Everyone says "just be kind." I've always had a problem with this, because no one ever defines what being "kind" means. It winds up meaning "don't make anyone else feel bad." If you make someone feel bad--which I guess means to make someone feel sad or mad--then you've hurt them. And hurting people is not a nice thing to do. So just be kind.
I'm sure you can see the problem with that definition. If someone says, "I'm so excited to jump off this cliff!" and you say, "Maybe you were unaware, but if you jump off this cliff, you have a very good chance of becomeing paralyzed or even dying. You should think again," you've killed their buzz and possibly made them feel bad. Does that mean you should instead say, "How great that you are excited!"
Or what if you stumble across someone raping an unconscious woman. Should you try to stop them by force or threaten to call the police right then and there? Or would that make them feel bad? Or mad or sad?
These are extreme examples, of course. Let's take some modern day ones of current concern. Your 13 year daughter tells you she is really a boy, and that she wishes to go on puberty blockers, cross-sex hormones, and eventually undergo mastctomy and hysterectomy. What do you say?
Your neighbor says it is heartless for the Church not to acknowledge and bless same-sex unions, and that the general authorities are cruel hypocrites. Do you say something, or do you self-silence because you don't want her to feel bad? Or your friend suffers from infertility, and has decided to use a surrogate to have a child. You know she will feel bad if you are not happy for her. Do you feign happiness for her? Perhaps another friend is attending a group where Church members instruct each other on how to become translated through secret knowledge. Do you say something?
If you think someone is truly ignorant of real harms that will come to them by their choices, I think you have an obligation to say something. I also think that if someone is doing something evil, full well knowing that it is hurting others (or even themselves), that you have an obligation to say something.
There's several reasons to take this road, I think. First, if someone truly is ignorant and you have not warned them, then the harm that comes to them is also your responsibility. And if you could have stopped evil and you did not, then you have colluded with evil, and you are accountable for that.
But there's more than just you and the other person. There is also your society. As a wise person once said, "The standard you walk by is the standard you accept." That is very true. If you are silent about that which is wrong, then everyone else around will feel pressure to not say anything, either. When you say something, you give people courage to resist that which should be resisted.
Now, are there smarter and dumber ways to speak up? Are there times when people speak up for the wrong reasons, such as self-righteousness, rather than care for others? Sure. All you have to do is look at the internet for copious examples of how to speak up in unhelpful ways.
So it behooves us to think deeply about how to speak up in a way that is truest to the best in us. For example, sometimes when we have had the same conversation over and over again with the same person, it may be best to give them and ourselves space. Sometimes we have to edit what we wish to say to make it less ad hominem. Sometimes we should make our comments minimalist, such as "I disagree."
But the stakes are too high in this life for us to remain mute, because doing so may undermine everything we ourselves are standing upon as our foundation. A research study from 2014 illustrates this point. The research study was a riff off the famous Milgram experiment, where subjects were psychologically pressured into, basically, torturing another person through the administration of electric shocks.
Those in the study who scored the highest on the traits of "Conscientiousness" and "Agreeableness" were more likely to administer high intensity shocks. But of the two traits, it was "Agreeableness" that led the way. Those who were "Conscientious" but "Disagreeable" did not administer high intensity shocks. In fact, they were likely to outright refuse.
This has got me thinking. It certainly seems to me that we very much need conscientious contrarians in our midst--those who are disagreeing not for the sake of disagreement, but for the sake of what's right and true. For the sake of God.
Perhaps we need to develop the art of being "compassionate contrarians," or of being "kindly disagreeable." Maybe we should practice some kindly disagreeable locutions:
"I can't say I agree with that."
"I hold a different view."
"Regrets are painful, and I'd hate to see you have them."
"Just making sure you're aware that [pertinent fact], because I'd want someone to tell me if I didn't know. "
"There's no harm in getting a second opinion or doing more research on that; maybe pause and seek additional perspective/information."
Then again, when faced with real evil, you simply cannot beat around the bush: "That's wrong/illegal/depraved."
I suppose I've lived my life as a contrarian. I had never considered it a virtue, but now I think I will. I am not yet the kindly contrarian, but it is what I aspire to be. I think the reason I struggle with the kindly part is not because I am not kind, but rather due to the experiences of my youth. My parents were very troubled people, and crossed many boundaries they should not have crossed--and wanted to take their children right along with them. As a child, you don't know you can say no and set healthy boundaries. I learned through painful experience that just because you love someone or have sympathy for them does not mean that boundaries should be lowered on request. Chesterton's Fence, after all.
Now when I see a needed fence being dismantled, or attacked for being unreasonable, I put my foot down. I know all too well what happens when you are not firm on such matters. I have seen what the other end of that stick is that is being picked up, and that can be horrifically evil in its consequences.
Still, I am determined to be "kindly disagreeable." One of my New Year's resolutions! Where would we be without compassionate contrarians?