Critical Thinking & Compassionate Commenting

Or, An Essay on Protecting Democracy

Monica Edwards, PhD
4 min readJan 12, 2022

“The individual who investigates is also the citizen who builds” (Synder, p. 73).

If I don’t write what you would write, or what you like, does that make what I write wrong?

One of the things that I love about critical thinking is the capacity to hold two (or more!) complex ideas simultaneously. For example, not long ago I wrote a piece on men’s violence. Now when I write, I understand that I can’t address every idea in one essay. Roxane Gay stresses this thoroughly in her MasterClass on writing for social change. Thus, I know that when I write a sociological exploration of the relationship between men (as a social category) and domestic violence, I know that I can’t or won’t say everything there is to say about violence. Much will be left unsaid.

I believe that patriarchy and the ensuing hegemonic masculinity are harmful to society. I also believe that patriarchy and masculinity harm individual men as well as women. Further, I believe that patriarchal hegemonic masculinity shapes both men’s violence, and the legal system's response to men’s violence. But to say these things does not mean that I don’t also know that women are sometimes violent, or that women of color are often not believed to be victims when they call the police on their abusers. Enter my critical thinking skills and my capacity to hold multiple, complex ideas simultaneously.

Someone out there in the Medium world chose to comment on my piece about men’s violence. I think a healthy debate of ideas is important. But readers, here is what I don’t understand:

While the commentary on my ideas is useful — this critique allowed me to see the gaps in my original piece, which opens the door to further explorations and essays (such as men’s emotional pain, women’s violence, and the societal response to both) — the direct attack on my person is not. It is unkind, yes, but also, it has the potential to stifle important democratic discussions as a result of defensiveness.

That said, I will not defend myself against your personal accusations. I will not explain why your articulation of my deficiencies is “wrong.” I can’t control what you think of me, and so instead I will say: I hear you. I hear the pain in your comment and want you to know that I hold that pain with compassion. It’s hard to read a story, a sociological argument, that on the surface seems to deny your deepest hurts.

It might appear as if I have a personal beef here (and maybe I do). But really, this is about something bigger and far more important than my own bruised ego. American culture — in particular, internet culture and Trump-era political tactics — encourages us to attack not just those ideas we don’t like, but the people who espouse them. I think this goads us to hold even more pain in our hearts, and I think we should all be emboldened to instead comment with compassion.

For me, compassionate commenting means engaging with ideas without disparaging authors and our (presumed, assumed) personal characteristics. Rather than attack a person on the internet whom we don’t know, let’s instead explore their ideas further: “the individual who investigates is also the citizen who builds” (Synder, p. 73). This reference highlights that this is not just a “kumbaya” hope for kindness — nor, a request to spare my fragile ego — it is a cultural shift we must all embark upon in order to protect our democracy. Dialogue and critical thinking are crucial to the democratic process, while personal attacks are antithetical.

Timothy Snyder (2017) wrote in On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century:

“Life is political, not because the world cares about how you feel, but because the world reacts to what you do. The minor choices we make are themselves a kind of vote, making it more or less likely that free and fair elections will be held in the future. In the politics of the everyday, our words and gestures, or their absence, count very much” (p. 33)

In this way, this commentary of mine on compassion isn’t about how I feel, but about how the “world reacts to what [I] do.” I want the “minor choices” that I make to support the exchange of ideas and respect for people, even if I disagree with them. My essays and my comments on others’ essays are a part of the “politics of everyday” and as such, they matter. Hopefully, this is viewed as intended: a reflection of my commitment to protecting democracy and respecting each person’s inherent humanity. A vote for compassion is a vote for democratic principles to govern our daily lives and relationships.

Kate Baer has transformed her experiences with vitriol on the internet by turning them into (found/erasure) poetry. Poetry has significant healing potential, and as such, I’ve done the same thing with the comment that inspired this essay. I hope it helps to support a culture where people feel seen and held with care — we are dependent upon each other, after all.

Healing From Violence (A Found/Erasure Poem) by Monica Edwards, 2022

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Monica Edwards, PhD

I am a Sociology teacher at a Community College, writing these posts for my students, for my sanity, for anyone willing to think towards something better.