Senior government and politics major
On Nov. 5, I was a little chuffed. I walked with a skip in my step. As a North Carolinian, I can’t say I was especially invested in the election of Gov.-elect Larry Hogan, but when I arrived in late August I got into it anyway. As a government and politics student, elections are like Christmas, and if I had to have mine away from home, so be it.
I looked at Anthony Brown first and saw that he was strong on social issues but seemed economically unsustainable. Hogan was more realistic; his nonsupport of social issues wasn’t opposition, so I figured, go Hogan. Weird, but then again, I’ve been to a Ron Paul rally.
So it’s from that place of not ambivalence, but issue focus that I braced myself for what was going to be a hairy day. I was expecting either a WorldStarHipHop-level fight or someone openly crying. What I was not expecting was the sheer level of ad hominem trash-talking.
“Stupid,” “dumb,” “bad.” Hogan is “stupid,” voters were “dumb,” This state is going to … [“bad” word]. Livid students in several of my classes for the next two days felt the need to make sure every Hogan supporter knew the personal wrong they had wrought. Someone in an official Student Government Association position interrupted a professor to imply the election was rigged. It wasn’t out of the blue — it played off what the class was talking about — but putting aside the disrespect toward the professor, the disrespect toward me and any other silent students in the room at the time made me want to, well, write a column.
I expect better of government and politics students. The average supporter is free to find their one issue and attach moral weight to it, but “partisanship” was a vocabulary word in my very first class at this university. This name-calling and moral crusading are just a microcosm of the gridlock we’re experiencing in Congress. Students in this department know better, I hope.
I can anticipate one fairly common response: We didn’t realize you were there. Of course not, why would you? Universities are famously liberal. This means, logically, that there is nobody, anywhere, on any other part of the political spectrum on this campus. None.
Another assumption is that anyone who isn’t part of that liberal majority is de facto a monster and deserves this kind of talk. Coupled with the fact the GOP in office is still shackled with outdated social viewpoints, most students freely assume that if I want to foot fewer environmental funds, I want fewer same-sex marriages too. If I speak up and complain to adamant Democrats that I’m not an idiot, I metamorphose into a homophobe. It barely warrants explanation: People are people, not labels.
Generally I’m fairly moderate, but when we’re too busy slinging insults, there’s no time for gray areas. You’re in, or you’re an idiot. I wouldn’t delude myself into thinking there’s a “surprising” number of Republicans or moderates like me on the campus, but it’s going to seem as though there really are none if people talk trash this way.
Year after year, refusal in Congress to cooperate across party lines stems from this demonization. I’ve never loved conversations more than the ones in which I’ve found someone who willingly and patiently argues an opposing viewpoint without thrashing with ad hominems.
If government and politics students aren’t able to overcome this slap-fighting and have a real conversation, then the outlook looks grim in Congress.
Emma Atlas is a senior government and politics and major. She can be reached at eatlasdbk@gmail.com.
