The Morality of Meeting People Where They Are
(Note: In the post that follows I’m talking about perspectives held by people who enter conversations in good faith advocating for how to do the most good for the most people in the best way. A perspective advocating violence or actual harm requires a different approach. There’s still plenty of disagreement amongst people of good will!)
2 Weeks Ago in a Touchy Subjects Q&A, someone asked how I could feel good about empathetically representing points of view I think are wrong.
Last week, another asked whether we have a moral obligation to advocate hard for what we believe is right when interpreting, running tours, or otherwise serving our audiences.
This week: I’m in Oregon, visiting my 86-year-old father. Someone I love, disagree with routinely, and yet always learn from. So naturally I’m thinking a lot about those questions.
My dad and I both consider each other moral. Our values overlap because he helped raise me, but our different life experiences influence our views on many issues, so those values often show up differently. Which means we often think each other is wrong, or at least misguided.
One of Interpretation’s defining principles is that we spark thought by meeting audiences where they are at – using words, examples, and stories that will resonate with their life experience. And we can do that across differences and divides.
In conversations with dad, I see this power in action. If we hammer at each other with our 'rightness' we go nowhere. But when we remain curious and choose our words and questions with intention, we stay open to the exploration. In our talks I get a front row seat to what happens when someone chews on ideas over time, and we find areas of connection that open new avenues for exploration. That’s where the science says perspective shifts actually happen. (The science also says traumatic events create powerful shifts, but that's not how I recommend treating audiences or fathers!)
Which brings me back to the Q&A Questions:
Is it a fail to fairly represent people who hold perspectives we believe are wrong?
·Do we have a moral obligation to advocate for ‘rightness’?
The challenge with complex issues is always multi-layered.
People tie their views and ideologies to their view of themselves as good people. Which means in addition to the facts, there is an emotional layer in the mix. If you look at anyone’s perspective in the context of their lived experience, it often makes sense. That doesn’t mean we agree with one another’s conclusions, but that context empowers us to treat people with dignity and empathy while we explore ideological differences.
When we fairly acknowledging good intentions, fears, and hopes, people are more likely to drop their defensiveness and explore ideas beyond their own. By fairly presenting multiple perspectives, we create a trusting, empathetic space to explore ideas. In that environment, diverse groups are empowered to take their own next step in considering new ideas. Not because we dragged anyone into ‘rightness’, but because safety creates space for curiosity. We offer a mindset of “I’m still a good person even if I decide to explore that my opinion could be wrong.”
Into this fragile mix walks ‘morality’ – what I call a ‘high-voltage’ word.
History is full of choices and behaviors justified by morality: women burned as witches, people blacklisted and terrorized under McCarthyism, and LGBTQ+ folks ostracized and murdered. Even people who believe they share morality often discover personal nuances below broad generalities. So, whose morality should guide our work? It’s a word that sounds good on the surface, like we are on the side of the angels, our position unassailable. But if our audience doesn’t agree with the way we see the world, might the ‘morality’ of our stance influence the way we treat them, costing us an opportunity to meet them where they are at?
I do see an opportunity if we think about what else that word can point to. Take ‘values’ for example. Looking at ‘values’ instead of ‘morals’the issue remains complicated, but I believe values empowers us explore across difference and shine lights into the dark corners of our blind-spots.
Since people who advocate for opposite approaches can still share the same values, skilled facilitators can turn those overlaps into opportunities. We can explore diverse ideologies while we avoid trapping ourselves into frameworks where I’m a good person and you are a bad person.
Enslavement is wrong. Sexual exploitation is wrong. Terrorizing people is wrong. But if an NPS worker or a schoolteacher holds their nose and accepts that they can’t overtly speak important truths about history without losing their jobs, are they somehow morally bankrupt for not quitting under protest and hoping they can find a new job before their own kids pay the price?
Can you take that analogy too far and just reinforce the status quo – absolutely. But people making hard, values-based trade-offs aren’t inherently immoral, they are navigating tough realities. And those of us who aren’t facing those tradeoffs have an opportunity to pick up the baton and continue calling people in across difference.
Puzzle Pieces, Complex Issues, and a Jefferson Example.
Exploring complexity across difference is like working on a 5000 piece puzzle without a guiding picture. If we each hold 200 pieces and mine show clouds and blue sky, I might think you are nuts telling me it’s a puzzle of flowers. Except that’s what your pieces show. Neither of us has enough pieces to predict the whole.
What we can do is bring those puzzle pieces together and create conversations where complex truths coexist. When we do, audiences can think about the conflicts between good intentions, blind-spots and flaws. This is what inspires people to consider new perspectives. And that potential is how I can feel ‘good’ or ‘moral’ in trying to understand and fairly represent people holding views I strongly disagree with.
For example, we can keep Thomas Jefferson’s virtues and harms in the puzzle. He wrote that slavery was an evil stain on the country and his home state of Virginia, but enslaved people his entire life including his own children. When we explore why Jefferson repeatedly did something he believed was wrong, we can see how his contradictions aren’t relegated to the past, but in fact exist in our modern society in new forms.
If we insist there’s only one “moral” way to see him, we lose the opportunity to learn from his story. After all, if he is bad and we are good, or he is a ‘great man’ and we are ‘ordinary’, we lose both thought provocation and the consideration of how we might be like him: with opportunities to do good and the temptations to do harm.
When all members of our audiences feel treated with dignity and met where they are, they are more likely to loosen their grip on the certainty that their view is the only way to be a good person. Curiosity and empathy can emerge.
That, for me, is the opportunity. Not declaring that we are advocating on the side of the angels. Instead, choosing to lead thoughtful, challenging explorations that help us all think, re-connect, and discover.