I recently came across a thought-provoking piece on “civility,” one that deals directly with the ways white supremacists manipulate politeness and social norms to avoid accountability. Reading it stirred up an array of emotions for me—some of them rooted in my own experiences, and others sparked by the author’s candid observations about the power dynamics at play in everyday interactions.
Recalling My Own Encounters
What struck me immediately was the story about an elderly neighbor—someone the author calls “Gene”—who presented himself as kindly while simultaneously peddling hateful, conspiratorial talking points. I’ve never lived next door to a person quite like Gene, yet I found his behavior disturbingly familiar. Why? Because I’ve seen similar patterns in my own life, albeit in subtler forms: the sideways jokes at family gatherings, or the coworkers who assume that, because I share their background or skin color, I must also share their prejudices.
The author’s observation that white supremacists often know their talking points are false—that they wear them like masks to evade responsibility—was a jolt. It’s a reminder that the lies aren’t just rooted in ignorance; they’re also a tactical strategy. It made me reflect on every time I’ve heard an outlandish “birther” claim or a conspiracy about a recent political event and simply dismissed it as “just misinformation.” How often have I allowed the moment to pass, telling myself that engaging would be too uncomfortable or futile?
The Emotional Cost of Confrontation
One of the most difficult parts of reading the piece was confronting my own reluctance to push back in real time. I’ve certainly been in situations where I bit my tongue for the sake of keeping the peace or avoiding a scene. The essay forced me to consider the consequences of that choice—not only for myself, but for anyone more vulnerable who might suffer from the complacency I exhibit when I remain silent.
At the same time, I recognize that confronting a person like Gene—or any individual entrenched in hateful beliefs—can be risky, emotionally draining, or even dangerous. We need to be honest about that when we call for consistent pushback. The author points out that real consequences—whether social, financial, or legal—are often the only language such individuals understand. While I agree, I also feel there’s a gap between acknowledging the need for consequences and knowing how to put that principle into daily practice.
The “Civility” Trap
What resonates most deeply with me is the essay’s critique of politeness as a societal value that can be weaponized.
I, too, have been conditioned to see civility as a virtue. Yet, in the face of blatant bigotry, that very notion of civility can become a shield for hate: “Let’s not make a scene,” “Let’s agree to disagree,” and other polite deflections can end up giving hateful rhetoric a free pass.
For me, it raises tough questions: How do we remain respectful without tacitly endorsing hateful lies? Where do we draw the line between being open-minded and enabling extremism? The piece suggests that direct confrontation—naming the lie, rejecting it, and imposing real-world penalties—may be the only way to make sure these poisonous ideas don’t continue to spread under the guise of politeness. That might sound drastic to some, but it’s worth considering whether half-measures have ever really worked.
Charting a Path Forward
The piece ends with a call to recognize the difference between someone who is genuinely unaware and someone who is “pretending to be asleep.” For me, that’s one of the most crucial insights. Some people genuinely don’t know the facts; they’re repeated victims of propaganda. But plenty of others, like Gene, have chosen their path deliberately. They’re fully conscious of the harm they perpetuate. This distinction matters because it affects how we respond.
For the genuinely misinformed, we might offer patient explanation or educational resources.
For the willfully ignorant and malicious, we may need to draw a hard line, one that enforces consequences rather than trying to “nice” them into moral awakening.
Reading this piece on civility felt like having a mirror held up to my own interactions. It’s not just about distant political figures or strangers online; it’s about the colleague who “jokes” in ways that demean others, or the family member who tries to pull me into hateful conspiracies. In these everyday moments, I realize just how much social capital and courage it takes to intervene.
Final Reflections
The original essay has given me a new lens through which to examine both my past inactions and my future choices. What resonates most is the warning that, by refusing to challenge hateful rhetoric under the banner of civility, we unwittingly become enablers. If we value justice, empathy, and fairness, then we must find the resolve to confront deceit and hatred when we encounter them—whether it’s over the back fence or in the halls of power.
Ultimately, I’m still grappling with what it looks like to hold people accountable in a world where civility is prized, sometimes above decency itself. But if reading that piece taught me anything, it’s that discomfort can be a small price to pay for preventing harm to others. Maybe that means politely ending a conversation when someone doubles down on hateful conspiracies. Maybe it means publicly denouncing a dangerous lie, even if it makes the next holiday gathering awkward. In any case, it means I cannot continue to be silent.
I’ve come away feeling both unsettled and energized—unsettled because the challenge is so immense, yet energized by the realization that I’m not alone in wanting to confront these toxic narratives. If our collective refusal to enable bigotry is the first step, then perhaps the next is to build a culture where real accountability—social, financial, and legal—is both expected and enforced. It’s not an easy road, but it’s one I’m increasingly convinced is necessary.