Some people argue that since it’s so hard to have a political conversation these days without getting into some kind of negativity, we should simply avoid the subject of politics altogether.
I disagree.
Avoiding political discussion is what got us into this mess. We need to transform our political conversations, not suppress them. Disagreeing with someone doesn’t mean we’re “attacking” them. Standing up to evil doesn’t mean we’re being “judgmental.” And there’s nothing holy about using spirituality as a justification for political disengagement. “Spiritual” people should be having the difficult conversations. We should be the biggest grown-ups in the room.
At Easter lunch that day, I mentioned my concern about a pattern of unarmed black men being shot by police. To me, this should not be a conservative issue or a progressive issue. Who among us wouldn’t be horrified when a young man, father of two, standing in his grandmother’s backyard with nothing in his hands or on his person but a cell phone, is shot in the back twenty times by police who’d been called to check out a report of vandalism in the neighborhood?
One of my new friends told me that he couldn’t join me in my concern because he “supports law enforcement.” At which point, I said it was insulting to suggest that those who have a problem with that shooting do not support law enforcement!
“But murder is murder,” I exclaimed, “no matter who is doing it!”
His mother then said that she’d had a problem with the statement in my talk the night before that a country in which police can just kill people at will is called a police state.
“But it is!” I told her.
It doesn’t show lack of support for law enforcement to point out that only in a police state can police kill whomever they want, at will. That might not be a fear that I or any of my white friends live with on a daily basis, but there are people of color who do. That is simply a fact. Does it mean that I love America any less, or support law enforcement any less, that this disturbs me greatly?
I believe that the vast majority of police officers in America are good people who take extraordinary risks to ensure the safety of the rest of us every day. I am deeply grateful for that, as we all should be. But most doctors, most lawyers, and most teachers are good people too. That doesn’t mean that all of them are, or that those who aren’t should not be held accountable.
I can’t see how anyone can defend what they consider “American values” with a defense of attitudes that undermine those values. On the other hand, I know I’m spiritually off-base myself if I close my heart to someone because of my perception that they’re closing theirs. Who among us hasn’t found ourselves at times judging people for “being judgmental”? Ah, the irony. From a spiritual perspective, if someone is driving us crazy, then the deeper issue is still our own craziness. The work is always on ourselves.
While the ego always monitors other people’s thoughts and behavior, the spirit would have us monitor only our own. And since everyone can subconsciously register where we’re coming from, regardless of what we say, it’s only in purifying our own hearts that we have any chance of touching someone else’s. In the words of Martin Luther King Jr., “We have little morally persuasive power with someone who can feel our underlying contempt.”
That has to be our goal now: not mere defeat of political opponents, but also engagement in the art of moral persuasion—the ability to so commune with the heart of another that real communication can occur.
I don’t think it was an accident that the conversation with my Trump-supporting friends that day took place on Easter Sunday—not for symbolic reasons, but for literal ones. We had spent time together thinking about the infinite power of love that morning. We had prayed and meditated together. It was Easter, for goodness’ sake! We were predisposed to loving each other, and that made all the difference. There was no way I could see them as stereotypes, and I assume that they could not see me that way either. My friends and I were able to honor each other, even while we disagreed, and engage on serious political issues without compromising our convictions.
Our political as well as our personal salvation is indeed a revolution of the heart. I knew that at the deepest level my differences with my friends were semantic. All of us agreed on basic values; we were simply worlds apart on what those values looked like when expressed in political terms.
Gandhi said that “politics should be sacred.” By that, he didn’t mean religious; he meant that the level of our political conversation should be sacred. It should be the level of conversation we have in therapy, or support groups, or intimate conversation. The level from which we speak determines the level of our understanding.
The sacred place within us lies beyond such polarity as liberal and conservative. In the words of Dwight Eisenhower, “The American mind at its best is both liberal and conservative.” High-minded conservative principles and high-minded liberal ones form a creative synergy, a yin and yang of American politics. Both are great American political traditions, and both support the ideals of democracy. The threat to our democracy comes from neither of those traditions. The threat is authoritarian corporatism, which does not respect serious conservatism, serious progressivism, universal humanitarian values, or even democracy itself.
We need to be able to discuss these things. Whenever anyone says, “We’re not going to talk about politics or religion,” I’m so like, “Well, that leaves me out at dinner!” Our tendency these days to have a political conversation only with people who already agree with us—exacerbated by all the mean-spiritedness on social media—is destructive to the social fabric of our country. It is intellectually lazy to stereotype someone just because they see things differently, and it lacks emotional discipline to lash out at people for the simple fact that they disagree with you.
It is essential to nonviolent communication that we affirm the dignity and goodness of other people, even if we disagree with them. That is the sweet spot underlying honorable debate: to first assume someone’s basic innocence and speak to them from there. The ego’s temptation is always to attack, to create separation, to make another person wrong—especially when we’re so sure we’re right! As someone who can jump into snark or sarcasm more easily than I should, I know the dead end those attitudes represent. Making another person feel guilty will never build unity or goodwill; only blessing, not blaming, can do that. All judgment does is to shut people down emotionally and psychologically.
I was struck by a tweet I saw once: someone said that her grandmother had told her: “Just remember that when the two of you are fighting, it’s you two versus the fighting, not you versus him.” That struck me, because who among us has not at times given in to the temptation to demonize those with whom we disagree?
Only in a totalitarian society is everyone supposed to toe the line and see things the same way. No one owes it to us to agree with us about anything, including politics. No side of the political spectrum has a monopoly on righteousness or values, and anyone who argues otherwise represents a viewpoint unworthy of who we are.