As the Trump administration’s executive orders increasingly provoke fear and discourage open discourse, I find myself thinking more about silence.
This year’s Critical Issues Series — sponsored by the Chaplains’ Office, Interfaith Steering Committee, and Telos — challenged the lack of conversation about executive orders, especially those related to immigration, federal job layoffs, and diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI). When the executive orders first came out, people were afraid to speak. These orders came just in time for the Critical Issues Series.
Although a few students were part of the planning, most of the conversation participants were community members. This was no surprise, for many students were still concerned about speaking out in public even in these conversations, and rightfully so. These changes seemed to call for a silence on topics related to civil rights and diversity. As a result of this chilling effect, silence has become the primary response to the executive actions, especially ones that removed information from websites and closed federal departments.
This year’s Critical Issues Series conversations were cautious as we talked about executive order changes for which many people had no answers. The implication was that some of these topics, such as DEI or immigration, were no longer allowed to be discussed. This is a contrast to last year’s critical issues series, which invited speakers who facilitate discussions across differences (a Palestinian Christian, a filmmaker on gun violence in the Berkshires, and advocates for dialogue to reduce polarization). Last year, fear of offending others made people work harder to listen and understand. But this year, the lack of conversation is related to fear of retaliation, especially for having certain public conversations.
Students, alums, and community members discussed the impact of the Trump administration’s executive order in conversations held on March 20 and 27 and April 10 on Zoom and in person. Most participants were community members, and were all were cautious about discussing topics that had now become all but banned through executive orders.
In the weeks leading up to the series, both congregations held conversations addressing DEI, immigration, and the changes to the judicial system and higher education. Members of these congregations and a few students were concerned with how the executive orders seemed to shut down public discourse on these issues. The goal of the Critical Issues Series was not to find answers but to challenge the silence and loss of free-flowing conversations.
There is good reason for the caution: Students around the country are facing retaliation for exercising their right to speak and many on campus expressed reluctance toward participating in such conversations. As changes in national immigration policy have confirmed that speaking out could lead to unexpected consequences, silence has begun to seem like the safest option. My hope is to turn silence into listening and not just avoiding conversation. For silence can be a tool for meaningful discourse, not just a hindrance. I am being deliberate about my word choice, for I want to focus on the role of silence in these conversations while still paying attention to the issues.
During this series, I rediscovered a feature on Zoom that has always been there, but that may have a newfound value: By turning off your camera, muting yourself, and erasing your name, you can still be part of the conversation, even while muted. Muting yourself could be a signal that you are actively listening.
Silence can be deadly, especially when it shuts down conversation and ends up fostering homogeneity and rejecting marginalized voices. Silence can erase people from the conversation. But silence can also be a tool for engagement by which one can create a listening space where one’s thoughts and ideas are temporarily put on hold as one listens to other ideas. This encourages a diversity of thought and invites marginalized voices. Silence can also promote listening and understanding, helping us develop informed opinions.
While free speech is being challenged, let us hold on to the freedom of thought that uses silence and listening as part of the thinking process even more. In religious contexts, prayers are believed to be powerful, but often, prayers are made in silence. Many faith traditions believe that these prayers have power, that they can open hearts and minds, or even lead to action.
The Simon and Garfunkel song, “The Sound of Silence” reflects on silence during a similarly fraught time in our country’s history (the Vietnam War and aftermath of the Civil Rights movement), as society was grappling with a new awareness of the systemic oppression of women, people of color, and gender/sexual minorities. In the song, Simon and Garfunkel warn that silence can be something dangerous and contagious. Despite this, Simon acknowledges that silence could also be a means of listening and reaching out to others, without words. He ends his song by implying that, if the silence that shuts down conversations persists, the words of prophets will be written on the walls of the subways and tenement halls. This stanza always reminds me of a verse in the gospel of Luke (19:39-41), in which the religious leaders told Jesus to tell his disciples to be quiet or to be silent. The song helps me expand my understanding of silence, especially Jesus’ comments about the command to silence his disciples. Jesus’ response was if the disciples were silent, then stones, like Simon’s subway walls and tenement halls, would shout out. Or, in other words, both the songs and Jesus’ words acknowledge that silence can lead to more conversation.
Perhaps what is even more dangerous than the silence of our voices is the silence of our thoughts and minds. If we stop thinking and talking — or, at least, whispering, as Simon’s lyrics go — we are apt to disengage from reality and accept unquestioned narratives which will, as the song says, grow like a cancer. May our silence lead to thinking, and our thinking lead to action. May the rocks, subway walls, and tenement halls speak the truths that we cannot at this time. And may our silence be not the end of conversation, but the continuation of listening.
Rev. Valerie Bailey Fischer is chaplain to the College and the Protestant chaplain.
