By Charles C. W. Cooke
Monday, May 20, 2024
Over the weekend, Rich Lowry made a solid case that Harrison’s Butker’s now-infamous
address to the graduates of Benedictine College was not, in fact, worthy of the
controversy into which it has subsequently been bent. I agree with this
contention, just as I agree with Samantha Lehman’s observation that, while the speech
has by now been heard by anyone who wished to hear it, its intended audience
was not the world and his dog, but the students to whom it was given. As is my
wont, however, I’d like to step back from these details for a moment and make a
more foundational inquiry of Butker’s detractors: What if, instead of having
expressed a perfectly acceptable view in front of a narrow audience, Butker had
ranged way out of the mainstream on a national television show? Then what?
That so many of Butker’s complainants have miscast his
words matters because the truth matters — or ought to. Nevertheless, I am
rendered profoundly uneasy by the unspoken implication of this defense, which
is that Butker’s speech was acceptable because Butker’s speech was
conventional. Suppose that, instead of offering up an allocation that was
religiously infused but within the mainstream, Butker had expressed a
collection of views that were indisputably unusual? Suppose that he were Amish.
Hell, suppose that he were a member of some preposterous cult whose followers
believes that all American women are actually repurposed panini toasters. Are
we to presume that, in those cases, the disavowals that were offered up by the
NFL and by the leaders of Kansas City would have been appropriate? I would
argue: No.
Responding to the outcry, the NFL’s “chief diversity and
inclusion officer,” Jonathan Beane, issued a statement in which he insisted
that Butker’s “views are not those of the NFL as an organization.” Okay. And
that matters why? Insofar as “the NFL as an organization” can meaningfully
possess a set of unified “views,” it is inevitable that those “views” will not
line up neatly with those held by every player and fan of the game. Did anyone
expect otherwise? “The NFL,” Beane continued, “is steadfast in our commitment
to inclusion, which only makes our league stronger.” But, unless one redefines
the word “inclusion” to mean something completely different than it has meant
for the entire history of the English language, this is abject nonsense. Used
properly, “inclusion” . . . “includes” Harrison Butker. There can be no virtue
in the notion if it does not. That is what inclusion is for. It is
its purpose, its function, its mission. Per his title, Jonathan Beane’s role at
the NFL is to foster and promote “diversity and inclusion.” What, I must
wonder, does he think that means in practice?
The core purpose of the United States is to create an
environment in which people who have radically different views from one another
can coexist peacefully. It is, of course, true that many of the religious and
social views that are held by America’s citizenry are incompatible with one
another, sometimes dramatically so. If the Evangelicals are right, the Muslims
are wrong, and vice versa — and not, you will note, about esoteric or trifling
matters, but about nothing less than the fate of one’s eternal soul. That,
nevertheless, the operating principle of this country is to invite everyone to
speak and proselytize as he wishes while expecting all to get along at the
cookout is one of the greatest triumphs in human history.
The NFL is not the United States. But if it is to talk of
“diversity” and “inclusion” and making the league “stronger,” as it does, then
it ought to live up to those ideals. Harrison Butker is one of 1,696 active
players in the league. In a free country, there is no reason whatsoever that
his particular ensemble of religious opinions needs to be superintended or
reviewed or disavowed. Among the remaining 1,695 active players in the NFL,
there no doubt exists all manner of different worldviews, many of which would
seem silly to a majority of voters in this country. Statistically speaking,
some players will be Democrats, some will be Republicans; some will be
religious, some will be atheists; some will be pro-life, some will be
pro-choice; some will like guns, some will want them banned; and some of them,
yes, will be total weirdos. This does not matter in the slightest. Like
Harrison Butker, they’re athletes, not politicians — and this is America, for
goodness’ sake.
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