How Edwin Lyngar became disenchanted with the right-wing political climate in which he was raised.
I spent most of my adult life as a registered Republican, consuming a ceaseless flow of rightwing political commentary from books, radio and television. The sounds of Rush, Hannity and Ingram have ever filled my morning commute with advice on what to think and whom to hate. Although I haven’t given up those the soundtrack of conservative opinions in my daily life, I don’t believe one word of it anymore.
Some people claim to change their minds about party and ideology, but in my experience few people move very far. I have. I protested the recount after the 2000 election, determined to protect George Bush’s 537-vote victory in Florida. I was a delegate to my state Republican convention in 2008, and I was also an enthusiastic supporter of the Iraq War, a position for which I am most ashamed.
I was raised to be a Republican, growing up in a rural mining town of 4,000 people. We took a vote in my elementary school during Ronald Reagan’s second election and Walter Mondale got only one vote in our fifth grade class. Growing up, the political debates in my home only parsed out the degree to which the liberals were stupid, terrible people.
The complete failure of the 2008 convention made me think for the first time about my place in the political universe.
|
I started moving left in my late thirties, unsettling my many conservative acquaintances. It’s easy for the people on the right to dismiss the average, “unwashed” liberal as “un-American,” but it’s harder to dismiss my conversion. I’m a middle class, overweight white guy, married with kids. I’m also a veteran. I embody the pigment-challenged base of the Republican Party, so what went wrong?
My conservative friends often blame my wife of seven years. Raised in Canada, one of the first things she said to me was, “I can’t imagine waking up next to a Republican every day.” When she said it, I was a Republican, although by then leaning libertarian. She married me all the same. We discussed politics often, always with civility and respect. Spouses influence each other, but it’s impossible to know how much she pushed me left. A lot perhaps, although I remained a Republican for several years after we married.
If I had to pick the greatest factor in my transformation, I’d have to point out the impact of religion and “tradition” that permeates conservative politics. I wasn’t raised in any faith tradition, but rather I was indoctrinated with the secular love of Jesus and country. It’s the religion of anti-communism, a faith that despises Muslims and forbids atheists. It’s the religion of Budweiser, stock cars, country music and the Stars and Stripes. It’s about saying the pledge of allegiance, never wearing a seatbelt and worshipping veterans. In the secular religion of my youth, Jesus Christ, fast cars and loose women were all equally pious. It’s the background noise of rural America, and it votes Republican.
When I grew into adulthood, I joined an evangelical congregation for a short time at the behest of my first wife. My marriage lasted only a bit longer than my religion, but I eventually lost both. Without religion my socially conservative values evaporated. If there is no god, there’s no need to dislike homosexuals or feminists. There’s no reason to “embrace” suffering or to fear god’s wrath. To a secular person a penis isn’t the devil’s divining rod, but rather it’s just an unattractive slab of pink sinew. Christ isn’t the head of the church, and the man is not head of the household.
For a couple of years after losing my religion, I was adrift, but I clung to my good friends Rush and O’Reilly. They told me it was all right, that things still made sense, even though I disagreed with the echo chamber more often. Conservative opinion on gay marriage, abortion and most social issues did not make sense to me any longer, but there was still a place in the party for confused secularists like me. Even though social moderates sat at the kids’ table, we still had a leader: Ron Paul.
I learned how small of a role libertarians had in the Republican Party when I attended the 2008 Nevada Republican Convention. The convention was a barely disguised, old-timey Christian revival. I managed to ignore the flag waving and Fiddler on the Roof-style obsession with tradition, because as a party member, I took my role seriously. I supported Ron Paul over John McCain.
In the floor vote, the Ron Paul delegates won a significant majority, an unexpected and embarrassing outcome for traditional Republicans. With the presumed nominee facing an embarrassing loss, the master of ceremonies turned out the lights and walked out, ending the convention without electing any national delegates. Later, the party appointed the delegates using a very small committee of loyalists.
The complete failure of the 2008 convention made me think for the first time about my place in the political universe. I did some of my first political writing in 2008, penning a couple of guest editorials for the Reno Gazette Journal about the public meltdown at the convention and the unhappiness of libertarians about the process.
During the 2008 election, I went against my party, voting against the McCain / Palin ticket. Instead, I voted for libertarian candidate, Bob Barr. I was shocked at my reaction watching the returns on election night. I got very emotional when Obama claimed the presidency. I was proud of my country.
The big conservative claim I’d heard for my whole life is that Republicans stand for “freedom,” but watching Obama take the stage made me realize that the right only stands for the freedom of some people. Not people who look like Obama, and not (I noticed for the first time) for people like me. As a non Christian, I am less “authentically American.”
I might have stayed in the middle, never taking the leap to becoming “liberal,” except for my dismay over the rise of the Tea Party. I mourned the 2010 midterms when Tea Party Republicans crushed the Democrats, even though I was still a registered Republican. The Tea Party took positions I understand and have articulated, but the group stretched these ideas beyond the breaking point.
With the Tea Party backing, Republicans targeted any and all programs that helped the poor, unemployed or disadvantaged. No amount of money was too small to shout down in congress. The action came from the same party that heaped trillions of dollars on banks and businesses after the 2008 financial crisis. In America we have limitless resources to rescue rich investors, but there’s nothing left for hungry people on the street.
By the time the 2012 elections came around, it was both easy and obvious for me to support a Democrat for president. It was the first time in my life. I was 39 years old. I put an Obama bumper sticker on my car, gave money to the campaign and urged friends and coworkers to vote for Obama.
When I “came out” as a liberal, I saw the rage in conservative circles for the first time. I can’t believe I never noticed it before, but perhaps I ignored the ugliest bits when I was on the other side. I heard racial epithets from two different friends when I told them I supported Obama. The election brought out the worst in the people I’ve known for many years. People I love and even admire.
I’m happy where I’m at now, but to be selfish, I’m also sad. I once dreamt of working in talk radio or perhaps writing a column for a small newspaper, but it isn’t meant to be. From all my observations of political commentary, I’ve learned that you cannot consider nuance if you’re going to write vitriol in the newspaper. You can’t be a considerate and thoughtful talking head on television or radio. There’s only Rush and the dittoheads, conservatives and sheeple. Nuance is for NPR. Because I’ve changed my mind so completely, I’m also a flake to my conservative friends and perhaps even to my new liberal counterparts. Real Americans don’t change their minds; they hold deep convictions.
I only have a two points of pride from my time as a conservative. I’ve always opposed the war on drugs, and I’ve never understood Glenn Beck. Even as a twenty-year-old, small town conservative, it never made sense to lock up so many people for private personal conduct, like smoking marijuana, and Glenn Beck sounded insane from the first moment I ever heard him.
Except for Beck, I still listen to conservative talk shows regularly. I just never agree. I remember listening to Rush just a few years back and thinking: “Why doesn’t everyone listen to this guy? He has it all figured out.” Now when I listen to Rush, I know why most people don’t listen: Very little of what he says is true. Yet Rush is far from the worst. Some programs are so full of misinformation that it’s hard to believe that they’re not just some goofy put on. When I hear something outlandish now, I check it out. Forty seconds on Google is usually enough to debunk entire shows. The airwaves are filled with unsubstantiated rumor, disproven theories and straight up bullshit, and I spent decades eating up every word.
I can never be the smug liberal caricatured by rightwing radio, because I bought it all, hook, line and tax cut. The only thing I’ve learned for sure from my lifelong political drift is that reasonable people have a duty to remain open to new and conflicting ideas. If I hadn’t been open to new ideas, I’d still be the same small town boy I was at twenty, and that’s no where I want to be.
Read more: The Demise of the Far-Right Conservative White Guy by Nathan Graziano
“I can never be the smug liberal caricatured by rightwing radio”
“pigment-challenged base of the Republican Party,”
Yes we can!
For some reason, I didn’t think Glenn Beck was that crazy when he was on Headline News. It’s like he moved over to Fox News and just became a complete wacko instantly.
“Real Americans don’t change their minds; they hold deep convictions.”
Real humans change their minds.. all the time. It’s part of being a growing person and learning new information, and better informing yourself. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with Americans.
Also, there’s still plenty of reasons to dislike feminists even if you don’t believe in God.
Glenn Beck didn’t seem crazy at headline news, but he sure does now. Also, many Americans think holding to the same position, year after year is a mark of honor. Hence my line about “real Americans.”
And I know some people don’t like feminists, but I think that’s because the word has be perverted by people who don’t like “actual” feminists. Anyone who believes in the equality of women is a de facto feminist. The caricature of “feminism” that is out there is inaccurate … and this seems like a good topic for an essay.