Someone once observed, “It only takes one person to produce speech, but it requires the cooperation of all to produce silence.” History has its share of corporate silences. The Holocaust, for example, will not be remembered so much for the extraordinary numbers of people murdered in gas chambers as it will be remembered for the silent conspiracy that permitted such an unthinkable thing to happen.
A metaphor for this phenomenon is the familiar parable of “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” In the Hans Christian Andersen version, con artists have convinced a vain and gullible emperor that they have invented a magical thread that can only be seen by folks who are not fools. The emperor falls for the swindle and orders a new suit woven from the magic thread. His royal subjects will thrill to see him attired in this remarkable new cloth, and the enchanting fabric will help him spot the fools in his court.
Naturally, at his first fitting the emperor recognizes that he is completely naked. But noticing and acknowledging are two very different matters. To avoid exposure as a fool, the emperor oohs and aahs at the make-believe garment. His courtiers also pretend not to notice anything unusual. Instead, they encourage him to wear the new duds in a royal procession scheduled for the next day.
The next day, when the emperor’s entourage parades down the crowded avenue, his subjects enthusiastically applaud the rich colors and luxurious textures of his new ensemble. Of course, they’ve been told that only the brightest people in the land can see the exotic new fibers. Then a boy, who has little understanding of the implications of what he is saying and no compunctions about exposing His Royal Highness, steps out of the crowd, shouting, “Look! The emperor isn’t wearing any clothes!”
The story accurately describes a social phenomenon we are all familiar with. Entertaining as the tale is, real-world corporate denial can lead to devastating outcomes. The elephant-in-the-room syndrome is an extension of personal denial. “Conspiracies of silence presuppose mutual denial.” They make a point of declaring that we don’t have a problem, creating a block between the private act of noticing and the public act of acknowledging.
Silent conspiracies function within a subculture that is systemically organized to nurture no-go zones. These zones are to be treated as though they don’t exist. Communities (families, groups, congregations, etc.) leverage the power of a silent conspiracy whenever uncomfortable truths are hidden in plain sight. “By simply watching others ignore certain things, we learn to ignore them as well. (‘. . . Seeing that nobody around her ever mentioned her father’s drinking, Sarah likewise understood that it was something she was not supposed to notice.’)”
A conspiracy of silence, like other cultural beliefs, can be passed from generation to generation. Everyone is expected to comply. Those who don’t are usually eyed with suspicion and treated as social deviants. “As such, [they] are the targets of various social sanctions.”
The lad who observed that the emperor was naked hadn’t yet learned what he was supposed to acknowledge or not acknowledge. In real life, whistle-blowers pay a steep price for committing sins that threaten to expose the whole community.
On the landscape of the church, the close relationship between conflict and sin cannot be emphasized too much. But because we have (correctly) been taught to “put the best construction on everything,” God’s people are inclined to see conflict merely as two individuals with competing interests. Any mention of sin in connection with conflict is often met with overwhelming silence. No one close to the situation would ever see silence as a conspiracy. In fact, they have never really given much thought to the problem as being a problem.
The motivation for a conspiracy of silence is not necessarily mean-spirited, spiteful, or malicious. One of the great ironies of corporate conspiracy is that it is all about self-preservation and maintaining peace. A conspiracy of silence provides a kind of protective shell around information and communication. Protected by this shell, things can continue to function in a relatively normal manner for some time. But the shell also effectively eliminates any hope for reconciliation and healing.
Church subcultures can be very fragile. Talk about corporate sin has the ring of fighting words. To counter, we are willing to permit the elephant to live in our room as a trade-off for initiating a sequence of events that could spin wildly out of control. The known of a growing elephant is far less intimidating than the unknown of what could happen if we discuss the issue as an authentic problem. To put it another way, living with an elephant is seen as less painful than the pain connected with getting rid of the elephant. If the elephant is ever to be exposed (and removed), someone will need to blow the whistle.
Jeremiah blasted the Jewish leaders of his day for declaring, “‘Peace, peace,’ . . . when there is no peace.” The spiritual leaders had nurtured a climate in which the people whom they were called to lead were led to believe that all was well when, in fact, sin was running rampant. This elephant had been growing within the Jerusalem culture for several generations and was now endemic to Jewish faith life. The lie was literally leading God’s people on the path to spiritual ruin. Some knew this was wrong, but they did nothing about it.
Abraham Lincoln is quoted as having said, “To sin by silence when they should protest makes cowards of men.” Denying that conflict exists is as dangerous as denying sin. An old saw bluntly asserts that if you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem. When one’s conscience says that speaking up is the only right thing to do, failing to speak is sin.
Excerpt from Heart At Peace: Biblical Strategies for Christian Conflict, 2014 Northwestern Publishing House. All rights reserved.