of politics and friendship: or, surviving an election year without hating absolutely everyone

“Moreover, friendship would seem to hold cities together, and legislators would seem to be more concerned about it than about justice.  For concord would seem to be similar to friendship and they aim at concord above all, while they try above all to expel civil conflict, which is enmity.

Further, if people are friends, they have no need of justice, but if they are just they need friendship in addition; and the justice that is most just seems to belong to friendship.”

(Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics)

Friendship is a political as well as a personal good, but the present dynamic of politics seems to be divisive, and thus destructive of friendship. Might it be that what Aristotle meant by “politics” is extinct today, a modern nation-state being nothing like the classical polis? Perhaps – but the politics of bureaucratic manipulation and rhetorical violence is not new. To judge from the  dialogues of Plato, politics in ancient Athens was similarly distorted. So let’s speak of politics as perhaps Aristotle intended: as a human activity that transcends the region of power: politics as the ordering of the public space.

Where there is friendship, there is less need of justice – that is, less need of power. Aristotle was perhaps too much the aristocrat to admit it, but our ultimate image of wholesome politics is of order without power.

Order instead of power is an aspect of distributist economy, and we should consider it as an end in public spaces beyond the market – in schools, in our relation to our neighbors, in our stewardship of creation. When we engage with natural processes, such as planting an organic garden, we recognize that there is an order in which we participate. Our actions have consequences within this order, so instead of aiming for absolute control we begin to think about the reverberation of consequences in the delicate web of interactions between organisms. The conventional method, when faced with tomato blight, is to wage war with chemical pesticides. Thus one achieves control – but tips the balance of order. The organic method requires that one consider how, harmoniously, to work within the order of organisms in such a way as to prevent the blight in the first place.

To cultivate friendship in public spaces is to replace the politics of power with that of order. Friendships operate according to private rituals of interaction: shared linguistic codes, milestone memories, unspoken understandings about what to tolerate and when to be severe. Because friendship often involves private jokes it enables friends to operate along lines of meaning that disrupt the conventional narratives of power. Private jokes are often inappropriate, even dangerous, and they depend on the trust of one not to misunderstand the other. Friendships involves free gifts without any expectation of reward: this is very different from the power-transactions of the market or bureaucracy. Though truly close and lifelong friendships are rare, established codes of courtesy allow us to maintain a sort of friendship of concord with anyone we meet. Manners, then, are important.

But politics is also about justice, and thus about law and power. And so, we are playing this election game, and it’s a game that easily disrupts friendships. I have friends, some very close, others acquaintances, across a wide political spectrum. Usually we manage to discourse with decency. Sometimes, though, I think the choices my friends make are potentially dangerous. It is difficult for me not to have an immediate emotional reaction to supporters of Trump, because he has said things about immigrants that hit me on a visceral level, invoking comparisons about things that were said about my Jewish ancestors. On such occasions I have to take a deep breath and remind myself that my friend doesn’t believe these things, and if my friend doesn’t take them as seriously as I do, this is a case of intellectual difference, and won’t be solved by an angry reaction. Aristotle reminds us that we need friends in times of trouble, and should the region of power become a place of genuine violence, we will need all the friends we can get – sometimes, especially, those across the political dividing lines.

There are times, though, when someone says things so toxic and intolerant as to make  friendship impossible, even undesirable, even dangerous. But here is when we move from a classical to a Christian understanding of relationships: not everyone can be your friend – some may be your enemies – but still we strive to love our enemies, to desire the good for them. If order without power is our ultimate goal, if loving our enemies is a command, we should hesitate to speak ever of conquering and destroying persons. Structures, yes – but persons always transcend the structures they support. Our opposition should be to racism, not to racists. Is there any real victory for tolerance if it’s been brought about by violence and silencing? Perhaps we could think of racism as a disease from which people need healing.

I’ve been friends with racists. And I’ve been a bigot too, myself, on other issues. I’ve been an uptight traddie in a horrible sack-dress, slut-shaming the popular girls. I’ve been an Ayn Rand fan. I used to think that women shouldn’t be orchestra conductors because it “didn’t look right.” I’ve been a monarchist. I’ve been a libertarian. I’ve been a drunken party-girl dancing on a bar in microscopic clothing. I’ve been an addict, a single mother, and a person with a disgustingly filthy house. I cringe at the parade of my former selves, and yet all of them were the same as this self – and that reminds me to be gentle with others. We are never reducible to the wretchedness or stupidity of one moment.

So, based on my experiences, both negative and positive, and especially on my mistakes, I have compiled a personal list of principles for not destroying friendships, in real life and online, during an election year.

• Avoid using “isms” to describe persons – use them, instead, to describe ideologies. If a friend holds a xenophobic view that doesn’t mean he is reducible to his xenophobia.
• Never respond to a statement with immediate dismissal and mockery. Instead of saying “that’s just naïve bullshit” or “what a load of racist crap” – consider responding with a question. “Do you think that view might be a bit naïve?” – or “aren’t there certain racist implications to that idea?”
• Look for points of agreement. If you’re friends with a person, even just on Facebook, that probably means you have some common ground, even if it’s loathing of Justin Bieber (I mean, his music. Theoretically Bieber is human, too). Find that common ground. Stick with it.
• Admit when you’re wrong (I hate doing this. I want to be Hercule Poirot, and always be right).
• But it’s easier to admit when you’re wrong if you’ve not been phrasing everything in an absolutist and magisterial way. So try to preface your statements with “I believe” or “it seems to me.”
• Political memes can be hilarious, but try to avoid posting those that target a specific demographic. Or, at least, create a private Facebook group where your political allies can let off steam. And when it comes to memes that mock a specific candidate, use these with care.
• And you can always make fun of yourself as well. As a Sanders supporter, I’m obviously a lazy moocher living in my parents’ basement smoking reefer. Or else a rich white liberal clueless hipster academic. Or a godless Stalinist fresh from drinking the blood of millions. Hell, I can’t decide.
• Talk about things other than politics. Game of Thrones? Stupid things to do with mason jars on Pinterest? Gardening? Kids? Food? Hating (the music of) Justin Bieber?
• Remember, if your friend is a social-network friend, that we don’t always get a good view of who a person is, online. It is certainly handy to know which off our friends hold racist views, but when you know someone in real life they rarely come up holding huge signs with offensive memes plastered across them. You may meet them at the park, see how they care for their children – you may work with them, and find that they are industrious and loyal.
• You already know you’re supposed to see the face of Christ in everyone. Whether it’s acceptable to see the face of Christ with Trump’s hair on top is another matter that I’ll leave for the moral theologians.

Pax et bonum