It becomes clear towards the end of his book, that it isn’t really “empathy” that Joe Rigney has got in his sights. The idea and practice of empathy is really a proxy for his primary target, wokeness.
The concept of “wokeness” is an interesting one. I’ve written previously on Faithroots about it. The term started out as a description of a form of awakening experienced particularly by black Americans, an awakening both to their ethnic identity, a positive view of their black African heritage combined with an awakening to the true nature of the discrimination and prejudice they have faced throughout a significant period of history and still do today. It would therefore include therefore not only examples of direct, personalised racial hatred and violence but systemic and structural racism. The concepts of systemic and structural racism are themselves not uncontroversial.
However, the term has taken on a broader meaning, one that I’ve argued is unhelpful to those who might want to reclaim it as its original owners but an appropriation of the term that has been collaborated on by two ends of the political spectrum in much the same way that I’ve argued that some suggested settlements of the Ukraine War reflect more of a carving up of territory by competing friends. So, both the libertarian right and the progressive left have taken the word woke and turned it into an umbrella term to cover a range of issues around identity politics and culture war. For the progressive left, it is a positive term whilst for the right, it is used pejoratively. Rigney particularly identifies wokeness with what might be termed a “victim ideology.”[1] He writes:
Under the progressive gaze, progressive values and concerns were normalized and taken to be the default operating system for society. Mainline Christian denominations baptized these progressive values, loosely attaching Bible verses to them (while studiously ignoring or denying the rest of the biblical witness). These default progressive values included the oppressor oppressed framework derived from critical theory, as well as the intersectionality that piles up oppression to create a hierarchy of victims. Living under the progressive gaze, Christian churches implicitly adopted the progressive victimhood hierarchy, identifying minorities (especially African Americans), immigrants, women, and the LBGTQ+ community as oppressed. At this point, Christian compassion, which was degenerating into empathy, kicked in, and under the banner of social justice, Christians became Advocates and Activists, seeking to rectify past and present wrongs and build “credibility” for the gospel. Certain events (such as the shooting of Michael Brown or the death of George Floyd) became totems for narratives of oppression and victimhood, testifying to the abiding injustices in our culture, and thereby afforded opportunities to virtue signal under the progressive gaze.[2]
Rigney’s engagement reflects a scepticism about potential grievances and sees the church as adopting a progressive agenda, Even in relation to the narrower terms of ethnic wokeness, Rigney comes across as suspicious. He writes:
“Given America’s history, racism was particularly potent as the leading edge of the progressive gaze. Churches started book clubs and Sunday school classes that reinforced the progressive gaze, acquainting their congregations with concepts like anti-racism and white fragility. Accusations of misogyny and sexism in the church were likewise animating forces, again awakening compassion and inspiring advocates for various kinds of reform. And it’s important to stress that, in some cases, real victims of real evil were in view, and Christians were rightly moved by sincere compassion and a desire to rectify wrongs. At the same time, many of the books circulating offered skewed narratives based on specious statistics (such as “1 in 4 women are the victims of sexual assault,” or “Blacks are imprisoned at a disproportionate rate”).5 The statistics provided just enough of a veneer of truth to reinforce these narratives, narratives that were fundamentally motivated by empathy and the quest for credibility.[3]
The last couple of sentences throw doubt on, or in fact, full on confront and reject the statistical claims of others, however this happens without the use of the statistics being properly cited or with any provision of evidence to challenge them. He then goes on to make a significant allegation.
“This story played out in hundreds of churches and ministries in various ways over the last decade. Through a mix of empathy, faux justice, and credibility, the world discovered a powerful steering wheel for the church, one that progressive billionaires exploited to neutralize and co-opt God’s people for their own purposes. In all of this, many Christians (and especially Christian leaders) had their eyes on three groups, all of whom reinforced the progressive gaze: Victims or oppressed groups (the objects of empathy), Advocates (the arbiters of justice), and other Respectable Christians (the purveyors of credibility).[4]
This seems similar to the claims made in Megan Basham’s book “Shepherds for sale” but it again begs the question as to who these billionaires are and comes as an assertion without evidence. This too reflects a style of engagement that we are increasingly seeing, the throwing out of claims, allegations and assertions without evidence in the hope that these will be left unchallenged. Even if they are challenged and scrutinised later, the damage is already done.
He sets out a hypothetical situation.
“Consider a hypothetical discussion about racial reconciliation in the mid-2010s. Over the course of the conversation, it becomes increasingly unclear what kind of conversation you’re having. One minute, it’s a listening session, allowing minorities the chance to share their experiences. As a pastor, you have a category for that. There’s a time to listen, to seek to understand what people have gone through. Perhaps to ask a question or two. But then the conversation moves to a discussion of what the church must do going forward. As a pastor, you also have a category for working with fellow Christians to come up with solutions to problems. And so as the discussion continues, you begin to ask different kinds of questions, to challenge assumptions, to give your own perspective, and so forth. Immediately, the tone shifts. The mood darkens. A rebuke is offered. “Why can’t you just listen to our brothers and sisters tell their stories? Why do you have to insist on imposing your white perspective on everything?”[5]
Well, it is certainly true that conversations can be challenging and indeed, I’ve sdome sympathy with the person seeking to move to solutions and getting pushback which feels personal. However, this still leaves me considering a couple of things that don’t seem to be thought through by Rigney. First, I’m intrigued by the idea of a pastor having “categories” for how to function at different stages of a conversation. That sounds at best like quite a clunky meeting. Secondly, I think that we have got to allow for the possibility that, especially if we are not seen to really get things, if we move to solutions whilst not being seen to fully recognise and accept the extent of the problem, then we are likely to be seen as part of the problem rather than the solution. This does not deny the possibility that questions need to be asked and that things need to be challenged which is never easy in any pastoral context. However, it does not necessarily mean that something sinister is happening.
The big problem here is that Rigney is in effect attempting to counter the perceived progressive argument by reversing it. If sometimes, from the Right, it seems that the progressive agenda is based on emotions so that if something feels a certain way, it must be true, Rigney’s reversal is in effect that if emotions are associated with progressives therefore the feelings must be wrong. Rigney talks about “switch and bait” tactics and yet, it is he who is using them. We thought that we had bought a book about emotions and empathy, turns out we had bought a book about anti-wokeness.
[1] Rigney, 79.
[2] Rigney, Joe. The Sin of Empathy: Compassion and Its Counterfeits (p. 80). Canon Press. Kindle Edition.
[3] Rigney, Joe. The Sin of Empathy: Compassion and Its Counterfeits (pp. 81-82). Canon Press. Kindle Edition.
[4] Rigney, Joe. The Sin of Empathy: Compassion and Its Counterfeits (pp. 83-84). Canon Press. Kindle Edition.
[5] Rigney, Joe. The Sin of Empathy: Compassion and Its Counterfeits (pp. 85-86). Canon Press. Kindle Edition.
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