What Real Discourse Looks Like
By TMP Editoral Board
If there’s one thing you remember from Tuesday’s Upper School Programming with Facing History and Ourselves, it’s probably a single phrase:
“Call in.”
The term presents a way to reduce the fear of being “called out”—targeted or shamed—for an unpopular or contrary opinion. Instead of “trashing” others’ perspectives, it suggests, we ought to invite people in by limiting our emotional impulses and setting boundaries around exchange.
This method certainly offers a better alternative to the reactivity of cancel culture, for it is far easier for all parties to feel seen, heard, and respected in an environment that emphasizes mutual exchange over moral superiority.
Yet as we strive towards widespread civil discourse within our community, we must look deeper. Tuesday’s presentation, while useful and well-intentioned, largely focused on the act of calling in—the ways in which we can politely push back against harmful ideas. In doing so, it neglects one incredibly crucial idea: if we want to foster real discourse, we must learn to not only disagree with others but also admit when we are wrong.
Where’s the dignity in engaging in conversation simply to point out others’ faults? Productive conversations rarely launch from just patronizing, pre-memorized “tell me more” questions; the art of civil discourse entails far more than simply learning how to express opposition (whether “with love” or not). We should pursue meaningful discussion to understand different perspectives and reject single-minded dogmas, not to impose our own narratives and ideas on our peers. This end can be achieved only by learning to challenge our own preconceived ideas, to accept that the world can rarely be defined by a binary lens. After all, true learning requires back-and-forth. Displaying respect means nothing if our beliefs remain stagnant.
To provide a proper basis for these crucial, uncomfortable conversations, Milton must dare to move beyond the scope of what’s safe. This institution must ensure that it hosts a wide range of compelling speakers with truly diverse worldviews and beliefs, while also exposing students to the often unmentioned events that happen across the globe. Only then can we gain a more comprehensive, holistic view of the status quo, and—most importantly—construct a foundation upon which we can begin piecing together our own unique views.
For their part, Milton families ought to respond to heterodox speakers with maturity; parents who scorn the school for stimulating ideological diversity undermine our goal to seek common ground. As students, we too have a responsibility to judge, question, and sometimes reject what we hear. Some ideologies, like those overtly racist, should never be given a platform at all. But remember that hosting an anti-abortion speaker, for example, does not necessarily mean that Milton wants to promote their ideals. Speakers are (and should be) bearers of new ideas, not vehicles that exclusively promote institutional agendas.
Ultimately, real discourse will always require a concrete base which valid beliefs can be built upon—and Milton has a responsibility to pursue that goal. We students cannot prepare for life outside Milton if we do not learn to listen to alternative opinions. As much as convincing others can be a worthwhile pursuit, there’s also a kind of grace in allowing ourselves to be convinced now and again, in learning to balance opposing beliefs before eventually making a choice of our own.