Thoughts on seeking a more civil discourse in America
And how some of our leaders might still be talked down from the ledge
Last week I had the distinct pleasure of attending a town hall in my South Florida condominium community with our congressional representative—my first time at one in well over a decade, since I lived in Northern Virginia—and I wasn’t sure what to expect. This one, thankfully, was not interrupted by screams or accusations, but brought a welcome air of calm explanations and reasonable dialogue.
Granted, Florida’s Broward County is a heavily-Democratic outlier in an increasingly Republican state—with a huge group of independents (or NPA, no party affiliation), of which I am a longtime centrist “member.” So our longtime Democratic congresswoman (since 2005)—Debbie Wasserman Schultz—has no trouble drawing a friendly crowd here, in part because the state’s shrinking Democratic base still embraces her so warmly. [See https://dos.fl.gov/elections/data-statistics/voter-registration-statistics/voter-registration-reports/voter-registration-by-county-and-party/ .]
She won her 2024 race with about 55 percent of the vote—a comfortable result in a year where Republicans edged or swamped many Democrats elsewhere in the state, where just 8 of the state’s 30-member congressional delegation are Democrats these days—a far cry from the state’s once-heavily Democratic past. She is a national figure, as well, having already chaired the Democratic National Committee (2011-2016)—and is often a lightning rod for her critics across the aisle—but she is just as well known for bipartisan cooperation and hard work on the issues, especially appropriations.
But the truth is, she is well received primarily because she takes the time to listen closely to anyone who approaches her—and makes no distinction by party when it comes to helping a constituent. Write me, call me, text me with your problems and questions, and I will answer. [I did e-mail her with my question on the dismal future of foreign aid, which I never got to pose; I sincerely expect to hear back from her soon.] She will readily express her own personal views, which are decidedly progressive, if pressed, but she rejects no one for disagreeing with her.
Tell me what I can do better than what I am doing now, she pleaded with one somewhat dissatisfied questioner last week—and I will try to do it. Don’t just complain. Try being constructive. For she is out to serve all her constituents, in a district that could just as easily flip against her if she rests too long on her laurels. You may not agree with her all of the time, but she does one heck of a job.
Debbie Wasserman Schultz gives a master class in public leadership. Courtesy New York Times
Last week, she recalled her first race for public office in the 1990s—when she spent six months knocking on just about every door in her (state legislative) district, as a complete unknown—and surprised herself by winning a wide-open party primary with more than half the vote. At 58, she is still energetic, having lost none of her zest to be the best member of Congress her district can have—as well as a relentless campaigner for social issues in the highly-charged Trump-centric political environment.
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I’m not writing today to praise my congresswoman for her views—even if I mostly tend to agree with her, as a moderate independent—but instead to recommend her as a role model for congressional leaders of both parties. I have written in previous postings about the failure of many current Republicans to take the time to listen to all their constituents before lashing out at critics—and I think Debbie needs to hold a master class for them.
If you’re afraid of being “primaried,” she told us last week, you’re in the wrong business. (I am paraphrasing here.) If you cannot explain your views calmly and convince voters you are representing them well and doing the right thing, and be willing to take your chances, politics may not be the best place for you.
She did not name names, but decried certain Republican tactics—such as passing the “Big Ugly” bill, as she called it, in the middle of the night, “by one vote”—despite Democratic calls for a true debate and transparent votes.
No one asked her last week her opinion of perpetually-smirking, baby-faced House Speaker Mike Johnson, or about the antics of Georgia firebrand Marjorie Taylor Greene—who regularly screams at journalists and listens to no one except, it seems, the little green men inside her fuzzy-minded head—or Virginia Foxx, the Queen of Hearts from North Carolina, who shrilly bellows first and takes no prisoners—but I am certain she could shame Johnson, MTG and Foxx into stunned submission without once even raising her voice.
I am regularly struck by the harshness with which Republicans are responding to questions about their votes and views—as Joni Ernst did with spiteful, petty sarcasm when recently asked about the consequences of proposed cuts to Medicaid—and either flee their live town halls in terror or insist on holding them virtually, with questions accepted only in advance in writing.
I am a writer and academic historian, most familiar with nineteenth-century African American political issues. But both in history and in person, I have seen more than my share of political pettiness in my life around the world, as a journalist, traveler, and Foreign Service Officer. I am 76 years old, and bone-tired of the childish squabbles and increasing rancor playing out on the U.S. political stage. Where are the adults, I keep asking myself? Where is the ruler to rap their knuckles? This reminds me of kindergarten without a teacher to keep order. I am not a Catholic, but I vote to bring in the nuns and dunce caps …
It hasn’t always been this way. Over the years, I have been fortunate to know a few congressmen personally—among them Yvette Clarke and the late Charles Rangel of New York, Jim Moran of Virginia, Charlie Rose and Mel Watt of North Carolina, and my personal favorite, North Carolina’s retired G. K. Butterfield, a gifted amateur historian and true gentleman. While still at State, I even got to know the late Ambassador Geraldine Ferraro of New York, after she left Congress to serve on the UN Human Rights Council as U.S. delegate—a fascinating, intelligent advocate for global fairness and equity.
Only Yvette Clarke—an outspoken daughter of Jamaican immigrants, and friend to all—is still around in Congress, sadly; she now chairs the Congressional Black Caucus, which Judge Butterfield used to head. So it is up to her and others like her now. But I remember them all well; as a historian, I learned something useful from interacting with each of them.
Rep. Yvette Clarke (D-NY), leader of the Congressional Black Caucus. Public domain photo
My old friend, Judge G. K. Butterfield Jr. of North Carolina, a true gentleman. Courtesy NBC News
They all happened to be Democrats—luck of the draw, where I lived and worked—but they all embodied a sense of compassion and thoughtful leadership. I have also admired, once upon a time, some of their Republican colleagues whom I knew less well, for both intellectual and political talents—like former Senator Richard Lugar, whom I met briefly in Riga, for one, and former Senator Elizabeth Dole of North Carolina, who I enjoyed having conversations with—and their gracious, reasonable behavior. Best of all, they knew how to listen, think, and even laugh. Those were the days …
Were they just the exceptions? Maybe. I once covered many politicians who could be gracious in private and then turn incendiary in public—like Jesse Helms, even before he ran for the Senate (I then spent my entire Foreign Service career in hiding from him)—and understand the public-private schizophrenia that afflicts people once they enter office today and drink the Kool-aid.
I am admittedly cynical about most politicians, who seem so very much more concerned with their own ambitious climb to the top these days than with caring a whit about what I might think of them. But this latest political environment makes me sick to my stomach. Who the heck do they think they are, anyway—and why do we have to put up with such ridiculous caricatures of so-called public servants?
Have we stumbled into Alice’s Wonderland without any signposts—and no way out? Can we bring back public stockades and rotten tomatoes for the worst violators?
My new Substack colleague Terry Moran takes a more measured view of the situation in one of his inaugural essays. He talks about Minnesota Senator Tina Smith, who quietly tried to approach her Utah colleague Mike Lee—a once-sensible conservative voice turned diehard MAGA bomb-thrower—after he turned the cyber-waves blood-red with ridiculous accusations of Marxists and Governor Tim Walz being responsible for the deadly shootings of two Democratic state legislators and their spouses in Minnesota by one deranged individual, neither Marxist nor a Democrat—who holds a doctorate, apparently, and once voted for the Dear Leader himself. (Think about that for a minute, Mike, before you open your mouth again.)
You know that nonsense is not true, she must have told him, calmly, as a friend. So why are you saying it? Don’t you care how much it hurts me, your friend and colleague, to hear you say these vile things about my state at such a tragic time?
It didn’t work. Mike Lee couldn’t hear her for all the noise he was so busy making, literally and figuratively. He might as well have had his fingers in his ears as well as his hands in his pockets. Shame on him for being a butthead. More power to Tina Smith for trying to rescue him from his descent into utter, perhaps irredeemable folly.
Tina Smith pleads with Mike Lee to think twice about foolish rants. Courtesy Eleanor Muller, Semafor.
I won’t steal much of Terry’s quiet thunder here—but instead refer you to his calmly sensible advice at the source. [See “It’s hard to hate up close,” June 17, on Real Patriotism with Terry Moran, at Substack.] And just in case you are wondering, yes, I recommend his blog highly. ABC News was arrogant and foolish to let him go—their pointless loss, they will realize one day soon—but we are luckier to gain him here.
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As I close, I will simply leave you with a short quoted excerpt from Terry’s essay, with my personal appreciation to him. It is well worth reading, and taking to heart, and should be emblazoned on every office door of every member of Congress:
“It’s hard to hate up close. That’s what Senator Smith was trying to show Senator Lee. That’s the truth our neighbors and friends are living out right now.
“And that’s what we must remember in these troubled times. For every Mike Lee, there are a lot more normal people who don’t buy into the cruelty and viciousness. They aren’t going to become Democrats, of course. But they are normal. Across that great divide, there are friends to be made.”
Debbie Wasserman Schultz and Tina Smith are just two examples of principled civility in action, Democrats reaching across the deadly divide. They prove you don’t have to sacrifice principles to extend a hand across the aisle. They could and should be the vanguard of a revolution to come. With our encouragement, they can begin talking their angry opponents down from the ledge no one really wants to be standing on—not even Mike Lee, I hope, perhaps in vain—no matter how much the relentless MAGA fools threaten them with being tarred and feathered and primaried ...
Debbie told us all to get out and vote—and to take the time to convince everyone we know to do the same thing—while we still can. It doesn’t matter which party. It takes all of us to do the work of governing. And do it before it is too late, she may well have thought—but did not say aloud. She did not look worried. But she did seem troubled by the awful predicament she sees unfolding in Washington.
We can still hope, at least, for a restoration of civility in our public discourse—and if so, we must vote only for those who practice it—if we want anything to change. Or we could soon be lost in a flood of loud, mindless hate that swallows us up and everything we hold dear.
Next time: More foreign affairs in a crazy, mixed-up world