Liberals and conservatives don’t have to be at war

Americans are surrounded these days with ominous pronouncements from political leaders of all stripes portraying the other party as, more or less, an embodiment of evil (”fascist … bigot … crazy … corrupt … radical … dangerous”).
It’s hard to blame anyone, given the important consequences of our elections, for overlaying a spiritual lens over what’s taking place in our fast-moving political landscape. The problem comes when we automatically conflate fundamental “good and evil” as neatly falling along current political lines. Renowned Russian dissident and Christian author Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn believed otherwise — declaring that “the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either — but right through every human heart.”
That seems a very timely message for the United States right now — especially surrounded by moral absolutism evident on all sides.
One thing especially seems to be missed by the most passionate partisans today — namely, the goodness of heart and intent among our political opposites. I first started learning this for myself during my years studying at the University of Illinois when I “lived among the liberals.”
Arriving as a conservative kid from Utah in a very progressive graduate program at the University of Illinois, I stayed fairly quiet. More than simple fear about being judged harshly for my beliefs, I had a lot to learn — so I listened.
At the time, my 22-year-old, returned-missionary brother Sam was going through cancer treatment. I’ll never forget getting the call in the psychology department computer lab when I found out my brother was coming home from the hospital. The doctors had nothing else to do for him — he was being sent home for hospice care.
Only one other person was in the computer lab that day, my progressive classmate Adrienne Abramowitz. Noticing something was wrong, she came over and just held me in her arms as I wept.
When Sam passed away, I was surrounded with love from professors and classmates who mourned with me. This same community welcomed me into their homes, taught and mentored me — yes, listening as well when I often expressed a different perspective.
Back during these days of the Obama administration, I would often hear people insist that then-President Barack Obama was “trying to hurt America.”
My response was frequently something like: “I know a lot of people who think like Obama — and I’ve never once seen any of them twirling a mustache and plotting the overthrow of the republic.”
This was more than a joke. Far from signs of malevolent intent, I witnessed during these years professor Nicole Allen’s innovative research on community coalitions rallying to fight domestic violence, Elaine and Mikhail Shpungin’s dogged belief in creative practices to reconcile people in deep conflict, and Wendy Heller looking up alternative remedies for my mother’s cancer-related nausea, when she wasn’t chairing my dissertation work on depression.
Instead of a battleground, my experience as a conservative graduate student showed me the beauty of the academy, and what happens when different perspectives come together with respect. In a short space of time, a new reality took hold over me. The goodness of these so-called “crazy liberals” was simply undeniable — coming to represent a deep, existential contradiction to the liberals-hate-America rhetoric I had heard over the years from right-wing provocateurs.
I’ve wondered in the years since whether many conservatives simply haven’t had a similar opportunity to deeply love — and be loved by — their political opposites. For me, the real-life liberals I came to know and love defied the rhetoric about liberals — over and over again.
That included my co-facilitator of a liberal-conservative dialogue class, Danielle Rynczak, who pioneered this class with me at the University of Illinois and an atheist Marxist professor at State University of New York, Phil Neisser — who became one of my dearest friends, even though we disagreed vociferously about pretty much everything (”You’re not as crazy as I thought, but you’re still wrong”).
For years, Liz Joyner mentored us in how to apply the Village Square model in Utah, a group that defines itself as “a nervy bunch of liberals and conservatives who believe that disagreement and dialogue make for a good conversation, a good country, and a good time.”
With Jay Griffith, Emily Christopulos, Ross Collier, Shelly Sawyer Jenson and many others, we had a lot of fun working to spark more of these friendships locally. Liz and I were so moved by what we were witnessing that we started collecting stories of unorthodox friendships, like my boys collect basketball cards.
Among other things, I came to admire my liberal friends’ willingness to question, even if I still think they take that too far sometimes (can we stop doubting happy families as a crucial basis for human civilization?).
When I got some hate for public writing about marriage and family, a progressive Episcopalian John Backman provided some of my best comfort and wisdom, telling me I needed to “go read the book of Jeremiah.”
Years of dialogue with groups of politically diverse Americans taught me as well that we all have a conservative and a liberal side. Do you know everyone who wants everything to stay the same — or anyone who wants everything to change?
If that’s true, how much could we gain if we listened deeply to those hungry for something to change, while showing the same attentiveness to those devoted to defending something that needs to not be undermined?
After working at Living Room Conversations with Debilyn Molineaux and Joan Blades, a proud Berkeley liberal, they both made sure to ask about how our family was doing over the years of supporting two disabled children. Joan randomly texts me photos from morning walks and has often told me how much she wants to fly out and tend our boys so Monique and I can get out on more dates. One woman, Tracy Hollister, who fought for marriage equality in North Carolina, told me how she marveled after realizing she felt more friendship with a Latter-day Saint from Utah than her “gay boss.”
That’s how it’s gone for two decades now.
And when our daughter Emma died last fall, none of these larger sociopolitical differences mattered. The love crossed all boundaries from people mourning with us — with my gay Christian friend Arthur Peña and my agnostic Jewish friend Alex Rhodes — two of the sweetest comforts during my most difficult months, with their gentle check-ins: “Just thinking of you … that’s all.”
Adoring someone who disagrees with your politics and theology is a life-changing experience. I’ve learned so much from these relationships and conversations, which have changed who I am — even if I’m still reliably conservative on social and moral questions. And I’ve found so much joy and sweetness in our correspondence over the years.
By the way, many of these people — not all — likely supported Vice President Kamala Harris for president this week, and with just as much love about America as any of my rural, conservative neighbors.
The takeaway for me personally is this: Thoughtful, goodhearted people disagree about almost everything, including politics.
That discovery changes so much. It’s why I believe liberals and conservatives don’t have to be at war … we really don’t!
Not in our schools. Not in our homes. Not in our congregations. Not in our journalism. And not even in our politics.
Yes, of course, policy differences matter. So many of them are life-and-death issues, with real consequences for vulnerable groups — including the unborn, poor Americans, migrants and various minority groups.
To suggest we don’t need to be at war doesn’t at all mean we collapse into some mushy moderate middle — taking a laissez-faire attitude. It means we actually talk about all of these differences, in real conversations that seek understanding, rather than the shallow shadow-boxing we see all around us.
This is no “all is well in America” message. The direction we are going as a nation is concerning to all of us. Details of what’s happening in our country matter, and we (every one of us) need to raise our voices about what that should be.
It’s also fair to point out that different ideas and plans really are in combat, and can’t always coexist in the same policy or program. There is a battle going on in our ideological marketplace that really does often reflect a good versus evil combat — one in which we need to stay engaged.
But I personally believe very little of the real learning, progress and growth we dearly need in a culture war environment. That’s because majorities of Americans self-censor — while the loudest voices among us (“professional polarizers,” as my friend Liz Joyner calls them) dominate airwaves and shape an increasingly toxic conversation.
If we can’t talk anymore in productive ways about the questions that matter, then nothing else matters … because we literally can’t make progress on any problem at all. For me, that trumps any other policy consideration.
This is also why it’s urgent to stop confusing “good versus evil” with “liberal versus conservative” — shifting instead to a more redemptive worldview. To my mind, the alternative to noxious “us versus them” rhetoric everywhere is simply Christianity.
It wasn’t until the last decade’s mounting rhetoric about inescapable conflict between men and women, Black and white, rich and poor, gay and straight, believers and nonbelievers, citizens and immigrant, that I realized how revolutionary Paul’s teachings to the Romans were: “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.”
All means all. That means liberals falling short, and conservatives falling short. Believers falling short. And nonbelievers too.
Black and white, rich and poor, gay and straight, immigrants and natives … all falling short — in a way that levels the playing field completely.
Instead of pointing fingers across the way at that person or that group ruining America, leaders of faith across the world invite people to point the finger back at ourselves.
What do we need to be learning? How do we need to be changing and growing?
I’ll never forget visiting with one of my neighbors years ago in Farmington who had stepped away from our faith. The distance was tangible in the air, as this family seemed to wonder about the purpose of my visit.
Until they brought up their son who was suicidal — prompting me to share some of what I’d learned about depression recovery. Immediately, all the estrangement evaporated, as we pierced through all the sociopolitical and theological differences. In an instant, we were just fellow human beings worried about the same suffering, sad boy.
I dream of a day when Americans, and people all over the world, arrive at the same discovery about those many “enemies” they spent so much of their precious mortality agonizing and agitated about — stopped in their tracks to realize that they too, regardless of who they vote for, suffer and yearn for love — wanting the same happiness for their families as we all do.
Does that really have to be so hard to see?
For more reporting about ways to proactively seek peace with your political opposite, check out our 10-part preelection series in partnership with KUOW, Seattle’s NPR news station and “A Braver Way” podcast, led by Mónica Guzmán — a singular, inspired peacemaker in America today.
And if all else fails, it’s hard to hate someone you laugh with: