The Importance of Truth in Tumultuous Times
Political division, the escalation of violence, and possibility of harmonious redemption
Thank you all for your patience! I had intended to write sooner, but my life got a bit topsy-turvy for a moment. It's still turning, but it turns out that's a potent engine of creativity. During this time, I've been thinking a lot about the idea of truth. I'd like to share some of those thoughts below.
It seems we have a massive crisis in our country. Our political landscape is an absolute mess. What used to be simple disagreements have deepened to the degree that families are rent apart. Political disagreements aren't just grounds for debate anymore but seem to be reason enough to question the intelligence or moral character of the political opponent. I know I've fallen victim to this myself: thinking that my disagreement with another person isn't just a difference of opinion, but that they simply “don't get it,” or don't care in the ways that I do. I apologize to those of you who have been at the receiving end of this from me. You know who you are.
This political division has become a focal point of my political thinking over recent years. The particulars of the disagreements themselves seem less important to me than the way we respond to these disagreements. As the bitter divisions deepen and widen, we lose view of the basic humanity of those with whom we disagree. We lose compassion for them. We don't care to hear their views, their ideas, their opinions. This type of dehumanization is deeply frightening to me. It seems to be the first step toward violence. In fact, dehumanizing another may indeed be the first act of violence upon which all others depend.
In the book, On Killing, Dave Grossman suggests that humans are extremely resistant to killing other humans. From the perspective of a military general, this is a problem that needs to be solved. Grossman suggests that most soldiers on a battlefield are not earnestly trying to kill their opponents. In order to get soldiers to kill the enemy soldiers at all, the general must dehumanize them. This is the reason for dehumanizing language in any military campaign. The enemy isn't British soldiers, they're “lobsterbacks.” The enemy isn't the Japanese, it's the “japs.” As well, long before Jewish people were rounded into camps and exterminated, they were referred to as “pests”, “parasites”, and portrayed as worms on Nazi posters.
It is not in our nature to harm another human. Not until we cease to view that person as human.
It's perhaps for this reason that Robert Evans, the host of the podcast It Could Happen Here, argues so compellingly that the US could indeed have another civil war in the near future. This is a conclusion he reached after spending considerable time in Syria after the civil war there. It was in learning about the social and political conditions that led to the civil war that he realized the serious risk that that could happen here as well. What political conditions? Well, I highly recommend listening to the first season of the podcast if you're prepared for such a chilling view, but my understanding is this:
When we can no longer cooperate, we can only fight. When that fighting does not resolve itself through verbal or political means, that fighting becomes physical. That is when people begin taking to the streets or marching in Washington DC to make sure their political view is heard and taken seriously. Political adversaries cease to be human. They become “fascists”, “communists”, “anti-vaxxers”, “racists.” Violence begets violence. Hate begets hate. Another American civil war is not as distant as we would like to think.
So, if we are to come together and create an America that we want to live in together, it's essential that we learn to communicate with each other. Ever since listening to that podcast, Robert Evans' voice has been echoing in my head. I'll paraphrase here:
“If Americans can't agree on the truth, or even that there's such a thing as truth, we are in serious trouble.”
Cue my mother's voice: “Everything is not just an opinion.”
Yet, as I look out into the social and political landscape, it's hard to tell what's going on. It's not just my personal life that's gotten topsy-turvy. It's the entire social and political landscape of this country—and perhaps the whole world. People aren't just arguing about their values anymore, they're arguing about the physical reality itself. Who even heard of “alt-facts” before 2017?
I think of the movie Inside Out in which the emotions of a particular little girl appear as little humanoid machine operators operating the machinery of her brain. Joy, Anger, Sadness, and the rest are all little people who run the show. Of course, there's much more that goes on than just these little emotion-people. There's a scene that takes place outside the control center in which one of the characters knocks over two boxes: one labeled “facts” and one labeled “opinions”. The contents get all mixed up together on the ground, much to the horror of the one who knocked it over. Fortunately, Bing Bong, the imaginary friend who lives in the brain reassures everyone, including the viewer as he haphazardly places the contents randomly in the boxes. “Don't worry!” he says, “It happens all the time.”
Yes, it most certainly does.
Unfortunately, there are real consequences to mixing up our opinions and our facts. If we can't agree on basic facts and realities, we're not even standing on the same ground. How can we possibly cooperate then?
Of course, I understand how disturbing it can be to realize that you're wrong about something. It's not disorienting to believe in a falsehood until it is revealed to you as a falsehood. It's only then that you begin to feel the topsy-turvy feeling of having your worldview upended. The more fundamental the belief, the more destabilizing the realization. I cried a few weeks ago when I felt the weight of a truth that I'd never acknowledged before. Before that, I was extremely defensive of any viewpoint that contradicted my tenuously held fantasy. It was humbling, humiliating, and uncomfortable to recognize that I had been so misguided. Though it was another thing: freeing.
More than that, I suddenly found compassion, resonance, and the desire to collaborate with people that I had previously written off as kooky, misinformed, or even perceived as an enemy. Thus, I was awakened to at least two different kinds of truth:
The one truth was about the truth of our physical and cultural reality. I learned about laws that I hadn't previously known were in place. I learned about injustices that had been committed that I hadn't known about before. I came to witness a destructive manifestation of a social and political trend that I had never seen before—a trend I support. I learned the truth of the reality that my previous political opponents saw but I had been blind too.
The other truth, perhaps the more important truth, was that I began to witness the humanity of those who I had previously judged or dismissed as merely political adversaries. I came to have compassion for their struggles. I came to have empathy for the way they're feeling scared. I came to realize that contrary to my previous belief, they weren't so different from me after all.
These are the dual truths that it seems we in America must wake up to with one another if we are to move forward together at all. Because the truth is, there are facts of the matter. “Everything is not just an opinion.” Though, almost certainly, the opinions of those you oppose are also informed by experiences, facts, and data—just as yours are. There are realities they're in touch with that perhaps you are not. Though the only way to find out is to listen.
Because the other truth, the deeper truth, is that we're all human. We all share similar values: safety, freedom, generosity, kindness. We all want our children to be safe. We all want access to good food, clean water, and clean air. We care about mercy. We care about justice. There is much more that unites us than divides us.
Why do I write all this? You may have noticed an explicit request in the above thoughts and observations. I’ll make it explicit now.
I, for one, feel deeply saddened by all the social and political division in our country. I want to live in a country and a world where the humanity of every single person is honored, where we can cooperate peacefully, and where we can build a better world together. I believe you want that, too. So here’s my request:
The next time you hear a political event that you feel triggered by—whether it’s a Supreme Court ruling or the opinion expressed by another—I would ask you to truly empathize with the views and perspectives of your opponents. I especially ask this when your immediate tendency may be to judge the opponent in any way. Perhaps you could consider the possibility that the other person is every bit as intelligent and morally upright as you are, but that they’re attentive to different things. Perhaps you could even consider that they’re actually alive to something that you would like to be alive to, too.
That would be a great starting point for a conversation.
Of course, you may still disagree. That’s okay! Disagreement is natural and normal. Our challenges are vast and nuanced. I do believe that we can reach mutually beneficial solutions, but that takes much time. Empathizing with other humans, and respecting their views does not resolve a conflict overnight. Though the tone of that disagreement may feel totally different when it’s founded on faith in our common humanity and effused with a feeling of respect.
I had intended to write much more on the subject, grounding it more in specifics: political candidates, the issue of climate change, implications of this idea on conspiracy theories. Though, as I write this, I sit in an airport terminal in Dublin—headed to Latvia for guided solo vision fast. I am feeling drawn into a different kind of truth. So this will be my last article for a while. I'll return to the US in about three weeks. I will follow these, or other threads then.
In the meantime, if you can wait patiently for my reply, I would so love to hear your response to this. Do you see what I’m seeing? Do you see something I don’t? Do you have stories where you felt the possibility of healing this political divide? What, do you think it might take?
I’m also considering where to proceed from my writing at this point—there are countless possibilities before me. I’d love to hear what has resonated with you the most. What would you like to hear about more?
Thanks for your patience! I'll see you on the other side.