From one human to another

The CoachUSA bus had left the gorges and high-rises of Ithaca far behind. We had passed the blood-red clusters of signs in the quaint town of Caroline, screaming “Zoning Kills Dreams.” We wound through the rolling green hills and vast swathes of farmland.

Like many Cornellians in early October, I was heading home for fall break. As great as Ithaca is, I needed to take a step back from studies and extracurriculars. And after being away from home for two months, I wanted to return and see my 1-year-old Golden Retriever.

Normally on these trips, I try to get a couple hours of sleep or maybe put the finishing touches on an assignment. But that was not to be the case today. My bus driver struck up a conversation with me on the first leg of the journey to Binghamton.

He asked me what I was studying and what I wanted to do after Cornell. After I told him about my major and desire to do something related to business, he talked about the importance of negotiation and communication. The driver then began to tell me about his life and experience.

He was a union man and very familiar with how Ithaca changed over the decades. We talked about how CoachUSA first began to pick passengers up on-campus, instead of downtown.  We also talked about Slope Days past and present, which we both agreed were similar to Woodstock. At one point, he and I marveled at the convenience of modern temperature control.

Eventually, as with most of my conversations nowadays, the topic of discussion turned to politics. Normally, these conversations result in either fervent disagreement or awkward attempts to steer the conversation back towards less controversial topics.

But, to my surprise, I found myself agreeing with the bus driver on many points. We talked about local issues, namely road and streetlight maintenance. He and I also shared complaints about the influence and wealth of career politicians on both sides of the political aisle.

Most importantly, we both lamented heightened political polarization and its effect on discourse. For him, it has gotten so bad that, when asked who he was, he says, “I am an earthling.”

Not a Republican or a Democrat. Not an American or even an upstate New Yorker. Just an “earthling.”

At the time, I didn’t know if he was serious or not. But something about the driver’s response resonated with me. In the extremes of today’s political discourse, the human element is often lost. Wide aspersions are cast, with voters grouped as “deplorables” or “radical socialists.”

The fiery rhetoric does not help either. In our most recent midterm elections, presidential historian Michael Beschloss warned that a Republican victory would threaten democracy. And in 2020, former president Donald Trump declared, “This election will decide whether we save the American Dream or whether we allow a socialist agenda to demolish our cherished destiny.” It seems that, no matter which party you look at, politicians are preaching about  “doomsday” scenarios.

Even reading the pages of the Cornell Daily Sun, one might suspect that any sort of political agreement would not be possible.

Take the most recent controversy over the Ann Coulter ‘84 speaking event. One “Letter to the Editor” called on the university to cancel the event, demanding “accountability for her extremist rhetoric that qualifies as hate speech.” Another defended the “robust exchange of ideas,” calling it “the heart of a Cornell education.”

In such a hyperpolarized environment, it is very tempting to retreat into one’s own partisan corner. After all, what’s the point of engaging with anyone if we’re going to get shouted down anyways? What’s the point of wearing a toxic political label, like “conservative” or “liberal” if I will be viewed as the “other” in any given situation?

Well, that might not necessarily be the case. Despite the rhetoric we might hear nationally or within campus politics, the climate is not as toxic as people might believe it is. There is still an abundance of hope for productive discourse and, more importantly, for humanity.

On September 2nd, a month before fall break, I volunteered to staff the Lutheran Laymen’s League booth at the New York State Fair. It was my first time venturing to Syracuse for the event, and I was very excited to go. From the butter statue to the sand sculpture and all the activities in-between, the fair more than exceeded my expectations.

But even more important than all of the fun spectacles, I enjoyed talking with those who came to the Lutheran booth. Coming from a more conservative denomination, I spent some time anxiously preparing myself on how to respond to difficult questions about abortion, marriage, and other contentious issues.

The first few groups of visitors to our booth were already churchgoers. Many were interested in learning more about Lutheranism specifically, while others gave us the encouragement we needed for the next hour. This was probably going to be easy, I thought. However, I was in for a surprise.

As the hour progressed, and as I expected, we got more difficult questions. Without getting into specifics, we discussed topics like abortion, marriage, salvation, and other issues. And I received some pushback on my answers. But unlike many interactions I’ve had on campus, the people I spoke with at the state fair approached us with genuine curiosity. And by engaging with them, I felt that I understood my own beliefs much better than I did previously.

Fast forward to September 30th, and it is the weekend of the Feed My Starving Children (FMSC) Mobile Pack. FMSC is a non-profit that addresses child malnutrition globally and “is dedicated to seeing every child whole in body and spirit.” This year, multiple groups across campus and the wider-Ithaca community came together to pack food for FMSC.

One such group was the Cornell Republicans. Vice President of External Operations Armand Chancellor ‘25 said the atmosphere in the room with 70 packers was exciting. “The pack felt good, much better than doing work or scrolling through Twitter,” Chancellor recounted, “The joy of helping people and being around those who want to help others is great.”

And politics did not get in the way of FMSC’s mission. “The most telling story was when we had finished packing,” Chancellor recalled. One College Republican volunteer had been at a packing station with a former teacher. The teacher was politically on the left and saw the Cornell Republicans shirt. According to Chancellor, the student told the teacher that “we were there as a club. We then cracked jokes with the man and asked if he could take our picture, which he did.”

Despite what we might keep telling ourselves, the “libs” and “Trumpers” are not political creatures with diametrically opposite interests. Contentious cultural and political issues do not have to dominate our day-to-day discourse.

At the end of a long week, we discuss our weekend or evening plans. We talk about careers, sports, and our past experiences. We ask ourselves questions about matters both spiritual and physical. And, when our neighbors need help, we put our differences aside and come together.

We are humans first and foremost. Or, as the bus driver would have said it, “earthlings.”

This article was originally published in the Cornell Review’s semesterly print edition.