On discourse between the Lefts and the Rights

Found here is a note from Ann Althouse, a blogger whose writings I have become attached to in the past week or so. I can't think of a better way to put the difficulties of discourse into written format. In my experience, being a conservative in most ways, I have never found it easy to have a plain discussion with a liberal. Especially in college, from whence I have just been freed. At the earliest levels of college, I was hit with all sorts of ideals opposite to my beliefs (and we're not talking religious here). It is unfortunate that my first class at the university was one run by a communist professor who believed in free speech as long as you agreed with him. More than once discussion was stifled in that environment. Sadly, because of that, I learned to back off from letting my own conservative views be known. The atmosphere on campus was always negatively charged towards those against the liberal policies of the academics. Almost every professor's office had political cartoons or statements taped to the doors. The political science building had a floor that housed a bulletin board stretching past six feet, infested with political comments (mostly in the form of cartoons), all eschewing the same liberal ideals. I thought many times about posting something conservative in hopes of watching a hazard team scramble to erase any offending material.
I had always believed that universities were places to go to expand your conciousness, to meet and discuss with individuals different from yourself. However, what I found was if you were different from the "individuals" you suffered, both academically and philisophically. Without a strong will to remain an individual, you would be broken down into an unthinking automaton. Universities are built on this premise. Think about it. Rip the children away from their parents, throw them into dorms where they can be indoctrinated outside of classes. Parents have no access to academic and health records. At a time when parents are a much needed support, a wall is built to attach the children to the academic system. This is a heavier continuance of the work of the schools the children have attended prior to college. I wonder what the difference in coping is between children coming from public and private schools (and the types of private schools), also factoring in the types of universities and colleges attended.

And I have ended up on a tangent to the subject orignally brought up. Because I cannot think of anything else to say, I'll end this for now.

NEXT DAY THOUGHTS: Having been brought up in not just a conservative family, but one that was deeply rooted in discussion and philosophy, I can say that my background led me to believe that all people were open to discussing both sides of an argument. However, as I grew older and began to interact with more and more people (not just my peers but adults as well), I began to find it difficult to have a calm and rational discussion with most persons. In fact, I have found this true of people regardless of their ideaologies. Having found interaction mostly in the school system, I can say that (whether you choose to believe my statements or not) the majority of people I have talked to were liberal. It is only now that I have started to find other conservatives. For a long time, I have felt alone as a young conservative. I will say that yes, I am conservative and not a moderate, as I used to describe myself. As a new voter, I am registered as an independant, but that is mainly because I refuse to fomrally identify my Republican-ness... mostly because of an irrational fear of being sought out. I did temporarily identify myself as a Republican to vote in the Primaries. It was the least I could do for my first voting experience.
Last night's State of the Union made me proud to say "That's my President. I voted for him." Four years ago, I was unable to stand up and claim the President as my own. Now, I have and I am proud of my choice. Yes, it is personal. Being American is personal to me. Never have I felt more alive than when I cast my vote for the President of the United States of America. It was as if I had been finally freed to add my voice to the many that I had not heard before that year. For the first time in my life, I had a feeling that I was not alone. Wait. Back up. It was not when I voted that I felt like this, but when I attended a rally for the President after one of the Presidential Debates. He came to our town and we sat in a large area amongst our peers. Republicans filled the seats and watched the debate as it unfolded. So many people were there. Thousands of people sat together in support of our President. They were not old and they were not young. These people came from varied backgrounds, some old and some young, many families and friends gathered in that structure. When the President arrived you could feel the strength of the people around you. The evening was a positive experience, with the support of others. You knew that you probably didn't agree with everyone there on everything, but you also knew that you wouldn't get shunned for disagreeing. That was the first time I realized that I ( and my family) was not alone.

This is in contrast to another event, one where I felt increasingly at risk. During my Freshman or Sophmore year, David Horowitz was scheduled to conduct a talk on various issues (I cannot remember the topic, I am sorry for this). Having read much of Mr. Horowitz's work, I wanted to attend, and so I made plans to clear my evening for this event. I was suprised that the university administration was allowing Mr. Horowitz to give his talk, but at the same time, I didn't expect them to deny his visit. It did not surprise me that a group of professors decided to hold a protest "teach-in" at the same time of Mr. Horowitz's talk. Furor and outrage stormed over the campus as the eventful day approached. Finally, it was time to attend the talk. I walked into the room with two other people, finding the hall packed from wall to wall with visitors. The room was obviously divided between two groups, the smaller number of conservatives and the liberals. Then, Mr. Horowitz was introduced. As he began to talk, a student from the left side of the room (and it was the left/left side) began to argue the smallest points. Shouting and screaming came from these liberals, drowning out anything Mr. Horowitz could say. Yet, he remained calm through the rage. He tried to reason, to discuss the issues with the liberals, the one student in particular. The issue picked out by this one individual (and subsequently the room) was reparations for Black citizens. At least, I think that's what it was. The people went into such a strong rage was so strong that the room became heated with their fury. The conservatives wanted to listen while the liberals wanted to shout out the speaker. Deeper and deeper did they delve into mindless argument, until Mr. Horowitz decided it was time to leave. He got up and left the argumentative people to stew in their own frantic juices. The tension was so thick it choked the life out of the room. It was that event that made me fear exposure as a conservative. I felt that letting my views be known would result in punishment and retaliation. I saw that I was outnumbered, seemingly alone in my environment. The conservatives that day were not my peers. My peers were the ones who sought to choke the discussion until it died. In a way, they were successful.

Althouse writes:

"Sissy Willis responds.
She thinks there is something inherent in left and right positions that produces
this different behavior. I am trying to reach out to the left and say:
Behave better! Engage me! But I read her as telling me that's
hopeless."

To this, I can relate. I feel as though my life has been devoted to this, but I have realized the hopelessness of the situation. I can only hope that the hopelessness is only an illusion and that maybe there is a glimmer of hope for discussion. True, rational discussion: We are all capabale of it, we just don't always use it.