If you are reading this, then you must share with me a number of qualities such as humanity and literacy and such. Another important quality that you and I share, kind reader, is fallibility. Our humanity makes us subject to making mistakes; to be wrong about things from time to time is part of the mortal condition we all have in common.
As I consider debates in the public marketplace of ideas, over politics and religion and morality, I notice that many people, liberal and conservative, theist and atheist, invest far too much of their egos into the substance of their positions to a degree that they neglect the fundamental truth of my first paragraph. People get swept up in the heat of an argument and refuse to consider that at least sometimes, they are wrong.
I am writing this blog as a reminder to myself, and as an admonishment to others, that it is okay, even desirable to admit when one is wrong. There is no shame in making a mistake from time to time.
However, there is shame in refusing to admit errors. There is even more shame in refusing to consider oneself capable of making errors. The first case is lying (to oneself and others); the second case is hubris.
Let me take two examples from the heated realm of politics to illustrate my point. Compare and contrast Bill Clinton and Newt Gingrich. Both were powerful political figures, and both indulged in adulterous sexual affairs. (And as a nod to bipartisanship, they were in different political parties).
The moral failures of Bill Clinton were not limited to his adultery, but also included lying to cover up that notorious conduct. This is the key point. Had Clinton admitted his error in cheating on his wife, his consequences would have been limited to begging his wife for her forgiveness. While this process might have been personally painful and humiliating, it pales in comparison to the consequences he incurred for trying to lie his way out. In addition to incurring the wrath of his wife (with the imperative to beg forgiveness as mentioned before), he also became the second president to be impeached for lying under oath. Instead of avoiding the humiliation of admitting his error, he compounded it and that nearly cost him his presidency.
With respect to Gingrich, his infidelity destroyed his first two marriages leaving two shattered families in the wake, and appears to be a major contributing factor in the frustration of his presidential ambitions (much like Clinton’s lying wrecked his presidency). Gingrich (and many of his supporters) refuses to acknowledge the severity of his transgressions, instead preferring to make excuses (“I really loved my country, so this is why I cheated”) or by making spurious claims about being “forgiven.” Gingrich should not be deluded by the notion that he is forgiven, because he is not. In the first place, forgiveness can only come from the party who was offended. If my neighbor cheats on his wife, am I the party who should take offense? No, of course not; his infidelity is none of my concern. He must seek forgiveness from his wife who is the aggrieved party. Clearly Gingrich has not received forgiveness from either of his abandoned wives, so why would anyone else have reason to offer him forgiveness?
Furthermore, forgiveness can only come after experiencing remorse and giving some expression to it. Gingrich is obviously not remorseful for his adultery because he has serialized it, cheating on one wife after another. Most importantly, by offering up lame excuses for his errors, Gingrich has failed to give proper expression to his remorse. He is not sorry because he hasn’t really said he was sorry.
Many times I read back over things I have written, opinions I have expressed, and I wince because I recognize that I have said something which I regret. I recall an occasion participating in a heated chat room discussion during I sarcastically suggested that the other person I was addressing didn’t know what she was talking about regarding the social problems of crime. She very curtly informed me that she was the mother of a murdered child.
I replied to her that I was wrong to have said what I did, and I apologized.
Which brings me back around to my original observation about heated debates in public places. In the circumstances of my chat, it would have been easy for me to formulate some elaborate reply that either ignored the painful truth of my boorishness, or attempted to deny the relevance or validity of her grief. Or, I could simply have slinked away, never to return to the conversation. I chose instead to admit my error because I value the truth above all other things, and the power of truth only comes from having the courage to give it voice.
I regret that the poisonous atmosphere of public debate in today’s society has become so infused with pride that candor has become a victim. While perhaps I cannot reverse that process entirely, I hope to influence it with these admissions and observations on my part.
I think the best way to get at the truth is to participate in an open discussion of ideas, exploring reason with the recognition that the integrity of the process and finding truth is far more important than vindicating one’s ego by ending an argument presuming victory.
Sometimes we are all wrong. Have the wisdom to recognize it when it happens, and have the courage to admit it.