two ways to view the current situation

My buddy Mike writes a meditative piece on the idea that silence—his silence in particular—implies consent when it comes to current affairs (i.e., the rioting and other upheavals). Should he, as a conservative, be expressing himself more forcefully? He uses the Latin locution qui tacet consentit (he who remains silent consents) to focus on this question.

Mike pronounces himself

...a little disturbed by the subtext [that] “not speaking out” means that [I’m] “part of the problem.” Have we really gotten to the point where we have to announce our opinions on every matter that is reported on the news or in the moment seems to be of public concern? Thanks to social media[,] do we have to disclose to everyone what we think or feel about anything at any given time? Are we supposed to volunteer our opinions in times of heated, passionate, and sometimes irrational discourse so that they can be parsed by anyone with a grievance? Perhaps we are there now. That thought is troubling in a number of ways.

People have various prudential reasons for not tipping their hand, one of the most common such reasons being not to get in trouble at work. Several of my friends, probably because of their positions at work, remain diplomatically silent when it comes to current affairs. I don't view this behavior cynically, as if my friends were only selfishly focused on "holding on to a good thing." Keeping one's job isn't something one does merely for oneself, especially if one is married and/or has kids: with more mouths to feed, a person does have to worry about job security, so the concern is a practical one. I think I've been lucky, for the most part, to work in relative obscurity. For years, I've been able to express my opinion with little fear because (1) I'm not a well-known blogger, even after years of blogging; (2) most of the people around me don't speak my language very well and can't be bothered to read lengthy tracts in English, assuming they even know about my blog; and (3) most of the political material I write is about America, so it's not inflammatory from a Korean point of view. I don't spend my days typing "Fuck Moon Jae-in!" over and over, and my criticisms of Korean culture tend to be fairly lukewarm. The only time my job ever interfered with my blogging was when I worked at Daegu Catholic University. Several faculty members down there were frequent readers of my blog, as it turned out—including my immediate supervisor, who felt the need to pull me aside three times during my year there in order to ask me to rein in my opinions about my students and other school-related matters. This is somewhat funny: DCU wasn't and isn't a particularly famous, prominent, or prestigious school, so there's no reputation to save. I did knuckle under and try to keep my tone moderate, but as you can surmise, I had a hard time writing under constraints, which is why I was pulled aside three times.

Another reason to keep opinions to oneself is to avoid losing friends who have radically different worldviews. I've already lost a few friends; this happened back when I was on Twitter and began expressing opinions that my calm, centered left-liberal readers had no trouble with (precisely because they had calm, centered personalities), but which my more emotionally incontinent friends couldn't tolerate. I guess their response to our differences of opinion was more constructive than, say, some insane attempt to "cancel" me (cancel culture wasn't quite a thing by the time I left Twitter, but it was incipient), so I guess I should be thankful that all they did was unfollow me and stop talking/corresponding with me thereafter. I have at least one friend, right now, with whom I'm on very delicate terms. I honestly wonder whether he'd allow me into his home if I were to return to the States for vacation.

Me, I'm perfectly fine with spirited disagreement. I believe we can all happily coexist even if we each think the other's head is crammed deep up his own ass. So what if I think your political views are full of shit? So what if you think mine are? I practice tolerance, so I don't automatically view you as the enemy, and I hope you'll show me the same courtesy. Maybe I think you're horribly misguided, or even that you're following a dangerous path, but if you and I already call each other friends, then to me, that friendship comes first. Politics should never attain the status of a religion, and the problem today—mostly on the left currently, but also on the right—is that too many people have tossed aside traditional religion and blindly embraced the religion—or maybe it's the cult—of politics.

Can I be angered by another person's point of view? I won't lie to you: yes.* Opinions can and do piss me off, but if you look only as deeply as my emotional state, you'll fail to see the basic stance described in the preceding paragraph—the stance that prizes friendship. Maybe your views might piss me off, especially if we argue about them and I get heated, but the basic bedrock of our friendship means that, whatever our deep differences, when the crisis comes, I won't care that you harbor stupid leftist views: I'll take a bullet for you, anyway.

All of this is to say that I'm perfectly fine with the loud, gleeful, aggressive airing of political views. Spirited exchanges are part of the larger tapestry of political discourse in American society. I don't expect robotic or sheeplike dittohead harmony, with everyone agreeing about everything, nor do I expect society to degenerate into a gigantic, country-wide physical brawl because no one is able to articulate an intelligent viewpoint any longer. A verbally turbulent middle ground is absolutely fine by me. Just remember, though: if you fart loudly in the parlor, don't be surprised if I fart back.

A second point of view on how to face our current times, other than Mike's, comes from Dr. Vallicella, who just reposted something he had written this past November. His post boils down to a series of maxims:

1. Exercise your rights and in particular your Second Amendment rights; the latter provide the concrete backup to the others.
2. Vote in every election, but never for any Democrat. And don't throw away your vote on third-party losers.
3. Vote with your wallet. Contribute to conservative causes, but never give money to leftist causes, organizations, or publication outlets. Did your alma mater ask for a contribution? "Not one dime until you clean up your act."
4. Vote with your feet. Do you live in a sanctuary crap hole such as California? Leave.
5. Punish any leftist 'friends' you may still have by withdrawing your high-quality friendship from them. Let them experience consequences for their willful self-enstupidation.
6. Finally, show some civil courage and speak out: blog, [Facebook], tweet. But temper your rhetoric and don't incite violence.

Don't retreat into your private life lest you wake up one morning to find that there is no private life.

So I imagine Dr. V doesn't think a person ought to be silent. His post does, after all, have a rather activist tone. Again, though, I understand why a person might want to keep his opinions to himself for prudential reasons. This is pragmatism, not cowardice. In a comment to Mike's post, Bill Keezer offers a perceptive observation: "One should not feel coerced to express oneself publicly on any issue. Such coercion is akin to being forced to reveal one's vote in the polls." That's a very good point. So I guess that, for me, it all boils down to: you do you, which is the current, trendy way of saying be true to yourself.

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*In saying "be angered by," I'm using conventional language, here. In truth, I realize that I'm in control of and responsible for my own emotional reactions to things. Those reactions are a choice. I don't subscribe to the victim's viewpoint that "he made me angry, so I hit him." I am not a passive, helpless passenger inside my own head when it comes to my emotional states: I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.