Opinion

How our ego-fueled rage is destroying democracy

Opinion

Vusi Shongwe|Published

The decline of civility in political debate has given rise to caustic rhetoric that not only hinders the resolution of civic disputes but also disillusionment among voters.

Image: File/Independent Media

“That we see that it may readily happen, that a man may easily think too highly of himself, or a loved object, and, contrariwise, too meanly of a hated object. This feeling is called ‘pride’, in reference to the man who thinks too highly of himself and is a species of madness.” — Baruch Spinoza (1632–1677)

IN THE everydayness of life, a corrosive lack of civility has seeped into every segment of society — from politics to academia, from media to the blogosphere, from talk radio to the pulpit.

We are relentlessly exposed to a world of raw emotions where visceral dislike becomes hatred, anger escalates into narcissistic rage, opponents morph into enemies, and dismay teeters on despair.

It is a world where individuals hear ideologically only what they want to hear, always confirmed, never contradicted. As M Wheatley notes in his article Lost and Found in a Brave New World (Leader to Leader), the public is catching a glimpse of a “world closing shut, where individuals, groups, ethnicities, and governments fortify their positions behind impermeable boundaries”. Nothing exemplifies this miasma more than our rancorous politics.

The decline of civility in political debate has given rise to caustic rhetoric that not only hinders the resolution of civic disputes but also disillusionment among voters. Today, intolerance, self-indulgent anger, and vitriolic rants threaten the very civility on which democratic government depends. Yet, I believe it is still worth calling for a more civilised discourse in civic affairs and politics. The central question, however, remains: Can civility be taught, and learned?

Incivility stirs up anger and anxiety like a virus — even polite, well-educated people can become infected. Consider the professor who constantly reminds everyone that he holds three doctoral degrees. A genuinely educated person would not feel the need to announce it so loudly. It is often those whose education was interrupted by schooling who insist on broadcasting their credentials.

The philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson captures this well: “Who you are speaks louder; I can’t hear what you are saying.” It is one’s ethos, the way one carries oneself, that truly matters. Emerson expands: “Don’t say things. What you are stands over you the while, and thunders so that I cannot hear what you say to the contrary.”

Indeed, actions thunder so loudly that they drown out words. I pity that professor. Some of the most intelligent people I have met never attended university. Their wisdom shames many academics. My philosophy is simple: Every person I meet is my educator, regardless of formal learning. I am often enriched by drinking from the wells of the “uneducated” — those who never set foot in a classroom.

If that professor had three doctorates in aerospace engineering from MIT, I would remain silent. But he specialises in music, like many of us with modest doctoral qualifications in the humanities, yet we don’t boast because the world has a funny way of exposing intellectual marasmus.

A local elder once asked, upon hearing someone’s child had graduated: “Can he make a candle?” That question deserves its own discussion — it touches on the dysfunctionality, even irrelevance, of modern education. What kind of education produces a doctoral graduate who cannot fix a burst water pipe?

Mahmood Mamdani, the humble and insightful Ugandan academic, puts it well: “What happens when seekers of knowledge turn around and claim to be custodians of knowledge? Knowledge seeking is a profoundly humble and subversive activity. Its starting point, Socratic in nature, is both the admission of ignorance in self and the questioning of truth. Knowledge custody, on the other hand, is more of a self-appointed priestly affair — both arrogant and conservative.”

This pernicious shift, from knowledge-seeking to knowledge-custody, is precisely the stance the professor I mentioned claims to embody. While rummaging through old files, I found a book belonging to my late mother — may her soul rest in peace. Inside was a prayer by Thomas Merton I wish the professor would heed: “Deliver me from pride, which is the heaviest of burdens.”

Merton also wrote: “In humility is perfect freedom.” Perhaps this echoes Paul’s counsel to the early Christians at Philippi: “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others”

Such advice sounds quaint and even foolish in a world that celebrates self-assertion, applauds self-importance, and equates self-esteem with superiority. Humility seems dangerous in a culture that equates success with dominance. But I’ve come to realise: Only when we cross the threshold into humility do we begin to live fully.

Scholars agree that while civility cannot be legislated, it can be taught and learned. Take George Washington, who, as a young student in Virginia, copied out a list of 110 “Rules of Civility and Decent Behaviour in Company and Conversation,” originally compiled by French Jesuits in 1595 and later reprinted in English. These rules profoundly influenced Washington at age 14 and shaped the character of America’s first president throughout his life.

These Rules of Civility remain just as relevant today.

Civility is not simply about manners; it reflects the character of who we are. In practice, civility gives life to core values through our behaviour. History shows that civility can indeed be taught and learned. Embracing it begins with self-reflection: What values guide my life? What principles do I stand for?

As Viktor Frankl wrote in Man’s Search for Meaning, what matters is not what we expect from life, but rather what life expects from us. Life calls on us to use our words and actions to enrich the lives of others.

Values such as honesty, integrity, justice, trust, community, and civility inspire the highest forms of human conduct and relationships. In the everydayness of life, civility means valuing respectful relationships and affirming the dignity of others' work.

* Dr Vusi Shongwe works in the Department of Sport, Arts, and Culture in KwaZulu-Natal and writes in his personal capacity.

** The views expressed here do not reflect those of the Sunday Independent, IOL, or Independent Media.

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