I’m not particularly a big fan of the new Speaker of the House, Mike Johnson. He wouldn’t be a big fan of me either: he describe some queer people like me as being “inherently unnatural” and living a “dangerous lifestyle.” In fact, he even warned that legalizing same-sex marriage would mean the end of democracy as we know it. If only the “gay agenda” was so powerful, perhaps gay people could not be legally denied housing because of their identity in their country. 29 states right away.
Yet in 2015, after one of his anti-gay bills was rejected in the Louisiana state legislature, Johnson pdared for a photo with the two gay rights activists who had just successfully campaigned against the law. The gesture was more than just an image: Johnson had received, according to activists’ accounts, frank phone calls about their work almost every day before the vote. Essentially, Johnson is able to treat people like humans, even when his policies are antithetical to their very identity. And even though every fiber of my being wishes it wasn’t S(or indeed, in any decision-making role), his example in this regard is one we could learn from.
In today’s polarized political environment, opinions have become markers not only of ideology, but also of morality and humanity. Online discourse attacks people for having certain ideas, and people are forced to talk about topics they know little about, simply to appear morally acceptable to their social circle. Instead of hearing bad opinions, we see bad people.
While the urge to perceive the world this way is understandable, it is also extremely unproductive. Making moral judgments Attacking others based on their opinions encourages us to isolate ourselves ideologically, which leads to extremism and, therefore, political gridlock. Why would we seek to find a compromise or common ground with someone we believe to be completely sectarian or inhumane? Instead of political discourse, people resort to personal attacks and feel empowered, believing they are just tearing down haters from their moral pedestals. Of course, this will only cause the other side to become more stubborn and more entrenched in their ideologies.
At one time, this problem was less common. Often, social issues were morally divisive, but opinions on topics such as economics were simply a matter of differing political views. However, a more modern discourse emphasizes the fact that almost every problem has consequences for different social groups. Unfortunately, this has tied virtually all issues to moral values and created the idea that a person’s view on issues, regardless of the motivation for that view, is what determines whether or not they are a good person.
The problem is that even though motivation doesn’t matter in the outcome, it does matter in morality. Over the past few years, the Supreme Court has repeatedly ruled on one question: Should businesses have the right to refuse service to LGBTQ+ people? This problem has been around for a long time battle between queer and Christian interests. As a member of both groups, I have had a lot of exposure to the arguments on both sides. And while I believe that in no way should this country have codified discrimination against queer people the way it has, I understand that many in the Christian opposition are more focused on their own religious rights than about simply implementing a vicious agenda against queer people. This doesn’t make their opinion any less painful, but it helps humanize the opposition in a way that makes political debate more possible and more effective.
A fair response, at this point, would be to say that some views are morally wrong and rightly deserve condemnation. It would obviously be dangerous and unproductive to try to have a real political debate with someone who openly supports, say, murder. But where to draw the line here can be a lot harder than it seems. Is murder acceptable in the context of war? What about in the context of self-defense or in the context of liberation?
Therefore, when we enter political debates, it is important to start from the basic premise that whoever is on the other side is human and treat them as such. We need to understand that bad opinions do not necessarily mean they are expressed in bad faith by bad people, and that people often hold opinions not because of a vindictive vendetta, but because of their personal ideology. While it certainly wouldn’t guarantee a productive conversation, it could allow us — like the activists who killed Mike Johnson’s bill in the Louisiana House — to fight more effectively for a better future.