The Badness of What We Say (or Don't Say)

Sometimes the things we say (or don't say) are bad because they are manifestations of vice or poor character. Mocking someone can be bad, in part, because mockery is a vice. If I mock someone because of their race or gender, that might be bad in part because it is bad to be a racist or a sexist. Omissions are similar. Failure to condemn white supremacy when it is important to do so (and when someone in your position has a special responsibility to do so) can be bad because it manifests poor character––perhaps carelessness, racism, ego-centrism, insensitivity, etc.

However, there is a problem in thinking that the wrongness of what people say (or don't say) is all about them. Often, the badness here has more to do with the impact on others. In general, while actions (and omissions) can be bad because they represent vice, actions (and omissions) can also be bad because they mistreat or inflict harm. Mocking someone because of their race isn't just bad character; it is harmful to the person being mocked [1]. Sometimes the harm arises because of the way our words (or omissions) fail to properly honor, respect and even safeguard others. When the CEO of a fast fashion business with a history of worker exploitation fails to explicitly and forcefully condemn exploitative labor at the annual company dinner, when asked to do so, that isn't just a weakness in the CEO's character; it is a wrong against the exploited workers, a failure to fully honor and protect them. When the dean of a university fails to condemn sexual misconduct against graduate students by senior professors (a shockingly common phenomenon at my university)—when they are asked to do so at an important university meeting—it is a wrong against the graduate students, a failure to fully honor and protect them. Additionally, these omissions are a failure to take the history of wrongdoings against these groups seriously. Hence, an additional harm looms: alienation—the sense that I am not seen, understood, or sided-with in this place.

One more thing. I can wrong others by what I say (or don’t say), even if my omission does not tangibly harm them. The person I mock is wronged, even if they never hear about it. But I have something else in mind. Start with this: making someone feel alienated and disrespected because I withhold my condemnation of historic harms against them creates tangible harms. These tangible harms constitute pro tonto wrongdoings against them. However, being insensitive to the mere potential to create these harms can be an additional way of wronging someone. This seems especially plausible when there is a history of alienation and wrongdoings. It would not be unreasonable for a worker whose life and community has been impacted by exploitation to feel both disrespected and alienated by the CEO’s gratuitous failure to condemn worker exploitation before the company. But suppose the CEO is unsure whether his/her omission will have that outcome. And suppose, unbeknownst to the CEO, the worker will be indifferent about the CEO's omission––they no longer care what the CEO says or doesn't say. Intuitively, that doesn’t matter. Failure to respond to the potential is itself a failure to fully honor and protect others; it wrongs by failing to manifest care for the other, for the way they could be harmed. It wrongs, though it may not tangibly harm. Even the potential for reinforcing indifference in others matters. Again, this seems especially true when there is a history of serious wrongdoings against the relevant group as well as lingering threats to their rights and wellbeing. The CEO’s omission, in a context of importance, creates unnecessary potential for continued indifference among investors, consumers and others who seriously need to wake up to the reality of worker exploitation in the fast fashion industry. Failure to respond to these potentialities wrongs others. The higher the stakes, and the more problematic the history of wrongdoings, the greater the responsibility to speak up, even when the harms are only potential. Couple this with the unparalleled ease of issuing condemnation and, again, the failure to condemn is manifestly inexcusable.

In sum: what we don’t say can be bad because it gratuitously withholds affirmations that convey value, respect and safety toward certain groups against historic backdrops of dis-valuing, disrespect and jeopardy. When explicit condemnation is morally weighty and the cost is negligible, failure to condemn is inexcusable. True: we ought not manifest bad character. But we also ought not gratuitously harm or wrong others, even potentially.

All of this applies to the badness of failing to say, "I condemn white supremacy," in a moment of national importance. If you are one of the most politically powerful people in a nation marred with a history of racial horrors, and you are asked to condemn white supremacy in a moment when the entire nation is watching––including those who have been on the receiving end of racial horrors––and it literally costs you nothing to issue the condemnation, failure to condemn is more than a reflection of bad character. It is a moral harm and wrongdoing against people of color in America. It fails to discharge an easy, but not insignificant, opportunity to convey dignity and respect to those who have not consistently been treated with dignity and respect. It has the potential to reinforce (intentionally or not) the sense that America is not a safe place for people of color, that people of color won't be protected at every turn by their political leaders. It has the potential to further alienate people of color who, historically, have been alienated by America's complicity in and indifference toward racism. It has the potential to reinforce (intentionally or not) the sense that historic, racist harms against black Americans from white supremacists aren't a big deal, perhaps even that "lesser" threats aren't a big deal either. It has the potential to reinforce a sort of idleness and indifference within white Americans concerning the seriousness of all forms of racial discrimination. This is all so gratuitous. That omission––in the context of a presidential debate, from a key political leader, and in this country––is prone to harm in all these ways. Forget Trump's character. Racist or not, insensitive or not, ego-driven or not, his omission was morally problematic because of actual and potential harms to others. 

Failure to see this might explain why many people keep saying: "You know, Trump already condemned white supremacy elsewhere, multiple times." This may be another way of turning the issue inward on Trump, asking us to look at his track record as a way of deciding whether he has racist qualities, or whether he understands the importance of condemning white supremacy. The issue is all about him and his character, rather than about those harmed by his omission in a moment of national importance. Alternatively, this response aims to show that Trump has fulfilled his obligation toward others when it comes to condemning white supremacy. For the reasons given above––the importance of the event, the power of the office, the scale of the audience, the non-existent cost of issuing a condemnation, and (perhaps most importantly) the harrowing history or racism in America––that is false. He had a duty to Americans that night: explicitly condemn white supremacy. And it had little to do with him and nearly everything to do with the value and significance of others. 

Character matters, but the moral badness of what we say (or don't say) goes beyond our character [2]. 

Footnotes:

[1] Notice also that morally wronging others by what we say (or don’t say) is not always about emotionally harming them. If I mock someone and they don’t know it, they may never feel bad about it. Nonetheless, I have wronged them. In fact, my words might mean very little to them. Nonetheless, my mockery is mistreatment. It is at least moral harm.

[2] If you think that the reasoning or the repudiation in this essay are partisan and just a political attack, they are not. My goal is evaluative: was the omission morally bad and, if so, why? People on the left and right can (and should, I think) agree with the analysis here. Now, you may wonder, “isn’t this all over the top?” I invite you to bracket that concern and focus on the evaluative question: was the omission morally bad? Start there. A lot of people think it wasn’t bad, and I’m merely arguing that it was. For those who struggle to see this analysis as anything more than a political attack on Trump, I lovingly invite you to consider whether you need to de-throne politics from your heart and repent from the hyper-politicization of moral and humanitarian issues.