Lessons on civil discourse

At the peak of campus unrest over the war in Gaza, I was asked to address a conference on “How to Conduct Civil Discourse.” I relished this opportunity because the topic was (and remains) timely and necessary.

We live in a deeply toxic environment in which the political and cultural gaps separating us appear unbridgeable. In our foreign relations, congressional debates, communities, and families, people on opposite sides of issues often seem more interested in scoring points than in reaching understanding.

In preparing my remarks, I reflected on four important lessons I learned from people who’ve mattered in my life.

In my teens, I was a bit of a precocious know-it-all. I loved ideas and a good argument. When I’d be arguing with someone she’d say: “You didn’t listen to a word they said. You were on the edge of your seat waiting to talk and not hearing what they were saying. If you don’t listen to them, they won’t hear you. Because you’re talking at them and not with them.” She’d also say, “Don’t be wrong at the top of your voice.” Speaking loudly may feel good, but instead of opening ears, it shuts down conversation.

Early in my career, my wife Eileen would come to my speeches and sit in the back of the room where I could see her. I was young and prone to using incendiary language. When I’d step over the line, Eileen would wince. She made clear that, while I might think such language had shock value, it was at best a distraction, and at worst a turnoff, to many in the audience. In trying to convey the pain of a much beleaguered people, I had the responsibility of speaking to people they’d never get to address. I had to respect the audience so they’d hear my message.

After the 9/11 terrorist attacks, the applications of these simple lessons in listening and civil discourse were evident. Serving on a Council on Foreign Relations taskforce on public diplomacy exploring how to relate to the Arab World, I had colleagues who proposed ideas ranging from bombing Iraq to lecturing them on democracy.

Meanwhile, my brother John and I were conducting two polls for foundations in the Arab World: one to examine Arabs’ values and concerns, the other to measure Arabs’ attitudes about America.

We found that the principal concerns of most Arabs were their families and their futures. They wanted good jobs, quality health care, educational opportunities for their children, and safe and secure communities. Contrary to widely held American views, Arabs liked the US, our people, educational system, products, culture and values. What they didn’t like was how America treated them.

These results helped inform my taskforce discussions, and prepared me for meetings with Bush administration officials. When I had the opportunity to meet with each of Bush’s Undersecretaries for Public Diplomacy, I suggested that in traveling to Arab countries they shouldn’t begin by lecturing. Instead, I advised them to ask questions and listen; “Don’t presume you know what they’re thinking or what they want to hear from you.”

Around this same time, I was invited by the UAE’s Sheikh Abdullah bin Zayd to meet with several ministers from Gulf countries to discuss healing the divide between their region and America. They were critical of US efforts at engagement and had various ideas about how to improve their image with Americans. Sheikh Abdullah listened and understood what many did not: Americans didn’t understand Arabs and Arabs didn’t understand Americans. Reflecting on both sides’ failed attempts at public diplomacy, he noted, “In the end, we Arabs will never be able to help Americans understand us unless we understand them first. Similarly, Americans will never succeed in their efforts to communicate to us who they are unless they take the time to know us first.”

That simple lesson must undergird any effort at civil discourse. Where differences exist, the prerequisite for real communication is understanding the needs and concerns of the “other.”

The lessons are simple: listen before you speak, speak softly and avoid harsh rhetoric, respect your audience, and try to speak to their concerns in order to open their minds to hearing you.

The writer is president of the Washington-based Arab American Institute