The loneliness of a red heart in a blue sea

This week, I wanted to share in full a letter I was sent anonymously. The sender followed up to say they felt quite exposed even having sent it, and we discerned together whether it was the right thing to post here. I felt very privileged to be trusted with it.

For context, the correspondent opened by saying they were writing in response to another post in my Affirming Flame not-quite-advice-column series, featuring Joanne, which was in itself a very honest admission of internal tribal dynamics:

This week it was announced that Donald Trump had helped negotiate a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas in Gaza, to bring the war to an end. My reaction has been disappointment. This has made me feel very uncomfortable. My reason for my disappointment is because it means that Donald Trump will now receive praise for his efforts. Anything that makes him look good, I want to shut out of my awareness. It makes me feel agitated, defensive, angry, aggressive towards anything that makes Donald Trump look good. Even if this means that the war that has brought suffering and death to tens of thousands of people might be coming to an end.

Joanne reflected on reckoning with her own shadow side, her desire to feel righteous and superior to the “other side”, and how much she wants to think and act differently.

This is the letter written in response:

Joanne’s note helps me feel a little more hopeful, but I’m struggling to apply that hope towards new behaviours in myself.

I grew up in a left-wing family, and I’ve lived almost exclusively in communities that leaned heavily left. For most of my adult life I’ve been in a very lefty urban environment, I attended a lefty university, and I’ve worked primarily in very left-leaning arts communities. I absorbed all of those influences, and in many ways my enculturation and interests are left-coded. Until somewhat recently, all of that was invisible to me - I simply took that worldview for granted.

I value relational, embodied frameworks. I love the natural world. I’m drawn to thinkers like Paul Kingsnorth and Iain McGilchrist. I’m spiritual, and increasingly drawn to Christianity. And I’m a supporter of Donald Trump.

My perspective is that it is entirely futile for me to discuss his role in our lives with anyone who disagrees. I can conjure a unicorn in my head who could have a reasonable conversation that might temper and educate my views, and who might be influenced in turn. But my sense that I can achieve this in real life is effectively zero. People like Anthea Lawson Lawson and Douglas Rushkoff are intentionally writing about de-escalation and having humanizing conversations across political divides, yet the framing of their articles convinces me that even they are too far across the chasm to be reachable. At least, that’s how I feel when their writing heaps on assumptions that I disagree with. That which is ‘self-evident’ to us all is just too far gone.

The critiques of ‘my’ position that saturate the landscape are hopeless strawmen, so make no impact on me. I’d like to find people who could take my position seriously and critique my views in good faith. Never having seen arguments that come close to my position, I now assume that the chasm is simply too wide. I admire those like Jenny Holland who brave that gap, but they seem to be singing to the choir.

Imagine that in order to have a conversation, you would first need to teach your interlocutor a whole new language. Now imagine that your two languages use all the same ‘words’ as homonyms, and your partner can’t help but attribute their own meanings to your vocabulary. This feels like a real reflection of my challenge, and even a well-meaning partner in dialogue can’t and won’t endure the enormous effort and discipline required for such a task.

When I try to imagine how I would articulate the reasons that I have arrived at my position, it strikes me that it would take tens of thousands of words to scratch the surface on any one issue, and there are numerous issues at hand. Who could have the patience to listen to me even begin to cover that ground? Especially when I’m not very articulate in conversation and don’t have at my fingertips the thousands of data points and examples that have shaped my thinking.

Put another way, if present-day me travelled back in time 10 years I have no doubt that I would utterly fail to change my own younger mind.

When I look back at the online conversations I had about this stuff 5-6 years ago, I see someone who was still able to be soft, to be generous with my empathy even in the midst of spirited debate. But even all those years ago I was arguing that the direction of the left was going to polarize and alienate. And now, after years of being called a monster and a racist and a fascist and a transphobe and a bigot, I have hardened. I admire the dialogue I was once capable of, but it now feels hopelessly out of reach.

So for the most part I remain quiet about my beliefs, and inwardly bristle when nearly everyone in my orbit assumes I share their outlook and heaps scorn on ‘my’ kind.

I don’t need to change anyone’s mind. But I do think we benefit from dialogue, and I do want to normalize the diversity of opinions in my community and dampen the seemingly universal assumption that everyone here shares a single, condemnatory view of this president. Yet the trade-off - essentially becoming a pariah - feels too heavy for that humble goal.

And the longer I sit quiet, the harder it is to quash my resentments and soften my heart to those around me. If it weren’t for my commitment to my aging parents and a job I love, I’d have relocated to ‘redder’ pastures long ago.

I don’t actually want to add much commentary here, and the correspondent is explicitly not asking for me advice. I don’t know that I’d have any to give in any case. The paragraph that stood out to me most is the one in bold, above, on the limits of language. I have experienced this, the sense that the intellectual and moral and spiritual paths have diverged so thoroughly that the step-retracing required to come back to shared ground feels endless. The good will and time and patience required is so hard to come by. I hear her on the writings of even those non-Trump supporters who are trying to bridge divides and feel it in my self. I know how much discipline it takes not to assume agreement, to surface hidden premises, to explicitly acknowledge different starting points, and some days I don’t have the energy, or I forget. I also probably don’t see many of my unconscious premises. Being in conversation with people like this correspondent, really hearing their heart cry, is my best hope. If you are someone who shares some of these experiences, 1) thank you for being here and 2) I’d be really interested to know particular words, phrases, assumptions that tend to feel alienating. I realise it might take some courage to put it in the comments but you can always message me directly.

If you’re interested in this topic, and why I DO think it is worth at least attempting this deep listening, seeking to understand each other, you might like the following posts.

On the ways humans are always trying to make ourselves the hero:

On the subtle socio-psychological dynamics of navigating different and disagreement:

And on why the only way we ever change people’s minds is (essentially) by loving them, not condemning them or arguing with them: