"We cannot learn from one another until we stop shouting at one another - until we speak quietly enough so that our words can be heard as well as our voices"
About this Quote
Nixon’s line reads like a civility sermon, but it’s also a power move: an argument about volume that smuggles in an argument about who gets to set the terms of debate. “Shouting” isn’t just noise here; it’s dissent rendered as bad manners. By recasting conflict as a problem of tone, he invites listeners to treat intensity as illegitimacy and composure as credibility. The rhetoric is tidy and paternal, a president positioning himself as the adult in the room, the referee who can restore order simply by lowering the decibels.
The construction does a clever double act. “We cannot learn from one another” sounds mutual and democratic, then the pivot lands on control: “until we speak quietly enough” places the burden on the loud, not the powerful. It’s a call for dialogue that subtly narrows what counts as acceptable speech. The phrasing “heard as well as our voices” flatters reason over raw feeling, implying that anger is a communication failure rather than a response to conditions. That framing can be humane; it can also be strategically anesthetizing.
Context matters because Nixon was a leader steeped in polarization and protest politics, governing amid Vietnam, civil rights backlash, and a rapidly fragmenting media landscape. Appeals to “quiet” played well as reassurance to the anxious middle and as a rebuke to streets and campuses. Coming from Nixon, the plea for calm also carries an ironic aftertaste: a man who mastered hardball and secrecy offering a benediction on listening. It’s less a kumbaya moment than a bid to translate social unrest into a question of etiquette - and to win the argument by changing the channel.
The construction does a clever double act. “We cannot learn from one another” sounds mutual and democratic, then the pivot lands on control: “until we speak quietly enough” places the burden on the loud, not the powerful. It’s a call for dialogue that subtly narrows what counts as acceptable speech. The phrasing “heard as well as our voices” flatters reason over raw feeling, implying that anger is a communication failure rather than a response to conditions. That framing can be humane; it can also be strategically anesthetizing.
Context matters because Nixon was a leader steeped in polarization and protest politics, governing amid Vietnam, civil rights backlash, and a rapidly fragmenting media landscape. Appeals to “quiet” played well as reassurance to the anxious middle and as a rebuke to streets and campuses. Coming from Nixon, the plea for calm also carries an ironic aftertaste: a man who mastered hardball and secrecy offering a benediction on listening. It’s less a kumbaya moment than a bid to translate social unrest into a question of etiquette - and to win the argument by changing the channel.
Quote Details
| Topic | Learning |
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