For most of my life, I have struggled with the pressure to be assertive. Our culture values those who take control, who dive into the fight. For me, this has especially been tied to my manhood. Traditionally, these characteristics have been seen as masculine and the things that “make you a man”. In our modern world, women are also having this narrative thrust upon them.
I am a naturally quiet person. I am calm and patient. As if it were a curse, I have been called passive. Perhaps the most negative thing that has constantly been hurled at me.
It is interesting that we think of passivity as an inherent evil. After all, there has been just as much (arguably more) evil done in the world that can be attributed to over-aggression as over-passivity. Yet, we constantly tell one another we have to be in charge, take control, have everything together, DO SOMETHING!!!
Perhaps one of the reasons the world is in the state it is in is because we have lost the value of passivity, throwing out the baby with the bath water. We are all stumbling (or fighting) over one another, trying to be assertive, to have our way, to be in charge. Maybe, just maybe, what the world needs is a little more passivity.
The Problem of Opposites
The heart of the issue, in my opinion, is that we have mistaken opposites. The other side of assertiveness is not passivity. The opposite of assertiveness is apathy.
One classic example of the distinction between apathy and passivity is the ancient Roman general Fabius. Much to the ire and chagrin of the Roman populus, Fabius, when fighting Hannibal chose a strategy of elusiveness. He used Hannibal’s aggression against him, dodging and strategically maneuvering. It was working until Fabius had to report to Rome and the guy he left in control had had enough, sending the troops in, seeking the customary Roman glory. Hannibal all but destroyed them. Still, the Roman people applauded. At least this guy did something!
At the time, Fabius was a dictator in Rome (given temporary powers). Many in Rome wanted to promote this other guy to share Fabius’ duty. Fabian did not fight it much, knowing this guy would bury himself. And he did.
The Fabian Strategy became a respected, even admired, way for the Roman people.
Fabius was not passive in the sense of apathetic. He was not inactive, in the strictest sense. But he was passive. Decidedly so. He was passive on purpose, an intentional way of doing things. A valuable way.
Passion and Passivity
Here is food for thought: the word for passivity in Latin is the same root word we use for the word passion.
That, admittedly, sounds totally bizarre to our modern ears. But I think the idea is that what you care most deeply about is not the thing you are willing to rush headlong into, the thing you demand to control. The thing you care about the most is the thing you are willing to wait for. Isn’t this the idea behind “longing”? It is not achieved in the short term. Perhaps, it is not something we can truly achieve. It is something we “long for”, meaning we are waiting and hoping for it to come to fruition.
Nobody is passionate about something they can control. At least not in its truest sense. Passion requires submission to a thing. When we talk about the “Passion of Christ”, we are referring to his crucifixion! An act of intentional sacrifice, submitting to God – “Into your hands, I commit my spirit” (Luke 23:46).
To be fair, I totally understand why we are so derogatory toward passivity. Apathy and complacency are the greatest disease in the human heart. And that is what we are often thinking of when we abhor passivity. The trouble comes when we confuse intentional waiting, a Fabian passion, for apathy. They are not the same thing.
Until we understand this, we will continue to become (and over-value) aggression. We will be seduced by shock and extremity, which seem the height of assertiveness. We will continue to be obsessed by what we can do and what we can control. And we will miss out on our passions because we are not willing to wait to discover them.
