Seeing Others: How Recognition Works―and How It Can Heal a Divided World
Michèle Lamont
272 pages, Atria/One Signal Publishers, 2023
In recent years, the definition of the American dream has become increasingly slippery, a grab bag of vague and contradictory ideas about promises for the future which includes anything from “having a good family” to reaching middle-class comfort. One of its persistent characteristics, however, is its paradoxical character: On the one hand, it professes that we can all “succeed” if we work hard enough, and that if we do, we will be viewed as meritorious. On the other hand, it implicitly frames those who don’t succeed as “losers,” as people who may be trying, but not enough (something is certainly lacking). These people typically feel that others don’t accord them much dignity or respect. Lacking recognition, they may feel they are worthless.
Against this background, the country is experiencing an important mental health crisis, not only among those in the lower half of the social ladder, but also among the “winners” at the top, who suffer from anxiety from overwork and concerns about money. At the same time, a growing number of Americans have come to see themselves as “outsiders” and are de facto excluded from our shared societal project.
How can we address the situation? It requires a multi-pronged approach that involves the mobilization of ordinary citizens as well as that of governments and employers. A chapter from in book Seeing Others: How Recognition Works and How It Can Help Heal a Divided World offers ways to address the challenge ahead. The research draws on 185 interviews conducted with change agents (philanthropists, entertainment professionals and comedians, activists, and others) and with 80 college students from the Northeast and the Midwest.—Michèle Lamont
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In the current context of political polarization, we urgently need to lift up “ordinary universalism”—which I define by what we all have in common as people, what makes us similar or compatible. This perspective can influence how people bridge boundaries with those who are different. This was clear to me in the early nineties, as I was interviewing a group of immigrant workers from Morocco and Algeria living in France, studying how they categorize people either by similarities or by differences. When asked about how they are similar and different from the French, they pointed to our physical similarities (“we all spend nine months in our mother’s womb and have ten fingers”), our shared human nature (“there are good and bad people in all races”), our shared needs (“we all get up in the morning to buy our bread at the baker”), and our shared spiritual origin (“we are all children of God”), and our shared cosmological humility (“we are all insignificant grains of sand in the universe”). Similarities between different groups need to be more visible if we are to escape our current cultural impasse of polarization and political sectarianism. But, paradoxically, this can—and must—be achieved while appreciating the differences that define various groups.
This idea of “ordinary universalism,” of emphasizing similarities over differences, is central to the work of many change agents. Take, for instance, Desmond Meade, the activist in Florida who leads the Florida Rights Restoration Coalition, where he fights to restore voting rights to formerly incarcerated people and emphasizes the many ways in which “we are all the same.” Or consider Sister Barbara Stanley, the Mother Superior of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart, whose religious order promotes human solidarity through projects around the globe, and who spoke to me about our shared humanity. Faith-based organizing mobilizes people by making salient all that we have in common across our differences.
The power of ordinary universalism can be seen all across the world. A recent study of female janitors working in a Mumbai mall showed how their focus on commonalities produced a strong sense of solidarity and resilience, which helped them deal with mistreatment on the job. They showed compassion for coworkers, visiting them when they were sick and advocating for them when needed. They also shared food and used terms of kinship (“aunty” and “sister”) to downplay status differences and forge community.
Similar patterns were found in other settings, including between students and janitors at a university in Malaysia. Older women janitors were observed giving advice to students about their health and nutrition, behaving as “surrogate aunties” rather than as low-status service workers. These women made salient their role as caring human beings instead of low-status service workers.
Creating common ground and unity has become more urgent since the Trump years, as discussions of political polarization, echo chambers, and filter bubbles are crowding online spaces. Social psychologists Matthew Feinberg and Robb Willer argue that forcing Republicans and Democrats, or conservatives and progressives, to converge around a single set of positions or policies is doomed to failure. When citizens try to agree on policies, the framing of the conversation encourages opponents to maintain their stance and impose their views on others. These authors believe it is more productive to engage in “moral reframing,” by focusing on commonalities and shared sacred values (“dignity” or “family”) instead of differences.
Ordinary universalism can also be seen increasingly in youth culture. Young people embrace global popular culture, which increasingly celebrates antiracism, feminism, and LGBTQ+ rights, along with other more traditional themes, such as sex and violence. Low-income Parisian youth often distance themselves from their dead-end jobs and broaden their horizons by embracing hybrid and multiracial global hip-hop culture. This includes a form of “aesthetic cosmopolitanism” that mixes hybrid genres (“banlieue rap,” for example, which includes references to North African musical traditions). For their part, middle-class Turkish immigrants in Berlin celebrate their cosmopolitan literacy, including their bilingualism and biculturalism, to contest the stigma they experience from some of the more provincial and less educated nationalist German citizens.
Ordinary universalism refers not only to what we all have in common, but also to embracing ethnic, religious, national, and other differences. Nationalist populism, Islamophobia, and xenophobia are on the rise in many countries, and ordinary universalism can be a vital counterweight. It weakens the boundaries between groups, making them more flexible and crossable. The turn toward “superdiversity” and a more “cosmopolitan canopy” contribute to this. So does the use of the category “people of color,” or that of “Latinx,” an umbrella term for a “supra-ethnic” category. These changes in terminology are part of a broader minority rights revolution. Equally important is the (contested) presence of affirmative action in universities and nonprofits, and the creation of affinity groups in the corporate sector.
One way that some corporations and other large organizations promote ordinary universalism is through what are called diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives. These have been criticized in some circles as “happy talk” or empty, symbolic gestures, rather than serious attempts to reckon with the marginalization of certain groups. They are also criticized as a hollow marketing ploy to increase profit, a corporate sleight of hand to appease workers, and an additional burden on employees of color who are asked to educate their peers. While these criticisms are all valid, thinking seriously about how to emphasize our similarities and value our differences is worthwhile—small decisions create change and slowly transform broader patterns.
In fact, while the United States has frequently failed to live up to its ideals, there is a long American tradition of interpersonal altruism that characterizes the civic and religious culture and permeates everyday interactions, even while in tension with a culture of racism. Nevertheless, solidarity appears to be weaker in the United States than in many other advanced industrial societies, in part because of high levels of political polarization. Americans have stronger negative views toward those who don’t share their political views, compared with their counterparts in other wealthy countries. This dynamic has worsened in recent years as inequality and unemployment have continued to rise. When groups feel they are competing with one another for resources, people are more likely to focus on who gets what, instead of on broadening recognition.
Few acknowledge that there is a common quest for recognition between the white working class who support right-wing populist candidates and progressive groups of LGBTQ+ people and antiracist advocates. That the former often see recognition as zero-sum certainly hinders this acknowledgment. Many resist the view that both groups deserve dignity, or that one group’s suffering is commensurate with the other’s. But by recognizing how their claims overlap, we may be better able to bridge boundaries and lower polarization. Progressive finger-wagging can only stoke working-class resentment toward professionals and managers, just as much as the claims of right-wing populists to represent the values of America irk progressives. Changing these attitudes may be an insurmountable challenge, but it is one that we all must contemplate.
The quest for recognition can bring together those at the extreme poles of American politics. We need to have a collective conversation across various corners of the public sphere about what it is, how to broaden it, and why it matters to people across the political spectrum. Many people understand the need to address economic inequality, but they fail to see why recognition is so important.