海角大神

Like many Americans, Jimmy Wolfe has been deeply discouraged by the presidential election this year.

It鈥檚 not simply because of what seems to be a rampant incivility during current political campaigns, says Mr. Wolfe, a part-time accountant who lives in Woodstock, Ga., with his wife and four children. It鈥檚 the fact that just having a mutually engaging conversation 鈥� let alone a friendship or meaningful relationship with someone with differing political views or from a different culture 鈥� has become less and less likely.

His own political instincts remain conservative, he says 鈥� though he hasn鈥檛 yet decided if he will vote for Donald Trump on Nov. 8. But for a number of years now, he鈥檚 considered it part of his vocation, rooted in his faith, to try to find a way to foster spaces where white suburbanites can build meaningful friendships with black residents in Atlanta 鈥� two groups with a long history of deep divisions.

鈥淧olitically, whether it鈥檚 guns, race relations, or crime, everyone in the country always says we need to have a 鈥榥ational conversation,鈥櫬犫�� Wolfe says. 鈥淚t ends up being on TV or social media, but people hardly have the relationships that allow us to have real, transforming conversations.鈥�

His discouragement with the political process this year has been painful for him, too, for reasons deeply personal. Nearly every week, Wolfe drives from his suburban home to spend some time with his former foster son, a black child who now lives with his father in Atlanta 鈥� two relationships that have in many ways changed his life.

Such efforts as Wolfe's take time and deep personal investment, however 鈥� hardly a feature of Twitter era. And the fact is, the nation has been on a trajectory of "sorting" itself into clear聽political and geographical tribes, exacerbating stark political divisions, and leading to the apparent rise in public vitriol, scholars say.

鈥淔ewer and fewer people are interacting on a regular basis with coworkers, neighbors, and even some friends and family who share a different perspective,鈥� says Amy Black, a political scientist at Wheaton College in Illinois, who last month gave a public forum on 鈥淧olitical Civility in Uncivil Times.鈥� 鈥淪o we鈥檙e getting more of an echo chamber, you live in a neighborhood with people who all vote alike, and all of your friends that you interact with all share your political views.鈥�

As a result, as people have fewer opportunities to interact with people who hold different political views or share different underlying values, Professor Black continues. 鈥淭hen they become foreign, they become alien to us, the other. In the same way that when we don't have racial diversity, or economic class diversity, it鈥檚 harder to understand people from different perspectives and ideologies.鈥�

Despite his own conservative views, Wolfe says he's learned one idea through the relationships he鈥檚 developed: the fact of his own privilege, and efforts like his to reach out and perhaps help some of those living in poverty, can smack of paternalism and even self-congratulation. Even events that are meant to assist those living in poverty, he says, 鈥渢hey may be helpful for a time, but they don鈥檛 lead to friendships and relationships or unity among us.鈥�

By establishing relationships, real conversations can begin. He still believes in the importance of individual decisions 鈥� both to avoid self-destructive behavior and improve society.聽But now he also has a deeper grasp of issues of systematic injustice, and finds himself defending the idea when other conservatives dismiss it.聽

"When it鈥檚 closer to home, it鈥檚 a lot messier," Wolfe says of some of the political issues dividing the nation. "The issues are a lot less clear, and you find you have to let go of some of your politics, some of your viewpoints from the way you were raised, because poverty and race, they鈥檙e messy topics."

'Not willing to walk away angry'

It doesn鈥檛 help, either, that national political conversations are mostly transmitted through a media that is structured around split-screen shouting matches, or migrate to social media platforms in which anonymous vitriol is often the basic feature.

鈥淭hese are almost inherently dehumanizing,鈥� says David Gushee, a evangelical professor of 海角大神 ethics at Mercer University in Atlanta. 鈥淎nd now even public event conversations are rarely helpful 鈥� I wish I could say different, I鈥檝e been in so many of them 鈥� but all it takes is a couple of extreme people to hijack the conversation and get everybody angry.鈥�

Like Wolfe, Professor Gushee looks to conversational spaces that are rooted within invested relationships 鈥� perhaps within classrooms or congregations 鈥� those friendships built over time.

鈥淏ut that鈥檚 a long, slow process,鈥� he says. 鈥淵ou take a person of a fixed conviction, and then you bump them into another person of a fixed conviction that鈥檚 different, but they care about each other, so they have an investment in a relationship, and because they do, they鈥檙e not willing to just walk away angry. So they keep talking.鈥�

For him, the journey indeed took time. Considered one of the leading evangelical thinkers on topics of ethics, he had always maintained a traditional view of marriage and the precepts forbidding homosexual behavior. But as he experienced聽the deep pain this caused members of his family and close friends in the churches he attended, his thinking began to shift dramatically.聽

鈥淪o then you end up with this inner conflict for a while,鈥� says Gushee. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 want to harm anybody, you鈥檙e supposed to love people. But it seems like believing these things, and teaching them, is harming people. So then what do I do?" He described this process in his聽2014 book, 鈥淐hanging Our Mind,鈥� which offers a biblical defense of LGBT sexual ethics from a particular evangelical and theologically conservative perspective.

鈥淭here are core experiences, core beliefs that don鈥檛 change that much, but then life happens,鈥� Gushee says. 鈥淵ou meet people and you watch history unfold and you see things happening around you, and start thinking fresh thoughts. You read some new books, and some things begin to change.鈥�

'Now I'm living my religion'

In a very different way, Utah state Sen. J. Stuart Adams also experienced a political transformation through his relationships with his LGBT constituents. A veteran of the bruising culture war battles over same sex marriage in Utah, he watched as the state was forced to nullify its constitutional amendment establishing marriage as between a man and a woman by a federal judge in 2013.

鈥淚 stood locked arms with my colleagues as we passed that constitutional amendment,鈥� he says. And after same sex marriage was forced upon one of the most conservative states in the US, the political climate was 鈥渓ike a big freight train coming at us. We were going to have an explosion in Utah that would probably make Indiana and Arizona and North Carolina look like a summer afternoon picnic.鈥�

But then something extraordinary happened. He and others, including members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, began to talk to LGBT rights advocates, and listen to their experiences and worries. Through a process of engaged conversation, Adams says, he and his colleagues became willing to pass civil rights legislation that protected LGBT people from discrimination in housing and employment.

As a result, Utah became the first 鈥� and only 鈥� Republican-led state to include such LGBT protections, while at the same time bolstering the state鈥檚 religious freedom exemptions. Both of these explosive issues continue to roil many red states across the nation.

鈥淔inally the light went on,鈥� Senator Adams says. 鈥淚 thought it was best to restrict other people's ability to have rights in order to protect my own. I actually thought I was protecting my own rights. And then after going through this process, and I kind of thought about it 鈥� I am a 海角大神, and I believe in the New Testament and loving your neighbor, and doing good to those who perhaps who hate you.鈥�

鈥淣ow I鈥檓 living my religion,鈥� continues Adams, who has been traveling around the country to share Utah鈥檚 experience with what is called the 鈥淔airness for All鈥� concept, which seeks to expand both LGBT protections and religious freedom rights, and rise above the culture war battles that are still tearing apart other states. Without compromising his religious convictions, 鈥淚鈥檓 being more compassionate and tolerant, and I鈥檓 now getting respect on the other side back.鈥�

Political opponent or 'enemy of the state?'

Still, there鈥檚 a sense in which politics is never going to be a pillow fight. For one thing, ideas and policies need to be debated vigorously to be thoroughly vetted, scholars say. The concern is whether there's room for efforts to find transformation in engaged relationships rooted in honest efforts to understand and respect those with differing views.

On the one hand, civil public discourse is a baseline of decent behavior in a democracy, and engaged conversations and decent behavior form the bedrock of self governance, according to Keith Bybee, a law professor at Syracuse University in New York and the author of 鈥淗ow Civility Works.鈥� 鈥淚f civility is meant to be the zero point for appropriate behavior, then incivility undermines the rudiments of social order and all is lost,鈥� he writes.

But standards of civility are themselves subject to political dispute, he cautions. And politicians often break these standards of civility for strategic reasons, as part of their political tactics.

鈥淲e shouldn鈥檛 identify every breach of decorum as a signal that there are no manners,鈥� Professor Bybee says. 鈥淧rovocation is a time honored political tactic, and we鈥檝e seen a lot in this campaign.鈥�

During the founding of the country, federalists thought the country was on the verge of crisis, and they saw the rough and ready politics flourishing in the states as an 18th century version of a "basket of deplorables." And though long forgotten now, one of the charges leveled against the Civil Rights movement in the 1950s and 1960s was that it breached long established 鈥渟tandards of etiquette that surrounded and sustained Jim Crow segregation, an etiquette itself that enacted and sustained a ritual hierarchy.鈥�

Similarly, current movements such as the tea party and Black Lives Matter often resort to a politics of disruption, and though the process may not be pleasant all the time, that doesn鈥檛 have to mean that incivility has broken down and that we stand at the brink of barbarism.

Nevertheless, there does have to be a standard of civility that communicates to political opponents that you care about behaving decently. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 the critical feature,鈥� Bybee says. "You have to want to look good in my eyes, and I have to care that I look good in your eyes.鈥�

鈥淚f we have a deeply polarized country, and then Democrats and Republicans don't care what the other one thinks about them, that鈥檚 when we have a problem. That鈥檚 profound, that involves a kind of dehumanizing of our opponent. They are not people we disagree with, they are enemies of the state, enemies of the people.鈥�

Part of Wolfe鈥檚 frustration is that this is what he often encounters among conservative and liberal sides both: hypocrisy, stereotypes, and judgmentalism expressed in abstract, dehumanizing terms.

鈥淢y instincts are conservative, but I try to be open to the possibility that I am wrong鈥� when he discusses politics, he says 鈥� though he thinks a close friendship should develop first before broaching political subjects.

鈥淎nd you have to do an internal search,鈥� Wolfe continues. 鈥淲hat do I really want? Do I really want to be friends and have unity with this person, or do I want to be right?... But if you really want to understand or build a friendship, then you have to lay aside that need to be right and when you do that, then you鈥檙e a lot more willing to listen.鈥�