faceless others who frequently patrol your neighborhood), it's difficult to get a sense of justice and fair play.

Someone asked me the other day what the point of looting was. I don't condone it and, deep down, its simply a way of getting stuff for free. But, when your perception of the world is, "it doesn't matter if I follow the rules or not, the Man is coming for me," there's little motivation to actually follow the rules. It's a silly, wasteful type of protest - one that almost always misses the mark - but it is protest nonetheless.

I was raised in middle-class white society. I was one of those kids taught that the police are your friends and they'll always help you out of a jam. I was taught that I have nothing to fear if I've done nothing wrong and I have the right to stand up for myself.

As an adult, having spent time in places where police presence is something other than inconspicuous, I have trouble believing, deep-down, that those lessons are true. I certainly know a lot of people who grow up being taught to avoid the police at all costs; if you find yourself in an unfamiliar place - don't go to the cops, they'll blame the nearest crime on you; even if you've done nothing wrong, being black is often enough to get you hauled downtown.

These are, of course, anything but absolute truths. However, they are reality for a lot of people. Unfortunately, those people are disproportionately black. Black people do not have the best history of relations with law and justice in this country. While great strides have been made over the years to raise the ceiling of opportunity for African-Americans (at least one can be elected President), this incident (and many others) illustrate that the floor of treatment remains solidly in the basement. Scenes from Ferguson this week (outside of modern riot gear and armored vehicles) could be mistaken for the Deep South in 1962.

When I've been party or witness to police over-stepping bounds, I've spoken up, talked back. I've done so with almost no fear of reprisal. I recognize the angry guy I'm speaking with is armed, but I'm fairly confident he won't do anything to me. I'm right and I'm white. That's just not the truth for everyone.

To me, though, the real failure in all of this is the response. It's the position of leadership. Sadly, there are innocent people killed every day in this country - more often than we'd like, they're killed by police officers. In most cases, there is an investigation, consequences, results. It's only those few times when action is avoided or delayed or ignored, that it becomes news.

Human nature is towards defensiveness. That's natural. But we have the ability to recognize our nature and override it; it's literally what separates us from the animals (except maybe whales and dolphins - those guys are smart!). Problems arise when people given power refuse to accept accountability. Police officers command public trust - therefore they must be willing to submit to a higher, more invasive, possibly unfair level of suspicion. It just comes with the territory. People in power just have a higher standard, whether we like it or not.

It gets tricky for police, because they're also the ones charged with upholding those standards - essentially, they're policing themselves. A quick, defensive response (whether its correct or not) just doesn't communicate the kind of accountability required of those charged with upholding the law.

My wife is a teacher; it's the world in which our family lives. It's painful to see that those people who most probably deserve to be in a different position are the ones most strenuously defended by teachers' unions. It's like police policing themselves. Too often these units become exclusive clubs, designed to benefit lifetime members, rather than defenders of their own profession.

I recognize the value of brotherhood and family and unconditional support, especially in an occupation so fraught with danger. I get what that's pushed so strenuously. At the same time, police officers must know that for every bad decision that gets defended, every mediocre cop who keeps their job after a screw up, the reputation of the whole profession takes a hit.

With cops, like with teachers (or really any profession) if they themselves are not the ones upholding the standard, the standard is not long for this world.

Positions of power attract abuse of power. I'm not simply talking about how people with power issues are attracted to positions of power (which is true), but that the positions themselves breed abuse of power when lacking accountability.

You can go back to the oft-cited Stanford study - where a group of undergraduates was split into prisoners and guards and left alone. With 24 hours, those with power had descended into dehumanizing acts of violence and torture against classmates who had been their equals not a day before.

I have great sympathy for the cop who says, "I'm gonna tell these kids to get out of the street, because I can and they have to listen." I've been in similar positions of authority that have similarly gone to my head. It happens without conscious awareness. Power just takes over.

When those who are supposed to listen and obey don't, well then, it's a short step to increased pressure, force, and violence. It's not an outrageous leap to make - especially for those who've been trained to respond that way - especially when you know deep down there's no way anyone with any power will accept the word of a poor, black teenager over that of a cop.

The Ferguson Police Department has proven to be anything, but a bastion of calm, considered, response - or even really community awareness. The whole week has been a lesson in how to do PR poorly. Whether you think the office is telling the truth or not, they've bungled everything that came after.

It's no real stretch to think perhaps the atmosphere and subconscious training could have lead to a lack of awareness, judgment or discipline. When we make it easy to abuse power, we can't be surprised when it happens. It doesn't have to be malicious to be evil. We haven't heard from the office in question - while its entirely possible he's as resolute and unfeeling as his department seems to be, my guess is he's as broken up about the whole thing as anyone. My indefensible bouts of anger have never resulted in consequences quite so dire, but they just continue to devastate my soul. I can't imagine what Darren Wilson's life is like right now.

Then again, despite all the furor and anger, these kids could be cunning con artists. They could have concocted the story knowing that public opinion would be on the side of unarmed minorities over the big, bad white cop. I doubt it, but I'm not ruling it out. Lord knows I've witnessed some terribly disrespectful behavior from arrogant teenagers in my neighborhood and thought they could really use someone to shake them up a bit.

I doubt the reality of this situation is comfortable to anyone, no matter what angle your experience and bias leads you to believe.

But even if this incident isn't everything most people think it to be, it looks enough like other, real, verifiable abuses of power (disproportionately correlated with race), that it can be representative of the larger problem.

We have a race problem in this country, but we also have a real issue with power and accountability. We (and by that I mean just about every organized group - from Catholic bishops to drug-running street gangs) have an affinity for "looking out for our own." We tend to rally around our own - both when they deserve it and when they deserve the strong corrective force only "we" can give.

Ultimately, none of these issue will be solved until we come to one profound realization: there is no "them;" there is only us. We are all in this together.

I follow that crazy radical Jesus Christ (or, at least, I attempt to), and one of the most profound lessons I've tried to learn from him is that our place is always on the side of the outcast the minority, the downtrodden, the forgotten. I try (and I think I do a better job than most of my friends and acquaintances would like me to do), whenever a "them" emerges (from molesters, to immigrants, to teenage "thugs"), to put myself on their side, in their shoes.

I do this in part to remind myself and others that we're all human; any division we create is arbitrary at best, but also because it's only from inside the "us" that any real change can occur. No one is taking heed of "them" telling me what to do. No one is changing their life because "they" told me to do it. Change comes when we stand up to ourselves and call ourselves to something better.

If there is going to be a "them," whoever it is, count me among them. That's where I'll make my stand, because that's where, time and again, I find my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. And when this particular "them" becomes strong enough and powerful enough to become an "us," I'll cross over again.

The only "us" that matters is the "us" of all humanity. Only when we recognize that we're responsible both for and to each other - when there is nothing fruitful to be gained from creating a "them," can we really begin to address the problems that plague us.

Playing "us" and "them" games is all about power. A wise man I know once said, "the only legitimate use of power is to share it," or give it away. That's called accountability - a recognition that we all (every one of us) have a part to play. No one can or should do more than their share. We're all in this together. There is no "them," only us.