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Love Your Enemies

I recently finished the book Love Your Enemies, by Arthur C. Brooks.  I found the book to be challenging in places– which is perfect because it ties in with one of the points Brooks is trying to make. We can listen to each other’s reasoned arguments–even when we disagree– with an open heart, without shutting down or demonizing the person we disagree with. Brooks’s argument throughout is heartfelt and open. I did not feel insulted or demonized by what he was saying, I just disagreed with some of his conclusions. Still, I am glad I stuck with the book to the end because his overall thesis is an extremely important one in today’s political climate.

The introduction grabbed me immediately, in a positive way. Brooks talks about the “culture of contempt” that we are currently experiencing and warns us not to be manipulated by the “outrage industrial complex.” I love that phrase, modified from Eisenhower’s military industrial complex, and I see the way social media and cable news are acting as the “dealers” for our addiction to contempt. All good. We’re on the same page here. Early chapters draw on social psychology research and the words of the Dalai Lama to discuss the harmful effects of contempt itself and the magical effects of warmheartedness. Brooks refutes the common belief that “nice guys finish last,” in romance and in the workplace — a noble and necessary refutation. He examines the phenomenon that draws some people to coercive leaders and explains why coercive leaders are dangerous. As a long-time fan of Jonathan Haidt’s moral foundation theory, much of this discussion was repetitive for me. If you are not aware of Haidt’s work, Brooks’s description is a good introduction to it. One of my favorite suggestions from these early chapters is to look for the “why” that we have in common rather than focusing on the “how.” Brooks implies that we all– liberals and conservatives and everyone in between– share common love for our country and belief in ideas like justice, equality, and freedom. Those are the “why” ideas. The “how” is policy, and we disagree on that. How to achieve justice or greater economic equality can be tricky. He wants us to discuss the “how” after we have acknowledged that we share the “why” in common. That’s a good suggestion and one I hope I can remember in the heat of a discussion.

Throughout the book, however, I had moments of “Eh….” when Brooks’ argument just didn’t ring true for me. For example, he shares a story about Howard Thurston, a turn-of-the-century stage musician from Ohio. It is the typical “pulled himself up by his bootstraps” story with the added twist of Thurston’s use of kindness and love for his audience as an explanation for his success. Lovely story, and I’m a big fan of love and kindness, but aren’t there other factors that explain Thurston’s success? Or at least explain the lack of obstacles in Thurston’s way? Like the fact that he was a white man who was allowed into any space he chose to venture into? Brooks similarly explains the success of the marriage equality act as stemming from the humanization of LGBTQ people in the eyes of neighbors and friends. By showing their humanity in asking for the right to marry “just like everyone else,” LGBTQ activists were, according to Brooks, able to overcome the resistance many people felt toward marriage equality. I’ve heard this argument before and it bothers me because it smacks of self-congratulatory smugness. It implies that LGBTQ activists had some moral secret figured out that other movements have lacked. I have yet to hear the argument that white men and women could rise to positions of power and influence in their communities and in the nation at large without anyone realizing they were gay, lesbian, queer, etc. How does a Black man in America show his “humanness” to people who automatically reject him based on the color of his skin? White LGBTQ activists still retained all the privilege of being white– the economic, educational, and legislative powers that all white Americans enjoy– because their LGTBQ identities were not obvious on the surface. Different challenges exist for other marginalized groups whose identities are immediately apparent and who suffer from generations of discrimination and systemic oppression. Showing people your humanity is not always as easy as it sounds.

Another weak spot for me was when Brooks explains the rise of populism in the 2016 election not as an economic issue caused by job loss and low wages, but as an issue of “dignity.” He argues against raising the minimum wage because it will, according to his research data, cause job loss instead of a better standard of living and in turn will not lead to “dignity” for working people. Again, I understand the need for dignity for all people, but I wonder how much real-world experience Brooks has dealing with issues of poverty and discrimination. He too easily takes on the assumption that what stands in the way of people pulling themselves out of poverty is a resistance to work, that we need to insist that poor people work so that they can feel the dignity of supporting themselves, as if poverty is caused by a character flaw instead of major systemic economic and social issues. Does Brooks know many poor people? People on public assistance? He admits that he is an academic– he says he took on a job as a fund-raiser with a strong knowledge of the data around charity giving but no real-world experience with the raising of funds. As a former recipient of public assistance, I find the assumption that poor people just need to experience the dignity of work to “wake up” their self-sufficiency to be simplistic and patronizing.

Chapter 5 is where I struggled the most to continue listening. Here Brooks discusses identity and the dangers of focusing too much on “identity politics.” He never names specific groups that fall into this trap, and I was left to wonder if he meant groups like “Black Lives Matter,” which is often accused of playing “identity politics.” Again, I felt like his argument was naive. I get his point– too much focus on identity without a balance of unity can be destructive. But whenever people suggest leaving identity issues in the background to focus on what binds us together as people, it sounds like a suggestion to support the status quo and stop agitating for change. Does Brooks understand that “identity politics” is not about identity for the sake of identity, but instead is about power, privilege, equality, and justice? I was left thinking that he doesn’t fully understand what is needed for marginalized people to challenge the status quo.

Later, in Chapter 7, Brooks focuses on the merits of competition– the tried and true “yin” in conservative arguments that seems to never be balanced out by the “yang” of human survival– compassionate cooperation. This chapter starts with a bemoaning of the elimination of dodge-ball from many public school gym classes, a sign in Brooks’s mind that we have become too “soft” and have stopped valuing competition. Seriously? Anyone who has spent any time at all in a public school knows that competition is alive and well. Sports reign supreme at most high schools in America, and if you’re not a star on the soccer field, you have your GPA, your STEM competitions, your poetry recitation competition, your all-state chorus and band competition–the list goes on and on–to prove your strengths. Dodge-ball is a horrific experience for 90% of the students in a gym class who get hit with a ball early in the game and then spend the rest of the gym class sitting on the side lines. How is that teaching them physical fitness? Imagine if we taught reading by such a contest of strengths. “Oops, you can’t read! Well, just sit over there on the wall of shame and watch THESE guys read. That’ll help you!” Eliminating dodge-ball is a smart move pedagogically. There are FAR better ways to encourage physical fitness for all– and especially for those who need it most– than by this archaic game. If you choose to have a dodge-ball game for those who WANT to play it, go ahead. But it does not accomplish the goals of physical education for most of the students.

These arguments, spread throughout the book–for pulling oneself up by one’s bootstraps, for the dignity of work and the merits of competition–are boilerplate conservative economic arguments. They have always left me feeling that conservative economists lack a true understanding of the world outside of their academic and personal experiences. On the plus side, Brooks presents these arguments with clear warmheartedness; there was no contempt or insult to people who might disagree. I gave myself the goal of listening simply to understand his points, with my own heart as open as I could make it. Luckily my frustration was lessened by the final chapters of the book. Here Brooks asks us to please continue to disagree with one another, but to disagree with kindness rather than contempt. This is a large ask in this era of social media trolls, cable news panel smackdowns, and YouTube videos that announce “Watch as (insert name of cable news host) DESTROYS (insert name of guest).” He ends with a list of concrete suggestions for how to wean ourselves from the culture of contempt. Refuse to be used by the powerful who ask you to hate people different from yourself.. Don’t watch so much news. Spend limited time on social media. Speak up when friends express contempt for people who hold different views. Put yourself into situations where your views are in the minority. Focus on the “why” questions that we all agree on. Apologize to those you have offended. In the end, aren’t these actions all of us could benefit from?

Clapback #1

As the vote to confirm Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh draws closer, protestors have been swarming Washington D.C. to talk to their senators and speak up for sexual assault survivors everywhere.

In one recent video, protestors can be seen approaching Republican Sen. Orrin Hatch inside the Hart Senate Office Building. As Hatch walks to an elevator, one woman says, “Why aren’t you brave enough to talk to us and exchange with us?”

As they continue to talk to him, Hatch steps into the elevator and says, “When you grow up I’ll be glad to.”– (https://www.elle.com/culture/career-politics/a23609550/republican-sen-orrin-hatch-protestors-grow-up/)

Okay, here’s the thing.  Senator Hatch, you are 84 years old.  You’re retiring at the end of this term, thank Goddess.  So, yeah, the protestors who approached you were definitely younger than you. But they are grown women.  They are adults.  They have a perspective that is different from yours, sir.  They have had experiences that are different from yours.  And you didn’t want to hear about those experiences because it conflicted with and threatened your political power.

Women hear this kind of admonition all the time.  Grow up.  Stop being so emotional.  Think about it logically.  You have a problem!  You need to get help!

Meanwhile, a white man can sit for a job interview in which he cries, yells, talks about his love for beer, and shares details from his raunchy yearbook entry and he is elevated to the highest court in the land.  Another man can mock people, brag about sexual assault, and lie constantly and he is supported by men like you in his position as the “leader” of this country.  Maybe THEY need to grow up?

We’re done.  We’ve been gaslighted enough.  We don’t lack age.  We don’t lack maturity.  We lack power.  But rest assured Mr. Hatch, a change gonna come.

We Hear You, Trust Me.

“From Maude to Murphy Brown, I Am Woman to All About that Bass, we’ve been lectured about women’s issues….I’ve listened. And I’ve treated women with respect and empathy my whole life. But I want the same. And I think, deep down, so do most men.”

“I know I need to listen to People of Color to learn their perspective, just like they need to listen to me to learn about the white male perspective.”

These are two comments I have heard or read recently in discussions about women’s issues and racism in my community.  Look, guys, I know this is a difficult time for you.  I mean, #metoo is really scary, almost as scary as being raped.  But here’s the thing: we listen to you ALL THE TIME.  You just don’t realize it because it’s the water we’re swimming in every day, 24-7.  When you say “women/POC need to listen to US” this is what happens in my brain:

Socrates, Aristotle, Homer, Odysseus, Achilles, Agamemnon, William Shakespeare, Falstaff, Henry V, King Lear, Macbeth, Hamlet, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Herman Melville, Edgar Allan Poe, James Fennimore Cooper, Hawkeye, Charles Dickens, Pip, Walt Whitman,  Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Jay Gatsby, Tom Buchanan, William Faulkner, Thomas Sutpen, Ernest Hemingway, Frederic Henry and every other Hemingway protagonist, Arthur Miller, John Proctor, Willy Loman, Biff, J.D. Salinger, Holden Caulfield, Atticus Finch, Kurt Vonnegut, Vladimir Nabakov, Humbert Humbert, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Rodion Raskalnikov,  Ray Bradbury, David Sedaris, Raymond Carver, John Updike, Harry Angstrom, William Golding, Jack, Ralph, Piggy, Simon, John Irving, Owen Meany, John Wheelwright, Jack Kerouac, Dean Moriarty, Carlo Marx, Cormac McCarthy, and Tim O’Brien…

Sigmund Freud, B.F. Skinner, Lawrence Kohlberg, Erik Erikson, Carl Jung, Jean Piaget, Ivan Pavlov, William Wundt, Abraham Maslow, Carl Rogers, Harry Harlow, Steven Pinker, Jonathan Haidt….

Friedrich Nietzche, Immanuel Kant, John Locke, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, David Hume, Jean-Paul Sartre, Karl Marx, Thomas Hobbes, Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson….

George Carlin, Steve Martin, Robin Williams, Louis C.K., Jerry Seinfeld, Rodney Dangerfield, Woody Allen, Patton Oswalt, Will Ferrell, Chevy Chase, John Belushi, John Candy, Dan Ackroyd, Bill Murray, Bob Hope, Dane Cook…..

Johnny Carson, David Letterman, Jay Leno, Conan O’Brien, Jon Stewart, Jimmy Kimmel, Jimmy Fallon, Stephen Colbert, Seth Meyer, James Corden, Bill Maher, John Oliver, Trevor Noah….

Archie Bunker, Bob Newhart, Hawkeye Pierce and B.J. Hunnicut, Frank Burns, Charles Emerson Winchester the third, Felix Ungar, Oscar Madison, Hogan’s Heroes, Marcus Welby, John Cleese, Eric Idle, Colombo, Richie Cunningham, The Fonz, Captain Kirk, Scotty, Spock, Homer Simpson, Peter Griffin,  Matt Stone, Trey Parker….

Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Indiana Jones, George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorcese, Quentin Tarentino…..

Tom Brokaw, Walter Cronkite, Dan Rather, Jake Tapper, Bill O’Reilly, Tucker Carlson, Brian Williams, Matt Lauer, Anderson Cooper…

Thomas Edison, Albert Einstein, Henry Ford, Charles Lindbergh, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs…

Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel, Elton John, Paul McCartney, John Lennon, Ringo Starr, George Harrison, Mick Jagger, Elvis Presley, Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton….

And then there’s George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, Abraham Lincoln, Dwight D. Eisenhower, Richard Nixon, John F. Kennedy, Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, Al Gore, John McCain, George W. Bush, Donald J. Trump, Mitch McConnell, Lindsay Graham, Orin Hatch, Dick Durbin, John Roberts, Samuel Alito, Antonin Scalia, Brett Kavanaugh, and on and on and on….

We’ve heard you, trust me…..we’ve HEARD you.  You have told YOUR stories through our literature, our laws, our history, our art, our music for three hundred years.  We have needed to hear you in order to survive in this world.  You have not needed to hear us.  Yet.  So when you say “women/POC need to listen to US,” we may roll our eyes.  Please.  Pass the mic.  It’s time to listen to US.

Dear Friend of a Facebook Friend

Dear Friend of a Facebook Friend:

I said I wouldn’t do it any more, but I did.  I commented on a political post on Facebook and when you responded, I engaged.  I knew I shouldn’t– my stomach hurt when I read your comment, and my heart raced as I typed my next question.  “Why are you so angry?” You assured me you were not, called me a “typical liberal, making accusations when you don’t get your way.” You assured me you were just stating facts and told me to “keep my opinion to myself.”  You called me a “snowflake,” told me to go sing “Kumbaya,” called me “sweetheart” and told me that you despised the party that I represented. Besides, you said, you were bored at work and it was “fun” bantering with me.

I should have stopped the conversation, should have stepped away to take my morning walk, should have breathed deeply and let it go.  But the night before, I had watched a documentary about a Muslim woman interviewing men from the alt-right and it affected me. The men she interviewed were, by and large, lonely, sad, and sheltered.  It made me wonder–in the age of rapid and world-wide communication technology, why have we stopped listening to each other? Just listening to understand, not to argue. I stopped commenting on Facebook posts months ago when I realized it is not the place for productive conversation.  It is a place where people shout at each other, double down, dig in, and insult people they’ve never met. It is a place full of assumptions, with a layer of anonymity that allows people to say things they would never say face to face. That morning I wondered–if I could just engage you in conversation, would you keep insulting me?  So I asked you where you work. You responded, again, with anger– you didn’t want to get to know me, sweetie, so I should stop asking “stupid questions” like where you work. Then you told me “God Bless.” Then you apologized for calling me sweetie, because you didn’t want to hurt my precious feelings again.

I apologized too and said I didn’t want to hurt your feelings either.  I called you “sugar pie” and maybe that showed you that I have enough of a sense of humor that I was not melting under your “banter,” because you continued the conversation.  You told me you needed a new job. You told me your son was going to the Arizona border to be a border patrol officer. You told me an officer was killed there recently by an “illegal.”  You told me you weren’t worried for him– that you “couldn’t be more proud.” I said “I wish him luck.” And then I went to work.

Later in the day, I checked Facebook again to see if you had commented more and I found all my comments were gone.  Your comments were gone. You were gone. I looked you up by name, and your profile was gone. Blocked, I assume. You blocked me.  Which is fine. But why? Are we at such a place that my engaging with you– trying to be human with you in spite of your insulting, demeaning “banter”–scared you?  Did you think I was trying to change your mind? Turn you “liberal?” Did you think I was a Russian troll?

All I can say is, it makes me sad.  I know, I know….sadness is a soft, liberal “snowflake” kind of emotion. You probably think I’m weak.  You will probably tell me to go back to my “safe space” and cry. I know being strong is important to you.  But I truly am sad that we Americans have lost our ability to talk politely to each other. I’m sad that we have so much distrust for the “other side” that we won’t listen any more.  I’m sad that a gesture of kindness is perceived as a threat.

I’m sorry that I scared you, sugar pie.  God Bless.