How Can We Talk Politics Across the Post-2016 Divide?

Dr. Sherrill Stroschein Reader in Politics, University College London; ISRF Mid-Career Fellow2017-18

Due to recent events, I refurbished my MSc Democracy courses this year. In fact, I demolished them, tore out the walls and the floor, and had to rebuild from scratch. The year sequence now starts with a session on how we talk about politics in the current age. This is the session that worries me most.

Hard conversations about politics are important to keep a divided democracy together. Moving outside of my theoretical understanding of such conversations, I spent some time this summer engaging in conversations of disagreement, to get the hang of it. Given my research focus on societies divided along ethnic or religious lines, I thought it would be easier than it was. Something has increased the distance between those I used to know and myself – a process of polarisation. This piece considers polarisation in some theoretical and practical terms. Can we talk across our divided identity camps after the divisive votes of 2016 in the US and the UK? We have to try.

The attacks on the status quo brought by the 2016 elections tend to have two lines of explanation: economics versus culture or ideology. In my field of Political Science, several analysts have chosen to focus on one or the other, engaging in heated debates over which matters more: a) economic disadvantage, or b) culture/ideology, including potential racism.

In the midst of this fray, there is some research indicating how economics and culture might interrelate. The sociologist Susan Olzak outlined how conflict can emerge between racial and ethnic groups when they perceive that they are competing for resources – in The Dynamics of Ethnic Competition and Conflict (1992). More recently, Catherine Cramer’s book The Politics of Resentment (2016) describes how people in rural Wisconsin resentfully perceive that they have less access to resources than those in cities – in spite of their hard work. She finds that the idea of being deserving, yet not receiving, is a crucial driver of their support for elites they think will shake up the system. The notion of what one deserves is about more than just resources – it is a claim that society is unjust and must be uprooted. It is an ideology of change.

We could find ways to solve the economic issues, with the right combination of policies and the welfare state. But in the US, such solutions are frequently rejected by those whom they would benefit, because of the ideological and identity overlay. One’s identity as NOT a “liberal,” NOT a “leftist,” is far more important. Similarly, for those opposed to the Trump regime, their identity as NOT a “Trumper”, NOT a “redneck” or “hick”, or NOT from a “red state” is also very important. These are the camps of the new polarised America. In Britain, there are different labels with similar polarisation dynamics: “Remoaner” versus “Brexiter,” never the twain shall meet. These identity camps are not something that can be solved or resolved with policies. And the more we try to discuss across the divide, the more entrenched it seems to become.

The dynamics of polarisation between identity camps are wellknown in my field of ethnic politics. Left unattended, they can spiral into Bosnias, or the type of protracted violence of “The Troubles” in Northern Ireland. Such violence can start with attacks by the unhinged on MPs and journalists, encouraged by the hyped-up discourse that is part of polarisation processes. The only way out is to start to talk down the discourse. This is not easy, but we have to try given where the alternatives lead.

Where and how would we start to do this? Given my discussions this summer, I think there are some ways forward, none of them easy. Imagine you are trying to re-engage with an old friend in the camp less frequented by academics, the Trumper or Brexiter camp. The person you used to know is still there, and still loves to talk about their kids or sport or another space that you have in common. Start there, in that common space. Re-establish that you have a shared space. You might need to retreat there when the going gets tough.

Then: listen. This is what Cramer did for her insightful study. What motivates people to take the position they care about? Are there any lines at all you could yourself imagine? In the case of Brexit, I realised that I agreed with a friend that the workload at our (quite different) jobs had become worse over the years, and that indeed, there were some in the office that made us look bad by working weekends or uncomplainingly accepting the worsening of work terms. In both of our offices, those people were other Europeans from countries with a reputation of hard work. It becomes possible to see how someone might vote for Brexit in hopes of improving their terms of work. But it could also lead to a discussion that tries to uncover the real reason for a higher workload. Could there be a managerial source? Would the managerial stance actually change with Brexit? These are conversations we have not really had, and we could be better off if we did.

The active listening should also diagnose where the red lines are, and one should know where one’s own red lines are. I learned mine this summer during the migrant family separations in the US. I have been in conversations where I have had to apologise and say that I have to stop there because I cannot discuss that particular topic. It is too painful. Stopping is a better alternative to flying into a rage (which can happen later, alone). Similarly, friends have their own red lines. One cannot accept criticism of Trump. Invoking Trump in a negative way will end any hope of a productive conversation. However, it turns out that there is still plenty to talk about while leaving Trump out of the discussion. In fact, for a “lefty” American like me, it produces better thinking and diagnosis of the actual details to be more precise and discerning about what is happening and how or why. Focusing only on Trump is, well, lazy – there are plenty of individuals to blame for those policies aside from just him. Navigating red lines can force better thinking, which can only be a good thing.

There will be disagreements. These can be handled with respect, the way they used to be in the days before polarisation. But practicing respect is far more difficult online than offline, which is where technology comes in. I have had these discussions both online and offline, and they are vastly different. Sometimes we forget precisely why, because online engagement is something to which we have become accustomed. It is worth remembering why and how it differs.

Discussing politics via Facebook or Twitter is not at all the same as discussing it with a friend face-to-face. An online email discussion with a friend, one-on-one, will not look vastly different from any other form of one-on-one conversation, just with some potential long-winded rants so at home in email. A social media discussion is more like having the discussion on a crowded train or in a classroom, in which the presence of others means there will be some element of performance. That is where trouble lies. Under conditions of severe polarisation, exerting one’s identity perpetually with strangers is a real thing, one that causes potential static in attempts to have a one-onone debate with a friend. It is as if a stranger on that crowded train takes a side in your debate, uninvited, or a gang joins in to rally to your friend’s defence. It took me a bit of time to realise that this is a hobby for some, a kind of liberal-bashing or Trumper-bashing that is a sport in online media. Those situations have no hope, and are best avoided. All they do is feed polarisation and blood pressure. We can do better, and we must.

How will the class go? In writing this I realise that any attempt to record it and put it on the web would make it fail, and fail utterly. There can be no Lecturecast, no podcast, no Tweeting, no crowds watching us from the outside. We will have to talk to each other in the old-fashioned way, with just us in the room, nobody else for whom to perform. It will be strange for all of us, as we have become accustomed to discussions that cross walls via the internet. We are used to informing, promoting, the world outside coming in. But somehow that is feeding the polarisation. And stopping it has to start somewhere.