What We Owe The Other Side—And Our Own—in Civil Society
One of the most compelling books I have read over the past year is a slim volume by Robert Talisse, a professor of philosophy at Vanderbilt University. His Sustaining Democracy: What We Owe to The Other Side is a guide for citizens and partisans of all stripes who want to advance the viewpoints they hold more effectively. Paradoxically, Talisse contends the secret is remaining much more open than we are naturally inclined to be to reasonable criticism from those who disagree with us.
This counterintuitive advice can help all of us holding the office of citizen as we head into another election season. I’m sharing it here because it is also relevant for foundations and nonprofits. While barred by law from supporting or opposing any party or candidate, many such charities are caught up in the political and cultural frays polarizing the country. Insofar as these organizations want to make constructive changes in the world, they too can benefit from Talisse’s advice.
The democrat’s dilemma
Talisse begins by noting that those of us who consider ourselves democrats, in the small “d,” non-partisan sense of the word, face a dilemma inherent in this philosophical commitment. On the one hand, we are obliged to regard other citizens as having the same rights as we do to hold and express different viewpoints and associate and vote accordingly. On the other hand, we are meant to be dedicated to the common good, which entails advancing the policy agendas, parties, and candidates we regard as most consistent with it. At times, especially in a polarized society, these claims on our actions pull us in different directions.
Our commitment to pursue our particular conception of justice can put us at loggerheads with others who have different and at times incommensurate ideas about what justice entails. This conflict leaves us much less willing to grant those who disagree with us the respect and hearing they are entitled to as free and equal citizens in their own right.
The dilemma is often sharpened because our views on justice are tied deeply to our sense of self. “They are our commitments, stances, or orientations.” Talisse observes. “In this way, they function like religious commitments.” To engage with those who oppose our commitments and hear them out can feel disorienting–like we are at risk of compromising on our core convictions.
Those of us working in nonprofit organizations face a strong temptation to subordinate what we owe our opponents as fellow citizens to our pursuit of justice as we understand it. We are, after all, working in mission-driven organizations dedicated to making the world a better place.
I have reflected previously here about the dynamics that leave funders and advocates of policy and systems changes especially prone to ideological if not self-righteous zeal that is ultimately self-defeating. That same zeal leads us to sweep aside criticism of our efforts to counter authoritarianism, achieve racial equity, defend free speech, rein in the administrative state, etc.
The perils of belief polarization
We are used to thinking of polarization as something that occurs between the two major parties, their platforms, representatives in government, and supporters in the electorate. Talisse notes these patterns and how they have come to confound our politics. But his focus in Sustaining Democracy is on what he calls belief polarization.
Belief polarization is what happens within groups and organizations of like-minded people responding to these external patterns of political polarization. In a recurring dynamic widely observed in social science, such groups and organizations tend to adopt increasingly strong, exaggerated, and even radical views internally. Those who hold moderating, complexifying, or dissenting views gradually grow silent as the collective view intensifies.
Several factors interact to drive belief polarization. Human beings are hard-wired to be members of a group. When we hear views expressed about what our group thinks (or should) about a charged topic by colleagues most committed to the answer, we are inclined to associate ourselves with them. As the dominant viewpoint becomes more pervasive and boldly stated, the push for conformity increases. Groups and organizations shun unorthodox members and shed allies not squarely in the fold.
Talisse sums up the effects of these pernicious dynamics as follows:
“Belief polarization fractures our alliances, shrinks our coalitions, promotes hierarchy within our collaborations, and transforms political allies into foes. This is bad news for the democratic ethos. But it is also bad news for our political commitments, our aims for justice.”
As someone who is on occasion in rooms full of funders and advocates on the left or, alternatively, the right, I see these dynamics at work across the ideological spectrum. And I have seen plenty of groups attempt to hold the space in between, only to be pulled in one direction or the other through belief polarization. It is easy to preach to the choir and rile up small but zealous congregations. It is harder to evangelize enough people and recruit sufficient partners to make good on the ambitious missions of our organizations.
Why–and how–we need to sustain democracy
To counteract these dynamics, Talisse recommends we engage with and be open to criticism from reasonable people with whom we disagree. His advice may strike you as naive or overly self-effacing. However, the objective is not simply to respect and grant a hearing to good faith opponents for its own sake (not that there's anything wrong with that!). Instead, the goal is to increase the odds of realizing our goals for what justice entails.
In our cacophonous democracy, we are obliged to develop expansive coalitions of allies who share our broad goals (if not all our specific orthodoxies). Ultimately, we need to engage our opponents not because of what we owe them, but because of what we owe our team members and coalition partners. Only by engaging with reasonable critics on the other side can we ensure we are being sufficiently hospitable to allies who are, or could be, on ours.
Note the task Talisse sets is a limited one. We don’t have to spend time engaging with our opponents’ affirmative arguments for their positions, or with bad faith critiques of our own. Rather, we just need to search out and reflect on reasonable criticism of our positions. We should do so not in an open-ended, “We could be wrong!” stance, but instead in a focused, “Our views, work, and arguments for them could always be improved!” stance. This acknowledgement alone, and the mindset shift that comes with it, does much of the work.
Talisse also recommends we seek solitude and distance from politics to reflect on our views and how they can and should evolve in light of reasonable criticism of them. We have been habituated to think of politics and advocacy as raucous activities chock full of interpersonal interactions. But insofar as those interactions serve to spur belief polarization, we should step back, on our own, to read, reflect, and think through what is required.
Talisse’s point is not that we should withdraw from democratic politics and public engagement, only that,
“In the absence of occasions for distanced contemplation, the public and interpersonal forms of democratic participation are self-undermining. If we want to serve democracy, we sometimes need to take our politics off the streets, away from the glow of our screens, and out of one another’s face.”
This guidance is timely and relevant for funders and advocates in civil society grappling with issues that are inevitably intertwined with politics at the outset of a new election cycle. For all of our engagement in politics, we are not serving as parties, campaigns, candidates, or super PACS. We have other and distinct roles to play. We can best fulfill our charitable missions by periodically standing apart from the fray to reckon with reasonable criticism and consider how to strengthen our work and broaden our coalitions. Otherwise we are apt to let the urgent crowd out the important. That is not how to sustain a democracy.
