The Diplomacy of Disagreement Scripture: "A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger." (Proverbs 15:1) You can be right and still be wrong if you are right in the wrong spirit. Truth without love is violence wearing religious clothing. You will encounter people whose maps differ from yours, whose experiences contradict yours, whose conclusions offend yours. Before you correct, ask yourself: "Does this person need my truth or my presence right now?" Often, presence opens doors that truth cannot unlock. Be wise as serpents, but never stop being gentle as doves. Prayer: Lord, grant me the wisdom of the serpent and the gentleness of the Dove. Let my presence reflect Your peace. Amen.
Title: The Diplomacy of Disagreement: How a Soft Answer Shuts Down a Hard World
By Harold Mawela, Akasia, Pretoria
I am writing this from my study in Akasia, on a particularly loud Friday morning. The sound of a minibus taxi hooting aggressively at a slow-moving bakkie drifts up from the street below. A few blocks away, I know the queue at the Home Affairs office is already simmering with tension—voices raised, patience shredded, fingers pointing. We live in a nation that is an expert in disagreement. We know how to differ on taxi ranks, in Parliament, on social media, and sadly, in our bedrooms.
We are masters of the harsh word. We post the scathing comment. We rehearse the cutting retort. We perfect the art of the clapback. But today, the ancient text stares us down with a radical, almost offensive, proposition: “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger” (Proverbs 15:1).
The Myth of the Satisfying Scream
Let us be honest with each other. There is a part of us that believes a harsh word is satisfying. We think it establishes dominance. We think it proves we are right. We think it draws a line in the sand that the enemy dare not cross. But the Scripture declares unequivocally that the harsh word does not conquer the enemy; it conscripts him. It doesn’t extinguish the fire; it pours petrol on the braai. A harsh word doesn’t solve the disagreement; it deepens the divide.
I learned this the hard way not in a pulpit, but in a queue at a Sasol garage in Pretoria North during load-shedding. The card machines were down, the generators were coughing, and the line was out the door. The man in front of me was irate—spitting insults at the cashier, a young girl who looked like she hadn't chosen to be there. My blood boiled at his injustice. My flesh screamed, “Defend her! Confront this bully!” I opened my mouth, ready to unleash a righteous fury. But before the words came, that still, small voice whispered: "Harold, are you here to be right, or to be redemptive?"
I took a breath. I looked at the man, not as an enemy, but as a fellow victim of Eskom’s latest collapse. I put my hand on his shoulder (gently) and said, "My brother, this is painful, hey? This darkness is stealing from all of us." He deflated. The anger left his eyes. He looked ashamed. He paid with cash and left quietly. The soft answer didn't just turn away his wrath; it de-escalated a potential war. You can be right, and still be wrong, if you are right in the wrong spirit.
The Paradox: War-Grade Gentleness
Now, do not mistake softness for weakness. This is not the diplomacy of a doormat; it is the warfare of the divine. Jesus said, "Be wise as serpents and innocent as doves" (Matthew 10:16). That is the paradox of the Spirit. The serpent represents intelligence, strategy, and the awareness of danger. The dove represents purity, peace, and vulnerability.
We often divorce the two. We have Christians who are all serpent—sharp-tongued, politically astute, "wise" in the ways of the world, but venomous. Then we have Christians who are all dove—sweet, gentle, harmless, but hopelessly naive and easily crushed. True diplomacy—the diplomacy of the Kingdom—requires both. It requires the wisdom to know when to speak and the gentleness to know how.
The Assegai and the Oil
In our African context, we understand the weight of words. A curse spoken by a father can haunt a child for generations. Gossip in the village can destroy a family’s standing. We must understand that every disagreement is a choice of weapons. You can pick up the assegai of accusation, or you can pour out the oil of reconciliation.
I think about the recent spate of service delivery protests burning in our townships. The bricks fly because the dialogue died. The government speaks in statistics; the people speak in pain. The harsh word of "tenderpreneurship" and corruption stirs the anger of the "fallist" movements. But what if, before the brick was thrown, there was a soft answer? What if the councillor sat in the dust and said, "We have failed you"? What if the youth leader said, "We see your pain, and we will work with you, not just against you"?
This is not a call to abandon justice. No! Justice is non-negotiable. The wrongs of the past—from the colonial dispossession to the broken windows of a neglected school—must be corrected . But the method of correction matters. You can force a man to his knees with a gun, but you can only win his heart with a soft word.
The Divine-Human Collateral
Consider the profound theology in the Lord's Prayer: "Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors" (Matthew 6:12). There is a divine collateral at play here. Our forgiveness from God is tied to our forgiveness of others. Our peace with God is linked to our peace with people . You cannot stand at the altar in Akasia, singing "Amazing Grace," while harbouring a toxic hatred for your cousin in Soshanguve over an inheritance dispute.
The diplomacy of disagreement means treating the person you disagree with as the collateral for your own relationship with God. If you refuse to speak softly to them, you are effectively demanding that God speaks harshly to you.
Three Laws of Diplomatic Faith
How then do we apply this in the chaos of Mzansi?
1. The Law of the Pause: Before you retort, pause. Count to seven if you have to. James teaches us to be "slow to speak and slow to become angry" (James 1:19). In that pause, the Holy Spirit has a nanosecond to intervene. In that pause, you choose between an assegai and oil.
2. The Law of the Question: Instead of making a statement ("You are wrong!"), ask a question. "Can you help me understand why you see it that way?" Jesus was a master of the disarming question. It forces the other person to reason, not react.
3. The Law of the Image: Remember that the person opposing you is made in the image of God. They are not your enemy; they are your mission field. You cannot curse someone and bless them in the next breath (James 3:10). The water of the Spirit and the poison of the flesh cannot flow from the same tap.
Conclusion
There is a famous African concept: Ubuntu—"I am because you are." It is the understanding that my humanity is bound up in yours. When I destroy you with my words, I diminish myself. When I win the argument but lose the relationship, I have actually lost everything.
God is not looking for people who are always right. He is looking for people who are always righteous. And righteousness, in the end, is not about being right; it is about being in right relationship—with Him, and with each other. Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh, could have obliterated His accusers with a single glance. Instead, He answered with a silence that screamed of love. He gave a soft answer on Calvary, and it turned away the wrath of a just God against an unjust world.
Go and do likewise. In the taxi queue. In the boardroom. At the dinner table. Let your presence reflect His peace.
Prayer:
Lord, give me the wisdom of the serpent to navigate the traps of this world, and the gentleness of the Dove to represent Your heart. Disarm my defensiveness. Melt my pride. Help me to see that a soft answer is not surrender, but the highest form of spiritual warfare. Amen
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