Flow State

I’ve been thinking about people who cut off family members or friends because they disagree about politics, religion, or social issues.

I know people who have substantially limited contact with their parents because of politics. In some cases, a vote for a particular presidential candidate was enough to turn a family relationship into a holiday-only arrangement. Imagine decades of family history, birthdays, dinners, and shared memories reduced to a couple of obligatory gatherings a year because two people disagree about who should be president.

Really?

I’ve also seen disagreements about religion and social issues lead to family estrangements. Parents express disapproval of something their adult children believe in or how they live their lives, and suddenly the relationship is on life support.

Sigh.

I’ve seen the other side of this, too. I have an acquaintance who is a BIG liberal and very involved in Democratic politics. For a while, it seemed like politics came up in practically every conversation. Finally, I suggested there were approximately a million other things we could talk about. How about we just leave politics out of it?

You know what? They took that to heart, and we haven’t spent much time talking about politics since.

In fact, I went to lunch today with my oldest friend. As I think about it, I honestly have no idea what his politics are. We’ve been friends forever and talk about a million different things. Politics just doesn’t come up. It’s not because either of us isn’t interested or doesn’t have opinions. We’re just too busy talking about everything else.

Heck, my wife and I were pretty far apart politically when we first met and got married. I’m awfully glad neither of us was the type to dismiss someone simply because of their political beliefs. We figured out there was a whole lot more to a person than their politics.

I know people who say things like, “I’ll never date a Republican,” or “I’ll never date a Democrat.” (Usually whichever one isn’t their own.) Really? You’re going to rule out an entire person before you even get to know them because of a political label? You might be passing up someone pretty terrific. You might even end up marrying them.

That’s what mature adults do.

Somewhere along the way, we’ve decided that disagreement itself is a form of harm. A vote for the other political party isn’t just a difference of political opinion. It’s an attack. A religious belief someone disagrees with isn’t simply a different worldview. It’s violence. Disapproval of someone’s lifestyle isn’t necessarily an expression of different values. It’s hatred.

We’ve taken ordinary human disagreements and elevated them into moral emergencies. Once you convince yourself that someone else’s opinion is actually a threat to your existence, cutting that person out of your life becomes not only justified but, in some circles, almost an obligation. I think that’s nonsense.

You can think your parents are wrong about politics. You can think their religious beliefs are outdated. You can disagree with their views on social issues. You can even think they’re completely misguided. They’re still your parents. And they’re still entitled to their opinions, just as you are entitled to yours. I don’t have to approve of everything you do. You don’t have to approve of everything I do. I don’t approve of a heroin-addicted child, for example. I’d still love that child, hope they get better, and want them in my life. Their choices are their own, even if I don’t agree with them.

Years ago, during Army basic training, I became close friends with another guy. We spent practically every waking moment together for a couple of months. The day before graduation, we were sitting outside the barracks cleaning our M-16s when he told me I was going to hell.

He was a deeply religious young man from Tennessee. He sincerely believed that anyone who didn’t accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior according to his particular understanding of Christianity was headed for eternal damnation. He told me he felt bad for me and prayed for me. But he wasn’t angry, mean, or unfriendly. He was telling me what he believed and genuinely thought he was looking out for me.

So we kept hanging out. We finished cleaning our weapons, talked, and enjoyed the last days of basic training together. Neither of us needed to win the argument to remain friends.

And here’s what strikes me about that memory: We were 19 or 20 years old. We hadn’t exactly accumulated decades of wisdom. Yet we managed to coexist despite a pretty fundamental disagreement about religion and my eternal fate. Maybe consider that the person on the other side of a disagreement might simply be a decent human being who sees the world differently than you do.

You don’t have to agree. You don’t even have to like their opinions. But the inability to maintain a relationship with someone who disagrees with you says something about you, too. If the standard for maintaining a relationship is that the other person must share your views, you’re not asking for respect. You’re asking for agreement. And those aren’t the same thing.

I find it particularly sad when parents and adult children can’t get past these differences. Think about what you’re giving up: decades of family history, holidays, shared experiences, and the opportunity to continue making memories. All because someone voted differently, holds different religious beliefs, or doesn’t approve of a particular lifestyle.

Is that really worth it? For some nonsense about protecting your mental health?  Frankly, if your mental health is so weak it can’t handle disagreement, you need a lot more help than you think.

I managed to remain friends with a guy who thought I was going to spend eternity in hell. My wife and I managed to get married despite being far apart politically. And I’ve managed to maintain friendships without ever knowing how someone votes.

Grow up. People disagree. They always have, and they always will.