On Civil Discourse: Head of School Chris Kolovos Delivers Opening-of-Term Address
On Tuesday, September 3, 2024, Boston University Academy Head of School Chris Kolovos welcomed students, faculty, and staff back to school with opening remarks on the topic of civil discourse. Read the full text of his remarks below.
Good morning. On behalf of the faculty and staff, welcome to the 32nd year of Boston University Academy.
A special welcome to our new students. You are impressive individuals, but what binds you together and connects you to all of us is your kindness and your curiosity. You will make us better, and we are so glad you’re here. To the Class of 2025, welcome back. We had some fun together at the senior retreat. You will set the tone for all of us this year, and we are excited about your leadership. Speaking of seniors, in a few moments I will have the pleasure of introducing Alex Furman, your Student Council President. Before that, though, I will offer some thoughts as I do at the start of each term. My comments today are on the topic of civil discourse.
Two Justices
One of my favorite courses in law school was constitutional law. In preparation for each class, we would read a Supreme Court opinion. Like in the movies, the professor would then stand in front of the room and call on students, asking a series of hard questions about the case. Cases involved redistricting, free speech, abortion, affirmative action, war powers, and so on. Supreme Court opinions are written by justices – majority opinions, concurrences, and dissents if they disagree with the majority. As you read opinions, you get to know these justices – their voice, their ways of thinking about the law, and even their personalities. I want to tell you this morning about two of those justices.
One is Justice Antonin Scalia. Nominated by President Reagan, he was the first Italian American justice and a devout Catholic. Justice Scalia was a textualist; he insisted on a strict reading of the language of statutes. He was also an originalist, looking to divine the intent of the framers when interpreting language from the Constitution. Among other things, he opined that the Constitution did not guarantee the right to an abortion or to same-sex marriage, and that affirmative action was unconstitutional. He was a leader of the conservative wing of the Court during his tenure. He was also a gifted writer – brilliant, a sharp wit, sometimes abrasive, and often very funny.
The other justice I want to tell you about is Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Appointed by Bill Clinton, she was the second woman and the first Jewish woman on the Supreme Court. In her legal practice before becoming a judge and then a justice, she was a fierce advocate for gender equality and women’s rights, working for some time for the ACLU. She believed that our understanding of the Constitution could and should evolve over time. She was a champion of the liberal wing of the court. Small in stature, Justice Ginsburg became a cultural icon later in her life – referred to as the “Notorious RBG” in part because of her strong dissents.
These two justices often found themselves on opposing sides of cases. Some scholars have estimated that they opposed one another in 50 to 60% of the cases they heard – famous cases like Bush v. Gore on the 2000 presidential election, DC v. Heller about the Second Amendment, Ledbetter v. Goodyear on gender pay discrimination, and Obergefell v. Hodges about same-sex marriage.
So, it might be surprising for you to know that outside of work, Justices Ginsburg and Scalia were, in Ginsburg’s words, “best buddies.” They became close working together on the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals. Their families had dinner together every New Year’s Eve and traveled the world together. They both loved the opera, attending performances together and even appearing together as extras in the Washington National Opera’s performance of Ariadne auf Naxos.
What’s more impressive than their friendship outside the Court was the way they disagreed and worked together on the Court. Justice Ginsburg wrote the majority opinion in U.S. v. Virginia declaring Virginia Military Institute’s single-sex admissions policy unconstitutional. Justice Scalia was the lone dissenter in that case. He sent Justice Ginsberg a draft of his dissent as quickly as possible so that she would have more time to respond to his arguments before releasing the majority opinion. Reflecting back, Justice Ginsburg said, “He absolutely ruined my weekend, but my opinion is ever so much better because of his stinging dissent.” Justice Ginsburg released a statement upon Justice Scalia’s death noting that in his dissents “Justice Scalia nailed all the weak spots – the ‘applesauce’ and ‘argle bargle’ – and gave me just what I needed to strengthen the majority opinion.”
Hope
It is so easy to be discouraged these days. The nature of civil discourse is disheartening – the polarization; the cancellation or shouting down of opposing voices; the demonization of those who disagree with us; the perceived consequences of saying the wrong thing.
I offer the story of these two justices to show that it doesn’t have to be this way. We can have deep disagreements over important ideas in a way that’s respectful and supportive. We can disagree with mutual trust, respect, and even friendship.
I believe that we have a chance to do that here. We often talk about BUA being counter-cultural. I am confident that we can talk about hard things. I am confident that we do talk about hard things. I am confident that we can communicate across difference in a healthy, productive way.
Why am I so confident? You all have the two pieces needed for fruitful dialogue across difference: curiosity and kindness.
By curiosity, I’m implying something beyond the drive to read the next book in the series. What’s required is having the presence of mind to respond with an invitation when somebody disagrees with you: “Why? Why do you disagree with me?” We need the humility to think, “Maybe there’s something that I don’t understand that she does.” We need the patience to really listen and the courage to change your mind.
The other piece you need is kindness – not just the kindness of holding a door or saying hello, but the kindness to presume positive intent, to assume that somebody is well-meaning, to dispute the idea and not attack the person. And we need the kindness to forgive when they make a mistake.
Some Questions
I am confident that you all have the disposition to do this, but there remain real barriers. While these barriers are not unique to us, they are here. I do not have solutions to offer. Instead, I want to pose these barriers to you as questions in hopes that we can overcome them together.
One, how do we overcome the fear of speaking up that settled in last year and that led to so much silence? That silence was often well-meaning, maybe always well-meaning. That silence stemmed from a fear of hurting a friend, of making a mistake, of saying the wrong thing and incurring the consequences – real or imagined. How do we break through that culture and make it okay to disagree with one another and even make a mistake?
Two, how do we rebut the false idea that being confronted by an argument you disagree with somehow makes you emotionally unsafe? We take your physical safety very seriously. The same is true for your psychological health. We have a responsibility as adults to help protect you from harm, from abuse, from harassment, and from bullying. But when faced with ideas we disagree with, too often the response in our society is, “I don’t feel safe and I am going to exit this conversation.” In so doing you become a victim and shut down. That is a mistake. It is a mistake to equate being uncomfortable with being unsafe. Doing so robs us of the opportunity for dialogue and growth.
Three, how do we keep our common humanity in mind in the face of disagreement? In the last few decades, our society has engaged in so much exploration of our differences. That’s a good thing. We do that in our ninth-grade seminar, where we unpack identity and the ways it impacts our experience. Our society is so much better for our understanding of systemic and structural biases and for making us more sensitive to how we are different.
And, at the same time, we cannot lose sight of what binds us together.
This summer, I spent far too much time in the hospital. A member of my family is undergoing cancer treatment, and I have found myself in hospital waiting rooms, lobbies, elevators, cafeterias, and hallways with people of all backgrounds. You notice very quickly – and I know some of you have been there, too – that people are really kind to one another when they are in that setting: holding doors, smiling, striking up conversations. There is an understanding that we are all struggling in that moment, that we are all human beings worried about our loved ones. In those waiting rooms and elevators, it is easy to see how we are the same. But how do we stay open to our common humanity when we are not facing some common crisis? How do we keep in touch with our common humanity when we are at odds over something really important?
I do not pretend to have answers to these questions. I do know that our best chance of answering them is by putting our collective brains and our collective hearts together. As daunting as it is, and as impossible as it might seem outside these walls, I believe that we can do it here.
Thank you for your attention, and I wish all of us a great school year.