Are We Reading the Same Book?
The first in a mini-series on disagreeing with people we expect to agree with. Dystopian fiction and the big ideas everyone agrees on.
I have been writing recently about books that help me make sense of the world and my place in it. Along the way, I have been encouraged to learn how the same books have helped others make similar sense of their worlds. However, I have also been surprised to learn how those books have helped still others make very different sense of their worlds.
Same books, different people. Same big ideas, different applications.
This has gotten under my skin to a point where I want to explore it in a mini-series based on the following questions:
How can good people agree in theory and disagree in practice?
How can people reference the same big ideas to support very different positions?
When this happens, what do we do?
If you have ever been shocked by the positions taken or conclusions drawn by people with whom you share important values or thought you would agree, this miniseries is for you.
In today’s post, I want to illuminate these questions and why they matter; I’ll also leave you with one (perhaps ridiculously) basic idea I’ve found helpful in starting to make sense of it.
Abolition of Agreement
A couple of weeks ago, I was listening to a podcast about The Abolition of Man, C.S. Lewis’s 1943 critique of the modern world that I wrote about in my first newsletter. The book was and is important to me, and I had been thrilled to find a serious discussion of it in the podcasting world.
There I was, jogging around the neighborhood, mentally nodding along with the hosts about how the head and the gut can’t lead on their own, how we need the heart and a moral compass, how subjectivity leads to the “will to power”… when suddenly I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
I mean, I literally could not believe the things.
The hosts began casually referencing contemporary issues in light of Abolition with phrases like, “[x social trend] is exactly what you get when you don’t have a moral compass,” or, “The absurd claims that [y scientific institution] wants us to believe is clearly will to power in action.”1
Wait. What?
I happen to be unbothered by “x social trend” and highly respect “y scientific institution.” However, here were two educated well-spoken people deriding them and citing as source for their judgement a book I also respect and value.
I could see the giant chasms of reasoning between Lewis’s theories and the positions they were taking, but they were confidently making the leap. Not only did it make me angry; it made me wonder how and why people make such leaps… even about the leaps of reasoning I may be taking as well.
I remember learning in Philosophy 101 that someone’s “metaphysics” (what they believe to be true about reality) directly influences their ethics and “politics” (what is right and wrong and how societies should govern themselves). If this is true, then clearly the podcast hosts or I was doing it wrong. If we were starting from the same place, how were we ending up in very different places? Was I blind to the implications of the philosophical principles that had so resonated with me? Were they?
Perhaps there is a lot more that happens between metaphysics and politics - between big idea and action. In fact, I know there is, and I want to explore that. Hence this series.
Dystopian Literature - sometimes we do agree
This year, I’ve volunteered with my sons’ sixth grade class to lead literature discussion groups. They’ve been in a unit on dystopian fiction, which has so far included The House of the Scorpion, Lord of the Flies, and Animal Farm. Dystopian fiction is a literary genre that presents an exaggerated caricatured world so horrifying, so unhealthy, so oppressive, so dangerous that all of us want to avoid it.
Like… all of us.2
People disagree about whether or not we are en route to one of those horrible realities, whether a certain policy is or is not leading us there, or why a tiny step toward it may be justified. But no one claims that the end reality portrayed in dystopian fiction is actually good.3 No one says, “Yes, let’s do Animal Farm. Vote for the pigs!”
And this universal aversion to the world of dystopian fiction strikes me as a glimmer of hope amid everything else that people so vehemently disagree on.
What is it about dystopia that makes it so universally revolting? Why is it so effective to pull out Fahrenheit 451 and say, “Watch out, that path might lead us here,” and not have to explain exactly why this would be bad? There must be some universal accepted idea of a healthy society - or at least of a severely unhealthy one - that this genre of literature brings to the light.
Power & Humanity
I offer two ideas.
Usually, dystopias involve an abuse of power. For whatever justifiable reason it was attained, too much power or authority concentrated in one person or group, or any power in the wrong hands4 leads to bad things.
I don’t think it’s the idea that power in and of itself that’s so universally offensive, but the concentration of it. Everyone does not agree that power and authority are always bad. Lord of the Flies is in one sense a tale about what happens when legitimate power and authority are absent: a vacuum of authority leads to animalistic behaviors, chaos, and violence, which alone degrade our humanity. But they too eventually lead to concentration of power in the strongest individual(s).
Too much power, or power in the wrong hands is horrifying.
But there’s something else too.
In every one of these books, abuse of power leads to degradation of humanity. In every example of the genre I can think of, people – even if it’s only certain groups - do not get to be fully human. Either people are not allowed to learn or think for themselves (Fahrenheit 451), or they are denied privacy and autonomy (Brave New World), emotion and sensation are dulled or removed (The Giver, House of the Scorpion), or they are simply not safe (Lord of the Flies).
Any future in which humans lack the freedom to feel, to learn, to choose, or even to live qualifies as dystopian. Even if it’s only a small group. Something about denying these characteristics to one or some degrades the humanity of all of us and makes these imagined scenarios abhorrent. The lack of freedom to be human is horrifying enough to enough people to qualify as a genre of literature, sell (in some cases) millions of copies, and fuel thousands of hours of discussion in high school literature classes, virtually none of which are spent debating whether the world depicted in the books is one to which we should aspire.
Is it fair to say that humanity itself is a universal value? That the things that make us unique among creation are sacred? Articulate communication, creative thought and expression, feelings, love, life itself.
A Place to Start
Is this completely obvious? Am I the last one to realize that all of us hold an innate value for those things that make us uniquely human? Likely so. However, realizing and naming this gives me comfort. To say that we all agree that there is something special about being human that ought to be preserved is not nothing. It means I can view my neighbors and even people with whom I know I disagree with a little less suspicion.
When people make very different meaning of a big idea, or take the same idea and use it to support a position I disagree with, instead of being offended or dismissing them, I want to take the opportunity to explore. To explore my own reasoning and to be curious about theirs, but first and always, to remember they probably value humanity too. They too hold as precious humanity’s ability to think, feel, learn, and live.
I’m still listening to the podcast on Abolition of Man, just on those days where I have a good deal of emotional fortitude. And I’m trying to listed with more curiosity. Now that I’ve had time to process, I think what bothered me so much at first is that, when I pressed play on the podcast, I thought that I would be fed, encouraged, comforted. Instead I was challenged. And that’s a tough mental shift to make, but I think it’s going to be more edifying overall.
I didn’t answer any of the questions in my intro, but I have some ideas I’m looking forward to sharing next time. For today, holding humanity sacred is where I want to focus. It’s not going to get us to agreement, but it may be the best place to start.
P.S. Why this is important
Why do I care about examining the pathways from big idea to practical implementation?
First, I could very well be wrong. I’ve changed my mind on important issues enough in life to be sure I will likely do so again in the future. I want to be careful to examine how I am getting from a theory/ideal/value to a certain policy preference. What other factors are influencing my choices? Am I being consistent? Examining these rational pathways might lead me to change my mind, and if I’m wrong, that’s a good thing.
It also matters that I understand where disagreements reside so that I can have productive conversations that acknowledge as much agreement as possible and focus in on the divergence point, not the resulting “position.”
Lastly, I want to help those who look to me as a guide (sons and daughters, students, advisees, etc.) learn to examine their rational pathways, interrogate their positions, and have productive conversations of their own.
P.P.S. I want to hear your thoughts
The posts in this mini-series are going to be short and dense. I am going to take little bites out of this big question by looking at specific books and themes across literature.
If you have similar questions or would like to add to the discussion, please join me in the chat. It’s always here.
Footnotes
Of course I could share the exact issues, but I fear that would detract from the point I’m trying to explore is not what we disagreed on, but the fact that we disagreed.
For the purposes of this miniseries on why we disagree, I’m going to use phrases like “everyone” and “all of us,” in full knowledge that I am not speaking for every single human on the planet. When I use these terms, I mostly mean the majority of educated people in the global west. This group has detractors - independence of opinion is one of those uniquely human characteristics I discuss in this series. However, to paraphrase Boetheus, “If most people hold something to be true, it’s probably for good reason, and it’s a valid starting point for argument.”
I concede that there are some people who do want to live in these worlds. Especially people who imagine themselves as the ones holding the power in an unequal or unjust society. However, most of them do not openly admit this desire; they veil and justify and sugar-coat it to avoid being rejected by “everyone” else. They are the exception that proves the point.
Not exactly dystopian (dystopian/fantasy maybe?), but I think the Lord of the Rings trilogy does the best job of making this point.
Tara, I so appreciate your thoughtfulness. I like the way you pull in literature to illustrate your point. These three elements are an interesting idea to consider, particularly in light of current trends I see in Christian conversations to focus particularly on embodiment and what we experience in our bodies. *Makes a note to check my bookshelf for the Abolition of Man.* Several years ago, the Bible Project came out with a word study series on the Shema, highlighting what each word - heart, soul, and strength meant in its ancient Hebrew context. It has deepened my understanding and appreciation of these words. Also, my 10-year-old is currently reading, “Perelandra” so I’m sure, “That Hideous Strength” is in our future. Keep bringing the beautiful conversations, my friend.
I love this conversation. If my dad and I read Fahrenheit together right now, we'd come back with polar opposite conclusions of what it might be speaking to our world today, but I do always try to remind myself that he cares deeply too. We just have different viewpoints and different ideas of how that care should be manifested.