I like that challenge. Say, by analogy, what if another manager in a different situation, who made the 'cancel' decision on a talk, was concerned that the lect

I like that challenge. Say, by analogy, what if another manager in a different situation, who made the 'cancel' decision on a talk, was concerned that the lecture they were being asked to approve was extremist? Then say, if Americans knew Hindu culture they might agree, just as they understand why they wouldn't invite their own untouchables to speak. In this activist case, it's absolutely offensive to compare the Hindu untouchables with our untouchables because theirs are born into it where ours are just uneducated or indoctrinated and it would be such a grotesque insult to those people living in India, or anywhere in the world, that no serious person could even compare them out loud, and I'm even taking a considerable personal risk to write the comparison hypothetically. But what if that's how that manager felt? How would "we" (progressive, though still mostly white, hegemonic We) respond to a speaker representing our own untouchables, and even though the comparison itself is so disgusting? The steelman case for the protests and for the manager is that they are acting on convictions as strong and (they believe) principled as any of our own, however unjustly in this case. Even though they're wrong, until we understand their own complete revolt that caused them to take such a reckless stance in this case, there is no way to engage with them, or understand the source of the conflict. This isn't mere empathy or a "both sides,"-ism, as I don't think we can empathize with someone we fundamentally know is so wrong. However, I do think one can have compassion for everyone involved, and it is immensely difficult, as it requires imagining something you are truly revolted by, and then imaging what it would be like for someone like a Dalit friend or someone you loved to see you feel that way about them. The tension between the heartbreak at imagining their eyes in that moment and then also the feeling of what can only be described as disgust for people with the most offensive values, is I think, the compassion, where you feel both the revolt at being confronted with the very worst of the worst, and also what it feels like that no matter what you do and how much goodness you bring that you will always be an object of social disgust. This is why compassion is hard, but beautiful, but so very hard! Being able to do that suggests a greatness of soul to me. The steelman case here isn't about pretending the broken logic of the protesting managers beliefs was somehow true, it's from asking, what if someone you loved or were responsible for felt one way or the other in this conflict about you? There is a basic misundertanding between two parts of a culture, where maybe these Brahmins don't trust the Dalits and the Dalits interpret that as contempt, which is returned by being provocative and giving the other just what they might expect? Bit of a homily, but in this sense, the steelman case shows how a specific kind of compassion might provide some future basis on which to establish both trust and respect, even if it's a very high bar.