How do we know what we know?

Last week I was in the waiting room of my cardiologist’s office, for my annual checkup. Sitting across from me was an elderly (i.e. my age) gentleman, in shorts and trainers, listening to some sort of radio or tv show on his phone, without earbuds. Immediately, I sorted him out: he’s here for a stress test, because of worrying symptoms brought on, no doubt, by too many years of high fat, low exercise living. Which turned out to be untrue. He was there for an exercise class, organized by the clinic. Not two minutes after I noticed him, here came the trainer to take him and five or six others back for their morning workout.

What might he have been thinking about me? Most likely, the answer is, he wasn’t, having better things to do. But if he were, was he thinking of me as a gracefully aging ex-marathoner, with no apparent reason to be at a cardiologist? Even less likely, given that absolutely nothing about my physical presence suggests “long-distance runner.” If he were paying attention, he probably sized me up pretty much the same way I did him.

Last time in this spot we considered the philosophy of hermeneutics, especially in relation to other people. The examples I gave came out of my travel to Scotland, which I think of as sort of a second (or third) home but which would regard me as an occasional visitor. The question was how we form our opinions of others. Do  we grant to others a hermeneutic of generosity, or of suspicion? Do we impute good qualities to them, or not so good? Are they innocent until proven guilty, so to speak, or the reverse?

This applies not only to strangers, but to people we encounter every day, and even to ourselves. I still think of myself as a long-distance runner, even though Barack Obama had been president scarcely a month when I ran my last marathon, and I never was any good in the first place. (Fastest slow guy was probably the best you could say about me.) No stranger would look at me and be reminded of Pheidippides (except perhaps for the collapsing in exhaustion and dying part.) And it happens not only when we assess people but when we talk to them. Misunderstandings happen more often that we realize because we assume that each of us understands what the other is trying to say, rather than actually listening to them. So we respond to what we thought we were going to hear, rather than what was actually said. I was on a business call earlier this week with someone that in a fairly bullying manner shouted that he absolutely would not tolerate actions that no one else on the call had even hinted as possible. (That was not me, by the way, although it certainly could have been.) It took the rest of the 45-minute call to claw back to some sort of productive conversation.

He responded to something that was not said (and was not going to be said.) In other words, his suspicion of what the others might be up to prevented him from hearing what was actually said. We could have had a phone call that actually accomplished something had he come in assuming that everyone else spoke in good faith rather than devious self interest.

Which, sad to say, brings us to the perennial breaking news topic: America’s President (who shall not be named.) One way to understand the political firestorm surrounding the call with the Ukranian president is hermeneutically. The President wants all of us to interpret his actions generously. It was a “perfect,” a “beautiful” call. It was the kind of call that world leaders have all the time. It had nothing to do with politics. On the other hand, the President wants us to regard the unnamed whistleblower, the House of Representatives, and the media with some combination of suspicion and disdain. Their motivations are purely political. It’s all part of the swamp, the deep state out to get him. Which raises two questions. First, at what point does he forfeit the right to the benefit of the doubt? Christians, in their dealings with their neighbors, say “never.” But here is a case where, clearly, the government does not and cannot operate on purely Christian principles. While God may be infinitely forgiving, our system of checks and balances cannot be. At some point, enough is enough. The acceleration of impeachment proceedings is not simply outrage over this incident, outrageous though it clearly is, but a sense that we increasingly know beyond a reasonable doubt who this President is.

The second question gives us all pause. If we insist on insisting on always getting the benefit of the doubt, without extending that courtesy to others, look to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue for the company we keep. Christians have been given our role model, one of humility and self-sacrifice. The President gives us another one. There is a story about Voltaire catching some pompous nobleman admiring himself with some faux award pinned to his chest, and saying “If I catch you doing that again, I shall be forced to tell you the names of other winners.” When we find ourselves affording the benefit of the doubt only to ourselves, we should think about the company we keep.