In 2009, we watched the Inauguration with our neighbors in a coffee shop on H Street. Our daughter was 4 and she excitedly documented the hopeful history of that day.
Where does one begin on a day like today? I see celebration, lament, and rage. I myself feel a deep uncertainty. I find the cacophony of voices raised for and against too loud, too discordant, too jarring to hear the words of wisdom and clarity I seek. How have we arrived at this place of “sound and fury signifying nothing” yet everyone feels desperately that they need to be heard?
Yet we hear little. The noise is overwhelming and we cannot hear. We say “tax the rich,” but we seldom hear “help the poor.” We say the Other is evil, but we do not hear the hate coming from ourselves.
As the election came and went and the Inauguration drew near, the noise has only grown louder, and into that noise, some try to speak peace, try to speak of dialogue, of reconciliation. They give suggestions of conversation starters, of steps to take to work through a challenging topic. We are desperate for healing—for wholeness—while the divisions grow wider, the chasm deeper. How, we wonder, can we implement those conversation starters when we cannot bear to be in the same room as Them? What does it matter if we come to an agreement on one issue if we still see them as opponents? How do we hold these impossible conversations when there is no vulnerability or trust?
We are at a crisis point in our culture and it isn’t because of Donald Trump. He could be a great president, a terrible president, or a merely mediocre, perfectly adequate president and our crisis will remain. I read the comments. I always read the comments. They are the canary in the coal mine for our culture. Things shouted in the comment section of news articles twenty years ago are considered the norm today. Ten years ago—an accepted opinion today. Two years ago? Well, everybody is entitled to believe and say what they want. And suddenly, the unthinkable beliefs, the fringe, the mad outliers—those are normalized today. Twenty years ago, the comment section clearly called one half of the country evil. The comment section was divided between good guys and bad guys, only their identities swapped depending on the source. Today, we exist in a culture that has no hesitation in division. Newscasters, reporters, columnists, political leaders, celebrities, neighbors—no one hesitates to slap the label of evil on the Other Side. Where we once held good faith debate on the issues, while in the comment section the extremes slung insults and sowed hatred, now we feel no need to lower ourselves to debate, to listen to, to understand the opinions of those we oppose. They are fully and firmly Othered.
And that’s a terribly dangerous place to be.
No matter who was being sworn into office today, my fear for our future would remain. We are headed down a dark path that leads nowhere but the same horrifyingly evil places we fool ourselves into believing are in our past. President Trump or President Harris—neither have the ability to alter our course. They are not our culture, our conscience, or our compass. We are the culture. We must be the ones to change. We must be the ones to set a new tone. We must be the ones to listen and to hear. We must create the space in which to invite the Other, welcome them, and hear their stories. No guided conversation around a conference table can create a lasting bridge. Those are built little by little, meal by meal, story by story.
So today, listen carefully in the noise for the voices of others, try to hear their stories in all the chaos. It isn’t enough to say that we think maybe they meant well and were only misinformed or selfish. It isn’t enough to want to assume good intentions gone awry. We need to really listen. To hear their why. To test their reasons against our own understanding. We don’t have to agree with them. But we do have to hear them.