When Saying the Right Words Feels All Wrong

It may not be immediately obvious from all my postings about fictional characters in a fantasy world, time travel, and things that happened thirty to forty years ago, but I have strong political views, particularly this year. However, there's something I discovered about myself thirty-five years ago that still affects me today when it comes to expressing those views: I'm no debater. I have neither the temperament nor the rhetorical skills to stand in a room and out-argue somebody.

When Joel and I used to talk about Vietnam all those years ago, it wouldn't be long before I wanted desperately to drop the subject. Joel could argue all day long about Vietnam (or religion, or Monopoly), do it well, and enjoy himself in the process. I, on the other hand, would soon be upset and frustrated. Even if I was right (which I probably wasn't in the case of Vietnam), I would never win a debate with Joel, simply because he was so much better at it.  But I also realized, even then, that if one person has superior debating skills and enjoys using them, that doesn't mean that a conflict-adverse person with opposing views is necessarily wrong.

This little insight has played itself out many times in my life. My beloved husband John is an atheist, a former agnostic who likes to say that "one man's religion is another man's belly laugh." I had my agnostic period many years ago, and was even an atheist for about thirty seconds once in high school. These days I am a Christian, more specifically an Episcopalian who often serves at Mass, doing the same tasks (as crucifer and torch) as a bunch of high school kids. The kids think I'm weird, this fat, forty-seven-year-old woman carrying a cross or a candle up and down the aisle, trying to sing without words because I haven't managed to memorize the lyrics of the dozens of hymns that turn up at St. Michael's. At St. Ann's Catholic Church when I was a kid, there were maybe ten hymns used, and we only sang two verses each.  John thinks my church attendence is weird, maybe even a little crazy. He doesn't understand how an intelligent person can believe anything that can't be proven empirically. Most of the time, John doesn't usually give me grief about my religious views and actions, but occasionally he tries to get me to explain what I believe. This inevitably upsets me. He also wants me to explain what the Religious Right believes, and define the exact meanings and boundaries of the terms "good" and "evil." My inadequate, off-the-cuff explanations of my own views don't make much more sense to John than my explanations of what someone like George W. Bush believes.

So when I walked into an accounting class a week and a half ago and heard Alison and Marilyn loudly discussing John Kerry from a partisan Republican point of view, I cringed and said nothing. I wasn't going to be able to sway these two strong-willed people whether I spoke up or not, whether I remembered to wear my Kerry button or not.  Call me a moral coward if you like, but I know my limitations. I can write the occasional essay that expresses some part of what I feel and what I believe (c.f. for example a few remarks toward the end of my 9/11 post), but full scale political or blogging feels uncomfortably like the instigation of a debate, so I tend to shy away. The good news for me is that blogging my views is less stressful than face-to-face discussion. I can take the time to choose and organize my words, and not feel defensive unless someone leaves a nasty comment.

The psychological component of all this was brought home to me again when I stood next to two St. Michael's parishoners at coffee hour yesterday, waiting to ask C. a question about the upcoming English Faire.  J., from whom I got my Kerry button a month ago, was trying to talk C. into voting for Kerry.  J. was shrill and excited, C. smiling and calm. J. knew the issues (although we all blanked momentarily on Alan Greenspan's name), while C. had Kerry's Senatorial experience confused with Edwards' relative lack thereof.  I agreed with everything J. said, and disagreed with most of what C. said. Now C. is a Libertarian like my husband, but John would never vote for Bush as C. plans to do. C. is a kind, funny man, a subdeacon at St. Michael's. J. is a nice person, too, but I get the impression that her whole life this year is bound up in efforts to defeat George W. Bush and other Republicans. I haven't seen that level of commitment to political causes since I last saw Joel.

I wanted very much to walk away from the conversation, my question unasked. Much as I agreed with J., I wanted her to shut up already, maybe with a parting suggestion that C. educate himself before the election by reading this website or listening to that media outlet, which is very good at sorting facts from distortions on both sides of the political divide. I admired C.'s smiling equanimity, even if his actual views (and what he thought were the facts)  were mostly "wrong." Strictly on an emotional level, my sympathies were with C., not J., even though from an intellectual standpoint, J. was right.

So I'm not going to become a political blogger anytime soon, or for that matter, an evangelical one. You will see me express the occasional opinion on both politics and religion, but by and large I'm not going to debate you if you disagree. I can't do it. All I can do is recommend justcherie's journal. She's much better at this political stuff than I am. I'm no good at arguing in favor of my opinions, no matter how well-researched or thought out.

But that doesn't mean I'm wrong.

Karen