Democracy depends on the judicious use of words. With the right words, citizens can live and work together, even when they disagree, and resolve conflicts peacefully.

Today, politicians routinely describe their opponents as “enemies”, denigrating them as “wrong” “monsters” “demonic” And “garbage.” By creating the impression that people “on the other side” are irredeemable monsters, such discourse undermines the potential for civic cooperation – because what is the point of trying to understand and work with someone who is “evil”?

More fundamentally, this “us versus them” rhetoric of “enemy” – as I call it – undermines the chances of peaceful coexistence between people who see the world differently.

I am a rhetoric teacher which studies the power of words to build – and destroy – the world we share. I am also a scholar, teacher, and long-time practitioner of mindfulness. My research draws on the wisdom of mindfulness and other spiritual practices to reimagine how we teach the basic habits of democratic citizenship.

One lesson from Buddhism seems particularly apt in these times of enemies: treat people you disagree with as mistakes rather than villains.

There is a deep optimism at the heart of most Buddhist traditions, rooted in the fundamental belief that everyone has the ability to practice mindfulness.

Mindfulness is one of the the eight steps along the noble path described by the Buddha to achieve enlightenment. Practicing mindfulness is move from a reactive approach to a more deliberate and thoughtful approachlifestyle.

By carefully observing thoughts and emotions come and go without immediately reacting to them, it becomes possible to make choices about how we want to react – and to decide more deliberately how we want to live our lives.

Mindfulness is the way to regain our inner freedom as human beings.

“Habits of compassion”

Vietnamese Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh said that everyone has a “Buddha nature.” Everyone is capable of becoming a Buddha by paying attention to their habitual reactions to experiences and choosing to cultivate habits of compassion, understanding, and peace – just as the Buddha did.

To illustrate this point, Nhat Hanh said the story of Angulimalaa notorious murderer who lived during the time of the Buddha.

Entering the town of Shravasti one morning, the Buddha found the streets empty, the doors locked and the windows closed. Angulimala is in town!

Angulimala spots him and shouts at him to stop, but the Buddha does not stop. “I told you to stop, monk. Why don’t you stop? Angulimala asks, to which the Buddha responds, “I stopped a long time ago. You’re the one who didn’t stop.

This leaves Angulimala perplexed. He asks for an explanation. The Buddha responds: “Angulimala, I have long since stopped committing acts that cause suffering to other living beings… We must nurture a heart of compassion and protect the lives of all beings. »

Angulimala is struck by the way the Buddha speaks to him: not like a monster, but with patience and a genuine desire to understand. The Buddha insists that Angulimala can also change, if he only commits to developing his capacity for mindfulness – and he offers Angulimala a model for how and why to change.

The two men continue their dialogue and Angulimala soon reveals that although he wishes to change his ways, he is afraid that society will never forgive him for what he has done.

Thus, the Buddha promises that his community will protect him if he commits to living in full consciousness, without violence, in harmony with others – and if he agrees to make amends with the families and communities to whom he has done harm through acts of compassion. Angulimala does it.

This parable reflects a worldview shared by many Buddhist traditions: No one is truly “bad,” in the sense of being an irredeemable monster, because everyone can learn to practice mindfulness.

Sometimes humans commit acts worthy of being considered “bad.” It’s not because they are demons; it is because they act out of greed and ignorance and give in to fear. Greed can be overcome; ignorance can be enlightened; fear can be tamed. There is always a way out of darkness.

Consider the consequences of calling your fellow citizens “evil,” “monsters,” or “demons”: If the person you disagree with is “evil,” it would make no sense to talk to them and it would not be necessary to understand it.

Buddhists have a very different vocabulary: people in disagreement are not “bad,” they are “wrong,” “careless,” “incompetent,” “unaware,” or “unconscious.”

Making this small rhetorical shift is not easy, especially in times of fear and uncertainty.

However, it makes a big practical difference. If someone is wrong, it makes sense to talk to them, try to understand them, show them compassion, and then, if the situation is correct, try to persuade them to see things differently.

Jeremy David Engels is a professor of communications at Penn State University.

This article was originally published on laconversation.com

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