One of today's popular myths is that we've become a more "polarized"
society. We're said to be divided increasingly by politics (liberals vs.
conservatives), social values (traditionalists vs. modernists), religion
(fundamentalists vs. everyone else), race and ethnicity. What's actually
happened is that our political and media elites have become polarized, and
they assume that this is true for everyone else. It isn't.
Anyone who lived through the 1960s, when struggles over Vietnam and civil
rights spilled into the streets and split families, must know that we're much
less polarized today. It's not a close call. Unlike then, today's polarization
exists mainly on the public stage among politicians, TV talking heads,
columnists and intellectuals. Still, the polarization myth persists. Consider
a new report from the Pew Research Center for the People and the Press, which
bulges with public opinion data that show (it says) "rising political
polarization and anger." Actually, the data -- stretching from the late 1980s
until now -- don't show that at all.
It's true that over this period political allegiances have shifted
slightly. Republicans gained, Democrats lost. As late as 1987, about 35
percent of adults considered themselves Democrats, 26 percent Republicans and
39 percent independents (including those who "don't know"). Now it's a dead
heat: 31 percent Democrats, 30 percent Republicans and 39 percent
independents. Gaps on some issues between political parties have predictably
widened. If Democrats favoring a stronger military become Republican, party
differences on that issue will rise.
But polarization -- a visceral loathing of your opponent -- increases only
if partisans feel more rabidly about their views. Here, little has changed.
One standard survey question is whether Democrats and Republicans consider
themselves "strong" party members. In the late 1980s slightly less than half
of Republicans considered themselves "strong" Republicans; it's still slightly
less than half. Among Democrats, about half are now "strong" and were then,
too.
Beyond partisan divisions, Americans share many basic beliefs. After Sept.
11, 2001, patriotism remains high. Most people (two-thirds or more) believe
that hard work promotes success. Indeed, many opinions have hardly budged
since the late 1980s. Surveys asked whether:
* The United States should be "active in world affairs" -- 87 percent said
yes in 1987, 90 percent now.
* "Government should restrict and control people coming into our country"
more than it does -- 76 percent agreed in 1992, 77 percent now.
* "There is too much power concentrated in the hands of a few big
companies" -- 77 percent said so in both 1987 and 2003.
What's more important is that the changes that have occurred -- generally
outside politics -- signal more, not less, tolerance, as the Pew data show.
There seems to be a general shift in attitudes, led by changes among the
young. Consider race. In 1987, 48 percent thought it "all right for blacks and
whites to date"; now 77 percent do. Something similar has occurred on
homosexuality. By a 51 percent to 42 percent margin, Americans believed in
1987 that "school boards ought to have the right to fire teachers who are
known homosexuals''; now that's rejected, 62 percent to 33 percent.
Sociologist Alan Wolfe of Boston College, after conducting extensive
interviews with middle-class families, reached similar conclusions. "Reluctant
to pass judgment, they are tolerant to a fault, not about everything -- they
have not come to accept homosexuality as normal and they intensely dislike
bilingualism -- but about a surprising number of things, including rapid
transformation in the family, legal immigration, multicultural education and
separation of church and state," he wrote in "One Nation, After All"
(1999).
This tolerance, Wolfe argued, springs partly from middle-class fears that
"our society might become hopelessly divided." Cherishing "the belief in one
nation," many ordinary Americans disdain fierce moral combat. Wolfe decided
that the vaunted "culture war" is "being fought primarily by
intellectuals."
Just so. Today's polarization mainly divides the broad public from
political, intellectual and media elites. Of course, sharp differences define
democracy. We've always had them. From Iraq to homosexual marriage, deep
disagreements remain. But the venom of today's debates often transcends
disagreement. Your opponents -- whether liberal or conservative -- must not
only have bad ideas. Increasingly, they must also be bad people who are
dishonest, selfish and venal.
Among politicians, the bitterness reflects less political competition,
especially in the House of Representatives. Democrats and Republicans
increasingly have safe seats. In 2002, 83 percent of House incumbents won at
least 60 percent of the vote; in 1992 only 66 percent of incumbents won with
that margin. As a result, members speak more to their parties' "bases," which
provide most electoral and financial support. There's less need to appeal to
the center. The Founders saw the House as responding quickly to public
opinion. But "the barometer is broken," says veteran congressional
correspondent Richard E. Cohen of National Journal.
As for media and intellectual elites -- commentators, academics,
columnists, professional advocates -- they're in an attention-grabbing
competition. They need to establish themselves as brand names. For many,
stridency is a strategy. The right feeds off the left and the left feeds off
the right, and although their mutual criticisms constitute legitimate debate,
they're also economic commodities. To be regarded by one side as a lunatic is
to be regarded by the other as a hero -- and that can usually be taken to the
bank through more TV appearances, higher lecture fees, fatter book sales and
larger audiences and group memberships. Polarization serves their interests.
Principle and self-promotion blend.
All this is understandable and, in a democracy, perhaps unavoidable. But it
distorts who we are and poses a latent danger: Someday we might become as
hopelessly polarized as we're already supposed to be.