A Politics of Friendship: musings on my neighbour's election

“Nobody’s free until everybody’s free.” Fannie Lou Hamer, civil rights activist

I had a friend in junior high whose dad was from Tennessee. Living, for a time, on Canada’s east coast, Jimmy had a distinct accent, a warm southern drawl that oozed comfort. I was a shy teen; our encounters were usually no more than a tentative smile in passing. I think it surprised both of us the day I asked him: “How do you vote, Democrat or Republican?” Tactfulness has never been my strong suit. Maybe I had just become aware of America’s two-party system. Mostly, I felt safe and at ease in his presence. Jimmy had a gentle, softspoken nature and this was my effort to connect. I remember the surprise in his eyes at the boldness of my question and I remember his matter of fact answer: “Republican.” His party has

changed a lot since we last spoke decades ago, but I’m pretty sure he still votes Republican. I’m sure, too, that if I had a vote to cast it would be for a different party. Though our political leanings are different, were I to see him today, it would be like old friends greeting one another with a warm, if reserved, embrace. Jimmy has lived back in Tennessee for years, maybe speculation is easier at a distance.

I’ve been reeling since the US presidential results poured in like a tsunami. In 2016, like many others, I thought Trump’s win was an aberration. His success shocked me. Eight years later, again, I could not conceive of a result where Trump wins. The nature of his character, to my mind, trumped policy, (pun intended). It seems that the Harris campaign was banking on the same analysis.

I didn’t spend a lot of time listening to right wing media during the campaign. Algorithms kept me safely in my political lane. I tuned in to the Joe Rogan interview with Trump and flirted with some MAGA content on social media but, for the most part, I viewed the race through the lenses of sources to which I already have an affinity. I thought that calling out the character of a convicted felon, racist, misogynist, … (I could go on), would be persuasive. It wasn’t. Maybe people found comfort in thinking “at least Trump doesn’t hide behind some fake sense of wokeness.” Maybe they saw some common vulnerable humanity in him?

 Maybe we shouldn’t be surprised at the result of this election.

I’ve been listening to the other media, as I try to make sense of where we are and where we go from here. Did the focus on Trump’s character result in an unintended consequence of alienating his supporters from the Harris message? Did they feel judged and implicitly accused of possessing a similar character to their candidate? Were guilt and shame the unintended byproducts of the Democrat’s campaign? Did the ballot box confirm that shame is no way to win votes?

As one steeped in the legacy of the institution of the church, which has relied far too often on guilt and shame as a primary means of evangelism, I know how ineffective those tools are at persuasion and how much harm they can cause. I know too, that our capacity to take on the systemic changes so gravely needed to save this world, feels slim. Most people are busy trying to get by. Existential risk is not of concern. Maybe the Dem’s campaign lost sight of the fact you can’t pull – or persuade - people up to moral high ground. With a half century of neoliberalism eating away at ordinary people’s quality of life, you have no choice but to meet people on the potholed streets of their neighbourhoods; where their ends no longer meet.

People are more concerned about the price of eggs than access to abortion. The fact that rampant inflation is the result of a complex interplay of government acquiescing to corporate greed, and countless other factors, all rooted in the values of a free-market economy that is built on the tenant of growth at all costs, is beside the point for most voters.

People are feeling the strain of the increasing disparity between rich and poor, and they are little helped by academic analysis; they just need to know who to blame and who will fix it. Trump provided a substantive list of people to blame. He promised to fix it. I’m skeptical of his ability to fix anything. Maybe this will be a wakeup call for those committed to the good of all, not just a rich few, to engage their imaginations and offer more compelling solutions.

But that is not my work to do. I’m not a political commentator. I’m not an American. I’m not a Democrat or a Republican. I’m a person of faith on Canada’s eastern coast. I’m a follower in the Way of the Galilean Jesus. My life’s work is to practice the tenants of my spiritual tradition. Practices like grace, hospitality, compassion, freedom and friendship for all, are the soil in which I root my life. These are the things I try to nurture; if rather imperfectly.

I keep coming back to the word freedom. America loves the word freedom. Both campaigns threw it around like a tangible promise. What if my freedom is tied up with your freedom? What if we’ve tried the sort of freedom that brings life to some while naming others as bad guys? Liberty is about being freed to independence, full stop. But freedom is different; it

comes from the same root as the word friend. Freedom is to be connected to others through affection, compassion, community. Freedom is about no longer being a slave, but instead, choosing to relate to others as a means for all to experience abundant life.

Jesus is my exemplar of freedom, with his fierce commitment to drawing back into community all who are outcast, pushed aside, forgotten and shamed. Jesus’s freedom is marked by an acknowledgment that I am free because others can depend on me, and I on them. Jesus’s freedom cannot be extracted from the responsibility of the bonds of friendship with neighbour and stranger.

Jesus does not need to be your exemplar of freedom, there are many other exemplars.

But I am not going to sit on the sidelines as the voice of Christian nationalism claims to hold the truth about what Jesus would do. I will not be complicit as narrow, moralistic, exclusive values, rife with judgment, are lifted as gospel truth. I won’t stay silent and allow Christian nationalism to lay claim to the truth of Jesus.

Somewhere along the way, freedom divorced friendship and became a shadow of its former self. As our cities sprawled, our physical and emotional proximity to neighbours shrunk. As we began looking, more and more at our screens, we looked less and less into the eyes of our neighbours. We have lost our freedom indeed, but the answer is not to hunker down and cling to its remnant as if freedom is a scarce commodity. I don’t know what specific promises and policies will be more compelling than the individual freedom offered up by

MAGA's saviour. But I hunch that new promises need to turn this tired notion of individual freedom on its head. From that solid ground of faith and trust in the one who calls us no longer servants or slaves but friends (John 15:15) we can build tangible policies that address grocery prices and abortion rights in ways that lure us all back toward the places we will truly be saved, with one another.   

I’m thinking a lot about Jimmy these days. He’s been back in Tennessee for a long time now and I haven’t spoken to him since he left. His grandkids are grown. He probably hopes for them the same things I hope for my recently grown kids: to be loved and safe, to have meaningful work, to live lives with more room for hope than anxiety. Jimmy likely has continued to vote Republican; maybe he owns a gun. He’s a Christian and a parent. We have some things in common; we have some differences. When I think about who I’d like to sit down with to take stock of where we are and to imagine where we go from here, Jimmy is on my list. I call him friend.