A colleague of ours had an unusual experience the other day. At the height
of the midterm-election season, she met a fellow voter who seemed removed
from partisan warfare--or at least he wanted to discuss the candidates and
issues without pushing his own preferences and slamming people of opposing
views.
That was a rare encounter at a time when civil political discourse among
ordinary Americans has all but vanished. Since the country was founded,
political passions have run high at election time. Yet away from the street
brawls and fist-fighting, there was an unspoken pact among most Americans to
preserve some semblance of respect for a diversity of views. You might
disparage a candidate, but you avoided demonizing his supporters. In this
way, friendships strained during a campaign could be mended afterward.
That's not so easy anymore. What passes for political discussion these days
is often sharp and nasty. People come to dinner parties not with debating
points but with baseball bats. Bush is an idiot; Clinton is a liar--end of
conversation. Unless, that is, someone dares to disagree, in which case he
is a liar or idiot too. College reunions, family gatherings, even worship
services--almost every occasion has become a danger zone.
With a Republican administration in power and a war in Iraq, Democratic
partisans tend to be the most belligerent offenders today. A Washington,
D.C., resident informs us that she now dreads going to AA meetings, where
they talk of nothing except the wicked and despised George Bush. That anyone
present might respect Mr. Bush or simply find such rancorous talk
distressing does not seem to matter.
Republicans may be in the hot seat now. Yet expert observers agree that
there's been a general decline in political etiquette. Judith Martin, also
known as the syndicated columnist "Miss Manners," points out that the old
rule against discussing politics, sex and religion evolved for a good
reason. These are "volatile subjects," even in a modern context, she told
us. "You bring up abortion, you bring up gay marriage" and it can be toxic.
Ms. Martin notes that only good old-fashioned manners--e.g., no personal
attacks, no obscenity--can make discussions of controversial topics
possible. But Stephen Miller, author of "Conversation: A History of a
Declining Art," is not sure that civility, once abandoned, can be restored.
He told us that many Americans have retreated into "anger communities,"
including partisan "Web sites that provide grist for their mill."
One result, he says, is an actual aversion to discourse. "We now have in
this country words for ending conversation--'Oh, you're a fundamentalist' or
'you're a secularist.' " The subtext, he adds, is: "You're so stupid I
couldn't possibly have a conversation with you."
Stephen Hess, a scholar of governance and public policy, and author of "The
Little Book of Campaign Etiquette," has a slightly less pessimistic outlook.
He notes that loathing of Thomas Jefferson was palpable in his era. In fact,
Mr. Hess told us, "if you go back long enough in American history, there has
always been so much anger and so much ill-will cast around that you have to
be careful about thinking that we invented it."
Memories and bitterness fade, though--who remembers that even Dwight
Eisenhower received hate mail? So Mr. Hess hopes that when two current
sources of contention, George Bush and the war in Iraq, eventually pass from
the scene, Americans will fall back into more restful, or at least less
vicious, conversational habits.
Even so, he, like Mr. Miller, worries about new and possibly perpetual
antagonizing in the age of blogging, where "anything that someone sitting in
a basement in their underwear wishes to spew gets into the community." And
at present, there is only one refuge from the fray. "You almost have to
stick to people who think just like you," Mr. Hess laments. "It's terribly
sad. It has changed the nature of discourse, at least among people who want
to talk about public matters."
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