How Did America Lose its Civility?

The brutal, noisy wrestling match that American politics and public discourse have become in the Trump era has recently stunned me into silence and sadness and nearly sapped my ability to write about life in the Italian village where I now make my home and where civility survives.

It’s also impossible not to take stock and dwell for a moment on the contrast between today’s America and that of the bygone society where I was raised, educated, and had a career.

For the first three decades of my life, I lived in six distinctly different parts of the country, including three of which would today be called red states — Oklahoma, Tennessee, and Alaska — and four blue states — California, Minnesota, Washington, and New York. Each of them had unique and often tragic histories, diverse populations, and differing choices in daily life.

Regardless of the many cultural differences, they exhibited three traits in common: empathy for other people, civility in public discourse, a strong sense of community.

My early adolescent and formative years were spent in Minnesota, a largely rural state but also one with a metropolitan area — Minneapolis and Saint Paul — well-known for its educational, cultural, and medical contributions to American society. I learned both U.S. and world history in school. I went on many group tours to art museums, symphonies, and historical sites. When I was 13, I figured out how to use the bus system to explore the city on my own, making frequent trips to the downtown library, the sprawling campus of the university, and verdant parks along the Mississippi River.

After completing seven years of back-to-back degree programs, I put in an obligatory tour of service with the U.S. Air Force, during a period of both a hot war and a cold one. I was fortunate enough to escape the former but was sufficiently involved in the latter as an officer in a Dr. Strangelove-like war room deep in an underground bunker. Global thermonuclear war was simulated. If it were real, I had to know that my family at the time would likely be incinerated while I was safe.

For most of my 40 plus years of professional practice as an urban planner, I worked as a consultant to communities all over the country, mainly in states west of the Mississippi. Though the mayors, elected officials, and citizens of those towns held widely divergent political views, we typically had calm, civil discussions about problems and opportunities. I worked with a brilliant colleague, using innovative communication techniques. We always found areas of common ground among the local citizenry, regardless of the locale. We accomplished many things and often came away with kudos from even recalcitrant participants in the process. I became fond of every community I was involved with. Most importantly, I learned to appreciate different points of view.

The current downfall of civility in America is not entirely new. Twelve years ago, I began to see a distinct change in the temperament of citizens who showed up for meetings. Some came loaded for bear, with long-winded conspiracy theories such as the supposed “one world order” of the United Nations Agenda 21. The speeches became laden with hateful language.

I recall one older woman in a meeting angrily blame single, “foreign” mothers for ruining her neighborhood. In another heated meeting, an elected official stunned the audience by claiming that blacks would invade their city if the zoning ordinance were changed to allow higher-density housing. Meetings intended to seek community consensus were hijacked by noisy groups with signs and personal accusations.

I witnessed one staff person reduced to tears by a mob shouting that she was going to benefit financially from a proposed policy. I was once myself threatened by large man who approached me in city hall and demanded to know if I was “with them or against them.”

My wife was also seeing anger and random cruelty in her work with clients. Eventually it became apparent it was time to get out. For our safety and sanity, we found a path eight years ago to where we live now  —  a small village in rural Italy, where people are kind, helpful, and generous.

Recently, I was taken with a headline in an on-line interview which said many people are leaving the U.S. to find the American Dream — a statement filled with both irony and enormous sorrow.

Despite some Americans’ belief that Italy is somehow aligned politically with the current U.S. administration, that is hardly the case. Despite a shift to the right in the last parliamentary elections, Italy remains solidly a “social democracy,” with health care and housing as human rights. It taxes the wealthy at a significantly higher rate, just as the U.S. did before Reagan. It protects the middle class by not levying property taxes on homes and funds schools from national revenues. It is currently investing heavily in rail transport, roadway and utilities infrastructure, public services, parks, and historic preservation.

For more than a decade, Italy has been grappling with the thorny issue of immigration. Its population is declining, but many Italians are loathe to encourage more immigration. As a result, Italy has adopted measures just now being considered by the U.S. government. There is a strict quota system that limits work visas. But the system specifically reserves slots for workers in farming, construction, and hospitality industries. There are specific set-asides for people from several dozen countries in Africa and Asia with bi-lateral treaties. Immigrants can become legal residents if they pay taxes and pass a language exam. Foreigners pay an annual fee for access to the health care system. But only citizens can vote. (We are eligible to become citizens in two more years.)

My wife’s son is in his second year at university, a music conservatory. The yearly tuition is only €800 ($900) since higher education is funded nationally. For students with talent in hand work, the liceo system (which I wrote about in June) offers training for jobs in fabrication and artisanal work. If Italy lacks a sound policy, it would be one that offers incentives for start-up businesses. If I were appointed economic czar, I would give a tax amnesty to any business that hired local residents.

In many ways, living here reminds me of the era I grew up in, the 1950s — a time in America when the middle class was strong, people were kind and optimistic, and basic civil rights were being expanded. People saw themselves as members of communities, not contentious political camps.

Fortunately, a decade ago we saw the writing on the wall and found our way to a more pleasant future. Nonetheless, I despair for my homeland.