Violent
language keeps company with violent behavior. The former does not usually cause
the latter directly, but in due time violence can follow. To be clear by way of
an example, the rhetoric of Sarah Palin did not incite the January 2011
shooting of Rep. Gabrielle Giffords and others, six of whom died. Palin, the
Republican vice-presidential candidate in 2008, had an advertisement that put
some Congressional districts (not individual candidates) in a mock crosshairs
during the 2010 midterm campaign, including Giffords’ Arizona district. But
those who said the shooting was a direct consequence of Palin’s violence-tinged
electioneering (using slogans like “Don’t Retreat, Reload” and “Take Up Arms”)
were jumping to a simplistic conclusion or, in her odd phrase, engaging in
“blood libel.” Not to say that no relationship exists between violent metaphors
or hateful rhetoric and physical attacks.
Violent
language originates in and plays upon resentment. Though the hateful speaker
appears tough and rugged, she or he is insecure. For example, Palin (now like
President Donald Trump) has no public identity apart from the reaction of those
who believe she is over the top. Her insecurity (like Trump’s) requires
so-called enemies
to fill her inner void by reacting to outrageous statements.
“The
resentment felt today is the product of widespread feelings of powerlessness,
writes Jeremy Engels in his important The Politics of Resentment: A Genealogy (Penn State
Press, 2015). Those anger feelings are legitimate but become problematic when
expressed with no context and directed at mistaken adversaries. Resentment is
ineffective. Its expression soon enough turns back to the frustrated person,
whose self-image becomes an inadequate victim. Resentment is all around these
days because some of our “politicians and our sensationalized media seem intent
on training citizens to be frightened, frustrated, apathetic, acquiescent and
ultimately [more] resentful,” says Engels, who details the Palin-Giffords
example. The politics of resentment is nefarious because it plays upon an
honest desire for powerful reform but employs life-destroying strategies. Of
course, some local, national and international figures play on resentment.
Listen to them carefully: Their alternative to the status quo is always vague.
They usually offer no lasting reform policy or improved organization and thus
their promises only result in more alienation.
Resentment is
like an addiction, which is why it seems like fun for awhile. However, it only
pulls down. A resentful person, truth be told, has made herself or himself
dependent on a larger force without being able to do anything about it.
The opposite
of resentment is gratitude. Anyone who desires effective social reform must
believe that the world and its environs is a gift. Maybe that belief is not
explicitly stated upon awakening each morning. Maybe the word thanks
is not used. But a person who is capable of improving his or her business or
church or neighborhood or political party is a grateful person. Such a person
knows that she or he is not self-made. He or she realizes that one’s interests
have to be negotiated among the rights and wishes of others and that the
beautiful gift of freedom implies care for one’s family, for society and to a
degree for the world.
Let’s not get
soft here. Politics is hardball. Business can be quite competitive. Civic
groups can strike fierce poses. Specific interests must often be strongly
asserted. Issues get sharply framed. Meetings get contentious. In democratic
public life there are adversaries, opponents and perennial rivals. In a
democracy, however, there are no enemies. Social change advocates and
politicians who use that word betray the gift of our country. At a minimum they
exhibit self-righteousness. Worse, they open a door to violence. In war there
are enemies. In regular public life the word enemy, and other violent phrases, are not to be used.
Droel’s booklet, Public Friendship, is available from National Center for the Laity (PO Box 291102, Chicago, IL 60629; $5)
