Why Can't We Be Friends?
“I seen you around for a long, long time
I remembered you when you drank my wine”
The recent election reminded us, once again, that the two-party partisan political system is not in a position to uncover common ground and is only likely to double down on division over the next two years. George Washington warned of this moment 226 years ago in his Farewell Address:
“Let me now … warn you in the most solemn manner against the baneful effects of the spirit of party .. This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root in the strongest passions of the human mind … The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. The disorders and miseries, which result, gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation, on the ruins of Public Liberty … It serves always to distract the Public Councils, and enfeeble the Public Administration. It agitates the Community with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms; kindles the animosity of one part against another, foments occasionally riot and insurrection. It opens the door to foreign influence and corruption, which find a facilitated access to the government itself through the channels of party passions.”
The American Experiment has been fueled by passion from its inception. Yet, as combustible as a passion for one’s perspectives and a party can be, it has been moderated by a broadly shared vision for the common good as expressed in our founding documents, notably the Declaration of Independence:
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
We can remember times of division in our country (when have there not been competing perspectives of Life, Liberty, and Happiness?), but despite this (or because of it), we have always affirmed our commitment to a universal humanity and a shared aspiration for mutual flourishing.
Last week I was able to attend Stories of Surrender, Bono’s book tour. In his monologue and performance, he echoed sentiments given in a speech this spring when he received the Fulbright Prize for International Understanding, in which he reflected on the song “America”:
“Redemption—isn’t that an American song? So the song (America) isn’t the same one that we thought we knew. Turns out the song is still to be written. The American song. It might be, America might be, the greatest song the world has never heard—yet.
Think about that. America might be the greatest song the world has yet to hear. It’s a wild thought. It’s an exciting thought that after 246 years of this struggle for freedom, after 246 years of inching and crawling towards freedom, sometimes on your belly, sometimes on your knees, sometimes marching, sometimes striding, this might be the moment you let freedom ring.”
I believe that as a people, we still do have a commitment to a universal humanity and a shared aspiration for mutual flourishing. The commitment is sung daily through our living by and working with people different from ourselves. But we can’t expect the outrage media, the partisan political class, ideological elites, and extreme voices rewarded by social media incentivization to write the lyrics of harmony for us. They all want to sing a different song and a discordant one at that.
We need more songs to share. We need more stories to tell. We need more shared experiences to remind us that we can still be friends.
Over the past year, Clapham has been involved in a number of “bridge-building projects” including an increasing number focused on storytelling as a means of reminding us of what is possible. Compared to the total sum invested in polarization (think of the campaign ads you’ve just been assaulted by), funding for narratives that tell a different, unifying story is just pennies on a dollar. My hope is that more funders, investors, and philanthropists will see the need to create content that rebuilds and redeems rather than destroys and divides.
The Clapham Group is about recovering common ground, reminding our culture that we have more in common than disagreements and that mutual flourishing is embedded in the American Dream. Our theory of social change is informed by the poet Hannah More, who pursued a “reformation of manners” by creating stories to share. I know this is a soapbox that we stand on often here, but we can’t rely on an Irish tenor (who used to be a baritone) to be the only one to sing our praises.
We need to write and sing them together again.
“Why can’t we be friends?
The color of your skin don’t matter to me
As long as we can live in harmony
Why can’t we be friends?”
