By Joyce Eisenberg
and Ellen Scolnic
The old saying is that you should never discuss religion, sex, or politics in polite company. This has been a particularly bad year for politics and politeness.
Senators bark at each other across the aisles and refuse to work together. Cable pundits holler round the clock. Opinionated bloggers launch their words into cyberspace with no editors holding them back. It feels as if civil conversation has gone the way of "Nixon's the One" bumper stickers.
By contrast, we've been mostly silent on the subject of politics. We worry that if we start talking politics in mixed company, heated words will fly, friends will disagree, and someone will end up red-faced and shouting like Chris Matthews or Rush Limbaugh.
We don't want to get into a fight. We don't want to talk politics with friends. We're afraid we'll like them less.
We don't remember feeling this way in 2008. This year, we have made up our minds about the election, but we're not enthusiastic, which makes it hard to stand up for our candidate if we're challenged. We find things we dislike on both sides of the aisle.
We've observed the same reticence to talk politics among friends and coworkers. At places where people spend a lot of time together and chat about anything and everything - doctors and nurses in the operating room, teachers in the staff lounge - it's been quiet on the political front. And if someone does start ranting about the candidates in the workplace, Bloomberg Businessweek advises us to "say something vague or escape quickly."
A friend planning a trip to see her aging, Republican parents in Florida took care to schedule her visit so that it would coincide with only one of the presidential debates, because she couldn't bear to listen to their political commentary more than once. We know dinner guests who have been greeted at the door with a plea to "not talk politics tonight: We want to have a nice dinner."
Other people broach the subject through the back door: "I don't care who you are voting for, but ..." A friend asked our opinion about the debate and then barely listened before she began spouting her party line. A colleague offered a "fun political quiz," but we didn't get past the first question before he started telling us all about the Libertarian position.
The same people who break up with their girlfriends via text message post their political opinions on Facebook. Our Facebook "friends" bombard us with links to political pages and "interesting" articles and news analyses. We can hide their news feed, but we can't hide how we feel now that we know their political beliefs.
We feel a little bit guilty and embarrassed about not exercising our freedom of speech. It's not as if we live in a Dubai, where a tweet insulting the royal family can land you in jail. We live in a democracy, and it feels dangerous not to express our opinions. It feels un-American not to put a sign on our lawns, to be afraid to wear a T-shirt supporting our candidate, or to feel reluctant to knock on neighbors' doors because we don't want to start a fight.
Ultimately, though, our silence on the subject won't matter. On Nov. 6, we are going to politely sign our names in the register, walk quietly into the voting booth, and calmly pull the lever. Casting our votes speaks louder than any talking head. We'll have the last word.
