The United States has one of the highest news avoidance rates in the world. Tens of millions of Americans don’t read, watch or listen to the news each day. The media is generally held in low regard. So, is there a better way to report and analyze current events that will satisfy readers’ interests?
This episode is from the Let's Find Common Ground podcast as a part of The Democracy Group.
Dr. Valentina Greco reflects on how accent bias, internalized gatekeeping, and hidden prejudices shape academia—and how true change begins by confronting our own discomfort.
“Do you have a moment?”
I turned and saw my senior colleague, Paul (not his real name), a mentor and sponsor, at my office door.
“Come on in!” I said—excited to have a chat with him.
We engaged in small talk before he said, “I am worried for your career. Would you consider taking classes to correct your accent?”
The air left my body; I was stunned. Where was that coming from?! And why now, when I was thriving professionally? And why me and not my husband, a man also with an accent being considered for a senior role?
After that day, I found it difficult to speak with Paul or anyone. I became painfully aware of my voice. I did not hear my accent, but after Paul’s question, I began to doubt that I could speak English at all. I would say something and immediately wonder—did it come out ok? Was that expression on my interlocutor’s face an indication they did not understand me? I would stutter or find myself unable to recall words I knew well. I felt uncomfortable and alone in a world that just hours ago had been my (professional and personal) home.
As I processed this experience, I was lost in all these feelings. Paul is a good man, and he was my rock. He is and was a thoughtful, kind, and supportive person. In retrospect, I think he meant well. Yet, his impact stays with me until this day.
I also wondered if Paul’s advice was born of his discomfort. Was his solution to the “problem of my accent” intended to solve a problem of his? Could he have considered listening to more non-native speakers to attune his hearing to a more diverse set of accents or asking for clarification when I spoke? If so, perhaps Paul might have been able to see a person who departed her native country at the age of 26 to face uncertainty about her future. He might hear in my accent the cost of learning multiple languages and cultural systems. I felt that Paul’s proposed solution was aimed at fixing something he perceived as “broken” within me by asking me to fit into “professional standards” of the (academic) world.
That experience forced me to confront an uncomfortable truth: I’ve been Paul too.
I remembered Julie (not her real name). A brilliant graduate student who gave an outstanding seminar. As I listened with eagerness and interest, I found myself distracted by what she was wearing and the tone of her voice, which I felt sounded flirtatious. I worried that the men in the audience would only see an attractive woman and miss a scientist with significant intellect and scientific contributions. After the seminar, I offered her feedback. I covered the scientific part first. Then, a little warily, I expressed my concerns about her attire and tone of voice. I don’t remember how Julie reacted, except that we talked for a while about my feedback.
A few weeks later, I was sitting with colleagues, and I described what had happened with Julie. A male colleague said that he had heard that Julie had not taken my feedback well. I was surprised. I thought I was shedding light on the sexist structure of our profession! My male colleague couldn’t possibly understand the double standard we women have to deal with! But was I preparing her for the world, or was I projecting my own fears? I became the gatekeeper of what is “professional standard."
This is how gatekeeping works and is enforced.
We live and work within a prejudicial system that expresses itself within academia and each of us through countless examples, such as the ones described above. Academic standards for professionalism are rooted in so many forms of oppression that strip every inch of self-expression. Accents, clothes, hair, our arguments, and pitches of our voices, the list is endless. While many of us spend large parts of our lives cultivating our individuality, those same characteristics are weaponized against us.
As I reflect on my own characteristics and behaviors, I recognize that I have adopted many different ways to cope, deal, prevent, and defend. I often wonder if my fast talking and constant smiling are part of a version of myself that evolved from a belief that I would be given little space or time to make my points, and that it was my role to make others comfortable with my friendly facial expressions. Smiling is good. Making people feel comfortable is good. But are these just tools for survival in a world primed to bend and dismiss me?
I realize now that the cost of “survival” and adapting is too high. We lose extraordinary scientists who are tired of shrinking themselves to fit. We lose their ideas, their creativity, their insights. We lose them because we fail to see how the system works through us. We ought to name these status quos and challenge them as they silence the voices of scientists, make them question their contributions and credibility, and deter women at all stages of their careers because of the friction they experience daily.
When I think back on Paul’s comment, I realize how easily I became him with Julie. Both moments came from caring and both upheld the very standards of oppression. I now know it when I see it—I see my reaction that stings. Then, I pause, I can now name it, I watch it, and I smile internally. I smile not to soothe it but to acknowledge the bias still living in me. Because that is how change begins. Each of us has the power and the obligation to notice when discomfort drives our judgement, when our “help” is really about control, and when our advice asks others to disappear. If we want an equitable academic world, we must start by listening to the dissonance within ourselves.
So I ask you: when have you been the gatekeeper?
Dr. Valentina Greco is a Carolyn Walch Slayman Professor of Genetics at Yale University, Howard Hughes Medical Institute Investigator, a member of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, and a fellow with The OpEd Project. Opinions are her own and do not reflect those of her employers.
A call to rethink AI governance argues that the real danger isn’t what AI might do—but what we’ll fail to do with it. Meet TFWM: The Future We’ll Miss.
We’re all familiar with the motivating cry of “YOLO” right before you do something on the edge of stupidity and exhilaration.
We’ve all seen the “TL;DR” section that shares the key takeaways from a long article.
And, we’ve all experienced “FOMO” when our friends make plans and we feel compelled to tag along just to make sure we’re not left on the sidelines of an epic experience.
Let’s give a name to our age’s most haunting anxiety: TFWM—The Future We’ll Miss. It’s the recognition that future generations may ask why, when faced with tools to cure, create, and connect, we chose to maintain the status quo. Let’s run through a few examples to make this a little clearer:
I could go on (and I will in future posts). The point is that in several domains, we’re making the affirmative choice to extend the status quo despite viable alternatives to further human flourishing. Barriers to spreading these AI tools across jurisdictions are eminently solvable. Whether it’s budgetary constraints, regulatory hurdles, or public skepticism, all of these hindrances can be removed with enough political will.
So, why am I trying to make #TFWM a “thing"? In other words, why is it important to increase awareness of this perspective? The AI debate is being framed by questions that have distracted us from the practical policy challenges we need to address to bring about a better future.
The first set of distracting questions is some variant of: "Will AI become a sentient overlord and end humanity?" This is a debate about a speculative, distant future that conveniently distracts us from the very real, immediate lives we could be saving today.
The second set of questions is along the lines of “How many jobs will AI destroy?” This is a valid, but defensive and incomplete, question. It frames innovation as a zero-sum threat rather than asking the more productive question: “How can we deploy these tools to make our work more meaningful, creative, and valuable?”
Finally, there’s a tranche of questions related to some of the technical aspects of AI, like “Can we even trust what it says?” This concern over AI "hallucinations," while a real technical challenge, is often used to dismiss the technology's proven, superhuman accuracy in specific, life-saving domains, such as in medical settings.
A common thread ties these inquiries together. These questions are passive. They ask, “What will AI do to us?”
TFWM flips the script. It demands we ask the active and urgent question: “What will we fail to do with AI?”
The real risk isn't just that AI might go wrong. The real, measurable risk is that we won't let it go right. The tragedy is not a robot uprising that makes for good sci-fi but bad public policy; it's the preventable cancer, the missed storm warning, the failed drug trial. The problem isn't the technology; it's our failure of political will and, more pointedly, our failure of legal and regulatory imagination.
This brings us to why TFWM needs to be a "thing."
FOMO, for all its triviality, is a powerful motivator. It’s a personal anxiety that causes action. It gets you off the couch, into the Lyft, and into the party.
TFWM must become our new civic anxiety. It’s not the fear of missing a party; it's the fear of being judged by posterity. It is the deep, haunting dread that our grandchildren will look back at this moment of historic opportunity and ask us, “You had the tools to solve this. Why didn't you?”
This perspective creates the political will we desperately need. It reframes our entire approach to governance. It shifts the burden of proof from innovators to the status quo. The question is no longer, "Can you prove this new tool is 100% perfect and carries zero risk?" The question becomes, "Can you prove that our current system—with all its human error, bias, cost, and delay—is better than the alternative?"
YOLO, FOMO, and TL;DR are shorthand for navigating our personal lives. TFWM is the shorthand for our collective responsibility. The status quo is not a safe, neutral position. It is an active choice, and it has a body count. The future we'll miss isn't inevitable. It's a decision. And right now, we are deciding to miss it every single day we fail to act.
Kevin Frazier is an AI Innovation and Law Fellow at Texas Law and author of the Appleseed AI substack.
Almost immediately after being sworn in again, President Trump fired the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, a Black man.
Chairman Brown, a F-16 pilot, is the same General who in 2021 spoke directly into the camera for a recruitment commercial and said: “When I’m flying, I put my helmet on, my visor down, my mask up. You don’t know who I am—whether I’m African American, Asian American, Hispanic, White, male, or female. You just know I’m an American Airman, kicking your butt.” He got kicked off his post. The first-ever female Chief of Naval Operations was fired, too.
These were the warning shots. Now, Secretary of War Pete Hegseth has fired or blocked the promotions of at least two dozen military leaders at the highest level. It is unprecedented and highly troubling.
Of course, these actions undermine the military’s credibility as an apolitical force for good. But critically, they also come at a time when our military already faces recruitment challenges and a declining public trust. The Army fell short of its recruitment goal by 10,000 soldiers in 2023, while the Navy and Air Force also missed their targets. The public’s confidence in the military is at its lowest level in two decades, and only about 10% of young people express any interest in enlisting. The vast majority of Americans want the military to remain apolitical, and deploying troops to American cities can’t have helped that image. Meanwhile, at great cost to the taxpayer, Hegseth recently rallied hundreds of generals and admirals to assemble for a speech where he made it clear they could get on board or get out.
Unless you’re a straight white male with an anti-woke agenda, good luck. A new memo on shaving standards is a thinly veiled attempt to disqualify Black men, about 60% of whom face a medical condition that can lead to painful irritation from shaving. Despite past efforts to improve recruitment and retention of women, the likelihood of separation for women is 28% higher than for men, largely attributed to sexual assault, family planning, and childcare, which are inherently DEI issues. And because one sailor performed on an aircraft carrier in drag once, Hegseth stripped the commander of that carrier of his nomination to be vice admiral and commander of Seventh Fleet. Therefore, since June, at a time when our Pacific presence is more important than ever, no commander has been designated next for the largest overseas force in the Navy.
For the most racially and ethnically diverse generation in U.S. history, diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) are increasingly seen as essential values in the workplace. According to Forbes, “brands that make inclusivity part of their core mission…will win the hearts and minds of a new generation of citizens.” The flip side of the coin is that 76% of millennial workers would leave a job if DEI initiatives were not offered, and 75% of Gen Z workers might not even apply to a company lacking sufficient DEI efforts.
For all those kids who are the least bit different, turning 18, observing military leadership, and wondering if there might be a future for them among the ranks, this Administration is hitting them with a resounding no. When the next class of recruits generationally are pro-DEI, it’s a miscalculation for the Department of War to be at war with DEI.
On a personal level, meeting people from so many backgrounds was one of my favorite parts of being in the Navy. I do believe diversity is a force multiplier and a “critical component of being successful on a global scale.” That being said, as a queer, Jewish, female Naval aviator who got a law degree in my free time while active duty, I got out of the military after ten years this June because I didn’t think my other-ness would last much longer with this new leadership.
Even if it wasn’t proven that diverse teams perform better, it still might actually be useful to embrace diversity for the sake of keeping numbers up. The year General Brown released the “helmet” video, it was one of the most-viewed videos on the Air Force and Space Force recruiting channel, and the Air Force’s top recruiter called it a slam dunk. Instead, current anti-DEI actions threaten to affect recruitment, retention, and overall readiness negatively. Hegseth and Trump are playing fast and loose with our country’s defense in the “fight” against “woke.” We must fight back.
The American people can push for accountability and transparency. We can pressure Congress to hold oversight hearings, establish an independent oversight committee, call for a review of promotion and removal criteria, and vote for representatives who support these ideas. We can also speak out against a press policy that serves to exclude investigative journalism from properly covering the military. If anti-DEI animus is what’s really driving decision-making, we can expose it. Then we can steer the military back toward standards that actually keep this country safe and strong.Julie Roland has deployed to the South China Sea and the Persian Gulf as a helicopter pilot before separating from the Navy in June 2025 as a Lieutenant Commander. She graduated law school from the University of San Diego, is currently pursuing a Master of Laws from Columbia University, and is the director of the San Diego chapter of the Truman National Security Project.
Liliana Mason
In the aftermath of the killing of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, the threat of political violence has become a topic of urgent concern in the United States. While public support for political violence remains low—according to Sean Westwood of the Polarization Research Lab, fewer than 2 percent of Americans believe that political murder is acceptable—even isolated incidence of political violence can have a corrosive effect.
According to political scientist Lilliana Mason, political violence amounts to a rejection of democracy. “If a person has used violence to achieve a political goal, then they’ve given up on the democratic process,” says Mason, “Instead, they’re trying to use force to affect government.”
Mason, a professor at Johns Hopkins University, has devoted her professional career to the study of American partisanship. In her first book, Uncivil Agreement: How Politics Became Our Identity, she looked at the social sorting of Democrats and Republicans into increasingly hostile parties. This was followed by Radical American Partisanship: Mapping Violent Hostility, Its Causes, and the Consequences for Democracy (co-authored with Nathan P. Kalmoe), which used national opinion surveys to document the spread of radical beliefs among Americans, both left and right.
Mason comes away from her research with deep concerns about the state of American democracy. According to Mason and Kalmoe, “the data is undeniable: although public support for political violence is increasing across the partisan spectrum, people on the Right are far likelier to translate this sentiment into real-world, violent action.”
Mason recently sat down with Greg Berman, The Harry Frank Guggenheim Foundation’s distinguished fellow of practice, to discuss her research. The following transcript of their conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
Greg Berman: In recent years, we have seen two assassination attempts on Donald Trump and the storming of the US Capitol. This suggests to me that we're currently in a very dark place. On the other hand, if you zoom out a little bit, there have certainly been periods in American history where political violence was much more widespread than it is today. I guess my question is: How worried should we be about polarization and political violence in our country right now?
Lilliana Mason: In terms of polarization, it's probably as bad as it can get. The way that we think about each other as partisans is deeply distrustful and even vilifying and dehumanizing. Having vilifying and dehumanizing beliefs about another group doesn't always lead to mass violence, but when mass violence does occur, those beliefs are usually there beforehand.
Now, we still have relatively strong norms against political violence in the US. Even in the worst numbers that we find, there is still something like 80 percent of Americans who think that violence should never be used to achieve political goals. But the worrisome part is that we went from 7 percent of people approving of political violence in 2017 to 20 percent today. That’s potentially significant.
Let's be clear: the people who do engage in political violence are generally unwell people. In some cases, like the assassination attempt against Trump [in Pennsylvania], it was clearly a plea for attention—that kid could just as easily have been a school shooter. The guy in Minnesota [who killed a lawmaker and her husband] was also having a mental health event. I think that what political polarization does is take people who are already unstable and point them in the direction of politics. They are being fed information that makes them believe that there's an existential threat coming from the other side. That’s what creates political violence.
In your book, Radical American Partisanship, you compare Democrats and Republicans across a variety of measures and find that there’s not much difference in terms of radicalization. But you don’t believe that both parties are equally responsible for our current political situation. Walk me through the difference that you see between the two parties.
We do see similar levels of vilifying attitudes in the electorate as a whole. But when it comes to actual violent political events, they're just unimaginably more prevalent on the right. Right-wing domestic terrorism has outpaced all other kinds of domestic terrorism in the United States.
We can't exactly identify why, but there does seem to be pretty clear evidence that political rhetoric on the right is much more vilifying than rhetoric on the left. You find a lot more far-right media that explicitly says things like, “Democrats are violent criminals, and they're coming to hurt your family.” The types of storylines that we see in right-wing media are just much more extreme in terms of their intent to vilify Democrats and people on the left in general.
The other thing that I would say is that we know that approval of political violence is correlated with anti-pluralistic and anti-egalitarian attitudes. Racism, Christian nationalism, replacement theory… those types of attitudes tend to be associated with approval of political violence. And those kinds of attitudes are more prevalent on the right.
The reason that Democrats and Republicans hate each other right now is that they're having a fight about questions that are truly existential. The people who are the most vilifying and dehumanizing of their opponents are Republicans who are high in racial resentment and Democrats who are low in racial resentment. These Republicans say that Democrats are subhuman because they're minorities. And the Democrats say that Republicans are subhuman because they're racist. The fact that vilifying attitudes are equally prevalent on both sides doesn't mean that the moral argument is the same on both sides. The current project of the Right is to undo our pluralistic, multi-ethnic democracy. And so this isn’t just a normal political fight.
What impact, if any, has Trump had on all of this?
In a 2021 American Political Science Review article I wrote with some co-authors, I looked at a unique data set. Basically, in 2011, something like nine thousand people were interviewed, and then they were reinterviewed in 2016, 17, 18, 19, and 20. 2011 was before Trump was a major political figure, so this enabled us to ask a basic question: Did Trump encourage people to be more racist or did Trump bring already racist people into the Republican Party? And I think we have pretty good evidence that it's the latter. The people who liked Trump in 2018, when you go back to 2011 and ask what they had in common, you see that those people were much more likely to dislike traditionally marginalized groups like Latinos, Muslims, African Americans, and LGBT people. Trump brought those people into the Republican Party. They were largely independents in 2011. Trump made the Republican Party a comfortable place for them.
Don’t get me wrong: these attitudes existed in the Republican Party before Trump, but they tended to be the minority of the party before he came in. When Trump came in, he essentially empowered the ethno-nationalist faction of Americans. That faction is now in control of one of our political parties. This wouldn't be as much of a problem if we had more than two political parties, but because we only have two, they can control the levers of government.
It feels like there is a lot of anger out there at the moment. It is unclear to me to what extent Trump has created this problem and to what extent he is a symptom of this problem.
The problem definitely didn’t start with Trump. You can go back to Rush Limbaugh, who said things like “The Democrats are evil and they're coming to get you and your family.” That type of rhetoric became really popular in the 1980s when Limbaugh had his AM radio show.
And then, when the Republican majority came into power in the 1990s, Newt Gingrich had the GOPAC memo, where he basically laid out a vocabulary list of words that Republicans should use to describe Democrats. And that really did change the tenor of how political leaders talked. Before Gingrich, it was considered kind of uncouth to use that type of language.
And then, of course, in 1996, we get Fox News. In the beginning, Fox News was not explicitly a project about vilifying the Left and pushing right-wing talking points, but by 2001, it had become a very explicitly pro-Republican news source.
So I don't think that Trump started it. I think that he is an outgrowth of decades of extremist right-wing rhetoric.
I've always taken some comfort from issue polling, which suggests that Americans are actually not that far apart ideologically, even when it comes to controversial issues. But in Uncivil Agreement, you argue that partisans don't have to hold extreme positions in order to grow increasingly biased against their political opponents. Walk me through how that works.
A while ago, I worked on some experiments where I had people read blog posts that threatened either their issue positions or the status of their political party. So one group of blog posts said things like “If this person is elected, we're not going to have abortion rights anymore” or “We're not going to have health care anymore.” Another set said things like, “If this person is elected, no one is going to like Democrats anymore. Everyone is going to hate us and we're going to lose elections.” And what we found was that the partisan messages make people a lot angrier than the issue-based messages.
I have also looked at the extremity of people's issue positions versus the strength of their identification with the label “liberal” or “conservative.” What I found was that if someone identifies really strongly with one of those labels, then they really hate people in the other ideological category, regardless of what their policy attitudes are. I looked specifically at the most liberal people who nonetheless identify as conservative. These are people who hold liberal policy preferences, but they identify as conservative. That identification still makes them hate liberals, even though they hold very similar policy preferences.
What most of the data show is that we do have a lot of policy preferences in common. There are huge proportions of Americans that agree on even divisive issues like abortion and guns. So we have a lot of common ground, but we deeply hate each other. And that's based in identity.
One of the themes that runs through your work is a concern about social sorting and how our political parties are overlapping with other categories like geography and gender. Given this, I’m wondering how you read the results of the most recent presidential election. The exit polls suggest that Trump was actually a force for racial depolarization, attracting greater numbers of Blacks, Hispanics, and Asian American voters to the Republican Party.
Just being a member of a minority group doesn't mean that you don't dislike other minorities. Whatever resentments you might have against other groups of people, Trump activated those. I think the reality is that there are plenty of Black Americans who don't like LGBT people. There are plenty of Muslims who don't like LGBT people. There are plenty of Latinos that don't like Black people.
What I've found in my more recent research is that the people who voted for Trump in 2024 were really motivated by attitudes about the appropriate roles of men and women in society. A lot of people, despite being a member of a racial minority group, voted for Trump on this basis. They were not voting based on the interests of their racial group, but on the interests of their gender group. The people of color that were voting for Trump were generally men.
Men of all races are listening to the manosphere bro podcasts, which really like Trump. They like the way that he talks. They think he's funny. Bloomberg did a really good analysis of the content of the nine most popular bro podcasts in the year leading up to the election. And they basically found that, as we got closer to the election, these podcasts started talking more about transgender issues and about distrusting medical science and about how the economy was terrible. These podcasts are disproportionately listened to by men of all races. So the stories that these people were hearing were stories that were about how you can't trust the establishment and you should be worried about the economy and that Trump is going to be able to fix all that.
How much do you blame social media for our current political environment?
I think social media has some responsibility, for sure. Particularly algorithmic social media. Because we know that in the two weeks before the election in 2020, Facebook changed their algorithm to promote happy news instead of angry things. And they lost engagement. So they changed it back after the election.
To the extent that we are being rewarded for being angry all the time on social media, I think that's definitely making things worse. It's actively changing norms. Now the norm is to be extremely rude and harassing rather than the traditional way of thinking about politics, which was that you have to be serious when you're talking about the government.
It's like the kids have taken over the elementary school, like the principal is gone. And so we're just going to get rid of all the rules. Trump's approach was basically, “I'm just going to say all the things that you're not supposed to say. And that's going to be really fun.” There's probably some connection with social media, but I think that political leadership still has a lot to do with it. I don't think that social media alone would have done this if we didn't have political leaders willing to behave this way. It's probably symbiotic in some way.
In recent months, we’ve seen a few prominent examples of left-wing political violence, including the killing of the UnitedHealthcare CEO, as well as acts of violence against Jews that seem to have been motivated by the war in Gaza. Are you concerned that we could be on the brink of more left-wing political violence?
The antisemitic violence is not surprising to me in that the language used to describe what’s happening in Gaza is very similar to the kind of existential language that is prevalent in right-wing, conspiracy theorist circles. It's about genocide. It's about good versus evil. You know, you cannot compromise with evil. So I'm not surprised that there's been violence coming out of the Left related to this issue. That’s not to say that this kind of rhetoric is not appropriate. It really does feel existential, I think, to a lot of people.
In terms of the UnitedHealthcare CEO, I'm not sure how political that was. I feel like that was done by a guy who was just troubled and struggling.
Some of the response to that murder from left-wing commentators was not exactly full-throated condemnation.
I didn't hear that as much from elites as I heard it from random people on Bluesky. There’s a real difference in the standards that we have for Democrats and Republicans these days. When one Democrat on Bluesky says something, it's taken to be emblematic of the entire party. But most of the Democratic leadership really doesn't use extremist language. Whereas on the right, we see extremist language coming from the president of the United States. I think a lot of Democratic voters are really frustrated with the lack of passion coming from the Democratic leadership. They think the party is not being angry enough.
Talk to me about the role that institutions can play in moderating the behavior of Americans. Am I wrong to think that part of the problem with polarization in the US right now is that people are not participating in institutions, or trusting institutions, the way that they used to in the past?
The Bowling Alone argument suggests that we're not part of communities in the way that we used to be. And communities are important because that's how we get our norms. That's how our norms are enforced. So to the extent that we're not part of communities anymore, then norms are not being enforced to the same degree.
I do think that COVID played a pretty big role in ways that I don't think we're going to be able to see for a long time. What COVID did was drive people online and away from each other. We're now having political conversations online. And a lot of people went online during COVID to find comforting information. In that context, comforting information was “COVID is not real. It's not going to kill you. It's not going to kill anybody.” That type of misinformation was really attractive during a global pandemic.
We have institutions in part to tell people what's real and what's not real. Those institutions are failing. I've listened to focus groups with Trump supporters, and the things that they're talking about are things I've never heard of before. These people have entire soap operas that they're worried about that are not real, that are not based in science. The type of institutions that might help these people find some more information and look at the evidence are collapsing, if they haven’t already collapsed. I don't know who can play that role anymore. Our political leadership is pushing misinformation and condemning science, and eliminating evidence from government websites.
I get the sense from reading your work that you don't consider the looting and property destruction that have attended some political protests in recent years to be political violence. Am I reading that correctly?
That kind of thing can certainly be political violence. But in general, the thing that I'm most worried about is hurting people. That’s the political violence that I think is the most damaging to democracy. Protest is democratic. Protest is 100 percent protected by the First Amendment. Protests are often a sign of a healthy democracy and people having their voices heard. So, to the extent that property damage is associated with protests, I don't want to paint all protests as violent.
While you're obviously deeply concerned about political violence, you take pains not to say that all political violence is bad. When is political violence justified in your mind?
If we ask Americans, “Was the Civil War justified?” Most people would say, “Yes, we needed to end slavery.” The vast majority of Americans would also say that the Revolutionary War was justified. So the context is always important. And a lot of the questions that we tend to ask about political violence are context-free. A lot depends on what the violence is trying to achieve. In general, we tend to agree that violence that is meant to increase the level of equality in the country is more justified than violence that's intended to oppress people. The context matters. Political violence is sometimes okay if we're fighting for a more just future.
What gives you hope these days?
The reason everything is so hard and tense and polarized right now is that we're fighting over some pretty existential questions about who belongs in America and who deserves the full rights and protection of the Constitution.
As a country, we have made so much progress toward racial equality and gender equality over the last fifty years. My mom couldn't get a bank account without her husband's permission until she was twenty-eight years old. We just marked the sixtieth anniversary of the Voting Rights Act. We've only had the right to same-sex marriage for ten years. In historical terms, these changes have been extremely rapid.
That kind of change can’t happen without some kind of backlash from the people who previously held power. There's no way for us to make progress without living through this resistance to it. We're just in the struggle right now. But it would be extremely naive to imagine that we could make this much progress and not have a strong backlash.
Maybe that makes my final question irrelevant. I was going to ask you where we should be making investments if the goal was to reduce polarization and political violence in the United States. But maybe you think polarization is necessary right now because we need to fight an authoritarian movement on the right.
I certainly don't think polarization is always a bad thing. The world was polarized against the Nazis during World War II, right? I think polarization becomes bad, specifically within a democracy, when it obscures reality and political accountability. If we're so polarized that we can't believe anything bad about our own side, and that we will never vote against our own side, that undermines democracy.
If I were putting a lot of money somewhere, I would actually put it into local media. I would like to rebuild local news because many people will only trust information when they’re reading it next to the high school football scores and whatever is happening at the farmer's market on Saturday. To the extent that people trust media anymore, they trust their local media. And there is really good evidence that the decline of local media has increased political polarization.
This interview is part of The Polarization Project, an interview series by Greg Berman, distinguished fellow of practice at The Harry Frank Guggenheim Foundation, co-editor of Vital City, and co-author of "Gradual: The Case for Incremental Change in a Radical Age."This article originally appeared on HFG.org and has been republished with permission.
