A Different (and More Dangerous) Kind of Weed

by Micah Tillman

Abuses of the first-person plural, as in the following, are far too common:

[H]ave we asked the Japanese to forgive us? We have never as a country, the policymakers . . . . We have never apologized as a country. Britain has apologized to Africans, but this country's leaders have refused to apologize. –Jeremiah Wright

Wright was born in 1941, and yet I doubt that anyone was surprised to hear him speak in the first person about Japanese “internment” during WWII.

Wright is not a congressman, and yet I doubt that anyone was surprised to hear Wright speak in the first person about “policymakers.”

In fact, none of us are in government (or if you are, thanks for making me feel important!) and yet I doubt that anyone was surprised to hear Wright identify what those in government refuse to do with what we (he, you, and I) have not done.

Evidently, we (Wright, you, and I) have to wait for an elected official to apologize for terrible things we (Wright, you, and I) didn’t not do before we (Wright, you, and I) can be absolved.

What a world to live in — where the little word “we” makes you guilty of things you didn’t do to people you’ve never met. What a world to live in — where the little word “we” subordinates you morally to others, who must do penance for you. What a world to live in — where you can be born guilty, and can only be washed clean if a suit in Washington says the magic words.

As if we didn’t have enough of our own sins and vices to repent of, without taking on the sins and vices of others! Christ was able to do the latter on Good Friday, according to Christian teaching (to which Wright frequently appeals). But you and I are not Christ.

Wright takes the ability one has in English to pluralize the first person, and uses it to take responsibility for atrocities he did not commit, to place that responsibility on you and I as well, and then to push responsibility for fixing those atrocities onto government officials — while leaving us with the guilt in the meantime.

The sheer absurdity of the idea is obvious. And yet such misuses of the first-person plural are common.

I call them “WEeds.”

When the first-person plural is used to acknowledge guilt, it often is a cover for holier-than-thou finger-pointing. The guilty-though-penitent soul is better than the simply-guilty. So declaring that “we are guilty of x” is often a way for a person to separate herself from the “they” who form the rest of “us.” The difference between the speaker and the rest of the “we” (for whom she claims to speak) is that she has publically repented. They haven’t.

Criticism and condemnation couched in the first person sound noble. The speaker is taking responsibility, showing a willingness to change. In fact, by speaking, the speaker has already changed. He is already better than those who haven’t spoken up. He says, “We are guilty,” but means, “I was guilty, and you still are.”

He dare not say what he means, or acknowledge what he is doing. He fears the reaction he would get for such self-importance combined with denigration of others. The appearance of nobility is just a mask for moral cowardice.

In the realm of guilt, therefore, “we” is often a signal of duplicity. It serves to cloud the most serious of issues: right and wrong, good and evil, responsibility and action, virtue and vice, fallen-ness and redemption.

But WEeds are not always associated with guilt. They occur both in the speeches of those who bemoan sin and in the speeches of those who celebrate virtue. “We” are both guilty of corporate greed, and justly proud of the work of charities. “We” are both obsessed with capitalist instant-gratification, and congratulated for defeating communism (or saving France twice, or feeding the world, etc.).

And WEeds are not always associated with such obviously moral matters. As we saw in Wright’s comments, WEeds pop up in political theorizing as well.

But what is the “we” in politics? “The People”? Why then do people speak of the vote of the majority as the “voice of the People”? When 49% of the voting public says one thing, and 51% says another, I’m supposed to believe that the latter was what “we” said?

And then when a person elected to office by 51% of the voting public (the vast minority of the total public) does something “as our representative,” this is something that “we” are supposed to have done?

The ontological issues here are staggering, murky, confused. They have to do with the nature of groups, of persons, of representation, of responsibility, of choice, etc. And yet the first-person plural gets tossed around as if it were all clear as day.

What the word “we” in a sentence often represents is the reification of the group, as if the group were something other than the persons who are members thereof. And once the group is reified — once it is treated as a thing — people begin to ascribe actions to it, to claim to interact with it, to think they speak for it or hear what it is saying.

Politicians, pundits, and preachers all become priests, oracles, and prophets.

The misuse of the word “we” supports the view that groups are entities with “wills,” “voices,” “rights,” “duties,” “responsibilities,” “actions,” etc. And from there, how far are you from collectivism? From racism? From classism?

The first-person plural is so easy to use, that persons — those fundamental moral, political, spiritual units — are subordinated. And therefore as part of the ongoing struggle for personal dignity and freedom, we must all be constantly Weeding out our own speaking, writing, and thinking.

As part of this, I have instituted the WEeding Awards. Each week I will “honor” texts which desperately need WEeding. An article by Michael Hirsh was “our” first winner, but speeches by Mr. Wright are in the running for next week . . . . (And you can submit more nominations here.)

Micah Tillman (micahtillman.com) is a lecturer in the School of Philosophy at The Catholic University of America.