David Brooks wrote a piece recently about the rise of Donald Trump. Brooks, like so many, has been blindsided by Trump's success.
"I was surprised ... because I've slipped into a bad pattern," Brooks, a longtime New York Times columnist, wrote. "[I have spent] large chunks of my life in the bourgeois strata--in professional circles with people with similar status and demographics to my own. It takes an act of will to rip yourself out of that and go where you feel least comfortable."
If he'd interacted more deeply with people from outside his own circles, in other words, he might get their voting patterns more. He might get why so many people in this country feel disenfranchised.
Trump --- and Bernie Sanders, too --- have given voice to deep-seated thoughts and fears that other politicians have glossed over, if they have given voice to them at all.
This election season has served as a kind of wake-up call, and Brooks promised that his column would be different somehow. We all need to be "meeting the neighbors who have become strangers, and listening to what they have to say," he wrote.
I agree.
But I would argue that this better-listening thing doesn't just apply to the journalists, and it doesn't just apply to the "other." Sure, broadening one's social circle to include people with perspectives and backgrounds that are different from your own is always a good thing.
But frankly, the art of asking questions --- even of our nearest and dearest --- is something a lot of us are pretty lousy at. And in my view it really is an art, and one that needs to be cultivated.
Asking questions, and truly listening to the answers, is how we foster relationships. It's how we develop feelings of real community and closeness. Many of us may feel disconnected from the political system because it doesn't understand or seem to care about us, but I would go so far as to say that some of those feelings are more systemic: If we feel truly heard by those nearest to us, the world generally feels like a safer and more content place.
I have wondered, actually, whether some of those homegrown terrorists who've gone on to commit unspeakable acts of violence, felt truly heard by someone. This week, that someone is Omar Mateen, the Orlando nightclub shooter. Did anyone along the way ask, "Do you have a favorite thing you're studying in school? What are you reading these days? What's the best movie you've seen this year and why?"
Perhaps so. Perhaps it's naïve to think that a good listener or two could have prevented this week's tragedy or any others.
But think about the people you see every day: your next-door neighbor, your co-workers, fellow parents on the sidelines at soccer practice. Do you know basic things about them, such where they are from? What their hobbies are? Where they went to school? The answers to those questions can lead to even more nuanced ones: Why did you decide to move here, and are you glad you did? Why did you choose that college?
Not everyone wants to share their stories, of course. But I believe that most of us, on some level, do.
A danger, if you can call it that, is that when you ask questions you might get more answers than you bargained for.
And you might come away feeling like you've done all the asking and none of the answering, which can feel a little lopsided. Have you ever come away from a gathering feeling as though you knew a lot about a friend, but she or he knew very little about news with you?
One might say that give-and-take in dialogue is just good manners, but in truth, I'm not sure this stuff is intuitive. Do we teach our children to ask questions in the same way we encourage them to say "please" and "thank you"? How do any of us learn to be good listeners?
The good news is, it's never too late. My parents hosted a lot of small dinner parties when I was a kid, and I think that's kind of a lost art, too. Maybe the two things are related. If four or five people are sitting together around a table, things slow down a little. It's easier to ask things. It's easier to hear. It's easier to answer. So my husband and I are going to try to host more of those.
And in the meantime, there's always the soccer field and the lunch table at work.
It's true, David Brooks: Listening to one another might make us all clearer on why we vote the way we do. But more importantly, I believe it will make us feel more connected.
And that's something I think most people, no matter which candidate they're voting for, can get behind.