I sometimes joke that horses taught me all I need to know about politics. Horses organize themselves into herds, just like we do.
The herd instinct is deeply embedded within us. We are put into schools as children, and within those schools we seek the safety of a group. Once there, we create or follow practices that distinguish us from other groups - shared words and phrases, hair styles, clothes, things we revere, and things we dislike.
As adults we identify ourselves as loyal to sports teams, churches, national origins, races, and sometimes subscribers to a political perspective or party.
The herd instinct is strong, and it has led to a lot of human success through history, but also a lot of violence.
Peace-seekers like myself resist the herd identity. I can trace my resistance to school, where I was a “loner,” to young adulthood where I repeatedly sought opportunities to embed myself in other cultures, and even to my entry into politics when I thoroughly researched what it would take to run as an independent.
I don’t like being labeled, and I take pleasure in doing things that others don’t expect of me, like being a fierce advocate for free market solutions AND government solutions to problems, like supporting preservation of open space AND high density development, like supporting major investment in economic opportunity for families who’ve been left behind AND being fiscally conservative.
I love the fact that Anne Arundel County is purple, and that it’s a microcosm of America where any success we have can become a model for similar jurisdictions. I am very proud of the fact that our administration developed good relationships with most of the Republicans on the County Council in my first term, and that today’s Council is seven very individual thinkers who listen to one another and who are each happy to take my calls.
I’d like for our residents to work as hard at seeking common ground across the political chasm as I and their County Council do, but I know it’s a lot to ask.
When horses from different herds meet, they circle one another, do some sniffing, some strutting and prancing, and then begin the sometimes violent process of establishing a pecking order. To prevent the violence, I used to put them in adjacent fields with a fence between them. That way they could move from fear and aggression to loyalty, with a safe barrier.
We humans use words. We’re usually careful what we say when we meet someone new, but when the conversation uncovers evidence of adherence to the wrong herd, a trigger goes off. The great thing about being human rather than equine, however, is that our response to the trigger can be driven by a complex process of reasoning.
We can retreat or we can engage. If we engage, we can do so with the intention of confirming our superiority, or seeking to recruit the subject to our tribe, or we can do something incredibly empowering for both sides. Something that takes a little more time. Something that leaves room for the possibility of magic.
We can explore.
We can ask questions, like why and how, and what does it feel like? It feels dangerous to do that, but whenever I’ve managed to explore those who I’ve considered my opponents, I’ve walked away a little wiser and happier.
Last year I was in touch with a national organization called Braver Angels. They facilitate conversations between Democrats and Republicans, sometimes with elected leaders and sometimes without. I had planned to bring them into Anne Arundel County, to work with elected officials from both political parties and with their followers, but with an election coming I worried that the process would appear politically driven. I’m thinking that now is the time.
What do you think? Are you up for it?
Until next week…
Steuart Pittman
Anne Arundel County Executive