In October 2018, humor paper The Onion ran a piece that made me laugh out loud: “NFL Urges Pass Rushers To Try Reaching Peaceful Resolution With Quarterbacks Before Resorting To Tackling.” It suggests that pass rushers “seek amicable resolutions with opposing quarterbacks,” take “an empathetic stance,” and use “‘I statements’ to keep quarterbacks from feeling threatened.” Ha!
Clearly, there are instances where civility is just not called for.
And in all seriousness, there are instances, even off the football field, where incivility may be more appropriate than civility. Or at the very least, I’m willing to entertain the possibility of this being the case. There are some sound arguments for it.
Although I believe strongly in the power of active civility, in this post I want to change gears and flesh out some of the scenarios in which incivility may be justified.
The reason I’m writing this post is a disconnect I see between elements of the modern social justice movement and the civility movement. Although these two movements do overlap, certain mindsets emerging from each of them seem to contradict.
While civility advocates preach empathy and compassion for those with whom we disagree, social justice advocates caution against seeking common ground with oppressors or tolerating their dangerous ideologies. And although there’s a rich tradition of loving-kindness in some social justice circles, it can still be hard to find a balance between being compassionate and standing up to hate. In many of my recent blog posts, I’ve been trying to hone in on this balance.
One missing element of the conversation is the notion that civility may be just one valid method among many for moving our country forward. What if civility work complements, but doesn’t have to exclude, other methods? What if there are important roles for both civility and incivility to play?
In a 2018 Washington Post piece, political science professor Emily Sydnor points out several of the pitfalls and merits of incivility:
Exposure to incivility can reduce trust in government, belief in institutional legitimacy and media credibility while further polarizing citizens politically. But it can also be a way to assert political rights when traditional methods are ineffective and can rally supporters to your cause. Incivility can open up political debate, even as it makes us uncomfortable.
In a study of 3100 Americans who watched either a civil or an uncivil news clip, Sydnor found that those who watched the uncivil clip were far more likely (33% vs. 11%) to offer opinions after watching the clip. “In other words, incivility can get people to pay attention, get involved and offer their own perspectives,” Sydnor writes.
While she repeats that incivility can also damage a democracy, she still concludes that, “at times, name-calling and vitriol can promote democratic discussion.”
As Sydnor observes, incivility is excellent at rallying like-minded people together. It catches attention and gets people involved. It might therefore motivate otherwise uninvolved people to fight for their version of justice.
In a critique of incivility, writer Sean Blanda unwittingly makes this same argument in a Medium piece called “The ‘Other Side’ Is Not Dumb.” While his article makes an excellent case for being civil, he also brushes up against one of incivility’s merits:
Sharing links that mock a caricature of the Other Side isn’t signaling that we’re somehow more informed. It signals that we’d rather be smug assholes than consider alternative views. It signals that we’d much rather show our friends that we’re like them, than try to understand those who are not.
Blanda is arguing that we should stop mocking the other side. But buried in his argument is one of incivility’s strengths—a meme portraying Trump as a baby does accomplish something. It shows our like-minded, liberal friends that we’re like them.
Incivility separates people, and this can be useful. It builds mistrust of Them, and in doing so, builds group unity among Us. It also empowers Us and releases our tension through forceful, expressive, or taunting speech or action.
Another argument for incivility is that civility isn’t forceful enough to stop dangerous, violent oppression from taking hold.
Recent conversations about Antifa are an example of this line of reasoning. Many on the left feel that, although the property destruction and aggressive behavior exhibited by certain Antifa counter-protesters is distasteful, Antifa has nevertheless been invaluable in assuring people of color and other vulnerable groups that the recent rise of fascism will not be tolerated, and that the violence of fascism will be met with violence, if necessary, to protect those being targeted by white nationalists.
In these same conversations, civility efforts are often questioned and sometimes denounced as being weak and ineffectual when it comes to addressing fascism.
In the 1960s, Malcolm X made a similar argument during his leadership of Nation of Islam. He asserted that the nonviolence of the Civil Rights Movement deprived black Americans of dignity and empowerment, which would come instead from the power of exercising self-defense against violence.
One aspect of the modern civility movement that troubles me is its apparent whiteness. Although this isn’t universal, most leaders of civility groups tend to be white people with strong financial security, since this work doesn’t typically pay well.
We who advocate for civility need to remember that calls for civility by white people have historically served to smother calls for justice by people of color. Many of us have no moral authority to ask for patience and empathy from people whose oppression we’ve never personally experienced.
I wrote previously about a barbershop incident in which a white man named James heard his barber utter a blatantly racist comment. James could have stayed silent and passive, but he practiced what I’m calling “active civility” by telling the barber he was offended and that he’d never return to the shop. What I didn’t mention was a third option James could have chosen: reacting uncivilly.
James could have stood in outrage as soon as the hateful comment was uttered, cast aside his gown, and stormed out of the barbershop with accusations of racism. It was more skilled of James, and probably more productive, to stay civil as he did—this likely helped the barber to respect his view.
But the most important outcome was letting the barber know his racism was offensive. Either James’s response or the uncivil one would have gotten that message across.
So there are reasoned arguments for incivility. I’m not sold on it yet, but I’m interested in these arguments. It may sometimes be an important tool in struggles for justice, and it definitely unifies and motivates like-minded people around a cause.
At the same time, I’m still certain there’s a place for civility too. These two forms of engagement might be complementary tools in struggles for justice—there doesn’t have to be an either/or between them. That’s what my next post will be about.
