This column first appeared in the July 17, 2009 issue.
I firebombed a conversational thread between my niece and some of her “friends” on Facebook. I took offense at a comment, and weighed in with a sharp, sarco-nasty rejoinder. I immediately regretted it. I sent her a private message of apology. I wrote, “…I didn’t stimulate thoughtful reflection; I just firebombed the discussion, which might leave (them) looking for ways to retaliate, rather than alternate views to present. It just gets to mudslinging.”
(The “niece” in this case is the oldest daughter of one of my best friends; she calls me uncle, an endearment that startles people, as she is the blondest of the blond, a towhead from birth. She is an independent thinker, a remarkable student of the world, and has some very sophisticated, well-researched views of it.)
Civility is often the casualty of a discussion between two groups holding strong, but differing opinions. We stake our claims like frontiersmen, and guard them with guns. We then crank up the volume: we roar, and the sound of our own voice in our ears prevents us from hearing.
I shoot pool in a league, and one of my teammates was expressing a strong political view, which is rare. Pool-players are not political conversationalists: we just shoot pool. At the end of this man’s remarks, he turned to me, ostensibly for affirmation. I smiled and said, “I don’t share your views on that.” We didn’t continue the discussion, but had I responded angrily “that’s crap!” I would have eliminated the opportunity to have a civilized discussion in the future. But I also have to consider the possibility that he did not want to hear from someone with an opposing opinion.
My son-in-law is an avid viewer of a TV commentator who loudly espouses views that he opposes. I asked my daughter why he does that, and she said, “He wants to know what he (the commentator) is thinking.” I’d like to think that all young people will bring that kind of thoughtful consideration to a discussion, but I know it doesn’t always happen. I have seen some case-hardened opinions from some of our youth.
In 1970, the R&B band The Temptations sang “Ball Of Confusion (That’s What The World Is Today).” The lyrics could have been written yesterday:
“Evolution, revolution, gun control, sound of soul. Shooting rockets to the moon, kids growing up too soon. Politicians say more taxes will solve everything.”
“Fear in the air, tension everywhere. Unemployment rising fast…”
“Eve of destruction, tax deduction, city inspectors, bill collectors …population out of hand, suicide, too many bills …. People all over the world are shouting, ‘End the war.’ ”
“Ball of confusion…”
We do have a ball of confusion: a drowning economy, staggering unemployment, medical in hospice, plant closures and shaky financial institutions; wars blister the skin of the world, and ballistic missiles line unstable countries like gargoyles.
As I wrote this, I considered my private message of apology to my niece: why did I address it to her, alone? Mainly because I did not want her to think I was going to be an intrusive presence in her interactions with her peers. But on reflection, her peers are the ones who most needed to hear the reason for my apology: don’t firebomb the discussion, and you leave room for listening, thoughtful reflection, and careful consideration of differing views. We have a lot of work to do, and shouting should not overwhelm our thinking and reasoning.
Let us all listen, think, reason then speak: leave the firebombs alone.
cjon3acd@att.net