Defensive Stance

It was a news story that gripped our attention for weeks on end.  No matter where you were on Brett Kavanaugh - is he a decent man who saw his name sullied by false accusations, or a privileged prep schooler who got away with sexual assault? - it was proxy for something larger and more troubling.  I'm not here to litigate what really happened, but to use it as a jumping off point for something I've been musing over ever since, which is how we respond when we are called out for bad behavior.

Fortunately for us, when our past deed or present wrongdoing is confronted, it is usually not with the hot lights of national media glare on us, nor is our reputation and future livelihood on the line.  And yet how often do we react as many interpret Justice Kavanaugh's reaction, with categorical denial, dismissal of another's interpretation of our behavior, and/or offense at the insinuation that we have offended.



It is natural to become defensive when we are confronted or accused.  But why is that?  And why is our defensiveness so often injected with a vehemence that borders on violence?  After all, if we care about others' feelings as well as our own self-improvement, would we not lean into such opportunities, thank those who call us out, and humbly seek out advice on how to do better?

I have said many times in this space that all too often I see folks who say they want to do good, yet their behavior betrays to me that they don't actually want to do good, they just want to be seen as doing good.  This may be a variant of it, which is that we say that we value others' feelings and want to do better, but all too often we choose instead to trade in outrage and cynicism.  But I think our defensiveness comes from an deeper wound than this.  (More on this in a second.)

I have a lot of advantages going for me on this topic.  For one, I'm Asian-American, so culturally we have had apology deeply embedded in us, almost to a fault.  For another, I'm an INTJ on the Myers-Briggs, which means that there is a certain detachedness by which we can navigate life, which allows us to take criticism constructively without feeling personally attacked (even if we are literally being personally attacked).  I also did speech and debate in high school, which strengthened my ability to hold a set of arguments intellectually without committing to them personally, which is helpful when receiving negative feedback.  Finally, my formative years in the faith were in a wonderful on-campus Christian group, where challenging others to do better was beautifully and graciously modeled, for which I personally benefited many times over (yeah, I had a lot that needed being confronted).

Yet, with all of that going for me, I too get defensive when I'm called out.  I would attempt an explanation for what goes on inside my head when this happens, but it wouldn't justify my reaction and it shouldn't garner any sympathy.  The fact of the matter is, I am, like all of you, flawed.  Which means that not only are there many things I need to be corrected in, but that I will not always handle that correction appropriately.  And that is the core of defensiveness, is a flawed response to being outed as flawed, which gets us further from and not closer to being better.  It is, for many of us, a raw place - we put up a facade that we have it all together, and when that is unraveled we feel naked and vulnerable - but that is exactly why it is so important to rein that in so we can make room for improvement and healing.

Let me again articulate why it should be a joyous thing to be called on bad behavior.  First, we usually have a blind spot about it, otherwise we'd know we were in the wrong.  Consider, for example, the accusation of being "tone deaf."  The metaphor is a good one, in that we can't hear how we are discordant, so we need others whose ears are better than ours to help us.  Of course, the Bible employs another memorable metaphor, that of having a log in our own eye yet being fixated on the speck in someone else's.  We cannot help others or ourselves until we first confront the fact that we can't hear and we have a tree sticking out of our face.  And yet instead we just sing louder, shut our ears, and strain past the obstruction in our eyeball to rage at the tiny speck in someone else's eyeball.  I am guilty of all of these things.

Second, we ought to care how others feel about our words and actions.  I know that in this country we sometimes not only tolerate but fete people who couldn't care less about how others perceive them, and to be sure there is something to be said about being able to do what you are convinced you should do regardless if you are going to win any popularity contests doing it.  But I actually think that not caring how others feel is a pretty rude way to live.  If someone has taken the time to say, "what you said hurt me" or "what you did, I caution you, is not good," we honor that person by stopping to consider their perspective, whereas we stomp all over them by raging back at them in our place of defensiveness.  All too often, in my defensive reactions I have utterly forgotten how much my response grieves a brother or sister who was simply trying to go out of their way to help me.

Third, we ought to jump at the opportunity to be better.  The day we no longer want to be better is the day we stop improving, close our minds, and give hate room to fester in our hearts.  And yet, how often do we strongly assert that we abhor those things in others and yet engage in the very behaviors that ensure they will occur in our own lives?  This is the most pernicious one to overcome, and let me provide an example of this.  When we are falsely accused, and rudely so, that is when our defensiveness rears itself the most strongly.  And perhaps it should be so.  But perhaps we can use it as an opportunity to grow, if in fact growing is so important to us that are willing to put in the hard work to make it happen.  For when someone incorrectly corrects us (how's that for a turn of phrase), and you can tell they are doing it from not the most loving of places but rather to intentionally embarrass you, then neither of the two reasons I described above are in play.  We may want and need to defend our name, especially in response to someone who we believe is calling us out for reasons that are not about lifting us up but rather putting us down.  But we should still want to improve, and so since we are imperfect, even if the accusation is wrong there is a lesson in there that we can grow from if only we will allow ourselves to grow from it.  Yet instead all too often here is where we dig in the most, because we perceive we are not in the wrong and in fact are being unfairly attacked.  And yet even if that is true, there is room to be humble and say to yourself (and out loud), "how can I do better?"

I am sure I will react with defensiveness many times in the future when I am called out.  But I hope that my heart is in a good place, in terms of knowing that I may not be able to see and hear where I am in the wrong, and so depend on others to help me to see and hear, in terms of wanting to respect and honor when someone is coming to me with a grievance, and in terms of wanting to do better.  My hope is that we all want to do better.

Ultimately, I don't like being exposed just like anyone else.  But, ultimately, I stand not on the shakiness of my ability to fake it until I make it, but rather on the inherent worth that has been infused in me by my Creator.  That is unassailable, even and especially when my faults are laid bare.  Defensiveness may be a natural response, but it is one that moves us further from the healing and wholeness we so desperately seek in our lives. However hard it is to lean into critique, even when it is delivered by the hands of gentle and gracious messengers, and especially when it seems unwarranted or comes by those who wish ill and not good for us, let us lean hard into what helps us be naked and unashamed.