Last Saturday's Guardian carried an extract from Julian Barnes' forthcoming memoir, Nothing to be Frightened of. An excellent read, and, as you would expect from Barnes, beautifully written.
I particularly enjoyed this line, where Barnes, when describing his father, says.
When I was an unforgiving adolescent, I judged him weak. Later, I
thought him compliant. Later still, autonomous in his views but
disinclined to argue for them.
I have a great deal of sympathy for anyone who feels disinclined to argue for their views. And it strikes me that the more autonomous one's views, the more sensible such disinclination is.
My thoughts on this take me back to the the words of the great theologian/philosopher Reinhold Niebuhr who said, many years ago,
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I
cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom
to know the difference.
OK, the quote has been overused, and can be construed as being unambitious. But Niebuhr was not arguing that there's no point in trying to change things beyond your direct control. By urging people to find the courage to change those things that can be changed, he was reminding us of the importance of finding the right strategy to promote change.
As Julian Barnes realised, his Father had come to the conclusion that some people just aren't worth challenging, but that is not a sign of weakness. It is perfectly possible to be steadfast in one's own convictions, but also to recognise that others have a different psychological make-up which necessarily prevents them from seeing points of view alien to their own.
Sometimes, and alas this applies all too often on discussion fora like the one over at Comment is Free, it's simply not worth challenging people on certain issues. That is not to say that those of us who believe in the possibility of creating a more just and inclusive world should throw in the towel, just that we need to work out a better strategy for change than simply forcing our opinions and world view down the throats of others, and then throwing up our arms in despair when they spit it back in our faces.