Why We Are So Frustrated in Political Conversations (trigger warning: contains some big words)

After reading some of Terry Eagleton’s Ideology: An Introduction, I’m beginning to look at political discourse differently. Eagleton not only shows the breadth of peoples’ understanding of the term “ideology,” but also strategies used by their ideology.

Two strategies of ideology (let’s for the sake of discussion assume that ideology means something like 1) certain propositions are true, 2) certain narratives are taken as good explanations, and 3) these two assertions both fulfill certain desires or resolve emotions) I want to hone in on are universalization and naturalization. Universalization means something like understanding one’s own position not as one among many, or as sectarian, but simply that from which one can generalize. Universalization is thus closely associated with naturalization, for that which one takes as universal can easily move into the category “natural,” casting any aberration from this frame as “unnatural,” “innovative,” or in moral casting “wrong,” “evil,” or maybe seemingly neutral like “irrational.” Universalization requires the move of naturalization to establish itself, so that competing narratives are considered fantasies beyond the imaginable

So let’s take this topic of ideological strategies and see how it could cast light on interchanges among friends from very different political persuasions. For the record, when ideology gets thrown around, one usually hears it lobbed at one’s opponents as something “they have”; we are the rational ones. If we take a cue from the strategy of naturalization, this makes sense for marking social boundaries. Our ways are so familiar to us, that how could anyone look at the evidence we’re looking at and not come to our same conclusions? This is one of the unfortunate legacies of the Enlightenment, that information speaks for itself, obscuring that information is never neutral. It is always and ever collected, maintained, explained, and brought to bear for certain reasons. Another word for “reasons” that will make its ideological nature more apparent is to replace “reasons” with “interests.”

The very sources we take as authoritative and the interpretations of these sources we take as authoritative are not native to the sources/data themselves, but constitutive themselves of our social groups. Who are we but the sources we cherish and the values we tell ourselves we value, the conclusions of which we have derived from sources we have already picked? To put this more plainly, let’s assume two people are talking about Donald Trump. What is obviously/naturally great to one person is puzzling or even evil to another. I definitely see Trump one way, and it wouldn’t be hard to track down how I feel about him, but that attitude is the result of what sources I already buy into, the friends I cherish, the communities I am in solidarity with, and ways of assessing I take as legitimate. If these fundamental elements aren’t discussed overtly, is it any wonder how our “obvious” talking points go over the heads of our interlocutors or infuriate us because they don’t play by our rules, just as we don’t play by theirs?

What prompted this post was a discussion some of my close family and friends have had over Trump, a recent post on algorithms, and another post on the use of language. Burge, in his article on algorithms, found that there was a strong correlation between being evangelical and being Republican. I asked my friend who posted this that if these identities were as “fused” as they appeared, would a Republican (who also happened to be an evangelical) take a critique of her political views as an attack on his faith. If so, “dialogue” would probably be nigh impossible, nigh if we always keep our prior commitments obscured in discussion. However, I only came to Burge’s article after reading a post by Nongbri concerning the use of language and the communities which constitute the language. Rather than try to look at ways in which “others” distort meaning, he pays attention to the rhetoric employed by groups to establish a stable meaning in the first place. In other words, he doesn’t see meaning as stable at all as much as the social boundaries/indentifiers of particular groups.

So what of all this? Without understanding how groups work, how they include and exclude, how they construct their own boundaries and deconstruct that of others, “dialogue” will be next to impossible, if it ever is. If we don’t understand the ways in which others groups establish themselves, we are quite literally speaking different languages, living different lives, smelling different air, and seeing different people.

People Are Strange Pt. 1

I’m going to relay a story about being idealistic and fickle, and about how all humans are this way, because I was as a boy.

When I was 9 or 10, I would pray the following prayer every night before falling asleep: “Jesus, please forgive my sins and the sins of the world so we can go to heaven and not to hell. Amen.” I had this down to a mantra I could spit out silently in roughly a second or so. It had to be this fast because you didn’t know when death would happen. It was a nightly thing. I also said it during the day. I wouldn’t say I was in fear for my soul, so much as this activity was a comforting one. No one really taught me this. I was just a weird kid who pieced things together. Differently.

The following scene takes place in the Cope’s yard, which eventually became our yard. So the Copes had this enormous rock in their front yard. It was probably 1 1/2 to 2 feet tall, maybe 2 feet wide (if that), and 3-4 feet long, but for us it was like Mt. Olympus. We would play “King of the Mountain,” with all that entails: healthy competition quickly devolving into literal fist fights.

Well. Young Steven said something that just lit me up. If I recall correctly, and I’m pretty sure I don’t, he said or did something to Josh. Or maybe it was the perennial debate of whose dad was the biggest, strongest, baddest hombre. Whatever it was, it was enough to ignite righteous indignation within me. So righteous, that I prayed, “Jesus, please rapture your children. NOOOOOOWW!” This probably would have been more comical had I said it aloud, bit I did it through gritted teeth, under my breath, and with clenched fists.

There is so much going on here, it’s hard to know where to begin. It’s fascinating I desired God’s unstoppable rapture judgment on my friend-turned enemy, only to pray my mantra at night, and have my friend back the next day. Jesus was this invisible, but powerful force to use in blessing and cursing. The moral of this story is that children, and humanity by extension, are evil maniacs not to be trusted.

A lot of the weird things I thought as a kid probably would have been gently corrected (or looked at in horror? Who knows) had I said them aloud. Take the following as an example. Adam and Eve were the parents of all humanity. They were also white. Why? Because everyone I grew up with was white, with a few exceptions. Why did they look different than me? Well, I made sense of it from art and my fuzzy conceptions of this new thing Mom and Dad had just told me about called “sex.”

When a man loved a woman very much he would stick his scrotum in her vagina and they would have babies. That, I later found out, was not the case. So, color.

Adam was a very expressive individual. He and Eve had had a few, white children. In his short time on the earth, Adam had discovered dyes and paints. Being the creative man he was, Adam decided to paint his penis yellow before he lay with Eve one day, and this is where the descendants of Asia come from. And so with black, brown, and red skin.

Had I told this to my parents or fourth grade Sunday school teacher (I forget who this is now; maybe the Robillards? Or the Bryants?), and they actually heard my entire explanation, I don’t know if they would have laughed or gently corrected me. Suffice it to say I took bits of knowledge and ran with them. Far, far away.

People are strange.