Dialogue on the Meaning of “Oppression”

Tallahassee Civil Rights protests (Photo credit: Village Square)

It always feels weird to be a white, cis-gendered, middle class male talking about the meaning of social oppression. I tend to end up on the good side of that social phenomenon, so anything that I say about it risks sounding self-righteous or distracting from the concerns most central to social justice: the needs of the least well-off and the perspectives of the most socially and politically marginalized. Understanding that my expression can draw attention away from the nuanced engagement of those needs and perspectives, I have held off on publishing this transcript for some time, until I could formulate a good understanding of how it would fit into the broader context of social change. I ultimately hope that my brief reflections will interest social justice advocates reflecting on the a conceptual framework of social oppression, as well as to those more distant from the movement who might lack some or part of the theoretical background needed to understand how micro-aggressions (and overt discriminatory actions and remarks) depend and build upon a culture of perceived superiority. I certainly do not and can not articulate complete or faultless answers to these questions, but as the role of the philosopher (and, by extension, of this philosophy blog), is to contribute something to our understanding, I take it to be within the bounds of decency to share my reflections, however imperfect they may be. If you think that I am wrong, right, or incomplete, I would love to hear in the comments what you think about the theory of oppression.

Aside from the above, I feel that only two further comments are required. First, this conversation is taken almost completely unedited from a texting exchange with a friend of mine, so the style, though philosophical, is also somewhat abbreviated. If any ideas seem as though they need explanation, leave a comment about it!

Second, there is one part in the conversation where my interlocutor responds with disbelief to an example (as will you, in all likelihood). I ask that, after expressing any appropriate shock, you stop to consider it in light of its theoretical implication, namely, that oppression has its roots not in inherent personal characteristics, but in the historical differentiation and power structures built around those characteristics, and the following comment, in which I draw out that distinction and acknowledge that those historical relationships can become engrained in the meaning of certain gestures irrespective of the express intent of the speaker.

Enjoy!

(In the context of a discussion on social justice…)

J: Woah I just found a cool quote… :
“Let me never fall into the vulgar mistake of dreaming that I am persecuted whenever I am contradicted.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson

…

Me: Doesn’t count: it was written by a white guy. 😛

J: Dammit, you’re technically right…

Me: …[W]e can nuance it and say that “persecuted” is different than “oppressed”, most plausibly by being very deliberate and concentrated.

J: So there are some sentiments people can express. And they are oppressed, even persecuted, when they’re contradicted.

Me: But both oppression and persecution carry differ from contradiction because to contradict requires that one engage the speaker’s argument or opinion. It seems that a key piece of both persecution and oppression is that speaker’s positions are disregarded because of some identifying characteristic of the speaker, without even considering that position on its own merits. To contradict can only be to oppress if one is contradicting because of the identity of the speaker. (Of course, ignoring, demeaning, or mitigating a point can also be oppressive if done based on the speaker’s identity).

J: What if I say
“Trans*men are men”
Or “women deserve equal respect”
Or “rape jokes aren’t funny”.
Could contradiction be oppressive to some groups regardless of my identity?

Me: That depends on whether a belief can be oppressive or whether that belief requires particular manifestations to be oppressive. Since oppression is conceived as a relationship between elements of society, I am tempted to accept the latter, that oppression is the conscious or unconscious manifestation of beliefs that dismiss opinions based on the identity of the speaker and not on their substance. Hence, holding an opinion contradictory to any of your propositions is not in itself oppressive, though if it causes me to deny the opinions of other people on face, without behaving towards them with respect for their rational agency, which demands substantive engagement, then I have oppressed them by denying implicitly that they possess equal dignity as humans. It may of course be immoral without any manifestation, but it seems to only become oppressive when it confronts you with my contempt for your dignity. Hence black people calling each other “N*****” is not oppressive because, the label applying to both speakers, it cannot elevate one above the other. Nor would the label be oppressive if used in a private conversation between two white men, though it would become so if it came to breed in them contempt for black people, even were that contempt subtle and subconscious.

J: … I’m inclined to agree with your analysis, up until you say two white men can use the n-word. That word is steeped in such oppressive history, that someone without the cultural context to reclaim it can’t use it without implicitly perpetuating the oppressive culture that coined the term.
…

Me: It’s the implicit manifestation of derision, not the mere existence of the word itself [that makes it oppressive]. Consider, for instance, if two non-native English speakers in an isolated, non-Western society learned the language through an old book and thought that “N******” was just the English word for “black person.” You could hardly say that they were expressing or even implicitly perpetuating racism by using the word between them, since they lack the cultural context that imbues the word with degrading connotations.

J: Okay, yeah your second example is better. I assumed when you said “two white men” that you meant two men that understood the context of the word.

Me: I did [mean that]. I think the manifestation condition still holds, but there are background conditions that make manifestation nigh inevitable. [No doubt there exists a cultural background that makes the use of “N*****” between white men inherently degrading and hence oppressive, but nonetheless it is that background, not the mere arrangement of letters or sounds, or the denoted meaning of the term, that breeds contempt for the described class.]

Social Justice and Systems of Oppression

Is Swat Oppressive and Exclusionary?

Swarthmore College (Photo credit: musical photo man)

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged anything, mostly because I’ve focused my writing energy at debate and classwork. Things are starting to settle down a bit, and I have more time to let my mind wander to subjects that might be worth publishing. Here’s an opinion piece on the way Swarthmore College’s social justice culture can go a bit wrong, in my book. While it is responsive to particular events on campus – namely, the outcry over the College’s offer of an honorary degree to former World Bank president Robert Zoellick, Swarthmore c/o ’75 – it speaks more broadly to the attitudes and strategies that we adopt when we try to create meaningful and lasting social change. Social activism as praxis is an important part of philosophy, so I think that a discussion of applied social theory is both appropriate and timely for this blog.

More coming soon, I hope.

-Griffin

—–

Swarthmore’s frequent social justice campaigns – pro-divestment, pro-childcare, anti-fraternity, anti-Zoellick, and so on – make us a hotspot for controversy and, yes, and decidedly leftist socio-political culture. I appreciate that culture. I approach it as someone sympathetic to the cause. Yet I am strangely dissatisfied with the way that Swarthmore’s social justice movements manifest within our campus discourse.

I want to be clear: I am not criticizing those who, frustrated and in private conversation, lash out at oppressive social groups or structures, nor am I criticizing those who engage in a spirited debate about contentious issues. I do want to speak to those who go to online comments sections and anonymously post hateful insults; to the people who find an inoffensive Internet post merely questioning the most extreme version of an argument, and repost it on Facebook with a comment attacking the questioner’s intelligence or humanity; and particularly to the people who would defend such attacks on the ground that they come from a position that is underprivileged and oppose a status quo position that wields institutional power.

Our opposition to institutional oppression does not entitle us to be mean-spirited towards those who disagree. Remember that many people expressing doubts are not consciously oppressing anyone. They – we – often cannot fully appreciate the harmfulness of oppressive structures until we are confronted with their effects. Dissenters are not guilty of some gross offense merely because the conditions of their birth have hitherto blinded them to their positions of privilege. Their moral culpability in oppressive structures is limited to their response upon discovering them. Social justice advocates owe it to their targets to treat them with the same empathy we demand for the oppressed. On a practical level, opponents’ initial recalcitrance against criticisms can often be overcome by appeals to empathy, but it will only be entrenched and embittered by personal derision and belittlement.

But let us suppose that social activists are entitled to publicly insult their opponents, so long as they do so in opposition to institutional power. Then we still have a major problem: at Swarthmore, we liberals are the ones with localized cultural and institutional power behind us. So if our concern is the suppression of minority views and the oppression of their ability to speak and act freely, then we need to do some serious self-reflection and question whether Swarthmore is a place where conservatives (or even people who would be considered mere moderates in broader society) can feel welcome. If not, then we’re failing at our mission of social justice because we’ve merely replicated oppressive power dynamics along non-conventional lines.

Presumably a social justice advocate dislikes oppressive structures as such. While the size, scope, or duration of those structures may make them more or less pernicious – e.g., misogyny is more common and more broadly entrenched than Swarthmore’s anti-conservatism – that is insufficient justification for supporting a newer, smaller, or narrower oppressive structure. Consider: a dictatorship that denies some people their political rights is not good merely because it prevents the rise of some potential dictatorship that would deny everyone their political rights. Even though it is the lesser of two evils, we would still say that we should support, as far as possible, a government that grants everyone basic rights protections. Likewise, even if Swarthmore’s anti-conservatism helps to crowd out a more pernicious set of oppressive norms, we should still insist that our rival system be as good as we can possibly make it. Insofar as the culture we inculcate is a product of our individual decisions, each of us is in a position not just to demand, but also to help create a more open and welcoming environment.

We don’t have to adopt conservative views to have a civil discourse with conservative students, and we don’t have to give up the cause of social justice to stop launching ad hominem attacks against those who disagree with us. Engagement is important – whether we will it or not, conventional oppressors are not going away. It’s better to convert than to alienate them, not only because that wins more allies, but also because radical alienation from one another is exactly what we are trying to avoid. While we should be carefully attuned to the vestiges of long-standing oppressive regimes, we ought not lose sight of the importance of being decent, civil human beings – towards everyone. I think that’s an attitude that even the most ardent social justice advocate could support.