Opinion
Don’t mention the (culture) war. Even I’m shutting up
Antoinette Lattouf
Broadcaster, columnist and authorWho among us has not been at a social gathering that’s been derailed by an argument about politics?
The dynamic often unfolds like this: the host lets everyone know there’s plenty of food. “Make sure you go back for seconds. Don’t be shy.”
Guest A has been desperately looking for an argumentative segue, and this is the closest they’ll get to looking like they’re seamlessly weaving in what they’ve been dying to offload.
Donald Trump, Yumi Stynes and the Yes campaign for the Voice as articulated by Noel Pearson have become popular triggers for culture war arguments.Credit:
“Yeah, well, it looks like Trump is going back for seconds if the elites in the matrix don’t steal the election from him again. But you know who doesn’t get a second chance? Kids and their innocence. Why are there books about sex targeting children? This is child grooming. Stay away from our kids!”
Awkward silence. A baby starts crying.
One wonders whether Guest A will step away from the roast because their verbal spray is coating the chicken. Another is theatrically waving the tongs around because the rocket and avocado salad is the only keto-friendly dish.
Then Guest B takes a generous swig of wine before unpacking all the factual inaccuracies. As Guest A doubles down on widely disproven “facts”, Guest B’s patience wears as thin as the person on the keto diet aspires to be.
Guest B also takes a few scorn-laced swipes at QAnon followers and asks when Guest A “graduated with a masters of do-your-own-research”.
I’m usually Guest B. But like the number of indictments against Donald Trump, recently, I’ve grown.
Despite debating since year 3, writing a book about influence and my voice box being my primary career tool, I am increasingly finding my mouth firmly shut.
So what’s changed? Have I mellowed on my moral absolutism in an attempt to be empathetic? Not necessarily. Today’s arguments are so tiring I’ve stopped engaging. I need to recharge.
As a result of talking less and listening more – sure, my tongue has a few permanent bite marks – I’m incidentally becoming more open-minded. And I seem to be going against the national tide.
More than three-quarters of Australians say they would refuse to help someone who strongly disagreed with their views. While we’re not quite as bad or as polarised as the US, we’re in danger of catching up.
Soon Australians will be asked to vote on the Voice referendum and perhaps some of my new party tricks will help you navigate heated family discussions.
The next time your cousin with a penchant for quoting memes shared on his rugby team’s WhatsApp group talks about “woke policies ruining the country”, take a moment to look closely at his body language. Our sympathetic nervous system goes into overdrive when we perceive a threat and it floods the body with adrenaline and other stress hormones. This relative probably has a flushed face, racing heart, tense muscles, as he talks about how he is part of the “real minority”.
Your defensiveness may morph into concern once you pay attention to his genuine anxiety and angst. Misinformation is rife and dangerous; even well-meaning and well-educated people fall victim.
Another effective tool is “active listening”. This means really taking in all the verbal and non-verbal messages being sent.
Listening to intolerance and fear rather than challenging it is easier said than done. One way to stay calm and open is to rephrase the other person’s opinions or statements.
“So, cousin Derek, what you’re saying is that a Voice to parliament is unfair to white people and that you need a voice too?”
Derek is more likely to be open if he feels he is heard, and this betters your chances of having a productive and meaningful interaction.
Looking for common ground has also enabled me to stay level-headed when my instincts urge me to headbutt the person.
It’s one thing to disagree about immigration policy, but chances are there are many other areas of commonality, such as concern over ageing parents or the fact you’ve both jumped on the Matildas’ bandwagon despite having no idea what the offside rule is.
Next up, it helps to determine what you hope to achieve from the conversation. Is it that you believe you can change their mind, or do you want to better understand their viewpoint? Last weekend, I asked an in-law to pass me a napkin. What I got was a commentary on the real reason we experienced the warmest July on record.
Remember, polarisation is largely emotional and rarely logical, and it’s OK if the only thing a conversation resolves is the tomato sauce on your chin.
I’ve shelved loaded phrases such as, “We’ll just have to agree to disagree”, opting instead for: “You’ve definitely given me things to think about; I hope I’ve done the same for you.”
If all of the above fail, and someone’s radical views threaten your wellbeing, putting the relationship on hold may be a sensible alternative. It may not be forever.
It’s tempting to cut off people who are taxing and misinformation-fuelled. I’m doing my best to keep them in my life because I fear what will happen to civil society if we’re all stubbornly screaming from opposite sides of the room.
Antoinette Lattouf is a broadcaster, columnist and author. She is co-host of The Briefing podcast and co-founder of Media Diversity Australia.