I get in trouble sometimes for putting two things alongside one another to see how they speak to one another. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.
I read this article this morning, “A pollster on the racial panic Obama’s presidency triggered — and what Democrats must do now.” I’m eager to delve into Cornell Belcher’s research to see how it holds up. (By the way, he’s not saying everyone who voted against Obama is a racist-his argument is much more nuanced than that, and race is one factor among many. I ask you to engage with what he is actually saying before you argue with it.)
I was especially interested in his critique of the old Democratic trope that people vote for Republicans “against their economic self-interest”:
It’s a disconnect that’s frustrating to me. They’re not voting against their economic interests; they are voting for their higher interests… The idea that you can disconnect white people from their group position and make pocketbook arguments to them void of the history of their group is folly.
…Who are we to say that they’re voting against their economic interests? If in fact you think you’re losing your country, that’s your higher interest, and how in the hell am I gonna prosper if [I believe] other people are taking my country?
The themes he lifts up reminded me of a passage I was reading last night from Steven Pressfield’s book on creativity, The War of Art. It’s not a book about politics, but this excerpt prompted me to reflect on how potent the Trump campaign turned out to be. I’ve tried to abridge it as much as possible:
Fundamentalism is the philosophy of the powerless, the conquered, the displaced and the dispossessed. Its spawning ground is the wreckage of political and military defeat, as Hebrew fundamentalism arose during the Babylonian captivity, as white Christian fundamentalism appeared in the American South during Reconstruction, as the notion of the Master Race evolved in Germany following World War I. In such desperate times, the vanquished race would perish without a doctrine that restored hope and pride.
What exactly is this despair? It is the despair of freedom. The dislocation and emasculation by the individual cut free from the familiar and comforting structures of the tribe and the clan, the village and the family.
It is the state of modern life.
The fundamentalist (or more accurately, the beleaguered individual who comes to embrace fundamentalism) cannot stand freedom. He cannot find his way into the future, so he retreats to the past. He returns in imagination to the glory days of his race and seeks to reconstitute both them and himself in their purer, more virtuous light. He gets back to basics. To fundamentals.
To making America great again?
Continuing to ponder all of this, and I welcome thoughtful engagement (and respectful disagreement) as I sort it out.
This is something I am continually thinking about and praying about. How can I begin to bridge this divide? I find myself bewildered by this line of thinking because it is not a line of thinking I embrace. I live in a rural area and state that is overwhelmingly white but I used to live in an area that was incredibly diverse - the DMV or DC, Maryland, Virginia. I miss and crave that diversity - that ability to share stories, to listen to one another, to see that diversity is something to be embraced not feared or merely tolerated. I find it fascinating and terrifying that many where I live are so afraid of terrorism, of cultural diversity, of differently gendered or sexual orientations that don’t line up with their own - and I wonder is it because of so few shared stories or a church culture that teaches them that the only thing that will save them is a fundamentalist version of white Christianity. And, I have wondered what is my role as a pastor to a progressive church in the midst of this culture. Last night something happened that clarified what this little church could do - we held a special Christmas service (our “choir” is music students from the local college and they leave before Christmas Eve) - our director used one of her Tibetan sound bowls. A woman from a much more conservative congregation was there - she was fascinated by the sound bowl - had never seen one and wanted to hear more about it - and to play it. This may seem trivial but it really wasn’t if you knew this area. so maybe what I and this congregation can do is to offer different multi-cultural experiences and information so that fear is lessened and curiosity heightened. I continue to pray for ways in which we can make a difference to bridge these cultural divides and lessen fear.
Thank you Karen-that is an encouraging story. It would be interesting to reflect on what allowed her to see something “foreign” as fascinating and not as weird or even a threat.
Blessings on your ministry there!
I am struggling with the notion of “higher interest.” You summarize an argument that white low- and middle-income voters aren’t voting against their economic self-interest so much as they are voting for a “higher interest,” namely saving their country. That, the argument goes, is rational.
However, it raises the obvious question: what does the country they wish to save look like? Perhaps white men held 100% of the good jobs, women and blacks knew their “place,” nobody had ever heard of Muslims or terrorism, and immigration was only a “thing” in the border states, which welcomed the cheap labor.
If that vision is even remotely correct, saving it is obviously a fantasy. Which brings us back to rational self-interest. Perhaps voting for affordable health care is more rational than voting for a country that has long since vanished and cannot be restored. Or so I hope.
You articulate my struggle as well! This is not my perspective, but one I’m seeking to understand-assuming there are people who sincerely hold it.
As Billy Joel sang, the good old days weren’t always good and tomorrow ain’t as bad as it seems.