Making Nice
As I understand it, when
political scientists and sociologists refer to a society as "civil" they are
citing the many important functions that are performed by voluntary,
intermediate institutions. These institutions are intermediate between the
state and the individual. They are voluntary in that the performance of
individuals within these institutions is not dictated by the state or by the
exigencies of the market. Churches, trade unions, philanthropic bodies, and
clubs are examples of such institutions.
Each of these
intermediate institutions is a society in itself, and each of us spends much of
his life in them. Some of these little societies are civil and some are not. I
use the word "civil" here to mean that the participants are cooperative and
respectful of the others and their interests. That is different from "polite,"
which is a surface quality. The chairman of a congressional committee who calls
upon "the gentle lady from Arkasota," while thinking, "you dumb hillbilly
bitch," is polite but not civil in my sense.
What makes some of these minisocieties civil and some not?
I think of two in my experience that were especially civil. One was the Center
for Advanced Study of the Behavioral Sciences, where I spent a year as a fellow
more than 30 years ago. There were about 30 of us fellows at the
center--economists, political scientists, historians, sociologists, and
psychologists. Most of us knew few--if any--of the others before we met there,
but we immediately became friends and enjoyed a pleasant social life together.
More important, we could consult each other and collect candid advice. There
was no feeling of rivalry among us.
Being happy just to be at
the center had something to do with the pervasive good feelings. Also, each of
us had shed both his ego requirements and drive for status--at least for the
duration of the year's leave. The fellowship was not part of one's real life,
it was an interlude to be enjoyed and not spoiled by conflict. It was as if we
were on a cruise ship with passengers we had never seen before and would
probably not see again after the cruise was over.
My second example is the book discussion group I belong to
at Washington's Cosmos Club (a venerable gentlemen's club, which now admits
women as well). Book discussion groups are regularly described as scenes of
rivalry and hostility--of fights over which books to read and who gets to talk
the most. Why is our group civil? I credit, in part, the physical and
psychological environment of the club, which makes for dignified clubbiness.
But what's more important is the character of the participants. We are all
members or spouses of members of the club. We are mostly pretty old. And we
have mostly had, and may still be having, some achievement and attention
outside the book discussion group. So nobody feels the need to assert his
individuality and importance. We can relax and enjoy the pleasure of civil
behavior to each other.
These may seem trivial
cases, in which neither the gain from cooperative effort nor the possible gain
from individual assertion is very large. The key is not in the absolute
strength of these gains but in their relative strength. In the cases I have
mentioned, the two forces are weak, but the need for ego-satisfaction in this
arena is weaker than the gain from cooperation.
I can give a more serious example. For many years, starting
with the end of World War II, I worked for an organization of businessmen
formulating policy statements on issues of economic policy. We were
all--businessmen and staff--impressed with the failures of policy that caused
the Depression and that may have contributed to the outbreak of war. We thought
we had some insights that would help to avert such failures in the future. At
the same time, the organization was a major scene in which we might struggle
for self-expression and status. It was where we staffers spent most of our
waking hours, derived our incomes, and achieved status internally and to the
rest of the world. But the divisiveness of these interests was outweighed by
our common interest in the program on which we had embarked. So we all worked
together eagerly and happily to try to bring about a change of policy. We were
a civil society.
But after about 10 years,
the memories of Depression and war were fading, some of what we thought were
new ideas had become conventional wisdom, and many of the most inspiring
leaders of the group had gone on to other things or had retired. Then we
gradually sank into bureaucratic rivalry and sparring--into incivility.
Different participants in a society will have different
views of how civil it is. I thought that those of us who worked on the
economics side of the Nixon administration made up a civil society. We had a
common goal--the success of the administration in economics--and felt besieged
by a common enemy, the media. I did not covet anyone else's job and did not
feel that anyone coveted mine. I had no ambitions for more status and attention
within that society. But then I read in Bob Haldeman's diary, which was
published in 1994, that in 1972 Secretary of the Treasury John Connally had
complained to Haldeman that several people--including me--were conspiring
against him. Evidently, Connally did not regard that society as civil. For him
it was a jungle out there, even though one of the predators was really a
rabbit.
Civil behavior has two sides. One side is treating
other people with civility. The second side is interpreting the attitude and
behavior of other people toward oneself as civil. For most people I suppose the
first side is difficult without the second. In the Nixon administration, John
Connally was not civil in the second sense. That led him to the not-very-civil
act of complaining to Bob Haldeman.
Civility is not one of the major virtues. It is not
like courage or honesty. The friendly cooperation that characterizes civil
societies is a pale shadow of the love that inspires great self-sacrifice. But
to participate in societies that one perceives to be civil adds much to the
pleasure of life.
