Are accidental bigots, bigots?
Political correctness, two idioms, and a way of reasoning worth caring about.
While watching The Masters with a German friend of mine, we discussed how the economic structures of Germany have tended to stunt golf’s popularity. Only the wealthy class can participate with any regularity, she said (things seem to be looking up for golf in Germany now). With $10 summer rounds and amusement park venues popping up all over the country, middle-class golf is thriving here in America. Score one for ‘Murica.
Her statement made me think of other parts of the world where golf seems to be gaining in popularity. One of those places is the Orient. China, where the game was banned in 1949 by Mao Zedong, has had a particularly large growth rate recently. Mao’s ban was lifted in the 80s, and though tough regulations are still in place, now regular golfers number in the hundreds of thousands, with projections into the tens of millions a few years out.
Having those ideas in mind I casually remarked, “Germans may not like golf as much, but it seems to be growing in popularity with oriental people.” Almost immediately, my other friend in the room replied, “Can we say oriental people?” He said it jokingly, but the content wasn’t a joke. I answered, “I think so.”
“East” was not something intrinsically negative in the Latin west by any means.
The word orient by itself is benign. It refers to the countries in Asia, especially the far eastern ones. Orient’s Latin root just means east. “East” was not something intrinsically negative in the Latin west by any means. Quite the opposite is true. Jews, Christians, and Muslims — commonly thought of as western religions, though a misnomer since none originate in the west — have a profound reverence for the east. This reverence is reflected in architecture and prayer ritual.
None worship the sun as pagans do, but other reasons exist to reverence the east. First, there is a symbolic sense about the east more generally. It connotes a rising up into light from the darkness. Second, Jews in the diaspora faced the east when praying so as to face the Jerusalem temple (or what’s left of it). Most still do. Muslims in the west face east during prayer, oriented toward Mecca. Christians, too, also prayed facing east as early as the second century and likely before. They did this so religiously that Tertullian had to actively correct those claiming Christians worshipped the sun.
Point being: The words orient or oriental are not deeply negative or pejorative at their etymological core.
My friend was right, though. Oriental is taboo in American politically correct circles. New York University’s director of the Asian/Pacific/American Studies Program and Institute, John Kuo Wei Tchen, says the critique of “oriental” dates back to North America in the ‘70s. “With the [North American] anti-war movement in the ’60s and early ’70s, many Asian Americans identified the term ‘oriental’ with a Western process of racializing Asians as forever opposite ‘others’,” Tchen maintains. Some states have even banned the use of “oriental” in legal documents because of its negative connotations felt by Asian Americans.
Far removed from the anti-war sentiment of ’60s and ’70s America — I was born in 85 and wasn’t cognizant of the struggles against the “east” until the mid-’90s at least — my casual use of the word oriental in relationship to golf had absolutely nothing to do with negativity toward Asian Americans or Easterners in general. It was only a few weeks ago I ate at the “Oriental Buffet” in Sarasota, Florida; a place owned and operated entirely by Asian Americans. Yet, I do need to be mindful of what the word means to some when I say it. What I mean to say is not how everyone will hear it.
Political correctness has been a major topic throughout the 2016 Republican primaries, and will likely remain one throughout the general election. Forgetting the commonly thrown around “radical Islamist terrorist” phrase for a moment, one of which I mean to comment on in a future post, reasonable critics argue correctness advocates assume an injection of meaning into certain words or phrases not intended by those using the particular word or phrase in question. Then, people are quickly branded racists or sexisists or guilty of some other unacceptable form of bigotry. Critics say those who are overly sensitive to certain words or phrases should toughen up and recognize the difference between, for example, racial distinctions that are racist — a slippery word in itself — and those that are mere linguistic distinctions. Advocates reply in turn, saying the intentioned meaning matters little because the word or phrase offends whether it’s meant in an offensive way or not.
Why is offensiveness such a political issue? Because sacred objects still exist, and a decent society attempts to protect what it holds Sacred.
The human person, in all its diversity, is enshrined as sacred in the Declaration of Independence. This works out interestingly in our modern secular society. It seems the genetics, beliefs, cultural milieu from which one is formed, along with other closely identifying elements, all mystically make up one’s sacred personhood. Therefore, spells the moral logic of advocates, one should not speak in a careless manner which offends the Sacred. This ethic extends to those things by which the sacred person closely identifies with (i.e., religions, cultural traditions, nationalities, sexuality, etc.).
…political correctness is fundamentally a question about the reach and extent of a virtue like kindness.
Trying to follow the moral prescription above, regarding our sacred diversity, can seem to get out of control and be insanely burdensome to navigate. Maybe it does, and maybe it is. But it sure doesn’t follow from impracticality or difficulty that the prescription is objectively wrong. Impracticality or difficulty is no way of gauging the ethical truth of a proposition. In the end, and once the frustration of being lost in translation wears off, political correctness is fundamentally a question about the reach and extent of a virtue like kindness. It’s a complex question and shouldn’t be minimized.
Unfortunately, it’s often minimized or loudly ridiculed by those on the Christian right (my own tribe — in many ways). Yes, I agree there is a conversation about political correctness, and its corollary, tolerance, that needs to be had. Distinctions must be made. But when your fundamental principle is love, and that is a Christian’s fundamental principle in both an ethical and ontological sense, then minimizing the avoidable human collateral of language makes little sense.
Here’s another thing which makes little sense to me. The same ethic, based on the sacridity of persons, that says “oriental” is taboo because it offends the identity of Asian Americans; or how saying “that is gay” offends someone who is gay; and how being linguistically insulting or vain toward Islam and Muhammed is distasteful at minimum because of the deep identification Muslims have with their faith; has a hard time extending that same healthy care toward that which I, and two billion others (including Asian Americans, LGBTQ, etc.), most closely identify. (For some thoughts on how closely a Christian identifies with Jesus and how sacred he is, read here, here, or here.)
In secular society “Jesus Christ” has become a colloquially used expression to denote a heightened state of things. Surprise, frustration, anger, happiness, disbelief, and more are meant depending on the context. It seems to be used in the way people use something like, “Wow!”
I understand and have lamentably accepted this for two reasons. First, giving the benefit of the doubt to people is something worth practicing. I trust when people vainly say “Jesus Christ” around me — friends in particular — they are not saying it with ill will. They are not seeking to demean me or that which I so closely identify. It’s simply a part of their language options, and considering Jesus is a big deal, using his name for big-deal-moments is a reasonable linguistic connection to make. Second, it doesn’t seem being overly sensitive is a very attractive personality trait. But that begs the question.
What is it to be overly sensitive?
Is it overly sensitive to be offended by the word “oriental”? Is it overly sensitive to tell someone to stop casually saying “that is gay” because it’s rude to those who are? Would a Muslim be considered overly sensitive for asking friends not to carelessly speak of Muhammad, nevermind God? Is it overly sensitive to correct someone who is disrespecting one you love and intrinsically identify with?
To be honest, I’m not completely sure. Overly is a tricky word. Context matters and intention matters, but I think very often the answer is no. What’s clear, though, is the politically correct ethic our society’s liberal elite asserts answers each with a resounding no. Now if only it were… consistent.
Four possible reasons come to mind as to why such a glaring inconsistency regarding the “Jesus Christ” idiom persists:
- Pure ignorance; like my use of “oriental”.
- Christians are still the majority, and loud ones tend to be politically right leaning, so correctness advocates (typically left leaning) have a harder time acknowledging or advocating for a consistent application of their principle.
- Practicing Christians come off as less religiously serious than practicing Muslims, and ideas like the very popular — plus very satirical — prosperity gospel, in addition to easy-believism, makes it easy to associate greed and selfishness with Christians. Those forms of greed and selfishness are unpopular, and seemingly legitimize a “Jesus Christ” satire.
- Active ill will and discrimination against Christians. While I believe this is wrongheaded, it is how many Christians feel (For evidence, watch Fox News, nearly any Christian television network, and/or feature films like God’s Not Dead or God’s Not Dead 2.). So, if intention in the secular ethic is a distant second to emotional consequences, then silence from the liberal elite and correctness advocates is a curious inconsistency.
There are probably more possibilities, and no doubt a mixture of all or some is better than any one alone. But whatever the mixture of reasons is, it’s as non-sensical for the secular ethic to be careless about “Jesus Christ” as for the Christian ethic to be careless about the human consequences of language.
Oriental. Jesus Christ. The two idioms raise two questions.
Once the wall of ignorance is overcome, shouldn’t our language evolve to more closely match our ethical prescriptions, thereby intentions?
I think so.
Is ethical consistency too much to ask?
Not if truth matters.
