Intimate Partner Political Violence

It’s time to reflect on some terrible behavior in our political relationships

I have a confession to make — I’ve run out of empathy for a lot of things recently. It’s made me a harder, colder, more absolutist version of myself. Despite my best intentions, I’ve been opting out of political discussions with the zealous and the genuine alike – with increasing disdain for anyone who didn’t immediately understand my perspective. I feel guilty every time I click away from a discussion I know I can add meaningfully to, but I Just. Can’t. Right. Now.

I want my country to be the best it can be — and I believe that great societies start with good people. My disengagement is not good, politically. While self-care is important, it’s also a really convenient excuse to stop trying. (Disagree with me? @thisisiwt on Twitter!) I’ve seen (and made) bad arguments before, but I was really chilled when I started noticing parallels between political arguments and what a friend escaping an abusive home life endured.

Zoe and Ry

Let’s say you have a friend at work named Zoe. You’ve known her for a while. One Monday, while you two are eating lunch, Zoe tells you about a conversation she had with her partner Ry over the weekend. In the space of an afternoon, Ry told Zoe:

“You know Zoe, if you really cared about me you’d put your feelings aside and focus on mine.”

Followed by:

“Stop crying. You’re not hurt — you’re just being manipulative.”

And later on:

“You just don’t know what you’re talking about, Zoe. Again. Just shut up.”

These statements make you uneasy. You google them, and you see that they are things that people subject to intimate partner violence hear regularly (1). In fact, while you’re talking to Zoe, you find out that she’s been dealing with this for almost a year. Thinking that Zoe needs help, you look up how to get in touch with the National Domestic Violence Hotline.

You tell her that what Ry has been saying is terrible and clearly not true. Obviously Ry is trying to manipulate, abuse, and control her. (2) You remind her that she’s worth so much more than Ry tells her. Faced with the first real support she’s had in a long time, Zoe thanks you. Escape and healing is going to be a long road, but much better than the alternative.

This story is unfortunately common. Many of us can identify abusive interpersonal relationships. Many of us have had conversations with friends, loved ones, and therapists about how to get ourselves or others out of them. Maybe I’m a bit naive, but I honestly believe that few people would sit by and do nothing if they learned a friend was in an abusive relationship.

Why is it, then, that we allow and even laud this kind of rhetorical violence in our political relationships? How did we get here?

Relationships can be abusive – whether personal or political

It’s almost become de rigeur to point to the echo chamber as the main driver of polarization. It’s true that ‘echo chamber’ users drive a great deal of online dialogue, but these rabble rousers make up only 8 percent of social media users (3). It’s a digi-political Pareto Rule — a minority of people drive the majority of dialogue. (See: the Russians-on-Facebook Tour of 2016!)

The character of this echo-chamber chatter has deleterious effects — like presenting the worst parts of our sociopolitical trials as the most reflective of reality. This do-or-dire presentation fuels constant escalation of psychological stakes, which in turn are used to justify and normalize abusive political relationships. If you’re constantly exhausted, who has time for nuance?

Let’s dig into a few common arguments that help sustain the problem.

“If you respect (me/the country/my people), you will put aside your (feelings/experience) and focus on (me/the country/my people).”

An argument employed by abusive spouses and internet denizens with equal zeal, ‘if you cared about me you’d downplay your perspective’ is manipulation masquerading as morality. While sacrifice can be noble, demanding it as a show of respect is not.

If you ask that people downplay essential elements of themselves, it is incumbent on you to show them why they should make the sacrifice. Few causes are so inherently clear that they should command immediate fealty. And no, it’s not good enough to just say “Put yourself aside or the Nazis win!” Are you asking people to stand against Nazis or for your cause? There’s a difference — but more on that later.

“Stop (crying/yelling). You’re just being manipulative.”

Almost as common as “put your feelings aside for me” is “your feelings are clearly just to manipulate me.” This one is kind of insidious — it might not trip your radar as being possibly abusive. In fact, it might even feel right: Who hasn’t been emotionally torqued by someone else’s expression of pain? Shouldn’t we avoid that in politics? Short answer: no.

This repackaging of the dualist fallacy that logic is better than emotion in dignified dialogue is a double whammy of distraction and dismissal. Expressed emotions (even crying and yelling) are often logical outcomes of lived experience s— the substantive processes of politics.

When we only see political emotionality as inappropriate or manipulative, we tie the validity of an entire argument to a single outcome in a complex process. Think of it this way: if a rose on a bush is wilted, do we tell the flower to just get prettier? No, we look at the inputs to the deficit: the soil, the sun, and so on.

Emotional political dialogue often seems wilted. It’s up to us to understand what feeds into that wilting, not rebuke it.

“You just don’t know what you’re talking about. Again. Shut up.”

The easiest place to slide from honest political relationship building to pure toxicity is when ego and identity become the sole arbiter of an argument’s value. Some basic examples:

“If you’ve never had an abortion, you shouldn’t have an opinion on them.”

“If you’re not a veteran, your opinion on the military isn’t valid.”

“If you’ve never been a parent, you should be quiet about vaccination issues.”

If you haven’t heard these, you’ve heard something similar. The echo chambers of the left and right are increasingly relying on identity politics (4) in arguments — both as a way to gatekeep AND reinforce groupthink.

Requiring a particular set of experiences, beliefs, or traits, to validate an argument sets up a power dynamic that easily segways into ‘us-vs-them’. An even more corrosive power play is when the traits defining ‘them’ are stable; try changing a person’s race, or immigration status, or family structure. You can’t easily — and the political abuser knows this. They’ll use this ‘other’ status to push everyone aside as they insist that their identity should take center stage.

What about context

I can hear your cries: “You’re a social psychologist! What about context? Context explains so much of this!”

To which I respond: no, it doesn’t. Context explains that lots of the issues related to the argumentation above are important, some even mortally serious. Does that mean that we can use abusive rhetorical and social shortcuts to deal with them? Again, no.

You respond: “Politics are different than relationships! I’m fighting for the viability of (my culture / my people / my experience)! The other side LITERALLY WANTS TO GET RID OF (trait about me) PEOPLE!”

Some groups’ concerns are factually more true than others — for instance while it’s unlikely that George Soros wants to turn frogs gay (5), or eliminate white people from the US, many groups of people (usually relatively minimized political, racial, or cultural minorities) face (6) dystopic (7) realities (8).

The problem is that these realities are most often ‘proven’ at a high level of abstraction — statistically verified, in ways that are unintelligible to people with different experiences, whose dramatic headlines are built for clicks over clarity. Statistics aside, it’s also common to see emotionally commodified anecdotes used (9) against us psychologically. Like most commodities, they are standardized as to have all nuance and context removed from them — yet you must believe them, or you’re a (traitor/misogynist/Anti-American)!

Ask yourself: when was the last time you were convinced by a statistic? When was the last time that you were convinced by someone yelling at you that you just needed to BELIEVE THEM? If these tactics don’t work on you, how will they work on other people? (If they do work on you — do you ever feel guilty for questioning their validity? If so, you might be in an abusive relationship.)

If you’re asking people for political support or allyship — to be there for you, to share your political life, then you owe them a high standard of care and communication. This is especially true if the people you want on your side are excluded from understanding your experience because of their identity. You must not ignore, minimize, or otherwise abuse people who don’t immediately kowtow to your argument. The burden is on you to convince them, because they, just like you, are people with worth, dignity, and intelligence.

I believe good-intentioned people can disagree on this point, but: if you’re using a rhetorical tactic politically that you wouldn’t use in a healthy interpersonal relationship, you’re at high risk for being politically abusive. You will lose both the moral high ground AND the long-term viability of your cause if you keep it up.

Real talk for the reactive reader

If you’re reacting viscerally to the what I’ve just said, you’re acting like an abuser does. Your effort to minimize the argument and avoid self-reflection means you’re trying to maintain or regain control, rhetorically. Your attitude that ‘the rules don’t apply to you’ are typical of narcissists, and your instant deflection of the impact of your own actions are typical of abusers.

Just like it’s your responsibility to improve yourself in your personal relationships, it’s your responsibility to be a better political partner.

Going towards good

For my zealous readers across the widely varied political spectra, I know that many of you are tired. You’re out of fucks to give. Still, this exasperation does not grant us license to use shortcuts. It’s okay if you missed this: as a society, we’re not used to looking for abusive patterns outside of our interpersonal relationships. Owning that, how can we be better?

1. Ask questions, and actively listen to answers. If you’re going to be a better political partner, you need to meet people where they are — not where you want them to be. Don’t assume why or how someone holds their position — do ask them about it! Remember that active listening means listening — not immediately forming counterarguments. If you’re just waiting for the other person to be quiet, you’re looking to perform a monologue. Don’t.
   
2. Stop assuming that your argument is obvious. Chances are when you discuss your politics, you don’t explain the complexity that led to your positions. Often, we do this because we believe our internal processes are somehow self-evident. They are not. People you’re talking to are not mind readers. If someone doesn’t ‘get it’: Don’t blame them immediately. Explain your position to them. This might even help you understand yourself better!
   
3. Stand for something instead of reacting against everything. Think about your last few political discussions. Did you engage in them because you were reacting against clickbait, a trigger word, a racist uncle? There is a better way! Part of why we get consumed in the political short-term is that reacting against something focuses us on an immediate tactical threat. Standing for something is strategic — it’s inherently a long-view process. It’s okay to hate Nazis — but it’s better to stand for freedom and oppose Nazis as part of your long-term goals.
   
4. Disengage with the disingenuous. Many people practice this, but they do it exclusive of other skills. The digi-political world is exhausting and even physically dangerous for some. Still, we must not mistake our exhaustion and fear for others’ intent, value, or purpose. Once you’ve honed your active listening skills, can articulate your own positions with clarity, and know what you stand for — only then should you start the process of judging others. It’s easy to blame ‘them’ for our feelings, especially if we refuse to engage with ‘them’. If someone truly comes at you from a place of harm, disengage. But do it because of their actions, not because of your heuristics.

Great societies start with good people.

We can be better.

You can do this.