Three events.
One: A recent New York Times column by Thomas Edsall who
attempted, with the help of some current social psychologists, to make sense of
the mentalité of those who
enthusiastically support Donald Trump’s election campaign. Much of the general
resentment felt by the typical Trump voter, Edsall claims, is the resentment
felt by those who feel their freedom, their small liberties of thought and
action, being taken away, or at least impugned and contemned, by those who
claim to be more intelligent, better educated, more moral and more concerned
with the General Good. The freedoms concerned are not necessarily either good
or nice; the consciousness of this only adds to the felt resentment when they
are taken away. The villain doing the taking-away is named, for want of a
better term, Political Correctness; and the vague guilt mixed in only fuels the
anger.
Two: On the other side of the coin – perhaps: perhaps just
an adjacent side of a polygon – is a recent column by the very humanitarian
Nicholas Kristof, on “Liberal Intolerance,” in which he chided American
academia for its intolerance toward conservatives, particularly evangelical
Christians, and for which he got a flood of furious comments from liberals who
felt that “idiots” have no place in their institutions.
Three: On this morning’s French radio news, an announcement
by the Socialist mayor of Paris, Anne Hidalgo, that as of July 1 all cars older
than 1997 will be banned from the city of Paris between 8 AM and 8 PM. A
laudable anti-pollution measure, to some; for others, a hindrance for the poor
who cannot afford newer cars to get to their few and hard-won jobs. Never mind,
says the mayor: we will give them free passes on public transit. But that would
also force them to trade the small space of comfort and privacy that is a car
(even an old banger in a traffic jam) for standing-room-only sardine-space in
commuter trains (which also, in France, go on strike regularly).
All this made me – one of the Politically Correct: educated,
reasonably moral, reasonably well off – very thoughtful, as I said. If we
consider we are objectively right, we have an instant and pressing duty of
charity toward those who, we think, are wrong. And the very first part of that
pressing duty is to call into question our own opinions and attitudes.
Opinions, because it is possible that those we disagree with may not be
entirely wrong, and their opinions may at the least be understandable;
attitudes, because it is our duty, even in simple human kindness, to approach
the bloke or the woman next door, beside us in the waiting-room, or holding
forth in a bar, to quote the saying, “as someone fighting a desperate battle
you know nothing about.”
What are the consequences for a Christian? At many moments,
one could see this as merely the world, shouting. In so far as it is
media-speak and does not touch our own lives, we should be right to tune it
out. On the other hand, it may impinge, in a waiting-room, in a bar, or during
a dinner with friends. And then our hand will show. Have we, in quieter
moments, thought about such things? Have we, at times, called our instinctive
and even our considered opinions into question? Are we prepared to distinguish
between our beliefs and our human understanding and loving-kindness? Do we ask
ourselves how our socially responsible opinions and attitudes hold up under the
Cross? These are not rhetorical questions. They may hold up; we may
distinguish, and love. But what the Cross does is ask the question, and make us
ask it also.
As the Carthusians say, Stat
Crux, dum volvitur orbis. The world turns: the Cross stands.
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