We are in the midst of Mean Green Move-In (which technically starts tomorrow, but let’s be real – we’re in the midst). As students come to campus with concerns about safety and questions about how they can get involved, opportunities for listening and conversation abound.
Here are four things to read that can also help:
- Dr. King’s Letter From a Birmingham Jail – his reasoning behind his activism.
- Reading list for those interested. Some of you might feel defensive about the title. For me, a good way to fight defensiveness is to look beyond it and press on – to read something by someone with whom I don’t have a lot in common with the intent to understand and try to empathize. Maybe that will work for you, too.
- Literary examples of the tu quoque fallacy (or why “but both sides!” is not a logical argument and often breaks down what could have been a productive conversation).
- If you are not following Osheta Moore from Shalom in the City, you should. Her latest newsletter gave advice on what to do if you are disappointed in your church’s response to Charlottesville events. It’s also good advice for those of us who flocked to our churches because we knew we could expect the topic to be raised. As someone who is frequently “that person” in various circles, I often find her words encouraging. She is also a reminder to me that firm conviction can also be kind.
Speaking of good advice, don’t stare directly into the sun, even during Monday’s eclipse. Enjoy it safely, please.
M. Suzanne Terry 
Did you get a chance to go out and see Monday’s eclipse?
It sounds like you are going through some awesome reading material. I’m especially interested in the literary examples of why “but both sides” is not a logical argument. I get it, but it would be nice understanding it a bit better. I always struggle to back up my arguments and opinions, so more information always benefits me. 🙂
Hope you are having a good weekend!
With Love,
Mandy
Hi, Mandy! Thanks for reading!
Basically, the “but both sides” argument (called a tu quoque fallacy) is not so much an argument but a tool to deflect responsibility or silence discussion. It is an attempt to turn the accusation back on the accuser, which, while perhaps a good conversation to have at a later date, muddles the topic at hand because it does not in any way negate the original accusation. The implication is “unless your side is perfect, you have no right to criticize.” Which sounds great in theory (and is often couched in very moralistic, wise-sounding rhetoric, sometimes complete with out-of-context biblical references), but since absolutely no one is perfect, it’s not practical when it comes to having discussions and actually addressing (and thus, ultimately, solving) problems. Even if the accusing side’s behavior is exactly as damaging (which it often is not), that still doesn’t give the accused side a free pass to be terrible without being called on it. If, for example, I have an argument with a friend who calls me a derogatory name, and I, hurt and upset, then fire back with a derogatory name at them, the fact that I could have responded more gently does not in any way justify my friend’s original behavior. I’m still going to need something from that friend to atone for their behavior for our relationship to have any hope of ever being okay. That I reacted in kind was not right, but I’m not just going to ignore what my friend said because I reacted badly, and ignoring (or just chocking the friendship up to being lost and gone forever with no hope of reconciliation) is what tu quoque calls for. That neither side is perfect is a given, because both sides are human, and yes, we all need to be ever-vigilant about overcoming our own faults. But that doesn’t justify turning a blind eye or remaining silent (and thus, complacent) when we see wrongdoing. That people who are doing the work of fighting oppression don’t always do it perfectly (and what constitutes doing it perfectly is a whole other conversation) doesn’t mean they have no right to do the work at all.