Tolerance Rightly Understood

A great Indian sage of the 20th
century, Ramana Maharshi, once said that wanting to reform the world without
first knowing oneself is “like trying to cover the world with leather to avoid
the pain of walking on stones and thorns.
It is much simpler to wear shoes.”[1]
Tolerance is a word bandied about a lot in this age of
diversity, and everyone seems to agree that it is good and important, but few
stop to consider what it actually means.
What, why, and in what manner ought we to tolerate, and, most
importantly, at what point does toleration end?
Of the many different respects in which we may think of
tolerance, I should like to address academic tolerance.
I will assume everyone knows that to restrain men from injuring one
another is one of the first purposes of government; and let the question of
what degree of injury is to be tolerated before intervention, though important,
be a discussion better reserved for our courts and other institutions of civil
law. By academic tolerance, I mean the
type most suited to a university setting, where young men and women convene to
train their minds and reform their heart -- sas Shakespeare says, “to seek the light of truth”.[2] What
spirit of tolerance will best enable them to seek that light, and to find
it?
Tolerance in this sense is a virtue, and like all virtues
has no just limits beyond our human weakness in the practice of it. Its limits are complete in what it is and
what it is not, and when rightly understood, you can no more have too much of
tolerance than you can of prudence, or of the golden rule. Tolerance understood wrongly, however, when
not kept within the limits of a proper understanding, can be pernicious -- even fatal -- to a civilization.
I am concerned, then, not with the practice, which depends on the
individual will alone, but the theory -- the stars by which we steer ourselves through the gale
of worldly imperfection.
The first of those stars I will consider is human
receptivity to truth, the next is the responsibility of self-governance, and
finally, I will argue that tolerance, when not understood rightly, tends toward
relativism, and that there is a grave danger in confusing the two.
First, then, we may gain great wisdom on the matter by
looking to the great thinkers of the West, for the question of what to tolerate
is nothing new. St. Augustine of Hippo
faced it in the 5th century when, amidst the crumbling ruins of the
Roman Empire, the problem arose among Christians of what to do with the
seemingly seductive treasures of pagan learning. Augustine’s answer was that we ought not only
to tolerate, but to positively enjoy, apply, and assimilate that learning, to
seek out truth wherever it may be found, for all Truth is God’s Truth.[3] St. Thomas Aquinas took this idea a step
further in the 13th century when, amidst a newly-revived admiration
of Aristotle, the question arose of what to do when faith and reason
contradict. Aquinas’s answer was that
they cannot. Just as Aristotle fifteen
centuries earlier had maintained that truth can never contradict truth, so
Aquinas maintained that truth found by one means -- faith -- cannot contradict truth found by another -- reason.[4] St. Thomas went on to give us another great
piece of wisdom, one which was the watchword of the Scholastics, and should be
of every college student: “In argument, never deny, seldom affirm, always
distinguish.” This sentiment rests in
the idea that there exists within the Created order a universal Law,
perceivable by human intelligence, and that therefore we can find a piece of
truth in every error. Not only, then, is
there neither truth nor error to be feared, so long as we carefully distinguish
at what point each goes wrong, but we may actually learn much from others'
errors, by examining how they came to their conclusions. So Augustine and Aquinas were very clear about
a way of approaching truth which I think captures the spirit of tolerance
marvelously: first, to be receptive to all truth no matter where it be found,
and second, to acknowledge partial truth in another’s error. To make this imaginative effort, then, is one
of the keys to tolerance, since truth is to be courted, not commanded.
Our founding fathers also addressed the question of
tolerance, when considering the best system for men to be governed. Listen to the words of Thomas Jefferson in
his First Inaugural Address, 1801: “If there be any among us who wish to
dissolve this Union or to change its republican form, let them stand
undisturbed, as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion may be
tolerated where reason is left free to combat it.”[5] As much as Jefferson loved the Union, which
he had invested much of his life in procuring, he was willing to let stand
those who disagreed with him, even if they were wrong, confident in the
knowledge that, in time, reason and truth prevail over folly and error. The very system of government they set up was
itself a testament to the power of tolerance.
By shifting the method of rule from bullets to ballots, putting the
ruling power into the hands of the majority, and separating the powers of
government into distinct branches and levels, they intended that any decision
to be given the force of law would truly be the persuaded will of the people. The idea behind this is stated again
beautifully by Jefferson: “Sometimes it is said that man cannot be trusted with
the government of himself. Can he, then,
be trusted with the government of others? Or have we found angels in the form
of kings to govern him? Let history answer this question.”[6] We have strayed a long way from this
sentiment today, in our age of bureaucratic government, for the rule not only
of kings but of bureaucrats is rooted in the idea that man cannot govern
himself. Even if he could not, the
statement of Shakespeare’s would still be true, that “…gentleness [shall]
force, more than force move [one] to gentleness”;[7] but the
founders were convinced that he can, and that it is best he do so. Even Aristotle writes that example is the
best teacher, and this is another practical reason to focus one’s attention on
reforming oneself before others. When we
do so, we will find, as Benjamin Franklin did, that we have many more faults
than we thought, and that to mend them is more than enough work for one
person. And as the opening quotation
from Maharshi suggests, changing the world is impracticable compared to
changing oneself.
Lastly, then, a word on the limits of tolerance, or,
rather, what tolerance is not. We are
particularly used to talking about tolerance because our age is so
diverse. Immigration has played a great
role in American history from its first beginnings, and as we persist in the
idea that all men are created equal, we continue to receive men and women from
all over the globe who seek to escape the oppression of their homelands for
freedom and opportunity. But there is a
grave danger that creeps up under the guise of tolerance, and that is the idea
that not only all races are to be considered equal before God and before the
law, but also that all cultures, opinions, books, ideas are of equal
merit. Nothing could be more false. We are told not to judge others, either
because their idea is, from the start, just as good as ours, or because they
have no control over their own opinions.
Nothing could be more destructive.
For it is precisely the fact that some ideas are better than
others, and that we can change our opinions by seeking the truth, that
gives us reason to use our minds in the first place.
Now let no one think that in saying we must be able to
judge others, I mean that we ought to bully them or yell or lock them up. I have just finished an encomium of praise
for gentleness, patience, acceptance, and persuasion, over force,
narrow-mindedness, and bigotry. I am
only defending our right to judge in the sense of distinguishing, of perceiving
the relative merits of things, and of speaking of these things publicly. In a course with the historian Victor Davis
Hanson last term on the modern problem of terrorism, one of the great lessons I
learned was what a hazard it is to a society when it cannot say unpleasant
facts openly. As Dr. Hanson used to say,
if there is a bombing tomorrow in some major Western city, I’ll bet you nine
times out of ten it will have been done by someone named Mohammed. But if anyone says that publicly, they are
immediately labeled as racist, bigoted, and imperialist. Have we, in our age, become so conditioned to
a false understanding of tolerance, so afraid of judging, so afraid of dissent,
that we no longer have the courage to make value judgements publicly? If so, this is nothing other than the
surrender of the use of our minds, upon which civilization rests. What kind of absurdity would it seem to
historians, perhaps studying our civilization a few thousand years from now, to
find a people who gave up their ability, or rather their willingness, to know
the good, the true, and the beautiful?
In the end, then, what the wisdom of the ancients and the
founders urges is this -- that, in our outward behavior, and in correcting our
fellow man, we should be gentle, loving, and civil; but, inwardly, the life of
the mind must be preserved, that is, it must be making value judgements
ceaselessly. It is not enough just to
know facts; we must analyze, compare, and establish the relations between
facts.
Let me end with a reflection of the Christian philosopher
Josef Pieper which does just that, and which sums up succintly, precisely the
kind of tolerance I have been articulating.
The four cardinal virtues have been among the highest of values in the
West for centuries; but as Pieper points out in his book Ueber das
Christliche Menschenbild, those virtues are neither randomly selected nor
randomly ordered.[8] First, the virtuous man must have prudence---the
simple ability to see things as they are; next, he must cultivate justice,
which both understands and loves the Good, and acknowledges a hierarchy among
goods; then, he must have the courage to act in a way that promotes
those goods according to their true merits; and lastly, he must do so in a
manner of temperance which draws attention not to the doer but the value
behind the thing done. This, then, is
the sum of what tolerance ought to mean, and may we all embrace it heartily,
for without it, no nation can endure.
[1] Ramana Maharshi, quoted in trans. Stephen
Mitchell, Tao Te Ching (New York: Harper & Row, 1988), p. 96.
[2] William Shakespeare, Love’s Labour’s Lost
(New York: Dover, 2001), p. 3.
[3] Augustine, De Doctrina Christiana (New
York: Macmillan, 1958), p. 54.
[4] Thomas Aquinas, intro. Western Heritage: A
Reader (Hillsdale: Tapestry Press, 2000), p. 389.
[5] Thomas Jefferson, Writings (New York:
Library of America, 1984), p. 493.
[6] ibid.
[7] William Shakespeare, As You Like It (New
York: Penguin, 2000), p. 42.
[8] Josef Pieper, Ueber das Christliche
Menschenbild (Muenchen: Kuesel-Verlag, 1952), p. 23.
hen it cannot say unpleasant
facts openly. As Dr. Hanson used to say,
if there is a bombing tomorrow in some major Western city, I’ll bet you nine
times out of ten it will have been done by someone named Mohammed. But if anyone says that publicly, they are
immediately labeled as racist, bigoted, and imperialist. Have we, in our age, become so conditioned to
a false understanding of tolerance, so afraid of judging, so afraid of dissent,
that we no longer have the courage to make value judgements publicly? If so, this is nothing other than the
surrender of the use of our minds, upon which civilization rests. What kind of absurdity would it seem to
historians, perhaps studying our civilization a few thousand years from now, to
find a people who gave up their ability, or rather their willingness, to know
the good, the true, and the beautiful?
In the end, then, what the wisdom of the ancients and the
founders urges is thisthat, in our outward behavior, and in correcting our
fellow man, we should be gentle, loving, and civil; but, inwardly, the life of
the mind must be preserved, that is, it must be making value judgements
ceaselessly. It is not enough just to
know facts; we must analyze, compare, and establish the relations between
facts.
Let me end with a reflection of the Christian philosopher
Josef Pieper which does just that, and which sums up succintly, precisely the
kind of tolerance I have been articulating.
The four cardinal virtues have been among the highest of values in the
West for centuries; but as Pieper points out in his book Ueber das
Christliche Menschenbild, those virtues are neither randomly selected nor
randomly ordered.[8] First, the virtuous man must have prudence---the
simple ability to see things as they are; next, he must cultivate justice,
which both understands and loves the Good, and acknowledges a hierarchy among
goods; then, he must have the courage to act in a way that promotes
those goods according to their true merits; and lastly, he must do so in a
manner of temperance which draws attention not to the doer but the value
behind the thing done. This, then, is
the sum of what tolerance ought to mean, and may we all embrace it heartily,
for without it, no nation can endure.
[1] Ramana Maharshi, quoted in trans. Stephen
Mitchell, Tao Te Ching (New York: Harper & Row, 1988), p. 96.
[2] William Shakespeare, Love’s Labour’s Lost
(New York: Dover, 2001), p. 3.
[3] Augustine, De Doctrina Christiana (New
York: Macmillan, 1958), p. 54.
[4] Thomas Aquinas, intro. Western Heritage: A
Reader (Hillsdale: Tapestry Press, 2000), p. 389.
[5] Thomas Jefferson, Writings (New York:
Library of America, 1984), p. 493.
[6] ibid.
[7] William Shakespeare, As You Like It (New
York: Penguin, 2000), p. 42.
[8] Josef Pieper, Ueber das Christliche
Menschenbild (Muenchen: Kuesel-Verlag, 1952), p. 23.
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