“Not through me!”

Across the world democracy is on the defensive. The political center is weakened; the extremes are emboldened. Civil discourse is rare and compromise scorned. Political parties on the right play to the fears and anxieties spawned by rapid social and cultural changes. Immigrants or elites or government institutions are blamed for every ill. Grievances are nurtured, passions stirred. Social media fan the flames. Outlandish lies are normalized. Even free speech seems problematic.

Those on the left, seeing an existential threat to democracy itself, rally their supporters in every way possible. The gulf widens. Hyper-partisanship prevails. A kind of tribalism emerges where people on both sides see the other in the darkest possible light. Some commentators fear we are on the cusp of civil strife.

No one knows where or how this will end. But it will end. No nation can remain in perpetual conflict, and when it ends, problems will still need to be solved and compromises made.

So what can be done to prepare for that moment?

There are reasons for hope. Consider the significant compromises that have been achieved even in a deeply divided U.S. Congress, the best example being on the vexing immigration issues. The Senators who made heroic compromises in search of solutions are still there, their relationships intact, despite Trump’s disastrous intervention.

Do similar relationships of mutual respect exist within local communities, across religious and cultural divides, among competing sectors of the economy, in academic institutions, in city and state governments and in the nation? Are these strong enough to lead us out of the chaos? Possibly not, but might ordinary citizens have a role in strengthening these? If so, how might we prepare ourselves for this role?

We could start by heeding advice offered eighty years ago by Judge Learned Hand of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit. He was offering brief remarks at a naturalization ceremony for 150,000 new citizens in New York’s Central Park in 1944. A million and a half people were present.

The most remembered phrase from this “Spirit of Liberty” speech, as it was soon dubbed, was the following: “Liberty lies in the hearts of men and women; when it dies there, no constitution, no law, no court can even do much to help it.”

TOO SURE OF OUR RIGHTNESS?

Going deeper, he then asked, “What then is the spirit of liberty? I cannot define it; I can only tell you my own faith. The spirit of liberty is the spirit which is not too sure that it is right; the spirit of liberty is the spirit which seeks to understand the mind of other men and women; the spirit of liberty is the spirit which weighs their interests alongside its own without bias.”

In our times the spirit that is not too sure it is right, that listens deeply to the other, that weighs the interests of others alongside its own, is rare. Gerald Gunther, an influential biographer of Hand, attributed the judge’s views to “his commitment to the doubting spirit.” Perhaps those of us who want to strengthen relationships in our divided society need to embrace more of that “doubting spirit.”

I had a surprising experience a few months ago that suggests that building relationships across the partisan divides may be easier than we think.

In my home town of Charlottesville, Virginia, I was “manning” a partisan tent outside an early-voting site during a hotly contested congressional election.

Tensions had been high and the body language at the two tents reflected mutual distaste, if not distain. Each of us were quite confident we were right and the other wrong on all the issues that mattered. Neither of us was seeking to consider the views of the other, much less to weigh their interests alongside our own without bias. That is, we were secure within our respective “bubbles.”

At a certain moment, I was surprised by a compelling thought to approach a volunteer manning the tent of the opposing party. I went over with the intent to discover what was on her mind and to discuss local issues of common concern. We were having what I considered a civil, respectful conversation, when suddenly someone in the back of the tent whom I had not previously noticed came forward to confront me angrily.

I soon found myself being berated fiercely by the woman in charge of the operation. Apparently, she perceived my conversation as an attempt to undermine her volunteer’s convictions. I listened quietly for some minutes, allowing her rant to continue uninterrupted. Finally, I thanked her for her convictions and politely took my leave, saying that I looked forward to further conversation later.

RECEIVING A SURPRISE

About ten minutes later, as we both continued to hand out literature to voters arriving to cast their ballots, she walked over to my party’s tent. “Can I give you a hug?” she asked. Though surprised, I assented, and good conversation followed. Then, to my greater surprise, she asked permission to fix my upturned collar. More conversation followed. Finally, with great feeling she told of the hurt and anger she had felt in reaction to what she felt were disparaging non-verbal communications from our tent. She had felt dissed and was striking back. All she wanted in fact was no more or less than respect.

In his recent book, How to Know a Person, David Brooks describes a world where people feel invisible, unseen, misunderstood. He quotes George Bernard Shaw: “The worst sin towards our fellow creatures,” he says, “is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them.”

My new friend in the Republican tent had felt unseen and was furious. My listening to her attentively and without interruption dissolved the fury and opened the way to a meaningful relationship. It is unlikely she has changed her politics, but also unlikely that she will be an obstacle to finding a way forward.

The subtitle of Brooks’ book is “The Art of Seeing Others Deeply, and Being Deeply Seen.” His idea is to help ordinary citizens acquire the skills needed to build meaningful relationships; his hope is that as more of us learn these skills, we can help overcome the fragmentation, hostility and isolation in society.

Learning to really see the other is hard enough in the best of times. In a world experiencing a catastrophic decline in social relationships, the challenge is multiple times more challenging.

One problem pointed out by Brooks is that we tend to size up people at a glance. We think we know who they are. But, as Brooks writes, “each particular life is far more astounding and unpredictable than any of the generalizations scholars .... make about groups of people.” His counsel, like that of Learned Hand, is to be humble about one’s own judgments.

Another problem is finding real world opportunities to reach out to “the other,” to those outside our respective bubbles. This takes intention. It may be the check-out person at the grocery, or the neighbor with opposing views, or even a family member.

LOOKING FOR OPPORTUNITIES

For me, I’ve found unexpected opportunities at Monticello, the home of America’s third president, Thomas Jefferson. This UNESCO World Heritage site draws between 300,000 and 400,000 visitors annually to Charlottesville. Guests come for many reasons, but most are curious about the complicated man who articulated a vision of liberty and equality for all and yet owned in his lifetime over 600 enslaved people. Is his belief that education was necessary to sustain a self-governing nation still valid? Is his conviction about religious freedom still relevant?

As a guide at this historic site, I meet people from across the social, political, cultural and racial divides. Happily, most of those who visit historic sites leave their politics behind and their phones off. For a few hours they escape whatever media bubbles they inhabit and engage with one another as people. A woman from California celebrates meeting people “who don’t think like me.” A retired Navy Seal veteran relishes taking selfies with his guide, also a Navy veteran, despite their obvious political differences. An elegantly attired New Yorker, upon hearing the story told about how her Jewish forebear, Uriah Phillips Levy, had bought and saved Monticello in 1834, shares how much this acknowledgement means to her and her family. Moving conversations follow with a diverse group, including a couple of young tattooed tourists.

Given the precarious state of civil society not only in America but in many other countries, simple steps that each of us can take to see “the other,” to open a genuine conversation, and possibly discover common ground, could lay a foundation of trusting relationships that will be essential when the time comes to build for the future.

While polarities may persist, we will know with confidence that they did not come through me.