Humans are storytellers by nature. Through narratives, we obtain knowledge, develop our morality, and understand the order of the world, including our role and expectations. Neuroscientists, anthropologists, historians, psychologists, and others are continuously grappling with the question of why we seem so attracted to this form of communication. Post-modernists have even raised the idea that perhaps stories are so prolific in human life that they are the only force behind the development of our realities and identities, and our entire conscious beings are merely products of socialization. So what is it that is so powerful about stories?
Shaping Knowledge and Conception of Being
Perhaps one of the earliest and most infamous philosophers to analyze the power of the story was Plato, who recorded Socrates’s allegory of the cave. The reality and knowledge of humanity and conception of our being, according to Socrates, is shaped by the stories we are told by those who have more information, agency or power than we do. In the story, Socrates illustrates people in a cave staring at the wall where shadows are being cast by those standing behind them, telling them the stories which become their only reality. The people watching the shadows cannot turn around, so they do not realize who is behind them, nor that they are trapped in a cave. Socrates then digresses and paints the philosopher as someone who can perhaps transcend the cave. He says, however, that because the being of the people is defined entirely by the shadows, if a philosopher were to tell them about life beyond the cave, they would be defensive and not want to believe it, as it would destabilize their entire reality. This seems indicative of what we see in contemporary politics when someone shares a story that undermines our currently controlling narratives or prejudices.
This thought is continued within many thinkers later in the era of modernity. The birth of modernity came with Machiavelli, who, in his most famous work The Prince, talked about how the virtue of statesmanship can be learned perhaps best by examining the lives of virtuous leaders before them. He also reiterates a multitude of times the distinction between the narrative a political leader must maintain for their constituents and what principles or influences should actually be guiding them. In other words, Machiavelli says that virtuous princes are putting the shadows on the wall and use stories as a powerful tool to manipulate, and this is a good thing because it sustains their power, even when it isn’t the truth.
Edmund Burke raises a similar view of stories and language in his Philosophic Inquiry into the Sublime and the Beautiful, where he says that emotion is far stronger in human passions than knowledge. Additionally, he writes that language has the power to elicit emotions and human passions more than art or stimuli of other physical senses such as sight and touch. Language allows us to be drawn both into the sublime, or that which causes awe and pain, and the beautiful, which causes relaxation and pleasure. Further, language is the medium through which we have conscious thought. He digresses a great deal on poetry, but circles back to a similar view of storytelling as a way of persuading a group of people. He also examines the importance of soft power and cultural synthesis in his writings on politics, where he outlines his theory of prudence. He explains that change and reality shifts are more persuasive, taming, and effective when introduced gradually than when they are forced. This is fusing two peoples’ overall narrative-based realities into one cohesive arc.
Philosopher Martin Heidegger, many years later, poses the question of how human reality is shaped by meditating on the following: how one might extract the a priori understanding of being of the Dasein, or the introspective, self-aware, existentialist person who is aware of their being but who can’t answer the question of being. He suggests that, in order to formulate a question that can reach this natural understanding so that we might articulate it, one must consider everything which is persuading or shaping our understanding that is separate from nature. This he designates as historicity. While he never publishes the finished project as part of Being and Time, Heidegger says that the second part of his thesis will unpack the theories of Kant, Descartes, and Aristotle on being because these thinkers built on each other to try to answer the question. These thinkers are now the foundation of his own conscious understanding of being, so to get back to his natural thought, he has to rule out what is coming from this historicity of his thought. In other words, Heidegger says that the stories and narratives of being which are passed to us through history in some way hide from us our true being, which seems fairly in line with the post-modernist and platonic ideal that we are a product of the narratives we are socialized to adopt.
In sum, each of these thinkers paints stories as a powerful force. They comment very little on whether they are good or bad, but describe their significance and utility in communications and politics, whether their function is to divide or bring people together. Stories, for these thinkers, are a means to an end, but a means of the highest force.
Stories and Polarization
In being the most powerful tool, stories have caused a lot of trouble. More seriously, stories have been a major force escalating polarization, politically and otherwise, within human communication, as seen in the polarization of contemporary politics. Humans have crafted their realities from stereotypes, generalized narratives, and assumptions because they are so deeply ingrained in how we think and view the world. However, the truth is that many of these persuasions are implicit in our psyches and we don’t even realize when they are the cornerstones of our decisions.
Political parties, partisan ideology, and political stances, as a key example, have become entrenched in narratives crafted by the media and campaigns of opposite parties. These stereotypes include labeling liberals as urban “snowflakes” who are over-educated with no common-sense, rich, and engage in giving back to make themselves feel good, among other narratives. In terms of Republicans, those stereotypes include claims that they are backwoods, backwards, white supremacists who force their religion and nostalgia for a less inclusive time on everyone, among other narratives. On both sides, these narrative stereotypes have completely dehumanized people.
In many ways, narratives can also put restrictions on civic political agency via self-censorship. When people believe that we are “less than” because of a narrative and don’t trust us or our abilities, or when we don’t see our own true strength or capacity for change because of that burden we are less likely to engage or demonstrate leadership. Narratives, in many ways, compromise our civic integrity and democratic value as a voice at the table in political discourse. Sometimes, because we are so afraid of falling into a narrative, we simply don’t speak at all. In other words, we mask our identities and live our lives feeling desperate for but unable to achieve authenticity, often making us more resentful of our opposition, or perceived opposition, and therefore, more defensive in all conversations, and less able to find allies, supporters, common ground or collaborators even if we wanted to engage despite alienation.
Stories as Path to Depolarization: Finding Common Ground
While storytelling can clearly have negative consequences in pushing people apart, is there a way in which it can have a positive effect, even in undoing trends like polarization? Reaching into the heart of someone’s humanity, and influencing their emotions doesn’t have to alienate them. It can also be used to share a commonality, and from that, find the principles and values which bring us together, and can get us to cooperate as a community and as a species. For example, several months ago when given the opportunity to speak with Fran Townsend, the former Homeland Security Advisor to President George W. Bush, we discussed the current division in politics and the importance of depolarization efforts to the stability of American democracy. She shared with me a story that she has shared with many others, and believes defines the philosophy and success of her career.
Once, when on a trip to Saudi Arabia, Townsend found herself caught in a tense meeting between President Bush and Saud al-Faysal over a 9-11 negotiation. When it seemed like endless division was going to keep them from getting anywhere, Townsend heard Abdullah playing with something in his pocket. She asked what it was, and he revealed he had been jiggling his Islamic prayer beads. Despite the dangerous risk of violating Saudi Law, Townsend immediately revealed her own Catholic rosary in her own pocket, to demonstrate they were not so different. At this point, they were able to move forward in the discussion and work together. Upon parting ways, Abdullah gifted her his prayer beads as “a symbol of trust to give to President Bush” to signify that he saw Townsend as honest and was grateful to have her as a partner. While not a story directly, religion, and symbolic religious objects, imply a narrative of a person and their beliefs, and therefore, are still connected to the means of story-telling. Common ground has since become a hallmark of her career.
If you’ve had the opportunity to meet American University’s 2020 Sine Fellow Alphonso Jackson, you’ll hear him tell share story upon story about his childhood as the youngest of many siblings with parents who he greatly admires, and an incredible life that has taken him everywhere from marching in Bloody Sunday to serving in the cabinet of the White House. The first time we met, I shared with Alphonso my dedication to depolarization, and he gave the room one of his most central kernels of wisdom. The three rules to live by, he said, were to (1) speak without being offensive, (2) listen without getting defensive, and to (3) always leave people with their human dignity. He then proceeded to share a number of stories about when he used these rules to find common ground, sharing stories and little pearls of wisdom from his parents and anecdotes about learning lessons in life. It was clear that for Alphonso, stories were not just a way to persuade, but a way to stay grounded, learn, bring people together, and cure division. He and Townsend share remarkably different stories and worked in different parts of the world, Townsend in foreign affairs and Jackson in domestic policy and civil rights activism, but both used stories to surpass even the most turbulent times dividing humanity.
Outside of the world of politics and policy, a dear friend of mine, Daryl Davis, has been using stories for deradicalization of KKK members for years and has since become a worldwide activist for civil discourse on top of being a famous black blues musician. Daryl and I have talked for hours, sharing stories about how he has listened to the stories and opinions of others in order to establish trust and dignity, as Townsend and Jackson did so that he might then share his own story and bring them out of a life of hate. By then sharing these stories of disengagement around the world, and demystifying and depowering symbols of the narrative of hate by keeping robes of former members and allowing people to touch them, Daryl has been able to soften people to the idea of redemption and humanity not being immoral even when someone has gone down the wrong path. It is not that you should condone their hate, or feel the weight of that call to action burden, for him. It is that you recognize that narrative has shaped them also, and by demystifying likewise the narrative of those they have been persuaded to hate through proximity, or contact theory as sociologists sometimes like to call it, the propaganda or conceptual narrative unravels.
I had the opportunity to speak to one of the reformed members, Scott Shepherd, and he explained to me that before joining the Klan, he had tried to join the Mafia and a number of other extremist groups because he was simply looking for purpose. He had a mentor and guardian who was black, but the narrative which provided him inclusion he jumped at, and now looks back in horror about how he let this power of story-based persuasion steer him away from those he loved into a force of evil. He now lives his life warning others about this power of narrative and encourages them to focus on Daryl, Jackson and Townsends version of storytelling of the now, of common ground, and of humanity, rather than depolarizing stories which focus on difference and drive us apart.
Better Angels, the grassroots depolarization nonprofit, has realized the power of stories for some time now. One of their hallmark marketing strategies at the founding of the organization was the television of a friendship that occurred between a Republican and Democrat where they took a road trip together and realized where they could find common ground. Those who work for the group, including James Coan, founder of his own depolarization group some time ago, have conceptualized the power of this through emotional theory, where like Townsend said, stories of humanity and commonality are able to take us from disgust to the other end of the axis towards trust and mutual respect, or feeling dignified and therefore seeing dignity in others.
The truth is, the longer you work in the world of depolarization, the more you realize that there are institutional, structural strategies, but an overwhelming heart of the work is centered around stories, representative of shared humanity and a bridge to collaboration rather than separation. I could share the stories of an endless number of people I’ve met all over the world who have used this method for depolarizing work, each as inspiring as the last. But it’s important to note that in each of these cases, what was really at work was stories against stories. Broader narratives, constructed by mass social forces from media to political propaganda and other manufactured stereotypes, countered by personal anecdotes that hit on a deeper human emotion than pure resonation with a vague trend. Stories, as such, are not holistically good or bad in communication. Anecdotal evidence is not comprehensive or representative seems to be the trouble behind why it can be used to drive people apart.
This has become a wider and wider talking point within academia and political discourse especially. It is often looked down on because of its focus on the particular or overgeneralization which is not representative of reality. However, while other evidence, such as quantitative seems important for that reason, it cannot replace all anecdotal evidence and be totally superior, as it leaves out a deeper element of information that can not be conveyed in numbers, and statistics can be just as misleading. Rather, the balance of evidence seems to be the takeaway, and stories, are simply one powerful tool. Philosophically, argued as perhaps the most powerful tool. And with that, we should wield them thoughtfully.