The Reason I Don’t Believe in Civility is That I Do Believe in Civility

Civility is the academic flavor of the month. As we head back to school, university leaders are calling for it, and, as Ali Abunimah shows, Salaita’s critics—and defenders of Israel more generally—are especially hot on it.

I have complicated feelings about civility. On the hand, it’s perfectly clear to me, as these various links, particularly Ali’s, demonstrate, that the call for civility is little more than an effort to muzzle critics, to turn vibrant campuses into intellectual morgues.

On the other hand, my mother brought me up to be polite, to be considerate of other people’s feelings, to listen, to wait my turn when I speak, not to be over-bearing, not to crowd someone with my speech but to give her the space to voice hers. And occasionally my mother will send me an email or tell me in a phone call—politely, of course—that perhaps I could be a little gentler in my comments.

Now, as readers of this blog will know, and as my mother sometimes will point out—politely, of course—I don’t always live up to my mom’s standards.

But, and this is a big but, I do try, whenever I am entering someone else’s conversation—whether it’s on Twitter, a blog, Facebook, wherever—to be civil. Because I’ve still got this bourgeois thing where I feel like if it’s their conversation, or their blog or Twitter feed or Facebook page, it’s kind of like their home. And I’m their guest. So, inevitably, I preface my remarks with a series of coughs and throat clears, with a “You may have already covered this” or “I know I’m late to the conversation, so forgive me if someone has pointed out this already,” and so forth. And if I don’t know my host or her guests personally, I invariably begin with an apology along the lines of “Hi, you don’t know me, but my name is Corey, I’m a professor of political science, and I realize I’m crashing your conversation, so forgive me for the intrusion. But….” And not just as a mode of politeness, but as way of interacting intellectually and politically: I try to make sure I understand where people are coming from, I try not to impose my beliefs, and so on.

Because that’s how my mom raised me. I’m one of those of people who always feels slightly embarrassed on a picket line or in a demonstration—simply because I’m making noise. And that’s not polite. Or nice.

But here’s the thing about the people who call for civility on the internet, particularly the people who are now raising such a ruckus about Salaita and about Israel more generally: they’re completely uncivil. As in rude.

Often, they just show up on my blog or my FB page or in my Twitter feed, out of nowhere. I’ve never heard of them; they make no effort to introduce themselves. And worse, they make no effort to even understand the conversation. They just plop into the house, like Aunt Agatha on Bewitched, clambering down the chimney and making a mess, and start yelling at me or my interlocutors. Possessed by what seems to be a usually unearned confidence in their own intelligence and perspicuity, they assume they know exactly who I am, what I think, and just barrel on. Actually, I don’t sense that they’ve given me even one thought. They just plow on. And then, after I or my interlocutors make some attempt to explain where we’re coming from, to insert ourselves into the monologue, they just keep going, or disappear. Without ever saying goodbye or thank you.

Me, I would be mortified to act like this. Because that’s how my mom raised me. Because I actually, kinda, sorta, in my upper-middle-class heart of hearts, believe in civility. Them? They seem utterly incapable of embarrassment or shame. Because they don’t.

To be honest, that’s why I’m really skeptical about the call for civility: not because it’s a tool to silent dissent, but because the people who call for it almost never practice it themselves.