What do you do if you see someone behaving badly or foolishly? It probably depends a lot on you, the other person, and what exactly it is that he’s doing. I often take the vanpool between Fordham University’s Lincoln Center campus, here in Manhattan, and the main campus, Rose Hill, up in the Bronx. There are usually 6-10 other people on the van, mostly undergraduates, and only about half wear a seatbelt — even though the driver gives a clear command to “Fasten your seatbelts, everyone!” This in spite of New Jersey governor Jon Corzine’s near-fatal car accident in April, in which he was not wearing a seatbelt. In the “Ram Van,” as it’s called, the person who sits in the first row of passenger seats in the back has nothing between him and the windshield about four feet in front. I was tempted yesterday to tap him on the shoulder, and after he removed his headphones, ask him whether he had ever taken a physics class and could describe what would happen to his body if the van came to a sudden stop, say by crashing into the vehicle ahead. I don’t understand it … is it some kind of macho show of indestructibility?
A week or two ago, my wife was walking past a public basketball court, and on one half, some adult men were playing, and on the other half, some unruly teenagers were hanging from the basket, bouncing up and down and obviously trying to break it. The men playing in the other half of the court weren’t doing anything about it. My wife was about to call out to the teenagers but in the end decided not to.
Bad behavior is on display everywhere in New York City. Groups of loud foul-mouthed children congregate on subway cars, disturbing the other adult passengers, but none of us speaks up. People litter every day, but I never say anything.
Here’s what Saint Augustine has to say on the matter:
If any one forbears to reprove and find fault with those who are doing wrong, because he seeks a more seasonable opportunity, or because he fears they may be made worse by his rebuke, or that other weak persons may be disheartened from endeavouring to lead a good and pious life, and may be driven from the faith; this man’s omission seems to be occasioned not by covetousness, but by a charitable consideration. But what is blameworthy is, that they who themselves revolt from the conduct of the wicked, and live in quite another fashion, yet spare those faults in other men which they ought to reprehend and wean them from; and spare them because they fear to give offence, lest they should injure their interests in those things which good men may innocently and legitimately use … [T]hose very deeds which they refuse to share in the commission of, they often decline to find fault with, when possibly they might by finding fault prevent their commission. They abstain from interference, because they fear that, if it fail of good effect, their own safety or reputation may be damaged or destroyed … their non-intervention is the result of selfishness, and not of love. (Augustine, The City of God, I.9, Modern Library Classics edition, translated by Marcus Dods)
Should I speak up when I see people doing wrong? It seems to me that it is the responsibility of every adult as an adult to teach and enforce the rules of society on the young. Otherwise how will they integrate into it as adults? If they’re misbehaving now, especially if they’re old enough to know better, their integration is at risk in my view. If that be the case, then I should speak up, and I’m irresponsible when I don’t.
I can think of one time I actually did speak up. It was at a Barnes & Noble cafe in St. Louis on an occasion when two children, about 10 and 12, sat at a table and made a complete mess. When they got up to leave, I walked up to them and told them firmly that they had better get back there and clean up the mess they made. The older one said “Yes, sir,” and they went back and did it.
Other times I keep my mouth shut, like with gangs of kids on the subway. The two young children in an affluent St. Louis suburb are one thing, but six brazen teenagers are another. They’re more likely to have swollen confidence because they’re older and there are more of them, and they’re more likely to want to show off in front of their friends and the sheepish passengers by smarting off. I don’t want a confrontation, I don’t want to look a fool if things backfire, and I don’t want to make the other riders more uncomfortable than they already are. But what if people had spoken up when they were only 12-years-old and already making a scene on the subway?
Two adult men were sitting behind me at Starbucks one day a couple months ago, and they were talking ridiculously loudly about business, something to do with setting up merchants with the ability to accept credit cards. They were talking so loudly that people at tables on the other side of the store were craning their necks to see who was making all that racket. I finally turned around and asked them if they could talk more quietly. The one guy jumped up and said, “You want to take this outside?” Tsch! I ignored the remark, and to everyone’s relief — especially mine — they left a few minutes later. If someone had spoken up to this guy when he was a 12-year-old brat on the subway, would things have turned out differently for him?
When people misbehave, they show that they don’t care about other people or about society’s rules, and that makes it dangerous to talk to them. They’re like wild animals, unpredictable, maybe violent. The rules of society are what allow us to live together in a dense urban area, what allow us to ride public transportation together without fear, what allow us to work out our differences in a way that benefits us all. The guy at Starbucks who challenged me to a fight is a parasite on society, because while he tramples on our sensibilities about how loud one should speak in a public place, and again by responding to my polite request with a threat of violence — while he behaves so badly, he takes it for granted that I’m not going to sucker punch him and throw him through the plate glass window, or just pour my hot coffee on his head once he sits back down.
Augustine’s words are challenging to me. In the first place, God expects me to love the transgressors. I’m a transgressor myself, and of a much more grave law, and yet the Lord loves me and gave up his life on my behalf. As Tim Keller remarked once in a sermon, I need to “screw that down a little tighter,” because passing on God’s grace to other people doesn’t come naturally to me — I’m the most judgmental person I know. That said, I’m not loving the transgressor or my fellows in society by not speaking up. That’s just the myth of tolerance. Gritting my teeth and bearing it, trying to call forth springs of love and good feelings doesn’t do any good for anyone. Yes, people behaving badly are unpredictable and maybe dangerous. Does fear of them mean that I’m holding on too tightly to my life, not trusting enough in God? My words can’t change anyone in their own power, but a single word can be the instrument God uses to radically transform someone.
I would like to know what you think, and what you do.
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