You — yes, you — ruined U.S. politics
Who and what broke politics? Even before the first votes are cast in this angry campaign, the finger of blame has already been pointed every which way — at politicians, talk radio, TV shout shows, social media, big money, special interests, gerrymandered districts, Washington gridlock.
All have done their share, but one suspect looms above the field: We the people.
We’re the ones who, in an age of head-snapping racial, social, cultural, economic, religious, generational and technological change, have been sorting ourselves into silos that tether our demographics to our politics.
The result has been an identitybased animus toward the other party not seen before in modern times. These days, Democrats and Republicans no longer stop at disagreeing with each other’s ideas. Increasingly they deny each other’s facts, disapprove of each other’s lifestyles, stay out of each other’s neighborhoods, impugn each other’s motives, doubt each other’s patriotism, can’t stomach each other’s news sources and bring different value systems to such core social institutions as religion, marriage and parenthood.
It’s as if they belong not to rival parties but alien tribes.
And their candidates seem to be running for President of different countries.
That’s because the United States of the early 21st century is in the midst of two concurrent demographic transformations. We’re en route to becoming a majority nonwhite nation at the same time a record share of us are going gray. Together these overhauls have turned each party’s base into a demographic, ideological and cultural no-go zone for the other side.
One party skews older, whiter, more religious and more conservative, with a base that’s flummoxed by the new racial tapestries, gender norms and family constellations that make up the beating heart of the next America. And the other party skews younger, more non-white, more liberal, more secular, more immigrant friendly, more LGBT friendly, with a base that views America’s new diversity as its most prized asset.
As recently as the 1990s, liberal Republicans and conservative Democrats were atypical but influential political architypes whose mere existence meant each national party needed to think of itself as a big tent. Now they’ve gone the way of the typewriter.
Today 92% of Republicans are to the right of the median Democrat in their core social, economic and national-security views, while 94% of Democrats are to the left of the median Republican, according to a 2014 Pew Research Center study that also found a doubling in the past two decades in the share of Americans with a highly negative view of the opposing party.
These cleavages spill beyond politics into everyday life. Nearly two-thirds of consistent conservatives and half of consistent liberals say most of their close friends share their political views. Liberals prefer cities while conservatives are partial to small towns and rural areas. In their child-rearing norms, conservatives place more emphasis on religious values and obedience; liberals are more inclined to stress tolerance and empathy. And in their social media habits, each group gravitates to friends and sources that reinforce their world views.
Not all of America is divided into these hostile camps. Paradoxically, identity-based hyper-partisanship is thriving at a time when a majority of Americans tell pollsters they’d like to see Washington rediscover the lost art of political compromise. As ever, most Americans are pragmatists, ready to meet in the middle.
Yet nowadays these Americans are the silent majority. They don’t have the temperament, inclination or vocal cords to attract much attention in a culture in which shrill pundits and 140-character screeds set the tone. And they punch below their weight at the voting booth, especially during primaries.
We are growing apart