On building coalitions and when to bite your tongue
When it comes to diverse coalitions with common goals, sometimes we need to bite our tongue about our differences. At other times, we need to speak candidly, come what may.
I was at an assembly of religious and faith groups the other day to speak to state legislators about our vision for progress. We were advocating for the expansion of democracy, funding for public education, climate justice, an end to mass incarceration, for more affordable housing, and for economic dignity. The room was packed with members of synagogues, mosques, churches, and other organizations as well. I marveled at our diversity and found hope in our unity despite obvious differences.
On the matters at hand, the people gathered in the room came to hard-won agreements and unity. But I know that on many other issues—ones that were not on the table—we would have disagreed markedly. As it turns out, the two most divisive issues that the coalition faced relate to LGBTQIA-affirmation and how to approach the conflict in Israel-Palestine. (These happen to be among the most divisive issues for Christians and Jews, respectively.) These concessions came at no small cost to me, as an Arab and a queer person. Both of those issues are “existential” for me. Nonetheless, it was worth it to stay engaged.
I’ve written extensively about how Jesus takes a side and that political division is not an abstract difference of opinion. I’ve written about politics and the body, and in this case, the politics of my body are rooted in ethnicity, race, and sexuality. On those issues, as I have written at length, Jesus takes a side, and so should we. So why did I decide “not to take a side” here?
I did it for the sake of unity and for a common cause. The issues we disagree about were not on the table.. Queer people and Palestinian people, and their allies, weren’t excluded from the table, but we also didn’t openly debate those issues. There was a small sacrifice involved that felt worthwhile. It’s not clear how sustainable such a position is, nor is it clear to me how much energy should be invested into such coalitions—especially if those most closely affected feel especially burdened by their involvement.
If the issues we were advocating had been related to Palestinian and LGBTQIA dignity, such a coalition would not have been for me. I would draw the line clearly and encourage others to do the same. In fact, in Christian organizations and denominations where those issues are at the forefront, I think dialogue and debate, followed by stepping away and leaving if necessary, are appropriate measures to take.
As a result, I join my Mennonite siblings in asking the Mennonite Central Committee, for example, to stop its explicitly anti-LGBTQIA hiring practices (MCC does not hire queer people who are not celibate.) I advocate for justice in our denomination. I actively engage in dialogue for peaceful Israeli-Palestinian relationships and political solutions. For those organizations, because the commonality they seek has no forbearance of difference, it excludes me from the outset. Many Christians with less skin in the game, so to speak, are baffled by what they consider divisive behavior. Why can’t I set aside these differences for the sake of the Gospel? In those particular cases, I can’t, because I feel like the Gospel itself is compromised.
For the issues that the aforementioned coalition was advocating for, I didn’t feel conflicted I thought it was important to set aside those differences for the sake of unity.
Too often, coalitions break up because of disagreements, and our power is divided in half. Sometimes those divisions are necessary, and other times, they need to be set aside. In general, a spirit of unity when we are fighting powerful opponents is important. But that unity has its limits, and when our own conscience is disturbed, we shouldn’t be required to bear the burden of keeping the group together.
I want to acknowledge that the choice to bite my tongue may not be the right choice for others. It may prove to be too challenging for me, at some point, too. So I commit myself to listening to my body and others affected by it, as well. So, as a result, it is with prudence and discernment that I offer my energy to diverse coalitions that avoid talking about certain issues they deem too divisive. Sometimes it is better to speak assertively about issues that matter. When those issues aren’t the ones on the table, I can offer my energy for the sake of a common cause. I concluded that justice in my state was important enough to work with others who disagree with me. It doesn’t come without cost, but for me, the cost was worth it. Thankfully, I don’t expect these deeply personal issues to be raised in our common work, but if and when they do, I won’t be afraid to voice my concern or to even protest participating.