How I'm Finding My Political Home

The nicest rejection I ever received came from the famed psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi—the so-called “father of flow.” In 2011, he declined to be interviewed for Work Stew with this gem: “Thanks, Kate, but I am so overwhelmed by various commitments that I can't possibly consider even something as pleasant as your request.” It was so gracious, it emboldened me to continue reaching out to people whose work I admire. 

Which is how, last month, I found myself writing to historian Timothy W. Ryback, author of multiple books and more recently two powerful articles published in The Atlantic: “How Hitler Dismantled a Democracy in 53 Days” and “What the Press Got Wrong About Hitler.”¹ In the second piece, this paragraph—about Hitler’s speaking style and the effect it had on his followers—lodged in my brain, the same weary brain that has spent years trying, and failing spectacularly, to reason with Trump supporters: 

“According to Prinzhorn, Hitler’s calculated and mesmerizing combination of volume, rhythm, modulation, and repetition induced the suspension of logic and reason in rally attendees, generating an emotional response in his followers that rendered him nearly impervious to rational attack by political opponents and probing reporters. “They keep thinking they’ve hit on a crucial point when they say that Hitler’s speeches are meaningless and empty,” Prinzhorn observed of reporters. “But intellectual judgments of the Hitler experience miss the point entirely.” Ambassador Sackett called Hitler “one of the biggest showmen since P. T. Barnum,” an “indefatigable spellbinder” with an uncanny capacity for “twisting events” to suit his “fancies and purposes.””

The question I asked Mr. Ryback was essentially this: Does history offer us any lessons about what kinds of communications—or perhaps actions—can pierce this spellbound state?

Not only did I get a response; be still my nerdy heart, I got several.

The first was just plain kind: “You ask a serious question that deserves a serious answer.” Could I give him some time to “try to formulate a thoughtful response?” 

I wrote a dignified reply, but only after squeeing to the night sky: “Um yes, distinguished historian. This complete rando will grant you more time for the difficult and unsolicited assignment I sent your way. By all means!!!” 

Mr. Ryback’s follow-up email reflected deep thought and original research—it seems that’s just how he rolls. I won’t share his words directly (for all I know, they’ll end up in a piece of his own). But because so many of us are craving direction in this fraught political moment, I will share the gist. It seems that breaking the spell hinges on two things: 
1) Understanding the brain chemistry of belonging, including how simple narratives about threats—real or imagined—help forge in-groups and out-groups; and 
2) Offering alternative narratives—ones that are compelling enough to bridge divides and build broad coalitions. 

I don’t know how these two points will strike you, but for me they were immediately useful—not only in shaping how I engage with other people, but also in helping me figure out which political organizations are right for me. (As those of you who have been reading from the start know, I am now spending most of my professional energy in the public arena—dividing my time between conflict resolution and political organizing.)

On the politics front, the challenge has been finding the right political home. As a card-carrying² capitalist who believes adamantly in expanding social safety nets, I confuse people. And as a foot soldier who’s used to being in command, I confuse myself: on the one hand, I’m a political novice who needs to shut up and learn from people who have been organizing for years. On the other hand, I have firm opinions about communications strategy and, it turns out, zero energy for any effort that strikes me as misguided. 

To illustrate: at one political meeting I attended recently, the leader advocated engagement across the political divide—so far, so good. Her suggested strategy was to approach friends and family who voted for Trump with this: “I don’t need you to tell me you were wrong. I just need you to agree that you were lied to.” Much to my surprise, a lot of people at the meeting nodded approvingly—ready to deploy this supposed game-changer in their communities. Meanwhile, I was practically blacking out, imagining just how badly this would backfire with…well, every single Trump voter I know. I mean really: Let’s start this painful conversation with you telling me how foolish you were and how savvy I was. Between the sick feeling in my stomach—and Mr. Ryback’s guidance—I knew: this was not the leader, and hers was not the organization, for me. I moved on. 

As I continue to seek my political home, I realize this is a big thing for me: can the party, elected official, candidate, or organization I’m considering supporting distinguish—both in their worldview and their messaging—between Trump voters and the dangerous regime those voters helped elect? For Trump & Co., as well as the public officials and powerful entities who have remained silent so far, incandescent rage seems entirely warranted. But with our fellow voters, I think we’d get farther by showing curiosity and care. If we do that, and even a small amount of trust builds, maybe we can even co-create that alternate narrative? Maybe we end up with “People Who Want Rule of Law” as the in-group and “People Who Don’t” as the out-group. (Just spitballing—but I don’t hate it.)

Before I sign off, a question for those of you who’ve been seeking a political home of your own: have you found one? If so, where and what makes it feel like the right place for you?

Thanks for reading, 
Kate

¹These are gift links, so you should be able to bypass the paywall with your ethics intact. If they don’t work, just email me at kategacewalton@gmail.com and I’ll send them directly—until I run out of freebies.
²A business card. It’s just a business card. 

Lastly:
Our first Zoom—basically a chance to mutter WTF with other thoughtful people—is coming up on Monday, May 5th at 5pm PT/8pm ET. If you don’t yet have it, email me for the link: kategacewalton@gmail.com.