Scott, a blogger friend, recently wrote about friendship. In short, he suggests he doesn’t have as many close friends as he did in grad school because of modernization and the quickening pace of his and other’s professional lives.

To Scott’s credit, he’s actively thinking about how to strengthen his friendships. The post is noteworthy because Scott is a political scientist who typically writes about currency rates, U.S. and German politics, and the state of the world more generally. Also, in my experience, males aren’t as introspective about friendship as females.

Scott hypothesizes that his friendships aren’t stronger because of his and his friends’ stage of life. Demanding careers, ever expanding internet communication, shuttling children to after school activities, endless household tasks, etc.

I’m sure that analysis resonated with his readers, but I kept thinking of a missing piece.

My wife and her friends are as busy as my male friends and me. Most of them volunteer or work half to three-quarter time outside the home and do more shuttling of kids, grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking, pet care, and school paperwork and volunteering. Yet, they’re much more intentional about getting together; as a result, they’re friendships are deeper.

Why is that? Genetic differences? I doubt it. I think it’s because they’re more comfortable acknowledging friendships matter. Is it because males are socialized to be more self-reliant?

I have to admit, sometimes I’m envious of how often my wife and her friends get together to swap stories and support one another. She is better than I am at initiating. She’s much more apt to pick up the phone and call a friend and say, “Can you talk?” And her friends are more apt to call her and ask the same thing. They get busy too and sometimes struggle to get together, but they’re more comfortable taking turns leaning on each other. 

My male friends work long hours, and unlike many of their fathers, they also help with child-rearing and household responsibilities. I wonder is it that we’re too busy to get together or is it just not a priority because of how we were socialized? 

Will things change when our middle and high schoolers leave home? As empty nesters will we make more time for another?

Postscript: When we returned home from the Seattle half marathon Sunday late afternoon, we couldn’t believe our eyes. Our house was decorated with Christmas lights. Turns out PC and the Malumute, two of my best friends, spent hours doing what I was unable to do many moons ago. A and J were thrilled, and after they thought about it for a minute, they said, “How come they could do it?” to which I said “That’s a darn good question.” I think it’s a two part answer—a better ladder and superior patience. They would probably add superior athleticism. They both said the other guy spent hours on it which completely contradicts what I’ve written above! There goes the greater good.

M’s and my differing political philosophies stem from our disparate worldviews; our disparate worldviews flow from our different life experiences. We grew up in different households, attended different schools, have lived in different communities, chose different mentors, and worship in different churches. Now we read different periodicals, see different movies, vacation in different places, and socialize with different people.

There is nothing I can say to get M to switch sides and value pluralism and social justice as much as me. Similarly, he knows there’s nothing he can say to get me to value limited government and free market capitalism as much as he does. Instead of attempting the impossible, to get one another to change worldviews, we accept our fundamental differences and set our sights lower. We know we can influence one another’s thinking on specific issues because we’ve done it. Lower case, “c” change is a more manageable and constructive goal than upper case, “C” Change.

We bridge the chasm by resisting the tendency to present our ideas as inherently superior and thereby avoid projecting feelings of superiority.

Conservatives’ chief criticism of liberals is that they are arrogant. Conservatives complain that liberals not only think they are smarter, more compassionate, and more sophisticated than everyone else, but they also feel it’s their duty to help the less intelligent, compassionate, and sophisticated catch up. Simply put, they are condescending. If they are honest though, ideologues on the right will admit to feeling superior to their political opponents. Like many liberals, many conservative also think, “Because I take enlightened position ‘x’ and you inexplicably uphold position ‘y,’ I’m superior to you.”

Neither end of the political spectrum has a monopoly on projecting a sense of superiority.

In debating with M, I try to avoid that pitfall by reminding myself that his politics make sense given his family background, where he grew up, his school and work experiences, the media he tunes into, and the friends he spends time with. M’s background isn’t inferior to mine, just different; similarly, his political opinions aren’t inferior to mine, just different.

Most ideologues are convinced their opponents are irrational, but most everyone’s politics are rational if understood in the context of their life experience. In fact, one can’t truly bridge the political chasm until they acknowledge that if they had lived the same life as their political opponent they would in all likelihood think and vote similarly.

This realization has helped M and me work through our political differences. When one of us, like the dinner party guest, makes what the other interprets as an outlandish claim, the most constructive response is “Why do you believe that?” not awkward silence or “How can you be such an idiot?” The question, “Why do you believe that?” often leads to, “What values are most important to you?” Then, to challenge M to acknowledge the subjectivity of his value system, I also sometimes ask, “Why those values and not others?”

In a recent debate, for example, I asked, “Why is your church up in arms about gay marriage, but relatively silent on divorce rates?”

Developing meaningful friendships across the political continuum seems like a lost art. M and I have succeeded where many others have seemingly given up by spending time together getting to know one another as people, by respectfully considering each person’s position on specific issues while realizing neither person is going to forsake their overarching political philosophy, and by resisting the tendency to present our ideas as inherently superior.

That’s not to say we’ve mastered this balancing act. We don’t always get it right, but to our credit, instead of retreating, we persevere. I’m indebted to M for these lessons and my life is richer as a result of his friendship.