Law, Compromise, and Learning to Disagree

The following is an excerpt from John D. Inazu’s latest book, Learning to Disagree: The Surprising Path to Navigating Difference with Empathy and Respect

Read more of John’s thoughts on democracy, empathy, and law here.

Think for a minute about the alternative—a world without law. A world where it’s everyone for themselves and violence reigns unconstrained. A world with unending cycles of vengeance where the people with the most strength dominate and exploit the people who are most vulnerable. You might point out that this already happens anyway in a world governed by law. And you would be right. But think how much worse it would be if the law no longer constrained any of our worst impulses.

When you find yourself on the losing end of a conflict that cannot be resolved through compromise, you don’t need to throw in the towel or blow up the system.

John Inazu

A world with law—the world we all prefer—means a world of winners and losers in politics, policies, and legal disputes. . . . You may decide that some of your beliefs about these issues are not open to compromise. And sometimes you will find those beliefs on the losing end of a law or policy. In those moments when compromise isn’t possible and you’ve lost, it’s natural to feel like the whole system is rigged or needs to be reimagined. In practice, though, it’s more pragmatic to keep fighting within our law-governed system rather than trying to destroy it. Trying to upend the system usually ends in futility, frustration, or chaos. Few people who don’t already agree with a movement will be convinced by its calls for revolution. These kinds of rallying cries appeal to those whose views already lie in the extremes rather than to those who might be open to persuasion and political change.

When you find yourself on the losing end of a conflict that cannot be resolved through compromise, you don’t need to throw in the towel or blow up the system. An inability to compromise is not always a dead end, and even zero-sum decisions can usually be reconsidered. Use the opportunity to deepen your understanding of what’s at stake in a disagreement and why others see things differently. And recommit to work toward a different solution while continuing in your efforts to persuade others that your position is, in fact, the better one.

Love Thy Neighbors, Saints

In a magazine interview last year, the staff writer asked why I saw neighbor love as (quoting me) “a radical witness to the Gospel in our world today.” Before I could reply, the interviewer unintentionally answered the question herself: “…Because you just don’t see a lot of love in the world today…and Christians have been some of the most hateful people in our society.”

In a Princeton Seminary course with Elaine James on sex and gender in the Old Testament, the thesis of the semester brought into question what biblical passages we center in our hermeneutics and Christian practice. James questioned what might change if, rather than utilizing Genesis 3 as the primary lens for understanding sex and gender, we used the Song of Songs?

From this course, I began to think about this “centering” project beyond this course. I think James’ observation holds incredible explanatory power for understanding differences within the church.

I admit I am skeptical when anyone posits a “biblical” view of a certain topic. This is because interpreters who make this claim often fail to recognize their own particular social location from which they interpret and the contextual nature of the text.

We have seen this time after time—it is how slaveholders could use the Bible to support their claim to own another human being, it is how colonizers carried the bible in one and the sword in the other, how the Religious Right turned the Cold War into a spiritual battle, how conservative Christians today frame the overturning of Roe v. Wade into a moral absolute…the list goes on and on.

Our “biblical” view of X topic always centers particular passages.

In the midst of a perceived secularization and liberalization of society, many Christians today have centered passages of God’s wrath and judgment and have adopted an apocalyptic framework to justify a “by any means necessary” activism. While my co-religionists are free to do so, what I find problematic is the way they do their hermeneutical work “under the table.” Hiding behind a hermeneutic method that claims to be rid of bias and presupposition, these Christians often posit a clear, definitive, and univocal interpretation of the text.

In my reading of Scripture, however, I (at least genuinely attempt) to do my hermeneutical work above the table. This is, in part, why I have a column in Sojourners and write this newsletter at least once a week. I aim to be honest and open about the passages I center in my Christian practice and the experiences that inform my hermeneutics.

While my writing cannot be completely incoherent or inconclusive, you will always find a work in progress — an active navigating, reading, interpreting, and questioning. You will rarely find a “biblical view” of a certain topic in my writing. Instead, you’ll read of stories and experiences that emphasize the lived, nuanced reality of our common life. I refuse to hide this.

This, in itself, is an attempt at neighbor love.

My reader, both friend and critic, is a neighbor to be loved. While I am far from perfect, my genuine desire is always to invite, not marginalize—to love, not hate.

For those who may disagree with my conclusions, I hope you do not find yourself belittled or excluded but instead find an opportunity to see how I arrive at conclusions different from your own.

For those who agree with my conclusions, I hope that this neighbor-love-rooted method can offer new insights and perhaps even illuminate pieces of your own story.