Conversations and Contradictions
'Everyone is a Pluralist'...at least in my experience
I’ve reached the point in this journey where I’m telling people in my real life about it and it comes up in conversation more and more every day. It’s nerve-wracking and…“cringe”? Or a certain kind of embarrassing? I don’t know. I guess it’s just that classic human tendency where…we all make fun of and cringe at the person we know who is “trying” to do music, “trying” to go into acting, “trying” to be a writer, or “trying” to start a podcast. But then, we voraciously consume and laude the works of people who are already at the top. The people who are A-list movie stars, best-selling authors, chart-topping musicians. They could never be cringe, they are the people who’ve “made it” and make what we love.
But each and every creator had to start somewhere. In some way, shape, or form they had to be brave enough to set themselves on a path that felt unlikely and risky. Or to tell people they wanted to do something hard, and be met with an answer like, “Oh, well…that’s exciting! Good luck…,” (with a tilt in their brow and the slightest air of skepticism or even judgment).
It’s essentially the thesis of “The Life of a Showgirl” - everyone warns you to not pick these careers that are tricky and fraught and so hard to “stand out” and “make it” in. But then…when you stick it out and pay your dues and wind up where you wanted to be - you’re celebrated. And then there is a new generation of people venerating you and looking up to you and saying “I want to do that!”
“Everyone's jealous of what you've got. No one's jealous of what you had to do to get it.” - attributed to Jimmy Carr; popularized by Taylor Swift
The Art of Convincing
One of the things I’m most passionate about exploring in this blog, my podcast or YouTube, and overall in my future career, is the ways people talk about what troubles them and what they want to see changed.
And how, if you listen, a lot of us care about the same things. And even blame the same people. I’ve developed an ear for the dialects of the ‘right’ and the ‘left’. I’ve learned and listened enough to interpret and even code-switch between the two. There was a formative text I read in one of my first years of college that talked about convincing people. It essentially said that one common mistake people make is believing that the reasons that convinced them will be effective in convincing others.
This is a fatal flaw because people have different values, concerns, and even micro-cultures. If you want to convince someone on an environmental issue, for instance, and the thing that got you passionate about it was related to scientific data, studies in far-flung corners of the world, and remote communities being affected - that’s great! But there are many people for whom those issues won’t land as soundly.
The article I read actually referenced a study done where two different pamphlets were made about an environmental issue. One that was more about the data points and the moral imperative to clean up our act. And one that used language about the beauty of the natural world and its splendor being diminished by being defiled and polluted by human actions. Essentially, you could boil it down to - some people may be more convinced by science; others may be more convinced by belief in a divine creator; still others might be convinced because of their desire to be in and partake of nature - some of the best conservationists you’ll ever meet are hunters and fishermen. They see first-hand some of the grime and destruction caused by human litter and the spoiling of our natural environments.
When Good Conversation Breaks Down
That’s just one, relatively innocuous issue. But again, it’s all in the language you choose and the assumptions you make about the other person. You could talk about conservation and environmental issues for hours with a conservative, republican voter and hunter from the rural Midwest, but as soon you mention “global warming” they might paint you a ‘crazy lib,’ shut down, and brush you off.
You could commiserate for an entire afternoon with an east coast Ivy-educated democratic voter about the tendencies towards corruption in Congress and how the sources of funding for research can be sketchy (especially if it’s a pharmaceutical company researching a drug that they want to sell, and that same pharmaceutical company is part of a super-PAC that funds certain politicians’ campaigns), but then…as soon as you mention some skepticism about, say, the COVID vaccine - they might label you a loony anti-vaxxer and lump you in with a cohort they have completely written off.
In a way, this is what stalls me when I go to make a podcast or video about certain topics. I’ve spent so much of my time: A. Listening more than talking in contentious conversations, and B. Catering my arguments and what sentiments and values I draw on based on the person I’m talking to (and what I’ve learned about them through listening first).
And yet, that is also what makes me feel particularly suited to try and put my voice out there and be a part of bigger conversations. Because I have this experience and skill with making my case to a wide variety of people, and listening to and understanding the things people from all over the political spectrum care about.
Pluralism
Beth Silvers (of Pantsuit Politics) wrote this great essay this past week about how her version of “moderate” does not equate to being ‘in the middle’ on all the issues, but rather being a hodgepodge of seemingly conflicting opinions and therefore not aligning with the caricature of the political left or right. She writes:
“Like most Americans, I’m a walking pluralist, a set of inherent contradictions and policy mixtures. My views on criminal justice are interpreted as “extreme left.” The more complete story is that those views are born both of my bleeding heart and my libertarian sensibilities about government power. The same is true about my immigration views. I believe in a very welcoming immigration policy because of my compassion for others and my sense that moving around this earth is a fundamental human right that governments should restrain with restraint.” - Beth Silvers, The Resistance and the Moderates, Pantsuit Politics
and further, critiquing the Democratic Party
“The Democratic Party, broadly, comes across as scolding…because it is searching for one correct answer. Because too many Democratic leaders show up for every conversation with a hard thesis then spend the conversation hammering away at that thesis. They give no ground. They don’t seem curious or humble or willing to rethink a point” - Beth Silvers, The Resistance and the Moderates, Pantsuit Politics
This essay called to mind some of the many conversations I’ve had the privilege of having in my time and travels around our wild and beautiful country.
First, A Bit More About Me
I grew up in the rural Midwest, I have uncles and aunts and cousins who work the field, hunt the woods, work in criminal justice, canvass for republican senators and presidential candidates, and have big red trucks and old tractors in their yards and purple hearts and Americana memorabilia on their walls. My dad’s side is Scandinavian Minnesotan. My grandmother was a frugal conservationist to a fault. Crushing cans, carrying a market bag to do her shopping, often either walking or riding bike around town, washing and reusing Ziploc bags, and ‘using every piece of the buffalo.’ My aunts wear rugged sandals, knit and sew their own clothes, some teach prisoners, some homeschool their kids, some kill their own meat and harvest their own vegetables, and some are skeptical of modern medicine and do not adhere to every recommended vaccination for their children.
From that wild and chaotic mix (even before covering the family my brother married into who were second and third generation Mexican Americans in San Antonio—business owners, fiscally conservative, and rather socially conservative on many issues, but not all), I went off to college at Brown. Perhaps the most ‘liberal’ of the Ivies. Certainly (statistically) the most happy. People were free-wheeling in ideas and authenticity. Everyone was exceptionally, radically themselves and felt no qualms or judgment for how they showed up or what their background was.
I met an Albanian who discussed politics with me and tended to be very “pro America” and pro conservative and Republican values. Almost my whole floor freshman year was Asian, Asian-American, and/or children of Asian immigrants; and their various opinions were as diverse as anyone else’s. In classes we had conversations and even debates about contentious topics, political issues, or where to put the expletive if you’re inserting it in “Absolutely.” (Hint: there is only one right answer.)
I read papers and books I had no idea existed. I watched documentaries and sat in lectures that changed my worldview on any number of things. I had my mind opened, rewired, and exposed to a breadth of people and ideas that I wouldn’t have found anywhere else. And yet, I was still me. I kept my values, my principles, and my background. I went back to rural Illinois for breaks and still chuckled at my uncle’s corny jokes, helped my mom plant annuals around her trees, attended church gatherings, and chipped in with the community the way I always had.
Conversations; not being scared to talk “Religion and Politics”
Somewhere in this formative process, I developed a sense of authenticity and curiosity that made me feel as at ease discussing my religious upbringing and spiritual beliefs with my agnostic or atheist East Coast peers at college as I was discussing politics and climate change science with my rural and often right-leaning family members. After all, I’d known them my whole life. I saw them as having contributed to who I was. And did not judge them or vilify them for their values and beliefs. I had shared, and still did share a lot with them, even if I’d evolved a bit away from them on certain key issues.
I’ll try to touch on a few of these conversations:
One memorable conversation took place at a crowded table in the church cafeteria one summer. My cousin’s husband (who I’ve known my whole life) is about as traditional a “high school educated Midwestern white guy” as you can get. He hunts and fishes with his in-laws and his sons, each of his three sons was in football and he coached their teams at various levels throughout the years, he worked at the local prison as a guard, and he tends towards the right on most issues, I’d say. He also grew up with a sister with Downs Syndrome and was raised by a single mom. He has an empathetic heart, is devout in his faith and devoted to his wife, has an easy laugh, and is exceptionally playful with his friends, his family, and his golden doodle. My husband and I were sitting across from him and my cousin on that hot, Illinois day and somehow the conversation turned to folks with disabilities (I had been taking some disability studies classes at college and was probably in the midst of trying to figure out if I’d craft my own concentration or pick a major that would let me make disability studies and medical anthropology a big part of my studies). He spoke a bit about his sister and his experience growing up with her and visiting her and his mom in more recent years—discussing her capabilities, her limitations, her joy, and her zeal for life. We then brought up the old ‘institutions’ that used to be used to ‘hold’ or house people with disabilities. He acknowledged how bad they could be and how horrible the stories were, but then highlighted that, in working in the prison system, he saw first hand how, for many, one institution simply replaced another. “And that’s supposed to be better?” he asked. Yeah, those places needed a rehaul, but maybe they shouldn’t have been eliminated entirely.1
Another person I’ve had fascinating, nuanced conversations with is an in-law on my husband’s side. Self-described as further ‘right’ than most anyone else I’d encountered before him. This man was the very first person in my entire life that looked me dead in the eye and told me Obama was a Muslim (and implied that that disqualified him from having genuinely served as president or taken the oath of office seriously). And yet…when we’ve had meals or moments where able to, he and I have had in-depth and mutually illuminating conversations. I asked him questions, listened to him spiel about this or that “hot button” issue, and just let him keep talking. I think sometimes the people who come off as more radical are the people that think you are. And so they’re waiting (or trying) to set you off. They anticipate a hot retort or a canned and predictable exclamation that they, then, have a familiar and rehearsed retort for. But I don’t ever give them that. Whichever side a seemingly more ‘radical’ person is on, I like to just listen. Ask a question here, maybe even give them affirmation or complication there…and basically wait for them to splutter and begin to contradict themselves because they don’t know what to do when I’ve subverted ‘the script.’ Sometimes, in such situations, with the right people, you can end up digging down to their more authentic ideas. They let go of the buzz words and the ‘loony lib’ phantom they have in their head that they think they’re arguing with; you can move a bit past the dichotomy of viewpoints presented on the internet or cable TV; and instead speak as real people.
In some of those conversations with this in-law, he may have started out questioning how anyone could be “pro” abortion, and eventually wound up at a place where he admitted that one of his first girlfriends got one and, while he maybe wouldn’t have ‘picked it,’ it was her decision and not his - and he can imagine how different his life might have been if she hadn’t. I’ve talked to him about guns, the economy, taxes, and federal regulation of business, food, and drugs. It’s always informative and intriguing. And, I feel, we each walk away with a bit more nuance. Even if our stances are more or less unchanged.
Let people be complicated and curious and contain contradictions. For that matter, let yourself be complicated, curious, and contain contradictions. Discussing someone’s opinion that is different from your own does not implicate you. You won’t get cancelled. You don’t have to change your values or even your opinion. And you just might learn something.
"Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you". - Ruth Bader Ginsburg
In this blog, as I remember them, I might write more about these kinds of conversations I’ve had over the years. Or, more generally, I may write about the issues I see and understand as everyone’s problems and issues we’re all worried about - we just have been convinced by word choice and ‘culture wars’ that we’re diametrically opposed, when we’re not.
For instance, just because (in a way) it’s in the news so much right now: the “elite” groups that we each blame for a lot of our problems. For republicans, it’s the liberal and coastal elite. The academic and morally ‘superior’ city-dwellers that hoard wealth and real estate, make too many laws, charge too many taxes, and give too many breaks to the poor who aren’t trying hard enough. For democrats, it’s the conservative/billionaire elite. The morally bankrupt CEOs and moguls that hoard wealth and have far too much influence on our elected officials and get way too many tax credits to the point that they aren’t even paying their fair share.
Let me know your thoughts, because this may be exactly where I pick up in the next post.
This brings to mind a sentiment in various carnival-themed episodes of a few shows I love and rewatch fairly often (Psych and Supernatural), and even in the movie ‘The Greatest Showman’—the idea that, while ‘freakshows’ didn’t remain fashionable in the late 20th century, in many cases those people were then just plum out of work. Deciding that a framework or system is not respectable anymore and that we should ‘be better than that,’ doesn’t magically fix the rest of society overnight. Institutions dissolve, but then we put nothing in place for absorbing the fallout. Carnivals disband, but then…most bosses still wouldn’t hire those folks for a “regular” day job or desk job. Not for decades, anyway.
Incidentally, I haven’t forgotten my project to analyze Supreme Court cases. And that I’m in the middle of my analysis of Buck v. Bell. I will return to it within the next few months, I promise.