Don’t underestimate how emotionally difficult it is. I know precisely what “Jan in MN” is talking about here:
Self-image shouldn’t be underestimated as a reason to close one’s mind to facts. I remember, in my change process, how frightening it was to begin acknowledging myself as conservative, one of those awful people. My initial step away from the liberal viewpoint was during the Clarence Thomas-Anita Hill hearings, but it wasn’t enough to make me depart the liberal camp entirely. The process was painful, as I saw friends drop away and as my concept of myself changed. Liberals, I had thought, were the caring folk, morally superior, and who wouldn’t want to be cozily wrapped up in that image?
Finally, facts mattered more, but it can be tough wrenching oneself away from the regard and cameraderie of friends and a philosophy that seemed so true and pure.
And I will now repeat a passage that I’ve quoted before in several previous posts. For me, it never gets old. It’s from the Czech author Milan Kundera’s novel The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, which he wrote in the late 1970s:
Circle dancing is magic. It speaks to us through the millennia from the depths of human memory. Madame Raphael had cut the picture out of the magazine and would stare at it and dream. She too longed to dance in a ring. All her life she had looked for a group of people she could hold hands with and dance with in a ring. First she looked for them in the Methodist Church (her father was a religious fanatic), then in the Communist Party, then among the Trotskyites, then in the anti-abortion movement (A child has a right to life!), then in the pro-abortion movement (A woman has a right to her body!); she looked for them among the Marxists, the psychoanalysts, and the structuralists; she looked for them in Lenin, Zen Buddhism, Mao Tse-tung, yogis, the nouveau roman, Brechtian theater, the theater of panic; and finally she hoped she could at least become one with her students, which meant she always forced them to think and say exactly what she thought and said, and together they formed a single body and a single soul, a single ring and a single dance.
Don’t underestimate how profoundly difficult it can be to step outside the circle.
A personal note—I never really had a desire to dance in a ring. In fact, I had a bit of a horror of it. But—and it’s a big “but”—I grew up in an atmosphere in which being a liberal Democrat (which was much less extreme a position than it is now) seemed to me to be reasonable and moral and kind. For much of my life I had paid only a sort of general attention to politics and world events. I wasn’t what you’d call a political junkie. I had some marked disagreements with the liberal line I heard around me, and I sometimes voiced them to other liberals, but my disagreements never seemed all that fundamental to anyone, including me, and they earned little or no enmity.
I was a part of a circle without even realizing it.
When I started the process of political change outlined on this blog in my “A mind is a difficult thing to change” series, I had absolutely no idea that I was taking a small step outside that circle in which I had danced, unawares, my entire life. And I had no idea that that first step would soon be followed by another, and another, until without even realizing that it had happened, I was standing far away looking in.
I’ve never fully joined another circle. As I said, circle dancing isn’t something for which I yearn. Now I seem to dance on the periphery of the circle formed by the right—weaving in and out, sometimes closer, sometimes further away. Some in that other far-off circle—the one with most of my friends and relatives—have shunned me, but at least the ones dancing there who still love me have decided that when we get together they will stop dancing for a while.
But the experience has been far more painful and far more wrenching than I ever would have imagined.