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During the recent Thanksgiving season, my historical reflections drifted towards a consideration of the French Revolution. This drift was inspired, perhaps, by the recent cinematic treatment of the life of Napoleon, whose career in many ways marked the apex and the end of that revolutionary era. In studying the French Revolution, one is struck by how many currents of thought were swirling around France in that period. The constant political swings—from radical to reactionary, from reformist to an embrace of violence and terror—reflect an era when anything seemed possible for society. In this sense, the period is representative of a characteristic common to many politically unsettled times, the present moment included. That characteristic is the presence of many voices speaking for movements and speaking within movements, all with the potential—with each sudden shift of circumstance—to become the guiding philosophy of masses of people or even of governments, with results both good and bad.
History suggests it is often the passionate, the mobilized, who come to define movements and shape events. Even when the passionate may be the minority, their voices, amplified by their conviction, carry. This was the case in revolutionary France when the Jacobin movement rose to power to impose sweeping reforms; their political momentum was buoyed by their passionate conviction that they were shaping a radically better world.
This dynamic has implications for the work of public health and for the present moment more broadly. In unsettled times, ideas can quickly rise to the surface, supported by the passionate, which can ultimately lead to bad places. In the US, we have seen in both political parties how extreme viewpoints can quickly become ascendant. Living as we are in a moment when such ideas can quickly gain a foothold, it is all the more important that we engage critically with passionate views, that we keep perspective when emotions are high, and that we make sure that when we do embrace ideas, we do so because they are better, not simply louder. I offer the following three suggestions, in the interest of maintaining this perspective.
First, we should act under the assumption that most people are reasonable, and that they are themselves acting in good faith. This includes both the passionate few and the more reserved many. Of course, even basically reasonable people do not always act in accordance with the better angels of their nature, but it is fair to say, I think, that most of us aspire to do so. When we accept this, we can avoid the vilification and bad faith attacks that can come when passions are high, steering conversations toward an ideal of reason and respect that best serves our efforts.
Second, we should engage in conversations with the understanding that we may not always be heard by the passionate few who turn a deaf ear to arguments critical of them, and that this is OK. Even if the passionate few do not listen to us, those in the middle likely will. Their doing so helps them to see how they too might speak up—respectfully, with compassion, but also with the force of their convictions—to engage in a critical dialogue with the passionate few. This helps us to act on the knowledge that we need not surrender the work of promoting health to those who would bully their way into the driver’s seat of our movement. Passion can be a virtue, but it can also be detrimental when it becomes dogmatic and blind to views it does not like. We should have the courage to call this out, to speak in defense of what we believe to be true even when we are called unvirtuous for doing so. The work of public health is too important for us to do otherwise. There is a time for embracing passion and there is a time for saying “No, you have gone too far. You do not get to dictate the terms of our work.” I think most of us know these moments when we see them; the challenge is in speaking up when circumstances call for us to do so. It is never too early, or too late, for us to practice raising our voices in such moments.
Third, those of us who are in positions of privilege within our field and within the broader society—particularly those of us privileged to have a platform for our thoughts and ideas—should be mindful that our voices carry in the public conversation. For this reason, we have an extra responsibility to take care that we do not uncritically accept intellectual positions based on passion alone, given our capacity to sway the broader public debate.
This aligns with public health’s responsibility to speak with—and, when appropriate, on behalf of—those whose voices are not often heard in the public conversation. When passionate voices are amplified, the challenge of often-overlooked inequities can continue to go largely unnoticed. It is on us, then, to always engage with passion from a place of reason and to ensure that no one’s voice gets lost in the shuffle. It is particularly important to do so when engaging with passionate voices who claim they are indeed speaking on behalf of overlooked groups. Sometimes they are, but sometimes their protestations, when viewed dispassionately, benefit those who already have much power. In recent years, we have, for example, seen questions emerge about how much renewed national conversations about issues such as race, class, and climate change have actually made a meaningful difference on these issues and to what extent they, in fact, mostly served those who already have status and influence. It is our responsibility to ensure that the passion of our field always serves the best ideas, working to support populations who most need impassioned advocates. To do less would be to waste our energies, or, worse, to channel them in counterproductive directions.
A version of this piece appeared in Substack.
