Somewhere in the midst of the wonderfulness of American exceptionalism, we forgot the power of apology, the value of wise dissent, the joy of the simple and true. We may be so focused on winning that we forgot how to lose gracefully. So focused on always being right, that we forgot how to admit wrongdoing. So mesmerized by money that we forgot other joys. If so, too bad.
The letter to the editor by Leigh Davis, Vice Chair of the Great Barrington Selectboard, was refreshing. She wrote, “I am not proud of that decision,” and she took the opportunity to define for herself and for us the central obligation of an elected official in a democracy. “As an elected official, my job is to represent the interests of my constituents and make decisions on their behalf. In this instance, I did not meet that responsibility. I apologize to the citizens of Great Barrington …”
In the Supreme Court, a dissent is an explanation of why a minority could not join in the majority decision. Dissents are published and valued. Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg became an icon, standing out from the nine, not for her “wins” alone, but also for the clarity of her dissents.
For example, in a 2013 decision, Chief Justice John Roberts led a majority decision invalidating a key part of the Voting Rights Act. In dissent, Ginsburg wrote: “The sad irony of today’s decision lies in (the court’s) utter failure to grasp why the (law) has proven effective …throwing out preclearance when it has worked and is continuing to work to stop discriminatory changes is like throwing away your umbrella in a rainstorm because you are not getting wet.”
I saw two bumper stickers on a car in the 1980s. The first said, “He who has the most in the end wins.” The second said, “You can’t take it with you.” If we accept the second, what then is the value of the first? We look around for who and what to blame. Why are we caught in these difficult times? Why might we be called upon to fight for our country and our way of life? Perhaps that is not the bad part; maybe the bad part is wishing to have everything given to us without struggle.
Recently, the Commonwealth sent a letter to all municipalities. It informed town officials that the Supreme Court of the Commonwealth decided, in a public meeting, speakers must be allowed to speak even if they are rude, even if their language is salty, and even if they insult others. Officially, freedom of speech trumps civility.
Maybe that’s right. Maybe, by right, we can shout and call people names. Maybe, but there are still limits. The Court struck nothing down, there are still limits. We are limited in that we must be recognized by the chair in order to speak. We must speak about an item on the agenda, and we must be brief. If we go on too long or speak about something extraneous, the chair has the right and responsibility to cut us off. If we do not sit down and be silent, we can be removed.
In spite of the new liberties, the extant limits will be enough to keep a meeting constructive and on track. Enough to prevent a meeting from deteriorating into chaos. Perhaps venting one’s individual displeasure in a public meeting is part of the reconciliation between rights and responsibilities — between the latitude of the individual and the welfare of the group. On the other hand, who or what is served by raised voices and a colorful vocabulary? On the other hand, the point of coming together was to do the people’s work, what behavior aids that end?
One chair read the notice out loud at a meeting but added his hope that all would be civil anyway. Another chair said, “it says you have the right to speak, but nowhere does it say I have to listen.” He held aloft his head set and his book-on-tape. “I’ll tune out if folks are unruly and back in when people stop shouting.” Both comments comported with the Massachusetts Supreme Court decision that concluded with the words: “Civility should be encouraged.”
Where is the balance? What defines constructive? What preserves the rights of the individual but still allows for collective work to get done? Moreover, what is the relationship between the difficult times we face and our need to be right, to win at any price, to be handed the best of things?
There may be a relationship between denigrating, losing, worshiping money, and seeking always to be right, and where we find ourselves. If there is, we should look to ourselves: The fault may lie there. But wherever it lies, it is in our hands to fight for what is right. To learn to value what is gentler, simpler, and more subtle. To learn to value what is like and what is different in others. To accept the necessity to work for—even fight for—what is good and just.
Our forefathers promised nothing more. Franklin said, “a Republic if you can keep it.”
