Why Do I Vote the Way I Do?

I'm currently reading a book by David Brooks (columnist for The New York Times) called The Social Animal. He uses a technique of novelistic writing patterned after Jean-Jacques Rousseau's Emile, where the main characters typify stages of life from birth through death. He bases these stages on current research in various fields of study and provides end notes for people (like me) who like to know where he's getting his information from. I found one chapter particularly interesting in that it addresses why people tend to gravitate towards one political party or another, and how or why we choose candidates to vote for. Brooks at one point writes that people don't choose to be a Democrat because (for example) they value equal opportunity; rather, they become Democrats first, and then place increasing value on equal opportunity. Or people don't become Republicans because they value limited government; rather, they become Republicans first, then place increasing value on limited government. "Party affiliation often shapes values, not the other way around," he writes.

It becomes clearer to me the older I get that political and maybe even religious affiliations are not taught or learned but are (perhaps) innate. I'm a Republican not because I understand or agree with everything the party stands for but because something about the Republican worldview resonates with me. I assume that's true for others in terms of their party affiliation. David Brooks cites a study by a Princeton political scientist who concluded that partisan loyalties "have a pervasive influence on how people see the world," and that it's not possible (through education or argument, for example) to eradicate these loyalties. So people from different parties might quarrel with each other about whether one candidate is better than another, but we probably won't succeed in convincing the other to change their minds about a candidate.

This thought occurred to me the other day, listening to my (Democratic) father talk about how pleased he was that the Nixon Library was now including materials in their archives that reflect the truth about Richard Nixon rather than trying to preserve or maintain a positive image and whitewash the history of his corruption. Listening to my dad, I wondered how he would react to recent reports about President Obama's treatment (for example) of Cory Booker, the Newark mayor who had the gall to criticize Obama publicly for comments (Obama) made about Bain Capital. Booker is now officially "dead" to Obama, any hopes of finding a place in his second-term administration all but vanished. Or what about the new Obama policy requiring journalists to use government-issued computers, government-selected software, and government-owned Internet transmission lines only to write stories about the economic data issued by the Department of Labor?  Positively, creepily Nixonian. Upon hearing stories like this, would my dad shudder and cast a vote for Romney instead? Not likely.

Trying to understand why people differ when it comes to politics, and why people can't be reasoned away from their partisan loyalties, is probably impossible. These things are deeply entrenched in our souls, our psyches. One way to bridge the divide that has poisoned our culture would be to not think ill of the other but to acknowledge that politics are a reflection of something deep inside us that we value or trust. We shouldn't despise each other for these differences. Sometimes I feel that's how my dad and other left-leaning relatives look at me, as if my being a Republican is despicable. 

One concern I have regarding my left-leaning relatives is that they don't actually listen to conservative viewpoints. I read somewhere that conservatives tend to listen more often to liberal ideas more than liberals listen to conservative ideas. Perhaps this has something to do with the prevalence and pervasiveness of the liberal point of view on television and in mainstream media outlets whereas one must actually seek out conservative views on talk radio or conservative websites (which is what I do). Another possibility is that left-leaning people find conservative views repugnant, perhaps even evil, which is why they won't listen to or read conservative ideas. Perhaps right-leaning people do this, as well. It takes discipline to actually read and process other viewpoints. Most of us prefer to have our own views corroborated, not challenged.

I've often wanted to ask my left-leaning relatives which which conservative-leaning authors or magazines or websites they read in order to appreciate the other side's way of thinking. It's a rhetorical question because I already know the answer. My dad might cite Jonah Goldberg, but that's only because the Los Angeles Times runs Jonah's column on Tuesday's. My hunch is that my left-leaning family members simply don't "tune in" to conservative conversation or read conservative analysis.

As for me, when I listen to liberal/Democratic perspective on most issues and then compare that perspective to the conservative viewpoint, the conservative ideas just make more sense.

The next book in my queue is by Dennis Prager (Still the Best Hope). One time my dad told me he hated Dennis Prager. I don't understand this hate. I find Mr. Prager to be thoughtful, sensible, very funny, and much more open-minded on many issues (social/moral) than you'd expect. More open-minded than me, and more open-minded than my so-called "liberal" dad. On a personal level, I love Prager's Jewishness and find myself wishing at times that my dad had chosen to instill in us his Jewishness--not just cultural (anyone can learn to make matzoh brie) but spiritual. But that's a different subject.

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I'm writing early this morning because I've actually been awake  all night. Monday sort of bled into Tuesday. I did "go to bed" around midnight but didn't sleep, just watched the clock and then got up at 3:29 a.m. before my alarm went off to say goodbye to my Daniel, who left the house for the airport at 4:00 to catch a 6:30 flight to Columbus, Ohio, to embark on his "adult" life. I'm a little bereft, a little sad, yes. I feel the "tug" a bit more this time than I did when Leah left, for some reason. When she moved straight from college to San Francisco, there were still two fledglings left in the nest. Now, five years later, there are none. Elisa graduates from college next year.

I'll post this now and edit later. I'm hungry.