"That's not how I see it" - The Grace of Differing Perspective

On Sept 1, 2016, San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick knelt for the national anthem instead of standing in respect. He had previously sat out the anthem in pre-season games, but at this game began kneeling in protest, a practice which he continued and which spread to other players.

What emotions do you feel, seeing this?

This touched off an ongoing firestorm of controversy, with people viewing the action in very divergent ways. Some saw the gesture as a brave act of protest, an unwillingness to stay silent in the face of injustice, especially regarding police shootings and the Black Lives Matter movement. Some players agreed with his motives and began to protest in a similar fashion, though not always for the same reasons.

Others, however, saw a highly-paid athlete disrespecting national symbols--and by extension the nation which had given him so much. They argued his refusal to respect the flag and anthem (and to some extent the NFL and the NFL audience) was disrespect of the country, its principles, the soldiers who died to protect it, etc. They considered it fundamentally wrong, regardless of his intent.

My Facebook feed is currently crowded with memes both supporting and decrying the NFL anthem protest. Social media is not a good place to look for balanced perspectives and careful thought on the best of days, and there isn't much of it out there right now. I don't think there's any point in even calling for it, to be honest, human nature being what it is. But there is something we do need to remind ourselves, which I believe could at least keep us from unfriending each other (another rising trend) and exacerbating the thought war online which has increasingly been taken to the streets.

"Thought Nations" - Diversity is more than skin deep.

I live in East Asia. One look is enough to know my ethnicity is not from around here (some kids like to poke my "tall nose" when their parents aren't around to scold them), but the differences don't stop at the physically observable. The Chinese metacultural worldview has some deep fundamental differences from that of the West. Differences that go the core of one's worldview, the kind I enjoy learning about but couldn't entirely adopt even if I wanted to; they're too deep for me to reach. One example would be views on authority and freedom. Many if not most Chinese/Taiwanese/East Asian people believe societal order is considerably more important than freedom. Authorities ought to rescind freedoms if people began to act wantonly, they say, in fact that's an important responsibility of authority. (That in Taiwan democracy coexists with this cultural worldview leads to interesting results)

While people expect some big differences in Chinese and Western values and outlook, they sometimes fall prey to the somewhat-propagandic notion that America has common values and principles. We can say "we are one" all we want, but in truth America has always had different subcultures, and when progressive ideals shifted from melting pot to identity politics, all hope of forging some kind of common identity was lost. (Believers are called to be One in Christ too, but the Church is not exactly a paragon of social unity; why should we expect it from ever-shifting society lacking that underlying spiritual reality?)

What we have now, then, is an array of subcultures. Much has been made of trying to divide America up into its underlying geographical component nations, for example the popular "11 nations of the United States" map. Yet in 2017 these historically-derived distinctions may not be the most practically important; what should we say about various "blocs" of Obama or Trump voters, for example, who can barely maintain speaking terms? They may not fall into any convenient historical or geographical areas, but they do have internally cohesive and mutually incompatible worldviews. Effectively, they are different nations scattered throughout one nation-state. What we saw in the aftermath of President Trump's election was one or more "thought nations" within America refusing to accept the results. "Not my president" meant, "not the president of my nation," the thought-nation that is more real to me than the less personally relevant legal reality of the actual U.S.

It has been reported that former president Obama is currently taking unprecedented (for a former president) steps to oppose President Trump and fund and lead opposition to cause problems for him and his agenda. Obama can do this more or less openly and with great support from many Americans, perhaps including some of you reading this, because he is a leader of their nation, which they consider the True America. Most people from the area where I grew up would see things in the opposite way; Obama's progressive ideals were imperiling True America. Their dislike (to put it mildly) for him was not racism, but due to his position as a leader in the assault on "their America," which like most other groups, they call "America."
Kaepernick kneels for a similar reason; because the America he sees does not resemble the American nation of his own ideals. The America others see may correspond closely with theirs, however, or diverge even more widely than for him. There are diverse nations which share our nation-state in an alliance of necessity which grows less feasible the more they imagine themselves to be the one true nation.

A Ray of Hope - Acknowledging Perspective

While fights over resources between rival groups are unavoidable in the history of humanity, there is a relatively simple and straightforward way to avoid losing friends and making enemies in this brave new ideological world--simply acknowledge that some people live in the same country but a different nation than you do, and they see things very differently. I have friends with worldviews that diverge to the point of complete incompatibility with mine. If you put us on a committee that had to make policy decisions, we'd be constantly sparring opponents at best, if not outright enemies. And it's no good to say "we're all Christians." As I've explained in previous blogs, your convictions, Christian and otherwise, are all twisted together; we can study the same passages of scripture and come away with very different conclusions and priorities, because we never really set those aside without long-term effort and the help of the Spirit, and even then it can creep back in, as it does with famous pastors who after long years of careful exegesis are not immune to blind spots.

But I can recognize that other people's views and values have deep differences from mine, no different in some ways than my Taiwanese friends, and accept them in that sense, if they can accept a similar arrangement on their side. We are really from different cultures, and things are getting to the point where it's more harmful to pretend that's not the case than otherwise.

Is this a complete embracing of postmodernism (even as we leave it behind now for the as-of-yet-unnamed current age), an admittance that there is no truth, only different perspectives, a "diversity of truth"?
"By no means," but we can certainly admit that there is a diversity of priorities. To take our initial example, for some people respecting national symbols is an important priority. For some people that simply isn't much of a priority at all, they never grew up caring about that sort of thing, while for some it's the very importance of those symbols that make them important focal points for protests.

What's happening on my Facebook wall regarding the NFL protests is neither racism nor treason, it's simply people with different cultures and priorities looking at the same action in very different ways, but not really acknowledging that those different cultures and priorities exist. Yet doing so would allow what feel like betraying comrades to become, in a sense, foreign friends. We live in diverse thought-nations while inhabiting the same physical and online spaces. Acknowledging the difference in perspective that comes from that is in fact an acknowledgment of universal truth.

A Useful Theological Example

(Credit for this pic: brazilcarroll)

Scripture makes a lot of what are sometimes called "gnomic" truth statements: not statements wearing little pointy red hats, but timelessly true or proverbial statements which communicate the nature of reality. ("God is good," "birds fly," etc) And whether birds fly is not a matter of your perspective on birds, it is a general truth about the vast majority of birds; at best you could try to pick apart language as a thought exercise, constructing some scenario where what we call what birds do something else, or else deconstructing the idea of flight, but birds still would be flying around outside untroubled by your sophistry.

This recognition that there are divergent perspectives from which to look at the same issue gets hairy when we attempt the sacred challenge of maintaining sound theology. Scripture itself does not allow for a multiplicity of mutually exclusive interpretations of the same passage, even though that's exactly what we have in the Church now, for basically the reasons described earlier in this post. Scripture is making claims about the world, not presenting them for round table discussion. You can discuss them anyway, of course, you can even judge scripture from the standpoint of values themselves mutually incompatible with scripture ("Paul was a misogynist," and other such incoherencies), but the Bible itself teaches us that to do so is neither to believe it nor even to take it seriously.

No, there is a different kind of perspective consideration I'm more interested in, because it resolves some thorny theological debates by reminding us that a valid alternative perspective does exist in scripture--not that of some people vs. other people, but of men vs. God.

While we cannot hope to see from God's perspective even approximately, it is well to remember that He has one. If we accept that He interacts with created man within created space-time, yet Himself exists in a timeless state apart from His own creation, some endless debates resolve themselves almost automatically.

Prophecy, for example, from a time-bound perspective, is something God "knows will happen." Even in a time-bound sense it is not merely that--a lot of prophecy is actually what we called "gnomic truth" above, pronouncements of what has always been true.

But from a timeless perspective, all prophecy is simply a communication by God of what is, either always, or at a specific point in time we humans have not yet reached. We humans have to travel through history to get there, and for some prophecies it seems we travel through multiple instances of the same prophecy being fulfilled, suspiciously like reality unfolds in a way that will suddenly make sense when our eyes are opened. But God isn't waiting for these things to happen as we are; He is omnipresent in time as well as space, but He created both and exists beyond both. The Lamb was slain before the foundations of the world.

Taking this perspective, then, or at least recognizing it, the "problem" of election goes away. To speak of God "looking down the halls of time" is forcing God into a human perspective to which He is not limited. He does not need to look down halls, His presence is in all time as in all space.


***Well it's late, time for some reading before bed, and this post is long enough. I hope to examine the topic again in more detail, as I believe it is very useful for examining the question of free will vs. sovereignty. But for now, if you can't believe you have friends who could possibly hold the opinions they do, consider whether they might not really be foreign friends--from a different thought nation than you, and approach them as if they are from another part of the world. In at least one very pragmatic sense, they are.

Struggles Not In Common

A Carnival of Symbology

A trip to a night market in Taiwan is consistently one of the most memorable experiences for newcomers to the island. The barrage of colorful sights, music competing from different shops, smells of food cooking, of cigarette smoke, of flowing crowds like rivers of humanity, make for an absorbing, fascinating, and sometimes overwhelming introduction to Taiwan and "how things are" here.

Among the stalls you can find nearly everything; from delicate fruit, honey, and shaved ice creations to fried chicken butts on a stick, tacky souvenirs to designer handbags, discount kitchenware to silk ties... the only thing you're not likely to find is a spot quiet enough to make a phone call without shouting.

Among all this even a cursory examination of some of the smaller stalls will reveal a wide array of cigarette lighters, from led light-enhanced chrome zippos to cheap plastic bic-types, covered in random designs drawn from the global soup of symbology, everything from Snoopy to the Nazi flag.

An Arresting Symbol

Wait, the Nazi flag? You might be highly offended at this. It was certainly jarring to see on my first visit to Taiwan. But do you know the history behind the Nazi flag design and its instantly recognizable swastika? It's not a symbol the Nazis made up, but a very, very old one co-opted by Hitler, with his fascination for ancient objects and symbols of power, and exploited in the Nazis' self-serving reconception of history according to their twisted ideals.

The term swastika actually comes from a Sanskrit word, svastika, which denotes a good luck charm or mark, and the symbol itself is thousands of years old, found across the ancient world from Roman mosaics to Japanese clan symbols. It was used for thousands of years as a religious or lucky symbol with various connotations, and became closely identified with Buddhism. Across East Asia, including my city district, it still is:

Does this offend you? Do you wince a little automatically when you see it? What might go through a visiting Jewish person's mind? Should Westerners for whom the symbol is 100% synonymous with hate, racism, and death camps try to get Buddhist people in Asia to stop using it, when that's not what it means to Buddhist people at all?

In Taiwan, the symbol can be seen fairly frequently. It's one of the most compelling reminders that I am not in the West, that I am in a place where even symbology is different, where what "everyone" instantly recognizes as a symbol of historic evil is instead regarded as a positive symbol and displayed in various religious contexts, even used on area maps in the subway stations to denote the locations of Buddhist temples. (Christian churches are marked with crosses).

The emotional impact of the symbol having been co-opted by the Nazis is simply absent here, to the extent that at times the graphic being used is the actual Nazi flag. While some might simply be trying to borrow a recognizable or "rebellious" symbol to put on the lighters or other places, its use in some other situations convinced me that often it's just a case of someone thinking it was a colorful version of the normal Asian religious symbol. The horrible and unbreakable associations of the symbol for Westerners don't exist here, because this is not the West. Though there was frequently contact and a bit of overlap, for the most part Far Eastern history is not Western history, and Western history is not Far Eastern history. Many horrible historical incidents and times of suffering in East Asia are enshrined in the cultural consciousness of people here, events of which most Westerners have never even heard, and vice versa. Our struggles are different, and the legacies of history that affect us today are different. That is part of what it means to be a member of a different culture.

When Symbol Interpretations Collide, Identities Suffer

What we might call "symbol conflict" is just one of the many discontinuities one encounters and must endure when crossing cultures. And now the internet, with its vast resources of instantly accessible information, provides uncountable opportunities for these encounters with no context whatsoever. If you saw a bunch of monks with swastikas on their heads, and didn't know the history of the symbol, you might be incredibly confused. Your imaginative explanation probably could not be devoid of references to Hitler, Nazis, or white supremacy movements, because that's the only context you know for that symbol.

Globalism means that our symbols, our cultural memes and shared understandings of things, more and more often rub up against different interpretations and understandings of the world. Sometimes these are mutually exclusive. Sometimes one interpretation wins, as we've seen in the US with the recently revived debate over the Confederate flag. To a minority, it's a meaningful and important symbol of the heritage of their land and culture, something that ties them to their forebearers and unites them as a group. That race-based slavery was part of that culture in the past is not seen as something positive, but is also not the primary association being made, any more than the primary association of the American flag for Americans is the conquest and slaughter of America's indigenous inhabitants. To the majority, however, the Confederate flag is simply a symbol of racism and slavery, and that interpretation has won out. Even as I write this, the flag is being taken down around the South in many official contexts where it was still being used, as Southerners in positions of authority decide that, rightly or wrongly, perceptions are not going to be changed by more explaining. (Whether demands to eliminate all symbols of Southern history will be taken seriously remains to be seen. There are many who desire, like a new Pharaoh, to have the names of old rivals chiseled away, erased from history itself.)

So the minority is being forced to abandon their symbol, because what it communicated to the majority outside the culture was not the same as what it communicated within their culture. And it may be that the majority is not particularly concerned with what the minority might think about these symbols as regards their identity, because any separate identity along those lines is also considered negative and desired to disappear. There are parallels to this in history. At the beginning of the Meiji era of Japanese history, when its rulers decided that Japan would become a modern nation and sought to imitate many Western ways and customs, many of the old feudal rules concerning the samurai were discarded en masse and new rules banning the distinctive samurai hairstyle and the wearing of swords put in place. Many samurai resisted to the utmost of their abilities, and there were large-scale rebellions; their very identity was bound up in these symbols, and their disappearance marked not only the end of their own role in society but the fading of an entire historical era into the past, never to return. No one likes to be declared a living obsoletion, socially undead. But the changes were inevitable, and the samurai were ended, and died off; victims, in a sense, of globalism in its early stages.

Samurai from the Satsuma clan, who initially fought with the Imperial Army
against a samurai army resisting the Meiji era government, then themselves
rebelled after realizing the new government would end the samurai way of life.
(This is the historical basis of the movie The Last Samurai, as described here)

Tolerance vs. the Will of the Majority

The swastika has not disappeared, however; it is a common sight in this part of the world. To be honest, I haven't gotten used to it yet, perhaps I never will. Perhaps I shouldn't, even outside of my home culture context. But I recognize that what it evokes for me is simply not what it evokes for the vast majority of people who grew up here. That's part of what it means to live as a minority in a culture different than one's home culture; in a nutshell, it doesn't matter what I think. It doesn't matter what the entire foreign expat community here thinks. If I began defacing every swastika I saw, I would be put in jail, and rightly so. It doesn't matter how it makes me feel, because my feelings are not those of the people of my host culture. I am not in the context from which those negative associations arose. Our historical struggles have been different; we've overcome different hardships and weathered different storms, and we've developed different symbols or have come to associate the same ones with very different meanings.

Truly accepting diversity means not pretending we are all the same. It means recognizing that some cultures and historical legacies are so different from ours that a powerfully negative symbol of hate in our culture can be a powerful symbol of blessing in theirs. If we understand this, we can accept it. But many people don't actually accept it. They simply abide what they can't change, but then change it at the first opportunity. "On earth as is best in my opinion." They can't accept any viewpoint other than their own, and so when they use the term diversity what they really mean is homogeneity; that there are and should be no differences between people, because lacking the supernatural love of Christ or even a culture of respect, which can stretch across wide barriers of creed or color, they have no means of handling real differences. Sometimes those who shout the loudest about diversity are actually proclaiming their inability to tolerate it. (They typically reveal themselves by trying to silence anyone who truly disagrees with them.)

A Struggle We Do Share

Everyone is not the same. Sometimes our worldviews are radically different and irreconcilable. Living and ministering in Taiwan means both trying to learn and understand the different worldviews of people in my new context, accepting what I can accept, and showing the love of Christ always -and respect where it is due- to those people who hold views I can't accept. After all, I still hold views Christ can't accept, and His love for me doesn't vary on that basis.

So our struggle is not whether we can love someone or not based on whether their ideas and cultural views are reconcilable with ours or not. The story of the Good Samaritan, told in response to someone asking Jesus who could be considered their neighbor (an attempt to narrow the love requirement down to as few people as possible), is about someone whose very identity as a "tainted blood" Jew was repugnant and unacceptable to Jesus' Jewish audience. The struggle is whether or not we can love our neighbors, whoever they might be and whatever they might think about the world. Tolerance can only accept differences, it cannot heal wounds. But the love of Christ expressed through we who know it can take the initiative; it does not need to pretend there are no barriers to leap across them and turn the different, into family.