And I don't like moving.
I had to be dragged kicking and screaming from San Francisco four years ago. Upon arriving in North Carolina, it took me quite a while to adjust. Fortunately, about a year into my time here, my wife Amy and I had the great good fortune of finding a lovely little house that we dubbed The Gingerbread Loveshack. It's got cedar shingle siding, a wraparound porch and sits in a lovely little clearing in the woods on a dead end country road that is only a five minute drive from the center of town.
Yesterday, our landlord came by to tell us that she would be moving back into the house and therefore would not be renewing our lease. I was - and remain - relatively devastated by this news. There is, of course, the inconvenience of moving while writing my dissertation and, potentially, within nine months or so of when we may leave Carolina for good. But, mainly, I am just sad about having to leave a house that I have come to love perhaps more than any other place that I have lived. In spite of the cracked bathroom floor, the doors that don't line up quite right, the heater that doesn't work and all of the other little quirks of this funny old place, it has become my home. Spiritually, it belonged to us, and I am sure that it will be sad to see us leave. But, legally, it belongs to our landlord. Grumble, grumble.
So my conservative nature is quite disturbed by this move. But my attitude changes dramatically based on my perspective about the future. When I let myself believe that we will not find a place as good as this one and that moving will be a horrendous hassle that will disrupt my dissertation process, I get even more set in my ways, even more grumpy and resistant to this change.
If, on the other hand, I cultivate a positive perspective - that remembers that people move all of the time, that we may find a place even better than this one, and that this is a good way to start cutting my emotional ties to Carolina anyway - I find that my attitude improves dramatically. It is much easier to be personally progressive, rather than personally conservative, if I have hope for the future.
The same is true, I believe, for political progressivism and political conservatism. I am somewhat convinced that, on a fundamental level, all of the intellectual arguments to support political conservatism are essentially psychological rationalizations of an inherent personal fear of change. This isn't to say that we should embrace constant revolutioneering or should dispose of our longstanding cultural and political institutions as so much stuffy old irrelevant nonsense.
But human nature is inherently conservative, inherently fearful. The role of political leadership may be to provide that hopeful vision that allows societies to continue evolving. Because I do believe in progress. Not that it is inevitable but that it is possible.
Belief in progress is a courageous position. Believing that we can incorporate and accommodate different ways of living into the traditional definition of marriage, for example, is quite bold.
There is a widely-reported upon phenomenon within the Christian community right now called "Godmen." Their idea is that Christianity has become overly feminized, and therefore that it is difficult for men to identify with Jesus (as She-Man rather than as He-Man). And the truth about Jesus might be that, well, he was kind of a badass ...
"He's been domesticated," says Roland Martinson, a professor of ministry at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minn. "He's portrayed now as gentle, loving, kind, rather than as a full-bodied person who kicked over tables in the temple, spent 40 days in the wilderness wrestling with his identity and with God, hung out with the guys in the street. The rough-hewn edges and courage ... got lopped off."
Without trafficking too much in childish gender stereotypes, I think that is possible to observe that political progressivism might have been equally inappropriately wussified. The irony here is that progressivism is actually a much more courageous position than conservatism. Yet conservatives see themselves as men's men, so very manly that they actual feel a swell of pride rather than a nauseous revulsion every time that "This is oooour country" Chevy commercial comes on. Yes ... that bold ... that manly.
But who was exhibiting the real courage on society? The women who fought for the Equal Rights Amendment or those who used the accumulated force of centuries of repression to defeat them? Those who marched with Martin Luther King or those who broke out the firehoses and billyclubs to oppress them? And which position on foreign policy is more courageous: the one that says we must kill with our superior firepower all who oppose us or the one that believes that we can work with people from other cultures and backgrounds to confront the threat of terrorism?
And the irony of ironies is that some of the people who are supposed to be helping progressives win the communications war play directly into this dynamic themselves. George Lakoff, he of Don't Think of an Elephant, the widely-praised book on how Democrats need to frame the debate, divides the moral systems of Democrats and Republicans into two simple schema. The Republicans believe in the "strict father" model of domestic and foreign affairs; the Democrats believe in the "nuturant parent" model. According to Lakoff, the solution for the Democrats is to "activate (the nurturant) world view and moral system in their political decisions." Whatever that means.
Whether or not this is true, his very conceptulization of the Democratic message itself plays perfectly into the hands of those who would brand progressives as weak. Which isn't to say that nuturant parents are bad or that I am advocating on behalf of Senator Jim "Born Fighting" Webb "manly" progressivism. True success certainly doesn't come from sinking into simplified gender stereotyping. And even framing, in general, may be something that it only makes sense to think about if you are a Berkeley linguist (or a Carolina political scientist ...) Because courage is the birthright of all political progressives, not a frame we adopt for partisan advantage. Courage, hope and vision is what binds us together.
On a core level, the difference between acceptance of the message of political progressives and that of political conservatives is one's attitude about the future. If you believe in possibility that the world around you can change for the better, you may be more likely to believe in the politics of change, the politics of possibility. Hence the young are more progressive. Hence fear-inspiring events such as 9/11 make people more conservative. The personal is political. What you believe in your heart is what you will believe about the world.
So I am going to struggle not to be devastated about this move because fear of change in my own life begets closemindedness in my attitude about the world. I am going to enjoy the ride and welcome the next chapter. As Snoop and Dre might say, "just chill ... 'til the next episode."
But it's difficult to do. And it takes courage. But, hey, I can do it. This is myyyyy cooounntryyy!