Getting personal helps overcome our suspicion
Dr Hamimah Tuyan, the widow of the Christchurch mosque attack’s 51st victim, cited in a recent RNZ interview a study that claimed more than half of Kiwis agreed that Muslims have customs that are not acceptable in New Zealand.
Tuyan expressed surprise at these findings, published by Victoria University in 2006. She meticulously explained how Islamic beliefs shared many of the same themes as Kiwi values and how Islamic customs uphold and at times even surpass Kiwi ideals of equality, wha¯ nau, and peace.
The perceived mismatch of values, she argued, was not based on the tenets and practices of her faith but rather on the media’s depiction and subsequent public views of her faith.
The interview got me thinking about the nature of our prejudices. What is the genesis of our views of certain groups of people? Ma¯ ori, transgender, environmentalists, fundamentalist Christians – whatever the group, they are pictured in our minds accompanied by pre-packaged, rock-solid branding.
Social scientists tell us that, because our ancestors lived in small social groups often in conflict with neighbouring groups, our brains evolved to view members of other tribes as different and threatening. Differentiating between ‘‘us’’ and ‘‘them’’ helped keep us safe and, eventually, humans became very efficient in making these distinctions.
Ingroup and outgroup behaviours have been studied for decades and we can now see the power of identifying with one or more of these groups in shaping our everyday views and biases towards others. Basically, research tells us that we prefer, hire, are less critical of, and are attracted to people who are in the same group as ourselves.
As helpful as these ancient tendencies are in sorting out a complex world full of strangers, they also lead to stereotypical thinking, even when facts are not consistent with the group’s reputation, as Tuyan, in her grief, so eloquently pointed out.
But research has also given us means for overcoming our brain-bound inclination to be suspicious of people not like ourselves. We know that learning more about diverse groups, foreign travel, personal trauma, or having someone close to us join an outgroup (such as identification with
the LGBTQI community or acquiring a disability) reduces our tendencies to treat outgroup members less favourably.
The Contact Hypothesis is another intriguing idea that helps us override the urges of our prehistoric brains. It makes a simple claim: with more interaction with members of other groups, the rate of prejudice about that group drops.
The concept has been tested out between literally hundreds of groups – African Americans, older persons, people with disabilities – and experiments almost always land on the same conclusion. Personal relationships with ‘‘others’’ minimise negative perceptions of their group.
Interestingly, there is more evidence to support this approach than there is for more popular biasbusting efforts such as unconscious bias training.
Pop culture uses the Contact Hypothesis in its narrative arcs as characters interface across racial or religious divides, shifting perceptions about these groups. Think The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, Hairspray, Hidden Figures, and many others.
Back to Tuyan and her frustrations with Kiwis’ views of Muslims. Since March, mosques throughout New Zealand have had an unprecedented number of visitors, distribution of Islamic literature, and invitations to speak at non-Muslim events. Even the number of converts to the faith has risen dramatically.
People of all backgrounds report that, since the attacks, they have reached out to Muslims they work with, share schools or neighbourhoods with, or at their nearest mosque. Interaction between Muslims and non-Muslims has never been more frequent or as normalised as it is in post-tragedy Aotearoa.
Some say there is a negative flipside to this period of increased openness; now more than ever, the pushback against religious tolerance is more vocal and vitriolic than before the attacks. Kiwi Islamophobes may have been temporarily muzzled for a few token days in March, they say, but now they are in full, ever-hateful flight.
Maybe this is true in many dark corners, but, if our society’s new openness to understanding Islam continues to grow, these bad ideas will soon be outnumbered by the good idea of the Contact Hypothesis. Maybe our country’s long-held prejudices about Muslims are reducing as personal relationships develop between us.
Even the 2006 Victoria University research survey noted that ‘‘more positive attitudes toward Muslims are associated with greater contact with Muslim people . . .’’
If we conducted a similar survey in 2019, would more than half of us agree that Muslim customs are ‘‘not acceptable’’ in New Zealand?
If non-Muslims keep reinforcing in their workplaces, schools, neighbourhoods, and in public that the Contact Hypothesis is correct, that seems unlikely.
Research tells us that we prefer, hire, are less critical of, and are attracted to people who are in the same group as ourselves.