DIFFICULT AND UNAVOIDABLE: THE POLITICAL CONVERSATION

Shanah Tovah, everyone.  Great to see you all in this Rosh Hashanah 5778, and I want to wish you all a very healthy and fulfilling and peaceful year to come for you, for your family, and let’s pray for the world at large as well. 

A young lady attends the grand opening of a new store.  Her friend started a boutique some years ago, she did well, and was now able to relocate the store to a wealthier neighborhood where business would be better than ever.  The young lady walks into the boutique and sees the congratulatory floral arrangement she had ordered, but the message on the arrangement read:  Rest in Peace.  She’s a bit embarrassed by the whole thing as this was not the message she had ordered so she quickly leaves the premise, runs two blocks down to the florist and complains to the manager.  The manager gets on the computer, shakes his head, and apologizes—"I’m really sorry.  We made the wrong delivery.”  The young lady responds—Fine, let’s make the right delivery and get the right floral arrangement to the boutique.  The manager says—I dunno, the arrangement you ordered is on the van and may have already been delivered.  And the young lady asks—You mean, to the boutique?  And the manager says, No, to the Kaplan funeral and the message reads—Good luck in your new location. 

Communication is key to our creating and maintaining positive relationships with one another and when the message comes out wrong, there’s a price to be paid.  So much of life is about communication:  What was written versus what was meant; what was said versus what was heard; what was intended as communicated versus what was ultimately understood.  All these questions come into play when two people are trying to communicate with each other, and it doesn’t matter whether the parties involved are parent and child, boss and employee, teacher and student, siblings or friends.  The challenges are always the same.

The complexity of communication is compounded by the means of communication that are not always appropriate vehicles for an exchange.  Social media is no place to voice dissatisfaction with a relative, unless the goal is to terminate the relationship.  Writing an angry email may be cathartic on some level, but it’s also an email that is best deleted than sent.  We tap out messages on the screen that are far more difficult to say when we must speak them face to face, which is the reason why the regret potential is far greater with email than other forms of communication.

Nonetheless, the truth is that difficult conversations are always difficult no matter the medium.  And the question is how to have a difficult conversation without it disintegrating into a curse-laced screaming match?  How do we tell our kids that we are not too pleased with the friends they are hanging around with, the ones whom we know are using drugs?  How do we tell our spouses that they have over time grown distant, or unloving, and that we are feeling like the marriage is over?  How do we tell our co-workers that their voice is too loud, their bagged lunches too smelly, their job performance too sloppy?  How do you have a difficult conversation and emerge unscathed?  If we are in any way serious about restoring damaged relationships at this time of year, then we must be prepared to have difficult conversations that work

A mother of a teenaged daughter once told me that whenever she needs to have a difficult conversation, she does so in the middle of Nordstrom’s.  It’s a way of minimizing the possibility of either of them losing control.  It’s not a bad idea.  If enough people did this, it could revive retail in malls.  But I don’t think you have to run to the mall each time and a private setting has its advantages.  In fact, criticism or difficult exchanges should unfold in private in order to minimize embarrassment. 

In the Torah, we learn hokheiah tokhiakh et amitekha / Reprove your kinsman (Lev. 19:17), that is to say, we are under a special mitzvah to call to the attention of our kinsmen a behavior, a sentiment, an activity which is either physically dangerous or morally suspect.  Why?  Because they are our kinsmen—our relatives—and we might interpret this more broadly as our neighbors, our associates.  You don’t enter into difficult conversations with the people you don’t know, but with the people you do.  That said, when we begin a difficult conversation, the overall tone must be predominated by a concern for the love that is, for the relationship that exists, for the mutual desire (assuming there is a mutual desire) to preserve or strengthen the relationship.  Speak angrily, and the anger is heard, the message lost.  Speak slowly, speak calmly, speak without any “You did this” or “You did that,” but with more emphasis on “I felt hurt when this happened,” or “I was disappointed when that happened” and the message is more likely to be heard.  Accuse someone and they will almost naturally choose to defend themselves.  But if we talk about how a statement or an action made us feel—well, it’s difficult to deny a personal feeling.  In that case, our concern and our intent will most likely be conveyed.

And since difficult conversations are not monologues but dialogues, we must also be prepared to hear something about ourselves that we may find unpleasant.  What role have we played in bringing about the very situation we now find objectionable?  We should strive not to act the defense attorney.  In a difficult conversation, we must be prepared to take some responsibility—not necessarily all—but some responsibility for the ugliness that we must now address.

What is worse than a difficult conversation?  I’ll tell you: no conversation.  No conversation is worse.  When I hear of a couple that is having some difficulties in their relationship, I ask—have you considered a therapist?  Seeking the input of a third party is never a sign of weakness.  To the contrary, it is a sign of strength because it’s evidence that the couple wants to repair that which is broken.  When counselling or therapy is refused, then the possibility of repair plummets dramatically.  Relationships of whatever kind survive and thrive because people are investing in them.  Where there is no investment, particularly of time, then the fate of that relationship is rather bleak.  And maybe that’s for the better.  Resignation from a job, dissolution of a marriage, alienation from family—sometimes those are the only solutions.  But the point is this: difficult conversations are evidence of hope; refusing conversation is typically the precursor to a relationship that will soon die.

You know who’s having the worse marriage right now?  Conservatives and Liberals.  There is a minimum of conversation, which is hopeful, but the conversation is toxic.  One side is condemned as heartless and the other side as bleeding hearts.  One side is fascist and the other side are anti-border globalists.  One side is racist and the other side is an amalgam of God knows what but whatever it is, it’s going to take down the nation.  The volume of the screaming is so high it’s difficult to hear much of anything else.  But the worse part of this faltering marriage is this:  Here they are, living in the same house, screaming at each other just about every day, but not really talking.  There is no real exchange going on and it’s easy to understand why.  Each side has been able to condemn the other as disgusting.  And if each side is truly disgusting, why would they want to stay married in the first place?

Over the past few months, I’ve been exploring this issue with a few members using as a starting point Jonathan Haidt’s work, The Righteous Mind.  Jonathan Haidt is a social psychologist and a professor of Ethical Leadership at NYU’s Stern School of Business.  His studies of moral decision-making are not prescriptive, in other words, he doesn’t tell us what a moral decision is and but rather, descriptive—he tells us how people go about making their moral and ethical decisions.  His focus is not merely on how we do it here in America, but how people the world over do it. He has essentially identified six moral foundations at play when making an ethical decision or judging the morality of a given incident.  Haidt sees us all as members of tribes.  Just as early humanity formed tribes to create social structures that could hunt and cook, and defend against attacks more efficiently than any one individual, so too these tribal associations have evolved today into competing corporations, fans of sports teams, and yes—political parties.  And we make snap judgments about people based on their associations with their particular tribe.  As far as that goes, we are always making snap judgments about people.  We think we know who that white shirt, black pants, conservative hair cut New Testament-holding young man ringing a door bell really is.  We’ve never spoken to that young man—but we think we know who he is and we probably know his politics as well.  We think we know who that body-tattooed, rain-bow colored muscle-shirted, androgynous person is, even though we have never spoken to him or her. We make snap judgments about people having never met them.  We think we know them, but we don’t.  We just file them away in their tribal category and judge them on that basis.

Remember the series West Wing?  Some of those episodes, particularly those written by Aaron Sorkin, were so good, and even though the Bartlett White House is a Democratic White House, Sorkin was gifted in presenting two sides of an issue without condescension or sarcasm.  In the second season, there’s a great story line about this Democratic White House hiring a young, blonde, petite southern Republican lawyer because the president thinks of her as being bright, sharp and it would be good to have some contrary opinions floating around and sharpening everyone else’s thinking.  She consents to work for the White House in spite of her holding opinions at sharp variance with those of her boss, the president.  At one point, she has an exchange with Josh and Sam, two advisors to the president, about gun control.  And it takes place not long after an attack on the president’s entourage in which a number were wounded, some seriously so.  Ainsley, the Repulbican lawyer, accuses the president’s team of loving the Bill of Rights except for that second one, the people’s right to bear arms.  Sam points out that the would-be assassins who just attacked the president’s team bought guns, travelled between state lines, loaded them and until they actually fired them, had not committed a crime and he’s sick about listening to people who think this issue is about personal freedom and public safety.  He says—what this is really all about is that some people in this country just like guns.  Ainsely, the Republican lawyer counters and agrees that there are people who like guns.  And then she continues to say this—“But your position is not about public safety or personal freedom either…  It’s just that you don’t like people who like guns.  You don’t like the people.  Think about that the next time you make a joke about the South.”

It’s a cutting line, and an insightful line, not because it necessarily conveys a reality—advocates of gun control are clearly serious about public safety--but it conveys a perception that I think is very real.  When all the arguments for or against gun control are laid out on the table, when everyone has argued their positions cogently and forcefully, there remains an unsettled issue that no one has addressed:  whether the parties to this argument respect each other or whether one views the other as stupid, foolish, and ignorant.  And if that is the perception, and I suspect it is, the so-called stupid people are going to dig their heels into the ground even deeper.  The arguments for or against become irrelevant.  No party to a difficult conversation wants to feel disrespected.  It’s no way to have a difficult conversation.  It is no way to have a conversation at all.

I don’t know about you but I’m a big fan of free speech.  The freer the speech and the more divergent the opinions the better off we all are in being exposed to and possibly considering different views than the ones we presently hold fast to.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  There is something wrong, however, with how that free speech gets spoken.  The kind of disregard for facts, name-calling, and baseless charges that have become the bread and butter of shock jocks, talk show hosts, political pundits, some unscrupulous politicians, this is the sort of thing that eats away at the dignity of a society.  It’s the equivalent of an irrational, emotional, screaming match.  It’s not conversation. 

The inability of the country to speak to each other is being played out most tragically on college campuses, many colleges instituting safe spaces where students can go to, to protect themselves from ideas they might find disturbing or challenging of their own lifestyle.  Speakers of controversial subjects may be shouted down or dis-invited for fear that the campus would be unable to protect them.  The idea that a university can no longer bring people with differing opinions to the campus for fear of disrupting campus life is so sad.  It is the antithesis of what a university should be, exposing young people to a host of new and different ideas.  A few days ago, the New York Times reported that the Berkeley College Republicans hosted the controversial Conservative pundit, Ben Shapiro, which cost the University of California $600,000 in security fees.   This is, of course, an unusual instance but the point is that it would be difficult for any college campus, public or private, to absorb costs of that nature were it to sponsor a sustained level of divergent views and opinions.  Some people fear listening to opinions other than their own.  And some people fear speaking opinions that may trigger hostility.  In that environment, conversation grinds to a halt.

What has happened is that we have sent the wrong message to the people with whom we have a relationship—our neighbors.  We are telling the people who have a Grand Opening to Rest in Peace and the people who died to “Enjoy Your New Location.”  We send terrible messages to each other, messages that are fueled by talk radio, shock jocks, media outlets, and loud mouth politicians.  We have satirized, demonized, and vilified the very people who are supposed to be our neighbors.  Forget about v’ahavta l’rei-akha kamokha—Love your neighbor as yourself (Leviticus 19:18).  We may not realize it consciously, but the way we speak is as if we hate our neighbors, which is the very antithesis of what the Torah is teaching.  Our nation is quickly turning into a national neighborhood of people who hate each other’s guts.  And we rat on Congress for their lack of bi-partisanship when they are, in very large part, a reflection of us.  

We have now lived through several generations of a social environment that has placed a premium on protest and demonstration.  Fight the good fight.  Stand up for your rights.  And those attitudes have changed the country in many ways, many times for the good.  But there has been something missing, something terribly absent from all this.  That very important face to face exchange, not on the op-ed pages of the New York Times or the Wall Street Journal, not while grandstanding in Congress, not while shouting slogans at some rally, certainly not while tweeting, but by taking out the other side to lunch, and having an actual conversation based on mutual repsect.  There is no need to shell out security fees in excess of half a million dollars when you could have a serious conversation, perhaps a difficult conversation, with someone for about $29.95 plus a tip, the cost of a tuna fish sandwich and a cup of coffee for two and the Celebrity Diner.

You know what you might find in that conversation?  You might find out that the other side are also parents, that they worry about their kids, that they may have jobs and worry about keeping them, that the world is a place that seems to be changing very quickly, and that change is scary, and that some of them have had serious medical problems, and that they have lost people near to them, and many worry about their own health as well.  You will find that the other side is not identical to you—who is?—but you will find that you share more in common than you think.  After lunch, you may just find out that whatever the other side might be, they are not the enemy.

People have said to me—I no longer talk about politics, because when I do, people become irrational and combative and objectionable and it ends badly.  And I believe them.  I’ve experienced this myself.  But you know what’s worse than a difficult conversation?  No conversation.  Difficult conversations are evidence of hope; refusing conversation is typically the precursor to a relationship that will soon die.  If we cannot speak to each other about issues that matter most, we will not be able to live with each other in a home—that is, our nation—forever forcing difficult issues upon us.  Look—everyone in this room loves this country.  America, with all its flaws and blemishes, has been very good to us.  We love this country.  But there are a lot of people making money off getting us all crazy with extreme and polarizing views.  Cooler heads must prevail.  I know that I’m speaking to the cooler heads right now, and we all have work to do, God’s work, to initiate some healing.  So, this is how it’s done—

Think of someone who has really different views from your own.  It’s a co-worker who loves to show off his gun collection to guests.  It’s a neighbor who wants as many bathrooms in public buildings as there are genders.  Whoever it is, it has to be someone who is substantially different from yourself.  You go up to them and say, Listen, I’d like to take some time and have lunch with you or go out to Starbucks with you.  They will ask you, why?  You will say, My rabbi told me I had to.  They will look puzzled.  You will say—lunch is on me and they will say—okay, because everyone loves a free lunch or a free coffee and nosh. 

Now remember, it has to be a positive experience.  You have to talk about your kids, your hobbies, your interests and you can touch on some political stuff too, but you can’t get emotional and you have to listen respectfully.  And then you have to write a short synopsis, 50 words or less, and send it in to me—I want to know how it went. 

I’m willing to bet that this will be an eye-opening experience for you.  And at the end of the conversation, your neighbor will still be confused about the whole exercise and still question you.  And you will say—There is this rule in the Torah about Loving your neighbor, and my rabbi says that when we spout pious slogans without acting on them, we are engaged in fake religion.  And nobody likes fake religion.  Good luck, Shanah Tovah, and don’t forget to write.