Some of you may remember the scene from Pixar’s “The Incredibles” where Helen, Dash, and Violet have been blown out of the air by the evil Syndrome (aka Buddy). Helen surveys the trajectory of the missile that downed their jet in order to determine its origination. That’s were they should swim. To which Dash responds: “You want us to go towards the people who were trying to kill us?”
The moxy is not unlike the Marines recruiting ad that shows the grunts streaming towards the people trying to kill them.
Why have I been thinking about such clips? I have been thinking about why I rush to the center of controversy, not away from it. And I actually think that this instinct, to go toward danger, is not altogether different from the instinct that drives Marines to drop from the sky or that drives Helen to swim to where the missiles were launched.
Our table, always packed, is invariably a site of conflict. Good food, good drink, good friends — but often, not always, conflict. And, like moths to light, I have to admit I am drawn in. I want to know deeply, fundamentally, at their core, how things work. And when I am thrown together with a garden of ferocious beasts I want to know which of us knows how to survive the jungle. Dash does too. He wants to be the fastest runner on his school’s track team. But, so long has he been compelled to “blend in” and not “make waves,” that he has lost his moxy. His mom has not.
It has gotten me to start thinking that one of the faults endemic to those on the left of the political spectrum may be that we have grown so sensitive to the seemingly infinite sensitivities of everyone with whom we organize that we have completely lost the capacity to argue, to fight, to fundamentally disagree. We have so cultivated the fine art of being kind and likable that we dramatically defer from disagreement. What do I stand for? I stand for what you stand for. What do you stand for? And so it goes around the block.
But I really, deeply, fundamentally want to know how the world works. And so when I hear that someone disagrees with me, that’s where I want to go, to where the chaos is, to the place where they launched the missiles.
Principles are to be fought over. They make a difference. They are important. They are worth the fight. But how do we know what our principles are unless we have tested them, not only in the lab or research journal, but around the table, in the streets.
The tragedy may be that the only fights most people find worthy of joining are fights over blood and body, oil and territory, not over the the values we have reason to hold dear. I am hoping that the left will recover its moxy, that it will run toward, not away from, the action. I am hoping. But I am not hopeful.