I’m not typically the type of individual who believes there ought to be legislation for everything, but I must admit: If we could at least come to a consensus to never initiate a discussion with, “Did you catch what Donald Trump said/tweeted today?”, we would all be better off.
I recently finished Jeanne Safer’s book, “I Love You, but I Hate Your Politics,” and now I feel as though my belief has been validated by an expert. She is a psychotherapist based in New York City, and the book addresses how politics can damage relationships. The work isn’t simply a collection of these stories of despair or intense rage. It serves as a guide. She aims, as the subtitle suggests, to safeguard relationships in a “toxic partisan world.”
Now, simply because I prefer not to endlessly discuss and ponder politics does not imply that I don’t regard it earnestly — I’ve been bemoaning the lack of seriousness regarding public policy since I could express myself. My wails as a baby might have been related to Senate committee sessions. However, we must take a moment to step back and protect the most valuable asset of companionship.
Certain pieces of Safer’s guidance align with the 10 principles of respectful discourse that I covered in my book, “How to Defend the Faith without Raising Your Voice” (OSV). In reality, the first suggestion is to keep your voice down. She clarifies: “Your adversary will perceive even a minor rise in volume as yelling. It’s a surefire method to heighten animosity and causes your opponent to instantly disengage and cease listening.”
Additional advice encompasses the idea that “friends shouldn’t allow friends to consume alcohol and engage in political discussions.” She emphasizes that “it’s challenging enough to respond appropriately in tough conversations while completely sober, much less after having a few drinks.”
Safer advises to “never force an unsolicited biased article or link from your viewpoint on your partner, family member, or friend.” The reasoning behind this is to “express your own opinion” rather than referencing a specialist, which often tends to alienate others.
Additionally, refrain from discussing matters that you are aware will not conclude positively. Safer emphasizes that “a component of maturity is acknowledging that certain topics cannot be conversed about between you without resulting in distress.” She also emphasizes a crucial point: “You can remain faithful to your convictions without imposing them on an uninterested audience.”
An additional guideline is to “begin no political discussion with ‘How can your side actually believe …?’” Safer advises against viewing friends’ political posts on social media or becoming involved in political disputes via any messaging platform. Please, can we “presume decency and goodwill … even if you strongly disagree?”
And what about coming to terms with the fact that we cannot alter individuals, especially their political views? Your next stroke of genius is unlikely to transform Saul into Paul. “It is this denial of recognizing the boundaries of our impact on others that leads to feelings of helplessness,” Safer states. “The benefit of accepting this essential principle, in matters of love and politics, is that when you stop attempting the unachievable, you naturally enhance the quality of your conversations and earn the other person’s confidence. It might even preserve your relationship.”
Your interactions and connections with others are not centered around you. They are a reflection of God’s love expressed through another person. They focus on serving Him through acts of love.
God might utilize you as a tool, but not if you’re relentlessly criticizing someone’s preferred politician or mocking (even if unintentionally) his perspective. There’s a wealth of insight — and heart-rending narratives that seem all too recognizable — in Safer’s book. As we delve further into a presidential election season, you might want to reconsider discussing your phone or the proverbial watercooler or sharing a meal with others without it.
Kathryn Jean Lopez is a senior fellow at the National Review Institute and editor-at-large of National Review.
