Who’s “They”?

First they ignore you, then they ridicule you, then they fight you, then you win. Gandhi

they Do you ever look at something really familiar and see something you’ve never seen before?

I admire Gandhi; this is one of my favorite quotes. I get his point, but a closer look causes me to wonder: who’s “they”?

A teacher friend once accepted a non-classroom position as a central office administrator. He used to joke about how he’d instantly become part of “they,” as in “they need to do something about …”

We started calling him The Man From They. We even bought him a t-shirt with THEY printed on the front.

It was a fun little running chuckle that exposed our tendency to draw lines dividing the world into “them” and “us.” Simply by changing offices, my buddy switched sides and became part of an amorphous, undefined they.

DISTINCTIONS

In a sense, I suppose this sort of distinction is inevitable. Any time you form a circle, some folks choose to enter and some don’t. Us is whichever group I’m in, the other is them.

I’m not into being Pollyanna and pretending that divisions and groups are nonexistent or irrelevant. We’re not all one big, happy family. But there are some dangers in viewing people and events strictly through the lens of we and they.

I invite you to think about an important personal circle—religious faith, political affiliation, nationality, ethnicity, disability, cause—and think about how that particular circle influences your perceptions of they.

They are a convenient target. When someone isn’t part of us, it’s easier to discount their rights, discriminate in some fashion, or simply have a bit of innocent fun at their expense. Cruel jokes are a little more acceptable, inadvertent offenses a bit more excusable.

They are often defined by an overly-simplistic label. We are a collection of rational, free-thinking individuals who happen to share common (positive) values and goals. They are robotic ideologues marching with single-minded devotion, dedicated fanatically to irrational (destructive) causes.

They are blind to their leaders’ true purposes. They follow a manipulative, dangerous demagogue, while we listen to reasoned guidance from well-intentioned, visionary leaders.

They are easy to dismiss or dehumanize. You tend to notice folks from your own circle, but you can look right through one of them. At the other extreme, you stare because they are a curiosity.

They are easy to blame. Whatever went wrong, it can’t be our fault. And since they don’t share our values, convictions, and altruistic motives, it’s a small step to making almost anything their fault. They always want more than their fair share. They only care about themselves. They are too easily offended.

They frequently get cast in the role of enemy. They didn’t choose our circle, and we’re only seeking good stuff. With a little prodding, it becomes all too “obvious” that those who don’t choose our circle are a threat. From that perspective it’s too easy to impugn motives and intentions and conclude that they are dangerous.

LIES

I think we become consumed by differences until we’re blinded to commonalities.

One sure way to solidify our circle is to create a common adversary. Controversy and conflict attract attention, sell products, and advance causes.

The most effective, insidious lies often contain a significant element of truth. It’s pretty easy—and tempting—to intertwine lies and truths until they’re practically indistinguishable.

It’s also tempting to focus on the parts you like, especially when they’re repeated again and again in a loud voice.

Sometimes they are an enemy intent on harming us. Something about them is different, or we’d all be in the same circle. Some of them are selfish or mean-spirited.

The problems happen with a subtle shift from some to all.

Once upon a time a group of students said, “Teacher, it is impossible for you to ever really understand us, for our world is so different.”

The teacher replied, “Once there were two villages which occupied the same land at different times; a Pueblo Indian village and the Los Alamos Atomic Research Village. The people who lived in one village were sometimes hungry and thirsty, strived for power, loved, hated, got tired, and felt others did not understand them. And, of course, it is obvious which village I describe. Jan Rye Kinghorn