Politics

Listening holds a quiet power to benefit others. Long ago, in high school debate, I discovered an interest to understand different views. And through the years, the hunger evolved. It went beyond intellectual curiosity; it became a quest to hear people out. Like everyone, some opinions are hard to hear, and others harder still. But I try to acknowledge another’s reasoning, and it turns out, science and theology support this practice. Recognition through listening offers a person the best chance to be open to other perspectives in life.

Carl Rogers pushed psychology in this direction with a revolutionary approach to therapy. With a relentless focus on listening, he founded the practice of patients leading experts to solutions through questions and dialogue. In time, academia shifted treatments from categorizing patients to tracking the thoughts of an individual. Rogers also did this in therapy groups—open discussions without judgments or critiques. “There is absolutely nothing holding us together except a common interest in the dignity and capacity of persons and the continuing possibility of deep and real communication with each other.”

Rogers argued there was a power of influence through listening. It legitimizes the other person; their worth, their being, and their dignity uplifted. When receiving this recognition, a patient could pull away from their defensiveness and isolation to see the world in healthier ways. “It is astonishing how elements which seem insoluble become soluble when someone listens. How confusions which seem irremediable turn into relatively clear flowing of streams when one is heard.” People could now have epiphanies, whether they held serious mental illness or everyday confusions. Wisdom and courage would gain a voice in their minds, and their worlds could start fresh.

But can the power of listening go beyond therapy? Can its influence prevail in our interactions? Rogers thought so. He spoke of his work having incredible, unexpected applications in our lives.

I had thought I was writing for psychotherapists, but to my astonishment discovered I was writing for people—nurses, housewives, people in the business world, priests, ministers, teachers, youth … what is true in a relationship between therapist and client may well be true for a marriage, a family, a school, an administration, a relationship between cultures or countries.

According to Rogers, the power of listening applied to any communication. When someone receives an acknowledgement of their point of view, they become more open to others. Influence becomes possible. Change becomes achievable. And other opinions won’t seem so crazy after all.

For me, the irony of this power is that Rogers’ work as a secular psychologist comes to the same conclusion as having faith. What does it mean to love our neighbor in conversation? Rogers didn’t use these words, but the heart of his practice pressed the question. And it turns out, Jesus also entered dialogue through listening—hearing before speaking, and bringing himself into someone’s pain. No doubt, he drew lines in the sand when confronting evil acts. But he also met people where they were emotionally, striking the same chord as Rogers’ therapy. In the end, empathy is a destination each world view comes to independently.

Another irony for me is that while Rogers had a negative experience of religion, it drove him to the same practice of listening. He was raised in an environment discouraging interactions with others—sinners who were bad people to stay away from. It motivated him to leave isolation and immerse himself in conversations. Meanwhile, faith has led me to pursue listening on behalf of that faith. I want to recognize another’s value by seeing how they got to where they are. So Rogers and I reach the same place—a full pursuit of understanding what others are thinking. We’ll fall short in the journey, but we pursue it nonetheless.

Now all of this might sound nice, but it’s hard to put into practice. All of us can think of opinions we hold in contempt. They’re too stupid. Too illogical. Too emotional. Too dangerous. Why give them the time of day? Why give them an audience? The topics coming to mind can be endless. As I’ve written this, I’ve thought of various online content where it’s hard to imagine fulfilling a pledge to listen. Some things—many things—feel too wrong to engage with. Too silly to acknowledge without swift rejection. It’s no wonder we “very rarely” listen, as Rogers said.

But listening doesn’t mean acceptance. Empathy is not the opposite of truth, and it doesn’t mean abandoning convictions. Rogers trusted that his patients could make better decisions, but the key was to bring them to a frame of mind to recognize them. By listening, he legitimized the person, and not their ideas. Likewise, Jesus demonstrated a great balance in communication. Empathy before direction. Instruction after listening. All were necessary as he entered someone’s presence. And Rogers confirmed that listening is an unappreciated tool.

Nor should we think of listening as weakness. It’s easy to see speaking as the brave side of communication, and indeed, it very much can be. Depending on the context, an articulate voice is a necessary skill to aspire for. But listening is bravery of another kind. To set aside one’s biases and judgments is a sacrifice. Like descending to another realm with a harness, you are considering another before yourself, traveling to meet them where they are. It’s not cowardice, nor inaction. It’s bravery as well, making listening and speaking active partners in dialogue.

Listening and speaking are both important for meeting the needs of others. One without the other can lead us backward. Listening could bring appeasement—a surrender of conviction. But speaking without listening becomes ineffective and alienating. Its aggression makes us just another angry voice in the chorus of comments online. The words might come from wisdom, but even if so, we’ll entrench people further into their own views. In the end, listening offers the best chance to bring a person to greater enlightenment.

So with the rare beauty of listening, I pledge to do what many will not: To pursue an understanding of different views. To steel-man arguments before sharing my own. To show respect for other views as I hope readers would have mine. Carl Rogers pursued this in therapy, and faith compels me to take the same path. Sooner or later, we’ll disagree. But I will strive for you to leave the page believing I did my best to understand what you think. That I offered your views a fair hearing. That I fulfilled the rarest of acts in public dialogue—that I listened.

Recently I explained why I didn’t go to a protest despite the abuses of ICE in Minneapolis. I gave my reasons, but there was a lie of omission; another reason I didn’t join the protestors—for the feelings I have toward them. I’ve been put off by protestors in recent years, or at least the coverage of them. They seem loud, violent, and judgmental with no interest seeing issues in shades of gray. But the incursions of ICE have forced me to reckon with my presumptions. Despite the actions of some, I resolve now to see the charity and good will from protestors who have carried the torch of a worthy cause in Minnesota.

My bias against protestors may come in part from our differences in personality. It’s against my instincts to cause a scene while the protests are designed for public disapproval—to turn heads and cause disruptions. While I think my personality has won me a wealth of peace through life from unnecessary conflicts, I may not challenge the status quo as others do. So there may be mere differences in agreeableness that show who goes to protests while others stay at home. Myers-Briggs and Enneagram types would have more insight, and it’s something to think about as I now challenge the images I have of protestors.

At the same time, my feelings also come from the cruel characterizations of protestors by right-wing media. I try to follow current events with balance, and there’s no doubt that all sides sneer at others with name-calling and moral condemnations. But the work on the Right to demonize protestors has felt relentless. They’re stupid. Extreme. They’re snowflakes. They’re violent. They killed Charlie Kirk. They, they, they—pundits judging the hearts and minds of millions for the actions of a few who made the news. It’s no wonder we come to hate each other. We chuckle at the jokes of content creators while our contempt for others swell.

In fairness though, there are protestors who seem to fit the bill for the stereotypes that media feed us. For weeks now, the disruption of a church service by Don Lemon and Black Lives Matter has been part of the national narrative of ICE in Minnesota. The protestors appeared to prove every presumption I’ve held. The unproductive chants raising chaos. The unnecessary disruption of people’s Sundays. The self-righteousness and condemnations of every church attender. Right-wing media gleefully took the event to paint all protestors as aggressive jerks. “They’re invading our churches now”—making the event become a great distraction for the public. Why should we care about ICE if we have people like this? Again, we make our perceptions, and the political battles wage.

For a less famous example of protestors rubbing me the wrong way, I recall an incident in Minneapolis a few years ago. Police killed a man who was shooting into the apartment of a family. Despite the mother and children ducking for cover, Black Lives Matter showed up to protest on behalf of … the shooter. The mother tried to explain the situation to them—that they would all be dead without the police. But someone yelled, “At least you’re still here,” and the protestors stayed put. It was an absurdity; the appearance of people having no ability to have empathy for the mother. Because police=bad, and that’s the end of it. Even with heroic actions, BLM and others will condemn them, and I’ve recoiled from their judgments.

So I’ve held such assumptions for years, but I have come to see the beauty of my neighbors’ actions as ICE has patrolled the streets. There were the 50,000 who protested peacefully on January 23rd. There’s the thousands of dollars my small church donated to charities for families too afraid to work. The drivers who delivered the goods. The residents who gave the funds. The volunteers who have watched our schools, and the neighbors who make sure people know they’re not alone. These are the Helpers, as Mister Rogers once called them. The ones to look for in distress. The ones we can hold in high regard. The ones who appear as the better angels of America.

Seeing their acts of charity, should we still condemn anyone holding a protest sign? Were the 50,000 in downtown Minneapolis all mere misfits worthy of our contempt? As I’ve witnessed charity work that the media won’t cover, my biases start to melt away. Whatever his faults, when Governor Tim Walz speaks now of pride in Minnesotans being neighbors to each other, I believe him. Likewise, when the city of Minneapolis was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize, I can understand why. They’re seeing what I’m seeing, and while there are always bad apples that people will publicize in bad faith, I am proud of what my community is doing.

But as I change my mind about protestors, I feel remiss if I didn’t also challenge assumptions of ICE. When local police chiefs voiced their objections to their infringements on civil rights, media neglected to show the part where they described the abuses as the acts of few. “It’s not widespread. This is a small group within the surge in the metro area performing or acting this way.” They noted from many conversations with ICE personnel that they condemn the bad apples within their ranks. “This is not how they act. This is not what they do.” While this shouldn’t stop our protests, this has helped me adjust my views of ICE in the same way as protestors—to have hope in many while facing the problems of a relative few.

Therefore, in a great irony, protestors and ICE may have something in common: the assumptions of their character. For myself, I’ll resolve to keep two thoughts at once about each group. With ICE, I will object to their unconstitutional acts while knowing that many do not support them. Likewise, with protestors, I recognize the abrasiveness of some while supporting the good works that don’t go viral. Maybe this is how we should aim to see any group. Stereotypes come from somewhere, but they should also end somewhere. The complexities of people should force us to confront the assumptions we bring to the table. 

Allegedly, ICE will leave Minnesota soon, and while I’m happy, I reflect now on my role in the scheme of things. If Minneapolis were to win the Nobel Peace Prize, I am unsure I’d feel worthy to claim a part of it. So now, instead of scoffing at protestors, I’m inclined to thank them. For helping me remember to stop judgments entire groups. For voicing opposition. For perhaps making ICE go away sooner than they otherwise would. A commentator said that for all the problems in swaying the Trump Administration, the Twin Cities made the president flinch. To me, that also seems something to be proud of. So good work protestors, and we’ll see if the help is needed again. 

 

When the federal government closed for forty-three days, America talked a lot about the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP). Who receives the money? What are they like? Do they deserve our pity or scorn? Descriptions and stereotypes of their character inspired our arguments on the program. The media presented images of millions as being one kind of person or another. Black or white. Downtrodden or deplorable. As saints or squatters with no room for complexity. Our assumptions of the poor dictated whether we celebrated SNAP or condemned it as a societal failure.

One depiction of SNAP recipients were of innocents in need of help. Journalists and pundits told us of the plight of the homeless. The helpless. The powerless who demand our protections. The New York Times reported of some now searching garbage bins for food while the disabled lost their only source of income. Other media followed food banks and single-parent homes that scraped by in the best of times, only now to fear losing SNAP. The poor in America appeared on a precipice of descent into famine and anarchy. We might then ask, how could we allow the shut down of SNAP? Its halt would be to our shame as a nation.

Meanwhile, others offered a far different narrative. Instead of being helpless, people who take SNAP funds are lazy and selfish; leeches who have babies for higher checks or commit fraud for taxpayer money. Cynicism raged. SNAP was a crutch that leads people to a mindset of lethargy, clinging to free funds while having free reign to do nothing for themselves. One podcaster suggested the poor in America could now go on a prolonged diet. Others evidenced anecdotal Tik Tok posts of angry women screaming of entitlement to SNAP money. We might now ask, how can we reward bad behavior with taxpayer funds?* These are different conclusions with different opinions on such programs.

All of these characterizations reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend once about health care. As a nurse, he gave examples of patients receiving benefits at hospitals via the requirements of Obamacare. This increased health care costs, or so he claimed, as facilities are forced to comply with new regulations. But I noticed a pattern in his opinions:

Me: “You know, very example you’ve given, the patient is either stupid or greedy.”

Friend: “…I’m a conservative; that’s what I think of people.”

The comment hung in the air as a funny joke, but the insight was worth remembering. How we think of others can be the starting point of understanding our politics; to stand one way or another on SNAP and other issues. With our assumptions of our neighbors, our morals and politics will follow. 

One might hope for the Bible to give clarity on SNAP, but it seems that our biases might lead us to verses instead of the other way around. For those liberally minded, Matthew 25 stands out as the damning defense for welfare. “…whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters, you did for me.” Meanwhile, conservatives point to passages suggesting not only a need for people to work but an expectation of meaningful work to be by design in Heaven.** Therefore, a government program providing streams of free money creates a lack of incentive for work, or so the thinking goes. In any case, this isn’t to disparage the Bible as irrelevant, but only to note our preconceptions. Holy scriptures can vindicate whatever views we’ve already brought to the table.

So what should we take from all of this? Are the poor selfish and greedy, or in dire need without recourse? To try to answer it, I visualize all SNAP recipients in one place. Forty-two million—a population five times the size of New York City. Imagine a group filling hundreds of football stadiums. It’s a breathtaking image showing me that the depths and complexities of our stories are endless. Childhood backgrounds. Genetics. Age. The health of their marriages. The malevolence of their bosses. Etc, etc. The factors bringing them to the present are immeasurable. We are complex creatures hard to label in the strive to vote for the right thing.

On one hand, cynicism for the poor isn’t without a basis of facts. Fraud does occur. Some do have babies for higher checks, and others do possess a selfish entitlement, stubbornly refusing to find productive paths in life. There is waste. There is greed. And all of this should give us pause if we want to have sound public policy. It’s not crazy for conservatives to point out the selfish things that people do. It’s observing human behavior. It’s an attempt to use wisdom to guide a prescription for how governments should handle such problems.

Yet for all of this, we shouldn’t portray the desires of a public safety net as foolish. An array of circumstances will crash on us in life; powerful forces reigning out of our control. Layoffs. Disability. Inflation. Housing. Health care. Natural disasters. The list goes on for the heartaches we face. It is therefore in the interest of the public to offer relief, not only from a sense of charity but for the aim of government policies to bring greater order. These ideas aren’t insane. The need for stability is real. Programs like SNAP can offer a societal solution without demonizations.

But as much as we like simplicity, there is no one way for the world to classify everyone. Are SNAP recipients lazy, or are they innocent? The shades of grey are abundant, and I don’t have a grand answer on public policy. So as we enter the holiday season, let’s recognize our personal ability to help others. The media stopped talking about the forty-two million, as they tend to do with societal problems when an event resolves. SNAP recipients again have their lifelines—or their welfare, however you look at it. But their stories are far from over. So let’s move forward as a nation on the lookout for each of us to serve the least of these. Perhaps this would be the best opinions of all.

 

*As a fiscal hawk, I’m compelled to point out that America is $37 trillion in debt and climbing. So programs like SNAP aren’t funded by taxpayer money. They’re funded by China and other nations buying our debt. So it’s personally hard for me to accept America as being charitable when the funds are coming from other countries. Just a thought.

**See Genesis 1, Isaiah 65, and 2 Thessalonians 3. As much as conservatives like to beat us over the head with the last of these, it’s there for our reckoning.

***I would highly recommend the book Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City, by Matthew Desmond. It’s a deep dive into the constant struggles and heartaches of the poor.