Politics, Authors and Readers
By Jael McHenry | December 5, 2016 |
image by Jasen Miller
The question of whether or not authors should feel free to express their political views is not a new one. However, the current heated political environment gives the question new urgency; social media, too, makes the question a highly relevant one.
I’ve asked previously whether authors are obligated to provide their true names and identities to their readership. Now I’m wondering whether it’s a good idea to keep our opinions to ourselves to avoid offending anyone, or whether such an expectation does an injustice to both writers and readers.
On some level, we all acknowledge that there is a difference between the art and the artist. In its most innocent form, this disconnect allows us to watch actors “fall in love” with people who aren’t their partners, praising their ability to imitate feelings they don’t feel. At its most insidious, it allows people to excuse the bad behavior of musicians, directors and other artists, claiming that who someone is isn’t relevant to what they make.
And as both consumers and makers of art, authors have to wonder: should I express myself fully, including my political views, on social media? Or does that mean losing readers?
When I first thought about writing this post, I thought I might structure it as guidance. Something like Three Ways To Safely Express Your Political Views On Social Media. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized guidelines don’t really enter into it. Because no matter what you say, whether mild or wild, there’s the potential for someone who feels differently than you to be upset by it — even if you don’t intend to say something overtly political.
The First Amendment guarantees our right to free speech. What it doesn’t guarantee is speech free of consequences. So if you choose to express your political views, there’s always a chance you’ll lose friends, followers, readers, book clubs, or something else we writers value.
But in my view, that doesn’t mean we all need to avoid politics like the plague. I think it means that we have to look at our values, priorities and, yes, politics, and decide what’s important to us. Everyone’s comfort level is different. There are no rules.
So should you get political? That’s up to you. Your readers’ reactions, of course, are up to them.
Jael McHenry is the debut author of The Kitchen Daughter (Simon & Schuster/Gallery Books, April 12, 2011). Her work has appeared in publications such as the North American Review, Indiana Review, and the Graduate Review at American University, where she earned her MFA in Creative Writing. You can read more about Jael and her book at jaelmchenry.com or follow her on Twitter at @jaelmchenry.
I have tried to avoid expressing my political beliefs on social media, but I have responded to posts from others and, when I did, I always ended up offending somebody. Even when I post factual and balanced articles about political candidates, I can count on a number of responses from friends who feel offended. The overheated presidential campaign that just concluded has been particularly nasty. Beyond the usual rhetoric, two things were different this year and should concern writers: attacks on the First Amendment and the absence of, or in some cases, a total disregard, for facts. As a journalism major and former newspaper reporter, I’m acutely aware of the importance of fact-based news stories. The total disregard for facts is a danger to an informed citizenry and a vibrant democracy. Writers must find a way to speak out about that and defend the First Amendment without sounding overtly political. To me that’s the biggest challenge we face.
I remember being somewhat bemused, some years back, with a young woman I worked with who took pride in being direct, even rude, with her unvarnished opinion. But when someone challenged her or gave her the same treatment (counter to her opinion), it sent her into a tailspin.
I have friends and family on both sides of the political spectrum. I’ve moderated my voice on my facebook page, although I have challenged non-fact based shares and racist/anti-Muslim posts, and I’ve changed settings for who can see particular links I share.
Yes. Self-censoring to a certain degree because I want to be a bridge-builder to healing as many of us on both sides of the aisle as possible towards a wholeness that embraces and values compassion and diversity, and hospitality to otherness, to create non-xenophobic communities of care. I am an idealist and a dreamer.
For the most part, when on social media I keep my views to myself because it is way too easy for things to be taken wrong via Twitter or Facebook. And with the proliferation of people who only read to disagree, I just don’t want to risk losing readers because I expressed an opinion on marriage or immigration. I’d rather express my worldview through my fiction writing, where I feel I have better platform.
Social media is not the place for civil discourse. There is no moderation, rationality or objectivity. It’s a place of illusion, where people believe if they feel passionately enough, and fling enough bile, it will change hearts and minds. It won’t. And once you fling, your rep is made. It’s almost impossible to change it after that.
Say what you need to in a story. It’s a much better way to reach a heart and a mind (an itinerant Jewish teacher once showed how effective that method was). Write Uncle Tom’s Cabin, or 1984, or Fahrenheit 451.
JSB: so true: social media is the place for throwaway jokes and insults. For those who know enough to keep it clean, this can be good fun. The real issue of politics relates to work that is not throwaway.
Exactly. Yes.
Jim & Barry:
I agree, in part. Once the trolls depart (and you can unfriend them), FB can be a gathering place of like minds. You can share articles you believe folks may find instructive, and even form groups to read books, discuss strategy, etc.
I often go to our own Dave King’s FB page because I find his political observations to be especially well-considered.
And I have a friend of “the other political persuasion” with whom I have serious disagreements but we keep it quite civil on FB. His wall has its partisans, mine has mine. We remain friends, in both the virtual world and “meatspace.”
If your thoughtful response was available on, say, Facebook or Twitter, I wonder how many people would know of the books you listed? It pains me to say that question popped into my head the instant I read your final sentence…
I agree with David that rational discourse on social media can be a good thing.
But I even more agree with Jim that stories are the more powerful means of making change. FB and blog posts have a perishing life span, a tiny half life. Novels can endure for decades or more.
I will be weighing in with my own (perishing) post on this topic on Wednesday.
Wonderful post and observation and bdlieve it or not it took me a minute or two to figure out who that itinerant Jewish teacher was.(could not decide if you were talking 20th or 21st century)
I think you can do both–write books and engage in discourse on social media. I’ve found FB to actually be a great place for that, because there aren’t trolls in your personal feed/following. Then again, mine is small and I’m relatively new. There are people who are not interested in an intelligent conversation, but I’ve decided to not let them ruin the (respectful) party. I’ve always felt there’s never a bad time to share stories and perspectives.
James, thank you for your thoughts. I’ve been naive and tweeted #tolerance and got intolerance in return. I’ve now backed off and believe that my time will be better spent incorporating my beliefs into my stories.
Jael–Good for you for taking on this worthy and timely topic. I think it’s especially important these days for writers to consider the role of politics, or lack of it in their writing.
I wrote about this here last year (“Goodfellas and Third Rails: The Conflict between Author Self-interest and Freedom,” July 16). I speculated on the reasons that might lead writers to self-censor themselves. I concluded that, outside of timidity, the only reason was commercial: a fear of alienating potential buyers of their books.
I still think this is true. A writer who is moved to develop political characters and storylines but veers away from doing so is either afraid of offending a friend or relative (how close can they be if a different opinion might lead to a break?), or for fear of losing sales.
But Vaughn Roycroft made an astute comment to my post. He observed that a clever writer can be very political in indirect or slanted ways. This is possible in fantasy, or even in fables.
Some writers insist they are apolitical, and with them it’s pointless to urge that they become political. I’m talking about writers with political views they want to express, but who reign in the impulse.
But I have to say this: If a writer or anyone else these days insists s/he has no political aspect to her/his life and thinking, I want to see the missile silo that person’s been living in. The idea puts me in mind of an ostrich assuming the position.
Thanks for the shout-out, Barry. I still believe my fiction will offer my best chance at expressing my political observations (warnings?), and having any sort of effect. And, to your point, I didn’t really start this story (or create my story-world) as a platform delivering a political message. But I didn’t shy away from the thread once it appeared in the weave.
Interesting and important discussion today, Jael. Thanks.
Jael, you make a good point that we are guaranteed freedom of speech, but not freedom from consequences. I attended a writing conference during the recent political season, for which I paid a fee, which though reasonable, took a chunk of my budget. Several times, not-so-thinly veiled political remarks were made by the speaker with a smile and a shrug, indicating that all reasonable people, certainly all writers must feel the same. I remember feeling belittled and a little cheated–I paid for writing instruction.
Dana I fee that at such places as a writing conference should be fee of politics! You did not go there for a political science lecture, you went to learn about writing and other writers. I hate it when writers think it is okay to spew out their political opinions every chance they get. Yes, there is such a thing as freedom of speech. You can also abuse this. I got so sick of seeing writers on FB fill there pages with political posts. I had to unfriend a few of them. Not because I did not agree with their politics, it was because I go so sick of hearing about politics! So many writers spend so much time on FB arguing like children it is a wonder they get any actual writing done. I sent a thank you message to one writer who did not post anything about politics on her page. It was refreshing to see her keep on task and give writing advice. I feel that writers and authors overdo it on giving their opinions about politics. I feel that many authors shove their opinions down people’s throats.
In deciding whether as writers we want to express our political views on social media, I think it matters what we would want to avoid — causing offense, or losing potential sales. Both valid concerns, but perhaps not equally important. Our choice.
I must’ve picked the worst time in history to join FB (about 3 mo ago). I didn’t realize how ugly people could get for holding an opinion different than them, because I belong to two online communities, here on WU and the SCBWI Blueboard, that are supportive and friendly.
I’ve always been transparent and will write about what matters to me, including in the social arena, but I’ve become FB shy. I don’t think it’s the best venue. I will continue to blog. And if my religious and political leanings cost me readers or a contract, then so be it. I learned that seven years ago, when our family was received into the Catholic Church, how much people hated it. We lost some friendships. Oh it hurts, but I respect the rights of others to not associate with me, to hold other beliefs. It has never prevented me from having friendships. In every true friendship, there is something greater that we both pursue, whether it’s a love of books, art, music, science, or Love Himself.
Wait–there was a GOOD time to join FB?
LOL. I wouldn’t know.
Sometimes we assume offending people is tantamount to some mortal sin. But is it? Some people make their brand out of offending certain groups of people, and it pulls in a very loyal readership of like-minded people! I would feel uncomfortable doing that, but not giving a flying you-know-what works very well for some people. As long as you don’t care about everyone liking you.
For my own part, I tend to be fairly moderate and avoid extremes in most of life, so I’m put off by strong, angry opinions on either side of the aisle when they have more to do with stirring up fear or anger in people than they do on finding common ground and compromise. I like to consider things from others’ perspectives, and I long for people to reciprocate, but I don’t like to uncritically say all opinions are valid simply because they are something someone feels.
So I’m trying to stay out of most political discussions, simply because even when one tries to be calm and reasonable, someone else is always there looking for a way to take offense without even considering another point of view. Instead, in my fiction (which is not political), I guess I just ask a lot of questions, try to show all sides of an issue and how our ideas and beliefs have consequences, often ones we don’t intend or foresee. I want people to really think about what their beliefs are based on, to question the presuppositions they have and instead search for Truth and, one day, find it. Because I think both the journey AND the destination matter.
Hi, Jael:
Bravo, brave you.
I have written about this twice, once in an article for MovieMaker titled “The Politics of Plot,” which can be found online here: https://www.moviemaker.com/archives/moviemaking/screenwriting/politics-plot-identify-liberal-conservative-narrative/
The second was an entire chapter in THE ART OF CHARACTER. At the risk of seeming a tendentious boor — and going on WAY too long — I’m going to excerpt that chapter here, because I think it’s especially crucial now that we discuss this. (I think you’ll find my approach not just even-handed, but somewhat gracious. At least, that’s what I was after.) Here goes:
It’s often said that if you want to avoid discord at a party, don’t bring up sex, religion, or politics. This may be sound social advice but it’s a disastrous approach for writers.
If Henry Brooks Adams is correct in characterizing politics as the systematic organization of hatreds, then ignoring it is but another lost opportunity. As with religious beliefs, political convictions often speak to the very core values we cherish. And as with sex, they often address key vulnerabilities, as many of our deepest ideals, hopes, fears, and suspicions find expression in our political inclinations.
The reason, I believe, that authors routinely avoid explicit mention of politics is twofold.
One, we often unconsciously avoid the confrontational edginess and rancor that makes life unpleasant but fiction interesting.
Two, we’re afraid of falling into bombast or diatribe. This is a reasonable concern, especially given how often we’re blinded by our own political allegiances. It’s difficult to address politics without falling into clichéd thinking, cartoonish simplification, caricature—or just the comfy rut of preconceived notions.
The problem isn’t politics. The problem is our own inability to discuss or even think about politics without plunging headlong into recrimination. Other than religion and sibling rivalry, nothing brings out the sanctimonious capacity for blame more intensely than politics.
Don’t judge your characters. This is especially true of their politics. You should be able to defend—and dare I say love—a character whose political convictions are opposed to your own. This is your responsibility as an artist. It doesn’t mean you should excuse what you consider wrong, misguided, or evil. But you need to be able to get into the hearts and minds of people whose worldview is diametrically opposed to your own. Otherwise, you’re revealing not just your political biases, but a certain small-heartedness as well.
Perhaps even more important, you need to step back from your own convictions and see them objectively. It’s gratifying to believe that but for those idiots on the other side you and your kind would make the world a better, safer, saner place. It’s also self-serving and ignorant. The world is not the way it is because one camp or the other has lacked its fair chance to improve it.
Politics, like religion, is about how to live and with whom. It’s about right versus wrong and us against them. Nothing could be more fundamental about people, and thus characterization.
In truth, the contrasting belief systems [of liberalism and conservatism] are neither mutually exclusive nor irreconcilable, no matter what more extreme partisans might tell you. Due to our being schooled by the culture at large, we all share in the same stew of moral values. What we tend to emphasize differs depending on what moral system we embrace, how and by whom we were raised, and what our experiences have been. It’s often quipped that a conservative is a liberal who’s been mugged, or who’s had to make a payroll. It could just as easily be said that a liberal is a conservative who at one time or another has needed a helping hand, or who again has been mugged—by her boss.
This way of looking at things shouldn’t be used to create more elaborate cartoons. Instead, let it open your eyes to people who normally baffle, annoy, or even disturb you. If you’re liberal, create a character who embraces strength, self-discipline, obedience to authority, decisiveness, self-reliance. If you’re conservative, create a character who believes in communication, self-fulfillment, nurturance, empathy. Trust me, it won’t kill you. It just might make you stronger.
Beautifully said!
Yes, empathy for your characters — ALL of them — is so vital! No one reads fiction to be preached at. We read to experience and understand, both ourselves and others.
Yes, David,
This is one of the great presentations you make in your book. It involves hard and honest consideration by the author. And when we love our characters and come to peace with their irreconcilable differences, our hearts grow. How, then, can’t the results lead to valued readers?
This was great! Thanks for this.
I was thinking there might be a third, historical reason for the avoidance reaction to politics with writers. In Japan this took the form of the Pure Literature Movement. (It’s equivalent in Western literature might have been a branch of realism that reacted against the romanticisms of writers like Edward Bulwer-Lytton.) Politics was deemed vulgar because of the work of political novelists who emerged at a time when national culture was in its formative stage. Political writing was a way to think a kind of national cohesion that didn’t yet exist. You could say political fiction was future fiction (miraiki shosetsu or “future novels”). When national cohesion was gained (through war, the police, brutality), this type of political writing was branded vulgar because of its association to the nationalist project. Politics mixed with lit left a bad taste in people’s mouth. The Pure Literature Movement was born, as was the schism between literature and politics. I think it persists to this day. Of course, this is the Japanese context, but I like to think it proves illustrative of possible historical influences on how we organize our feelings about things.
That’s fascinating. I do think “pure literature” is a reaction against not just the heat (vulgarity) but the exaggeration one finds in so much political writing. But aesthetics won’t save you when the brownshirts show up at the door.
The problem with most overt political writing is it so often descends into polemic–worse, propaganda or screed. And yet muckraking has a well-respected spot in American letters.
Compare, for example 1984 to The Fountainhead. The former continues to resonate. The latter, outside its circle of acolytes, feels trite and overwrought. (As does Sinclair Lewis’s It Can’t Happen Here, a left-wing example.)
On the other hand, there’s Philip Roth’s The Plot Against America–a timely read.
David–I read your screed (anyone who knows your work would do the same), and, like you, I learn a great deal from Dave King’s Facebook posts.
But I want to consider your last paragraph. You encourage writers to open themselves up by creating liberal and conservative characters with positive attributes associated with their opposite numbers. Liberal characters are to “embrace strength, self-discipline, obedience to authority, decisiveness, self-reliance.” Conservative characters will respect “communication, self-fulfillment, nurturance, empathy.”
Fine. My liberal will demonstrate conservative attributes as illustrated by someone like, say, Obama or MLKing, both of whom fulfill the terms you name.
But when I turn to my conservative character(s), I will look for models among those in my experience who respect “communication, self-fulfillment, nurturance, empathy.” This will be far harder to do, because the conservative attributes you identify–strength, self-discipline, obedience to authority, decisiveness,” etc. have so regularly been instruments used by the right to make mock of such things as self-fulfillment, nurturance, empathy.
The problem is one of “false equivalencies”: a wish to make the liberal/conservative books balance. You think this, but I think the exact opposite, which is just as valid as what you think because we’re both expressing our opinions, and all opinions are equal.
Nope, it doesn’t work. You are likely to tell me something like, well, that’s the task at hand for you as a liberal writer, to imagine something new: an empathic, nurturing conservative. But to do that, I will have to turn my back on what I have seen and heard, and since I don’t write what you once wittily described as sorcerer’s apprentice “ooga booga,” I for one am not up to the job.
Well, I guess I know a different breed of conservative than you do. Don’t get me wrong, there are members of my own family to whom I don’t speak because they exhibit the very characteristics you describe. And no, I don’t think they should be left out of fiction. We should definitely write about life as we find it.
But that also means looking hard where one doesn’t normally look. I drive cross-country often, and often find myself in the so-called Red States. I do not find the people I meet to be lockstep monsters.
We seem to have lost the ability to disagree without contempt — or worse, overt hatred. Much of that hatred is stewed in fear and a lot of that fear is based in ignorance. But that says as much about us as those we claim to hate or fear.
I’m a liberal. I believe in dialogue and fact-based inquiry (among a number of other things). That obliges me to reach out and communicate with others and be honest about my own preconceptions. That does not blind me to the harm done by a variety of actors along the political spectrum in the name of their convictions.
As for “false equivalence.” If you read what I said carefully, you’ll realize I made no such argument. What I said was: strive to see the humanity in your adversary. I used to play football. I didn’t hate the guy I blocked. But I made damn sure I blew him off the line of scrimmage.
P.S. Three of my neighbors are conservatives. I disagree with them on any number of issues. But I have never had such caring, kind, and considerate neighbors.
One is a Mormon family, and if the term “nurturing and caring” every applied to anyone, it is them.
They have always been exceptionally gracious, open, and considerate to me. (When I told Teresa that their lawn sign about protecting marriage didn’t jibe with my love for my brother who died of AIDS, she teared up and said, “Oh, I would never want to hurt your feelings, I am so sorry.” Will she vote differently? Probably not. But we don’t hate each other. There’s no need. Christ, I love that woman.)
Their son got leukemia shortly after my wife died of cancer. I watched the members of their church parade to that house with food and other groceries and to simply take care of that family.
And don’t tell me, “Yeah, sure, but they only take care of their own.” Really? Prove it. Because they’ve always looked out for me.
I am not blind to the current danger our republic faces. I know the insidious undercurrents to “Love the sinner, hate the sin.” and a number of other such slogans. But it’s just too damn easy — and sloppy, and self-congratulatory — to think your political opponents are intrinsically evil.
My neighbors are not bad people, even if they vote for someone I find, shall we say, unworthy.
I’m not being P.C. I’m being thoughtful. It’s not such a terrible thing.
David, I think I’m becoming your new biggest fan. Thanks for all your thoughtful comments on this thread.
David–But you ARE “one of their own.” You’re their neighbor, a familiar, known quantity who can easily be forgiven his oddities. But that’s just the point: you are not tainted by otherness, and so you occupy the space inside the circled wagons. As I’ve said on social media: who can doubt that most conservatives love their pets, family members and friends? But that’s tribalism, not empathy or nurturance. Not in my book.
This from David is what *everyone* on both sides needs to take into consideration: “But it’s just too damn easy — and sloppy, and self-congratulatory — to think your political opponents are intrinsically evil.”
Thank you for being very open as to how you create your characters with attributes according to their political beliefs as that ensures that I will never, ever read any of your books.
This is such an important issue, Jael!! We live in a fishbowl these days. So much access all the time to everything and everyone. Including, as CG pointed out, a barrage of false ‘news’. But these tricky conditions are inevitable because of technology, which I think is outpacing our emotional growth as a species. So the question for me is; how do I grow a thicker skin even as I open my heart? How do I love my sister even as I disagree with her political choices? How do I embrace so much paradox?
As writers we get to tackle these hard questions. We get to search for a new balance, and sure, we’re going to offend people in the process. But I’d rather have people mad at me that look back and regret that I didn’t speak up when I could have. We writers are observers, communicators. My humble observation is that people are losing the art of conversation in favor of whining from the safety of a keyboard. As writers, we can set a new tone, a new pace, an example. Quite a challenge in a fast-changing world, and certainly, a privilege. Thanks for this.
This, Susan!
Your short reply plumbs the depth of the issues. To pick one of your points, technology is a huge and hidden player in the vortex of our Time of Change. And it began with the dawning of television (though the movie is the grandparent.) The question was asked then, How is watching so much TV changing our society (children)?
But an answer was never pursued. The salve of entertainment was too powerful, the profits to corporations too deep. Now we are way into a paradigm shift without the basis of even knowing if something is true, and worse, normalizing the attitude of not caring if it is.
We do get to tackle these issues and I am hard at work re-honing my voice as the winds change. . . even trying anticipate their future. (I am wearing a life vest.) I look forward to your books.
I recently took a break from social media, because I found myself getting into pointless political debates with strangers, and it was taking time away from what really matters for me, my stories.
I also believe to paraphrase Thomas Paine that those who enjoy the civil freedoms of a democracy must at times step up to the plate to defend it. In our current times Paine’s philosophy is more crucial than ever. That’s not my opinion, that happens to be a fact.
There comes a point when one personally must take a stand, and say: “Enough!” When someone uses misguided opinions to propagate dangerous lies, such as professing that climate change is a hoax. Or, promoting white supremacist philosophies under the guise of another name like “alt-right”.
Because, facts don’t care about misguided opinions, and if we don’t do something now while we still can, humanity is going to suffer the consequences.
It’s the way we do it, that makes the difference. And all my debates with strangers on social media won’t change an opinion in a way that matters. But maybe, just maybe, one of my stories will change a point of view in a way that will help. It’s the power and the magic of the pen.
Well said. I believe Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. changed millions of minds through his speeches and example. But I think To Kill a Mockingbird did as well.
Bernadette,
If our social media presence suffers the same small mind as those that diminish the quality of speech, yes, we can’t shift anything.
Can we then, as authors, use our skills of language (which is mostly the offending aspect of social media) to engender the story aspect that causes reflection? Time will tell if I am failing badly at this, but that is where I place my energy on social media.
A new paradigm engenders new ways to use language. Writers will lead the way in fashioning it.
When people start censoring themselves politically, the whole thing falls apart. I think there needs to be a distinction made between being political and being polite.
There is a term in rhetoric that comes straight out of ancient Greek politics that speaks to the necessary link between speaking your mind and fulfilling one’s civic requirement in a democratic society. The word is “parrhesia.”
Parrhesia: Candour, frankness; outspokenness or boldness of speech.
In Athenian democracy where debate defined the proper functioning of society, it was a citizen’s responsibility to speak out, to argue, but also to listen. Governing the polis – the unity of a democratic people – was always a battle, but it required everyone speak their mind, frankly, with candor, else… well, it all falls to corruption, because if the people don’t speak with a multitude of voices, then the tyrants take over since they have no problem vulgarizing the discourse (which is likely why Socrates hated Athenian democracy).
Parrhesia has a second meaning. “The act or practice of asking forgiveness in advance for speaking in this way.” You could still be polite when being political. The two weren’t mutually exclusive.
Self-censorship isn’t a political act. It shouldn’t be. Self-censorship is about being polite. But we can be polite and still speak our mind. We’re writers. If we can’t figure out a way to do it, then who can?
Because, as writers, everything we do is political. I’ve always thought that if I didn’t practice my politics through my writing, politics will practice me. Which is to say, writing and politics are intertwined; we don’t write characters in a vacuum – we have them make decisions that affect others, we build a world around them, we give them life! What could be more political than that? Writing about a gay character that doesn’t fall into homophobic tropes is political. Writing about a Japanese character in a way that avoids racist stereotypes is political. Writing an elegant sentence to hold the line against the vulgarization of thought itself, or vulgarizing your sentence to battle the too-precious adherence to form, or simply describing the world – politics, politics, politics.
So, yes, we should be polite on social media feeds, and in conversation. We should self-censor our vitriol and reactionary inclinations to search for a better way to say something. But we should also be frank, speak our minds, adhere to the necessity of parrhesia.
And write. And write. And write.
Thanks for bringing those testy Greeks into this. I find it interesting that in this time when classic liberalism is taking a lot of blows at the hands of populism, nativism, and nationalism, a number of thinkers on both the right (Leo Strauss, Alasdair Macintyre) and the left (Martha Nussbaum, Hannah Arendt) have suggested a return to the “virtue politics” of Aristotle (though Strauss favors Plato’s aristocratic leanings).
Thucydides can teach us a lot about how a democracy falls apart.
David, you had me running to look up Thucydides. Why can’t we learn from the learned men in the past.
He also said, ““We Greeks believe that a man who takes no part in public affairs is not merely lazy, but good for nothing”
The problem is we need civic training for participation in the arena of ideas. The Greeks understood that. Modern educators not so much. Thus, social media is more pyorrhea than parrhesia, which is why many long for the Parousia.
Or, simply, Paris. Or Peru.
Which is why I sneak in Plato, Zeno, Aristotle with my high school students (and will bring in Spinoza, Nietzsche, Heidegger in future). I agree the current climate has a good deal to do with problems in education. Teachers and writers – fighting on the front lines.
(And I appreciated the pertinence of your paroemion!)
So many great voices jumping in on this today. (Thanks, Jael, for the provocation.)
Your point about politesse is spot on. It is an essential glide factor for society. Without it, we fall into war with our brothers and sisters. Your use of the word self-censorship sends flags up the pole. . . until you note that what is censored is the vitriol, not the substance.
Stepping back we can see that beliefs are like clothes. We cling to them, sometimes frantically, when they serve us and just as easily dump them as soon as the weather changes of when they wear out. Adding this theme to our work is also political, but it can lighten the whole tendency to be right or wrong.
No, Tom our beliefs aren’t like clothes. They’re like tattoos, and are similarly difficult and painful to remove or change.
Barry,
you are correct to take issue with my metaphor of beliefs being like clothes. Perhaps yours–the tattoo–is better, but not in all cases. What I was trying to get at is that beliefs “seem” like the person, the being we recognize by how they dress, but in cases where they no longer serve that person’s agenda (usually through some profound realization) they can be dumped.
Your point addresses better the training of family and how that engenders belief. I would say that families tend to be like tattoo parlors. . . but the offspring don’t necessarily sit in the tattooing chair. My use of clothes was not about them being changed often or easily, but that they are mutable. And if I’m not mistaken a great deal about the learning characters in (today’s incarnation of) stories do is about changing beliefs.
Always happy to be the object of your scrutiny.
As a passionate lefty, I use my social media as a platform for my very left-of-center political views. I’ve pissed people off. Some of them have left scathing reviews of my work BECAUSE they were pissed off.
But those people aren’t my readers anyway.
Here’s the thing to remember: LEFTIES READ. They are, on the aggregate, about a thousand times more literate than their conservative counterparts.
So for every GOPer I lose as a reader, I gain five others who see my posts, agree with my posts, and then look to see what else I have to say.
They are purposely reading my work because I am NOT neutral in my views. I am provocative. Thought inspiring. PASSIONATE.
Playing it safe isn’t playing it at all.
You are writers. Writers must dissent. Otherwise, you are betraying the very essence of who you are.
I disagree with the comment that liberals are “a thousand times more literate than their conservative counterparts.” It’s precisely that kind of misunderstanding that is not just self-serving but poisonous.
The conservatives I know read VORACIOUSLY. They just read different things.
You might find this article, on conservative reading groups, informative on that point:
https://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/03/opinion/sunday/can-i-go-to-great-books-camp.html?action=click&pgtype=Homepage&clickSource=story-heading&module=opinion-c-col-left-region®ion=opinion-c-col-left-region&WT.nav=opinion-c-col-left-region
Oh absolutely I agree with David here. You find illiterate lefties too. I have heard as many conspiracy theories from Vermont Socialists as I have from Arizona Libertarians. I’ve also heard the most profound thoughts in my life from both Missouri Republicans and NYC Progressives.
Really, the deeper issue of this whole piece is that we are not compartments or the sum of our parts. We are whole beings. To treat one another like slices is a woefully undernourished way of interacting. That’s the problem online: not that we talk about politics, but that we talk about politics shallowly—either with a disregard for nuance or a severing of connective tissue with the personhood of the writer or an ignorance that all things are political because all things affect the cities in which we find ourselves—the polis.
In short, the man who breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom.
Talk about politics and religion. Just don’t disconnect it from the narrative of your life and the lives of your characters.
I read with great interest the article you shared. But I can only subscribe to what I have myself experienced, which is that people on the left are, on average, better readers.
There are a thousand reasons for this–most of them having to do with privilege. I was born in a major metropolis, not Appalachia. I am middle class. I am literate. No socioeconomic pressure was exerted on me by my friends and family to not “rise above my place,” which is all too often the case in hardscrabble communities. People who read are automatically suspect.
In other words, your average Trump supporter didn’t vote him into office based on what they read in the Guardian or even the New York Times.
Why? Because they weren’t reading.
The factless based opinion that conservatives as a group are less likely to read, and the insinuation that they are less intelligent than liberals is the very type of underestimation that brought about a Trump presidency.
Bernadette, you said it perfectly. Thank you.
Thank you, Stacy Keith! You wrote what I wanted to write. I am left of left and I’ve been blunt about my politics.
I’m always open to learning from others with different political leanings, but when the exchange become argumentative with name-calling and refusing to have a civil discourse that’s when I liberally use the block feature.
An important post, Jael, and as you can see lots of excellent responses. As usual, being on the west coast, I’m one of the last to respond, but not for lack of passion. I liked Bernadette reminding us what Thomas Paine said: those who enjoy the civil freedoms of a democracy must at times step up to the plate to defend it. I also agree with her that currently it’s not an opinion, but a fact. Lies are proliferating and we must fight against them. I also will put worth one other word mentioned here EMPATHY. That is our tool, our most precious gift, I believe, in counteracting the negatives in our society. CREATE characters and stories that will arouse empathy in the reader, change a heart, open a mind. Fiction can do that and quietly. Again consider TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD.
I fundamentally disagree with anyone who would argue that an author, simply because they have a public face, should not use their platform to speak about the things they care for passionately. Most everyone has a threshold point–some scale that is tippable when the weights stack in just such a way–and I know many an author who hit that threshold over the course of this election, many speaking out politically for the first time.
We have voices. We alone get to decide if and when and how to use them. We should try to never judge other writers for deciding to lend whatever social media cred they’ve accrued to a passionate cause they believe in, just because it doesn’t involve the sunny, smiling sale of books.
Agreed, Therese. We are writers. If there is one thing we should not do, it is to keep quiet.
We should never keep quiet. That’s how we lose our freedoms. The right to speak out is what America stands for–or should. Free press. The Fourth Estate.
Agreed that hurling left/right political grenades usually ends up with collateral damage to all (and no fresh air). However, Orange Lord Voldemort’s “Make American Hate Again” campaign continues apace, with the latest news yesterday of a KKK parade celebrating the election results:
https://www.wral.com/ku-klux-klan-parades-in-roxboro-celebrating-trump-win/16302325/
[Note this is “real” news, as opposed to the kind of fake news put out by an online conspiracy site a bit back that suggested Hillary Clinton and team were part of a pedophile sex ring run out of a pizza parlor. That caused “real” news yesterday when a nice fellow with an assault rifle walked in the parlor to help investigate:
https://www.cnn.com/2016/12/04/politics/gun-incident-fake-news/%5D
I think it is our business as human beings, if not writers, to push back against that kind of thing. Meanwhile back in DC, our vaunted populist is hiring a hedge fund billionaire and a “school vouchers or die” billionaire to continue his string of sterling cabinet appointments. Oh, and giving a giant tax bribe to a giant corporation to keep some jobs in Indiana. If this is draining the swamps, I’ve got some oceanfront property in Florida that is magically impervious to climate change that I’d like to sell.
Yes, I know—I’m an insufferably smug mealy-mouthed liberal. I can’t stand myself sometimes either. But as David has pointed out, it’s pointless to tar everyone of opposite persuasion with the same brush. My best friend of more than 50 years became a government intelligence analyst, of all things, and quite a conservative. But he’s a very good man who wants the best for this country, and I admire the rigor of his thinking.
One of my other old pals is a libertarian who I can only shake my head at sometimes for his views. But I’ll always shake his hand, because again, he is a good man. But I fear the new power of the not-so-good men (and some token women tossed in so that some can say, “Misogynist? Who, me?”)
Anyway, before Alec Baldwin is arrested and tried for treason, and the New York Times is shut down because that pesky First Amendment didn’t mean that much anyway, we will have our bread and circuses. We love our bread and circuses.
Great post. I find politics an interesting topic — both in regards to how much should be shared on social media and in general. It’s one of the reasons I’m currently studying sociology.
Certainly, if we’re looking to effect social change, social media isn’t the place to do it. Stories will change the world much more effectively than vitriolic Facebook posts. Just look at the writing that’s been done on how the popularity of Harry Potter affected the outcome of the 2008 US election.
(Which does, mind you, make me wonder what novels were popular over the last four years that impacted on the results in 2016. I hear YA dystopia was pretty big.)
Personally, I don’t think there’s any way to avoid politics. Politics aren’t some sacred thing that exists at the highest level of the land, they’re defined by how we live our lives, see the world, and write our stories. Every novel by every author is infused with the author’s worldview and politics, whether they intend it to be or not.
If I write a story about someone “different” who desperately wants to fit in, but, in the course of the story, learns the lesson that she needs to fight for equality rather than conform to stereotypes, it doesn’t matter if I’m writing a love story set in 2016 Ferguson, a viking saga set during the establishment of Normandy, or an epic fantasy adventure about elves and dwarves. My political beliefs are there on the page for everyone to see.
So, does that mean I should use my social media to bombard people with political memes? Well, no. Because vitriolic memes rarely help. On the other hand, a person who is offended when I share my thoughts on a video about systemic environmental damage being done by a government-funded coal mine isn’t likely to enjoy my novels anyway.
And, for the record, I think those memes that people post about how they’re not posting about politics are just as politically motivated as any partisan abuse-fest.
“I don’t think there’s any way to avoid politics. Politics aren’t some sacred thing that exists at the highest level of the land, they’re defined by how we live our lives, see the world, and write our stories.”
Bingo, as Aristotle was wont to say.
A timely topic as I recently received my first “ugly” responses to a tweet. I tweeted support of a woman’s choice to wear what she wanted. In this case, it was a hijab.
I find it extremely difficult to be neutral when I read outrageous comments. And yet I know that simply stating my beliefs can invite an unwelcome response.
As writers, we do have a duty to speak out against hate crimes and such. But how do we do it in a way that engages and informs rather then fans the flames of dissent? That’s the crux of it all.
The critical issue distinction in this topic is, I think, contempt, and it’s mentioned only once before in this thread.
In research on couple relationships, there is a nearly perfect ability to predict the likelihood of a relationship’s dissolution based on observation of only one behavior: contempt.
I think the bright line across which a political point becomes a screed is when the author demonstrates contempt for one side of the point.
There’s no reason to write a screed about the KKK or ISIS. Their behavior speaks for itself: description is sufficient to demonstrate the nature of the beast. Writing a sympathetic or telling story about a member of such a group is probably the supreme example of authorial talent.
Writing a screed about a less extreme / more nuanced group or subject is where popular culture fails its audience because it demonstrates contempt for an undeserving subject. There are not 64.2 million Americans deserving any author’s contempt because they voted for Hillary Clinton, just as there are not 62.2 million Americans deserving any author’s contempt because they voted for Donald Trump. Pretending otherwise says more about the author than about anyone described by the author or who chooses to read or reject the author.
I’ve got a separate thought I’ll share in a subsequent post to avoid intermingling any commentary.
As a communications strategist who survived more than one bout of political work, I think there’s another interesting bright line worth considering.
The surest way to fail in a competitive marketplace is to try to be all things to all people. One easy strategy for standing out in a competitive marketplace is to get some, as we say in politics, sharp elbows.
A point of view is more likely to get you noticed and to earn the interest of people who share that point of view. One example from our own creative arts is the massive market for explicitly Christian fiction — a lucrative market that exists almost entirely outside the publishing mainstream, largely invisible to anyone who doesn’t consume explicitly Christian fiction. That’s asymmetric, though — consumers of Christian fiction might not choose to read the kinds of books everyone finds at the front of a B&N store or on its endcaps, but those books are not invisible to them.
I suspect there is a threshold of sales or popularity below which sharp elbows help an author to earn attention and above which threaten an author’s position in the market.
I don’t know where that threshold is, but I’d think someone like Lee Child or Stephen King would tend to diminish sales with explicit political positions or statements, whereas someone like the thousands of midlist authors of whom we’ve never heard would tend to improve sales with explicit political positions or statements *if* a midlist author could find a credible discovery mechanism that recognized sharp elbows and promoted books because of it.
One example of this I can think of is the Libertarian Futurist Society, which through its Prometheus Awards acknowledges authors who tell stories that emphasize themes of individualism and freedom. I’m sure there are others across the political spectrum.
Another thing of which I’m sure is this: Americans generally are tired of having constant politicization of everything stuffed down their gullets. Some very small percentage of the population thrives on that sort of incessant intrusion.
A much larger portion of the population is happy to leave politics to campaigns and the polling booth and seeks solace in activities they would prefer be free of such explicit pollution.
Some percentage, probably overlapping the one I previously described, recognizes that there’s a right place / right time for political opinion and expression and if they are readers, they acknowledge that a novel of realism is unlikely to be entirely free of issues that about half of the country has to confront at one time or another.
But that “about half” is a good reminder of bounding limits: about half of the people in America who could engage in political activity by voting regularly choose not to.
You hone in on “contempt” as the key negative that destroys personal relationships and, by extension, voids the effectiveness of political arguments. Expressing contempt for one’s political adversaries serves no useful purpose, you tell us. There are good reasons to think this is true. But I’m not entirely convinced, my reason being the reminder you offer in your last paragraph: “about half of the people in America who could engage in political activity by voting regularly choose not to.”
It may be that contempt/ridicule/satire aimed at those who clearly deserve it will have some influence on those who can’t be bothered voting. Then again, maybe not.
But it seems to me that ignoring distinctions, and accepting false equivalencies = trying to be all things to all people.
I have hidden, unfollowed, and unfriended scores of authors, and anyone (on both sides of the aisle) who is not in the political field, who incessantly writes and shares political posts. I also won’t buy books from the more vitriolic authors. Social media does not create meaningful dialogue. Social media is not action. I’ve almost entirely abandoned Twitter.
I am what I am, which comes out in everything I write, so there is no point in trying to hide anything.
When I first started social media, I thought I wouldn’t get political but that changed. There are some things I feel passionate about and I have a platform to share it. Take the We Need Diverse Books movement, I talk about that all the time. There are going to be people who don’t agree. That’s fine. Diversity is one of my passions, I’ll talk about it regardless of what people think. Real world change can start on Social Media. We Need Diverse Books started as a hashtag and now they’re working with publishers and holding panels at conferences and in bookstores. But people might get turned off if you get political. Talking about it on social media is somethig you have to think about carefully.