Why Do Americans Deeply Disagree?

People today struggle to understand lots of other people’s worlds.  Democrats do not understand Republicans, who in turn claim rather famously that Democrats are trying to take over the country–how evil. Political commentators all over the place are noting how this era of politics has been so divisive, so polarized.

The Pew Research Center released a new social values poll in early June that suggests lots of interesting  differences between Democrats and Republicans.  For instance, people in the two parties are hugely divergent in what the role of government should be:

If you are one of those clever people thinking “sure, we disagree more about the social safety net, but that is just one aspect of politics,” then okay, you got a point, but what about the environment?

These are not small changes.  In less than a span of a generation, nearly a quarter of Americans have changed their minds about the environment.  The data I’ve presented thus far all emphasize how Republicans have changed.  However areas where Democrats are the primary people who changed also exist, especially on social values issues, whether religion plays a significant role in their lives, or whether they believe people should have traditional marriages.

The point is this: Americans are now more than any point in the last 25 years, more socially divided, more philosophically divided, more politically divided than at any other point in the past 25 years.  Probably longer.  Why?

I don’t think anyone really knows all too well the answer to why we are so divided.  But I think one of the several contributing factors for why is an increased lack of understanding for the points of views of those who disagree.  Simply put: the fact is dead.

There are few reasons that I could come up with for arguing as the devil’s advocate for my argument above.  I would be flabbergasted by any such position, and I would have to spend a great deal of time to figure out just what reasoning a dissenter would have, or how she would attack question the facts I presented above.  Simply: I would not understand immediately how someone could look at the facts above and say “yeah, those aren’t big differences.”  I am willing to put in the effort to figure out what world a person could live in to disagree with me, but many are not willing to put in that effort.

What happens when people are worlds apart and unwilling to try to understand each others’ worlds?

One of the most valuable parts of that fact article I linked, and one of the most valuable lessons I read from a Canadian journal, Informal Logic, is a concept called “Deep Disagreements.”  The main thrust of the concept is that when people do not share enough assumptions about the world, whether we’re talking about what constitutes persuasive evidence, or what an acceptable protocol for argument might be, whatever, when people don’t share enough rules, no agreement can be made.

The danger of being worlds apart and being unwilling to consider how other people could validly see the world around them is that we might cease being able to be able to compromise.  This is a recognition that Republicans, according to the Pew Research Poll, are making first.  But it is also a recognition that we can’t peacefully agree on how to manage the resources that we need to share.   Talk about cynicism!

If we can’t figure out how to agree on these core ideological differences, what hope for peaceful agreement is there?  Why should we pretend to be one nation?  Major Garrett argues in The Atlantic that these divisions are real and should not be ignored with popular rhetoric about how united we are.  News flash: We’re not united about much of anything.

Another reason that polarization might have expanded might be how we associate with each other.  There are (at least) two prominent works that attempt to explain this trend: Bowling Alone by Robert Putnam and Going to Extremes by Cass Sunstein. Putnam’s book presents data to argue that people are no longer associating with the people at their geographic locations.  Bowling membership trends have plummeted.   Church memberships are struggling.  We are no longer attending parent/teacher conferences.  Basically, we are no longer forced to interact with our neighbors.

Sunstein’s book goes one step further.  Not only are we choosing who we associate with and where we get our news, but we are picking out those pieces of evidence that further confirm our preconceived notions.  Instead of actively challenging ourselves, we ignore the evidence that would challenge us in favor of that which confirms what we think we already knew.  And then sitting down with people to talk about the issues only further cements and radicalizes our positions.

If Sunstein is correct, there is very little we can do to reduce the amount of disagreement we have with one another.  Yet, very little is not nothing.  There seems to be some light shining through these depressing data: if we make people feel better about themselves, they might be more willing to accept uncomfortable conclusions.

The thought seems silly, but if you make sure that the other person understands that you don’t think he is an awful person for disagreeing with you, you might find more common ground than you thought was there.


Understanding Other Worlds

I am fascinated by politics.  (Perhaps the understatement of the year.)

If we are ever presented with another area of human life where ethics, morals, philosophy, ideology, religious views, and economic theory all get together to have nice little demon children, then I would be just as fascinated with that aspect of human life as well.  All the conflict in politics is also inherent and fun to ponder.

But talking about politics for a lot of people is a non-starter.  When I say that I love politics, people give me a look as though I just said that I loved Saddam Hussein.

  Loving Saddam

Okay, so the dictator that everyone loves to hate right now is actually Bashar al-Assad, whatever.

Regardless of whether people think I love Saddam’s photo-spread or Assad’s lovely box of a head, that look they give is one of incredulousness.  How could any sane person bring himself to care about the variety of disagreements with government that people have?  Why would anyone bother to pay attention to all the corruption, back-handed deals, and dirty compromising?  Simply: people don’t understand the world in which I live.

And I don’t understand a lot of other worlds either.  Fatalism (in its colloquial sense) is a concept that I have a really hard time with understanding.  The line of argument usually goes along the lines of this: “We don’t have control over X event, therefore why should we even bother to do anything about X?”  I am not going to be able to change the broken nature of politics in this country, so why should I even bother doing anything?  Why should I bother voting; it isn’t like I’m going to change the outcome anyway.

This mentality admits a far too limited few of human agency than I’m willing to accept.  It is definitely true that I am not going to be able to make politics magically unbroken, in the sense of just how many filibusters get used, how much influence lobbyists have over making policy, whatever.  I can’t change the world to look exactly as I like.

But just because I can’t get what I want, that doesn’t mean I can’t try to help move things to being closer to what I want.  Even though there are a lot of filibusters, and a lot of lax rulings about corporate abuse of their customers, and lots of shitty things about the world, I can still do something. To focus on all the things that I can’t do ignores all the things that I can do.

Here is the short for why I think politics matter: those issues impact everyone.  I don’t think anyone can say that the break up of TomKat seriously alters how we manage the resources that we have decided to share for common purpose in this country.  The gun shooting in Colorado does NOT, in fact, mean that gun shootings in theatres are going to become hugely popular, or that we are on the verge of experiencing a wave of gun violence across the nation.  It does not mean that we are on the verge of Civil War, or that we will experience nation debilitating protests about gun usage, or anything of the sort.

There are things that will bring our nation to a stop.  And to ignore those things, I think, is to be entirely unaware of what problems we most need to address.  We can’t focus on what we can do about problems that we don’t know exist.  We think that the national debt is the problem–it isn’t.  The problem is about half of our country’s willingness to pay for the debt.  We think that TomKat getting divorced is a travesty–it isn’t. Tom Cruise might be gay anyway, and who gives a shit about what two couch-jumpingly crazy celebrities think anyway?

The reason I don’t understand a lot of other worlds is tied very closely to my drive to better understand our shared world.  It is a moral statement: if I don’t care about the issues that impact huge numbers of people, about issues that impact the world that we all share, then how can I call myself a living, breathing participant of this world?

So look at me like I’m crazy all you like, but I’m going to keep on paying attention to Assad’s brutal campaign of violence in Syria.  I’m not perfect about knowing about everything, but I do try to do what I can.  How much control do I have over keeping myself aware?  Well, I don’t know.  In my most honest moment, I’d say the answer largely depends on luck: what’s in the news, what is reasonably accessible, what have you.  But there are things that I can do to better my odds.  And I’d like to think that I try to keep my odds of learning about my most valued issues pretty high.