"Bridges are best built at the narrowest part of the river"

“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind.” ― Anthony Bourdain

Washington, D.C.

“It’s a lot of listening and learning,” that’s how Joe Bishop-Henchman describes his job as Executive Vice President of the Tax Foundation, focusing on state policy and law. He tries to make folks on the state level “understand the limits of what taxes can and can’t do.” There is a lot of tightrope walking, fearful of being a D.C. think tank coming in with the answers to state policy, they seek instead to learn state needs and craft individual solutions. Joe is an anomaly in his line of work, as a gay-Hispanic-fiscal conservative, he finds himself being often the most conservative person in liberal spheres and most liberal in conservative rooms, “I find myself being an ambassador.” He knows he can cross the artificial political boundaries that many cannot, and he uses that position to advocate for better acceptance and understanding of the other side. It starts with asking questions and finding common ground, too often he finds, we are being told what we want politically rather than being asked. This problem is exasperating the tribalism that he sees plaguing our system, a problem that is growing but that is not new. Joe first saw this behavior in California’s 1994 Proposition 187, a ballot initiative to establish a state-run citizenship screening program to prohibit those here without documentation from state services. Much like today, the rhetoric turned vitriolic and “it was tough to be a Hispanic in the California Republican Party.” The bitter roots of today’s disagreements spread far and wide. More generally, even we can agree, when we can set aside our differences, we are speaking to each other on different terms. Democrats, he notes, talk in terms of fairness while their Republican counterparts utilize traditionalism. And, as Joe notes, “if you’re talking on your own terms, you’re talking past each other.”

When it comes to governing, one of the most significant problems that Joe sees is the vilification of compromise. He saw this exemplified following the Supreme Court ruling that legalized gay marriage, a decision that left a void in existing tax policy. Reforming the system would please both fiscal conservatives and progressives pushing for legal equality. A Senate Democrat reached out to the Tax Foundation to find a Republican co-sponsor, and out of fear from a primary opponent using the bipartisan cooperation against them, the Republicans couldn’t make it happen. This highlighted two critical issues from Joe's perspective: 1) Senators work together so infrequently that they don’t even know one another well enough to find co-sponsors, and 2) Primaries are pushing elected officials further away from the center. This was something reiterated in the 2011 budget deals between President Obama and Speaker Boehner that ultimately failed to provide reform in either direction. “there isn’t a constituency for compromise,” Joe notes, when different worldviews are on the table, and that “can’t really be fixed over a glass of bourbon.”

This sort of perspective has given him pause before too quickly discounting the President’s agenda, “I tried to give the president a chance,” he tells me. He notes an earlier time in which there was a bipartisan sense that you left the campaign behind and began to govern together after an election, but now were in “nearly a perpetual campaign.” Despite this shift, you have to keep believing that compromise is possible, the negotiations can continue, Joe tells me. “There’s a tendency to flip the table,” he notes, we celebrate the irrational and stubborn at bold and principled, while they do little to push an agenda. “I’m the last one to leave the negation table.” In these compromises, there can be hope. Joe also finds hope in the political pendulum, the notion that the next president always is strongest in the place the previous was weakest. The pendulum has swung with dramatic velocity, but so too will it swing back with vigor.

The division is something being felt intimately by those working in the Trump administration, I spoke with one appointee on the condition of anonymity in his DC office, sitting in the shadow of a Jasper Johns painting of the United States. This division doesn’t bother this appointee, “If we're not striving to be better, there isn’t division. If there isn’t division, there can be progress,” he tells me, “As long as there’s division through civility, were on the right path.” He also attempted to put the division we see today into context, as several of the Republicans I spoke with have, referencing the civil rights movement, the war on drugs and the civil war, “it’s been worst.” What we have to ask ourselves is “are we setting the right path forward?” he insists, and under his calculation, we are. The problem as he sees it is more in the legislation system, “the House and Senate are getting so polarized,” the parties can’t seem to get together. This sort of inaction is leading to what he colors as the “age of executive order Presidents,” a system that requires no compromise, but the next administration can revoke that with the stroke of a pen. This system cannot last with such singular and unstable action, he tells me, “it doesn’t get to the root of the problem of helping people.” He sees the media as a further dividing factor, with journalist too willing to use anonymous sources to tank people’s careers without real facts or research. He uses as example an experience he had in which a completely erroneous story on his qualifications ran on CNN without sources or comment from anyone on either side. “I think they should license reporters,” he says, noting how many professions require licenses that can be revoked for bad practice. The aggression in the media is pushing the camps further away from one another. There is no positive coverage for those attempting to do good, under his assessment, “people don’t’ get credit in the ‘do what’s right’ camp.” A problem he sees inside and out of the administration.

This appointee has seen the politics of the day erode many of his relationships. His circles have always been slightly more conservative, coming from a small Texas town, but were never rooted in politics. “I’ve never based my friends on where someone was a Republican or Democrat,” he tells me, “and I wouldn’t want to be friends with someone who did.” As an outspoken Trump supporter during the campaign, he faced angry outburst from friends and strangers alike. “Did I get flack?” he asks in jest, “Oh, yeah.” On election night, he walked through the bitter taunts of Hillary supports, MAGA hat firmly on his head. “I’ve been defriended a lot,” he notes with a tinge of sadness, “even at parties, people get mad that I’m there.” He stands by what he believes but wishes the politics didn’t get in the way of his friendships. He notes on instance with an old friend who tried to get into a fight with him at a bar, he approached the friend the next day to try and talk out their issues and move forward, it didn’t work, “since I have my beliefs, he couldn’t get on board with that.” And just like that, his friend was gone. “I don’t think the left is very tolerant of those they don’t agree with,” he concludes. Friends have disappeared, and with them, their perspectives. Differing views on politics and life were provided from more liberal friends, and former colleagues, those viewpoints now painfully distant from his wood-paneled government office.

I raced from his office across town to CNN where I sat down with commentator and former Clinton advisor Paul Begala. The irony of leaving a Trump appointee office for the belly of what they see as their greatest beast is not lost on me. “Of course I don’t talk to my next door neighbors about politics, I have to see them again,” he tells me in jest, noting the ease at which people are willing to talk to me about their views as I disappear in a Burnt orange Jeep wrangler the next day. Begala sees bitterness taking over our politics as communities become more ideologically segregated, “the only way to govern ourselves is to know each other,” he notes, “it is a good thing to know and love people who don’t vote the same.” The segregation of our communities has grown drastically since his time in the white house; he tells me that in the 90’s about 1/3 of Americans lived in a county that went to either candidate in a landslide, today that number is more near 2/3. Our communities have grown so divided that not only do we not talk to people with different views, we can’t even run into them at the supermarket, “I really worry that were so segregated,” he tells me. It can cause what he calls the “Pauline Kael Syndrome,” a malady named for the famed New Yorker film critic who after the Nixon election said “How can he have won? Nobody I know voted for him.” This sort of tunnel vision can have serious ramifications and is only exasperated as we grow further apart from one another. For example, he says, where he lives in northern Virginia, you could talk to folk for days and never meet a Trump voter, but in Southwest Virginia, drive for hours and never see a Hillary sign. “We’ve lost common experiences,” he sees as one cause for division. For his father’s generation, serving in the military was a common cause that brought men of different walks of life together, they learned from one another and then came back with a greater understanding of their neighbors, with something to bond over. “We need national service,” Mr. Begala insists, “as close to a draft as you can get” to join AmeriCorps, the Peace Corps, Teach for America and the like. It would bring poor kids and rich kids together from all over the country, give them a common cause and then send them to college with education credit to cut down on the cost of higher education.

“I’m for the broadest possible definition of neighbor,” he says, quoting scriptures call.

This problem isn’t just in our neighborhoods, but in how we consume information, “were self-segregating in media and information,” a notion I can’t stop thinking about as we sit in CNN’s DC bureau. The information we are getting doesn’t tell us about one another, and when we don’t know each other “that’s how we hate.” Each of us becomes an archetype for something to resent rather than a neighbor to express compassion towards, scapegoating and fear quickly follow. As Mr. Begala sees is, CNN is bending over backward to present as many sides of an issue as possible, on most days having a Trump Republican, a never Trumper, a moderate Democrat and a Bernie-esque progressive (the desk gets more crowded every day.) Begala often works with his fellow panelists to understand them better in spite of their political differences, “I need to know people like that, not just for my job, but for my soul.” But this notion of “fair and balanced” coverage can give validity to points of view that have no basis in fact, but under an excuse for balance can make its way into prime time coverage, “this vulnerability of journalism is being exploited by conservatives.”

“We are in a period of deeply asymmetrical partisanship and hatred,” he tells me. He notes that when the Supreme Court elected George W Bush, he truly believed Bush to be a constitutionally illegitimate President, but when chosen, the Democrats stepped aside and let him govern. For the betterment of the country and out of patriotism, the Democrats gave in, an attempt to play by the rules that he doesn’t see the Republicans having any obligation to. Both sides are playing the same game by a different set of rules, he notes. “The empathy is asymmetrical,” he adds, “it isn’t both sides. Since Trump’s election, progressives have really tried to understand what they missed.” This difficult introspection is lacking in the conservative movement, he believes. He brings up a notion one of his children has brought up about a divide in country music, which Paul prefers, and hip-hop which his son prefers. Much of the country music canon is filled with songs of disdain towards city folks and the growing modernization of communities, that isn’t something his son sees in hip-hop, there is no contempt for the farmer. As Begala sees it, “both sides know who’s winning and losing,” rural parts of the country are being left behind in the modern economy, and as a result, they’re punching up.

“I wish everyone could say there is someone I know and love who votes different,” he tells me. Begala uses as example his friendship with former Crossfire co-host Tucker Carlson, “we disagree on everything, but we found things we could agree on like family and faith.” This friendship is fundamental to his understanding the humanity in other points of view, “if all we do is look for a vigorous argument, we don’t learn anything.” He quotes his former boss, President Clinton to illustrate this point, “we have to understand our adversaries.” The conversation has to start somewhere, “we need to talk to each other, not even necessarily about politics.” Once those relationships are built, those communities are formed, we can begin the work of politicking. “I believe in building bridges,” Mr. Begala concludes, “and bridges are best built at the narrowest part of the river; sometimes politics can be the biggest part of the river.”

I spent the rest of the weekend in D.C. with my ‘adversaries’, the people I love and care about who don’t vote the same as me. Together we represent probably every political viewpoint on the spectrum. We debated the merits of politics in sports and entertainment, we shared stories of past mistakes, we drank wine, we celebrated pride in the Nation’s capital—together.

We have found that narrow part of the river and started to build.