Elections, Civility, and Strawberry Matcha Lattes: What I Learned Living Abroad, and Alone, at 19-Years-Old, and What We All Could Learn from Northern Ireland
Election season in the United States. For even the most politically-involved Americans, the time between January and November every four years is filled with heightened cortisol levels, overtaken Instagram feeds, and emotionally-charged TV news anchors who nitpick political candidates down to the word, or better yet, criticize anchors from other stations simply based on differing political identities. It’s a period during which many of us exhale a collective sigh of relief when it’s officially over.
Except, in the past few years, that collective sigh of relief has escalated into a holding of breath. For the first time in our nation’s history, we witnessed a non-peaceful transfer of power between presidential administrations following the 2020 election. 2020 was a landmark year in our political landscape, not only due to the significance of January 6th—a date sure to go down in history books—but also because it left many Americans fearful of future elections and the possibility of a recurrence. This raises the question: how did we go from being a young nation established by founding fathers willing to fight and die for American democracy, to a society willing to throw away our democratic history for the idea of having one citizen in power?
As someone who was born during the George W. Bush administration and grew up during the era of Mitt Romney versus Barack Obama, where peaceful, mature political debates still occurred, I had high hopes for when I was finally old enough to cast a vote myself. I studied history for hours on end outside of school, always paying extra attention to sections on political debates, campaigns, and presidential terms. This, of course, only fueled my desire to engage with democracy someday. In 2016, when I was a mere sixth grader, I avidly watched politically related videos about the upcoming election, read article after article predicting the future political landscape based on each possible outcome (yes, for fun), and truly tuned into the ideas of those around me, developing my own sense of advocacy for the first time. Yet, upon reflection, this was also the same year I began noticing that things had deviated from previous political norms. There were increasing personal attacks during presidential debates compared to policy discussions, alongside disparaging social media posts and tweets targeting the personal lives of opponents, among other changes. Now, at the time, I chalked it up to Hillary Clinton’s candidacy – after all, never before had a woman stood a real chance at the presidency, and frankly, even at 12 years old, I was aware that a large portion of America did not seem ready for a female president. However, as I sit here now, almost 20 years old, I can confidently say that the changes that began occurring in 2016 were not coincidental. They demonstrated a shift in American politics—and, in truth, in our morality and civility.
As a rising sophomore at one of the leading liberal-arts colleges in the country, yet hailing from one of the most conservative counties in Michigan, I have never truly felt at peace with my political identity. I am often considered too liberal for my hometown peers but too centrist or moderate for my academic counterparts at university. However, what I do know about my political identity is that I will always value characteristics of morality in those I support. I will always value the protection of the rights and liberties of the American people, the protection of democratic institutions and our Constitution, and candidates who genuinely have the best interests of the country at heart and will help it prosper.
Additionally, as an international relations student, I will always cast my vote not just for someone to be the leader of my country but for someone whom I believe can be a world leader and wield that influence with proper respect. Thanks to my studies, I was fortunate enough to spend my summer interning internationally in Belfast, Northern Ireland, for the non-profit organization, Social Change Initiative, as a Donia Human Rights Center Fellow from the University of Michigan. This opportunity has allowed me to experience American politics with a new lens, incredibly during a time marked by an attempted assassination of a former president, the formal stepping down of another, and as a major party in America scrambled to select a new nominee for the 2024 election. Likewise, I have been able to experience European politics firsthand during a historic transfer of power between political parties for the Prime Minister position in the United Kingdom, hearings by the High Court and Court of Appeal determining critical post-Brexit legislation and protections for Northern Ireland citizens, and a critical election year for all of Europe. To say I have learned a lot—about myself, my country, and lessons Americans could learn from the world—would be an understatement.
It was the morning of the general election for Northern Ireland (the Fourth of July, ironically enough), and I sat drinking my usual iced strawberry matcha latte near the political district of Belfast—looking out the window and pondering how calm the day felt compared to my usual Fourth of July celebrations. And I guess that was when it first dawned on me... the day felt... unremarkable? Coming from the States, that adjective would not be my first choice to describe our election day in November, hence my surprise over the normalcy both in that little coffee shop and on the streets. Granted, I was in Northern Ireland, and the ‘official’ election business was occurring in England, but still—not one disparaging tweet or social media post taking over my apps, not one outburst in the general public as citizens walked to work, not one protest, let alone any sort of violence. I was stunned. Even more so the next day when everything continued to remain the same. It was remarkable. This was despite the fact that the more progressive Labour Party took power for the first time in almost fifteen years, with now Prime Minister Keir Starmer leading the charge, while Rishi Sunak and the Tories suffered losses—results that were far different from the European trend thus far. Yet again, there was no violence, no words of hate spewed publicly, and no sense that an internal coup against the Capitol building of the United Kingdom (or any of its specific nations) was going to occur because citizens were ‘enraged’ by the results. It was as if the day had come and gone with routine normalcy, just like my daily strawberry matcha run.
In fact, during the two months I lived abroad in Northern Ireland, I overheard more conversations about American politics than about the United Kingdom or even Belfast specifically. When I stayed at a hostel in Edinburgh, Scotland, numerous fellow travelers engaged in conversations with me about the ‘messiness’ of politics in my home country—this was before the attempted assassination of President Trump or the stepping down of President Biden—compared to the civil political atmospheres within their countries. When I visited a local pub in Belfast with a flatmate, local boys peppered me with questions about my personal opinions on my country’s politics and if I found it almost embarrassing to be an American. And the list goes on. This is by no means a pity-seeking list for ‘consolation’ of my American identity, but rather something I hope opens your eyes as it did mine in those scenarios. What I learned from every conversation—whether it took place in Northern Ireland, the Republic of Ireland, Scotland, or England —is that the common critique of our politics in America is our lack of civility. To be honest, I did not find myself disagreeing with Europeans. We do have a civility problem in our nation and political discourse, and as Americans, we gain nothing by not acknowledging this.
Northern Ireland could be considered a ‘perfect’ example of civility, particularly given their history of internal violence during ‘The Troubles.’ They managed to move forward as a nation toward reconciliation and a complete decommissioning of weapons, despite also experiencing a major political disruption with ‘Brexit,’ which forced the creation of a new rights-affirming and peace-confirming agreement. They acknowledged (and continue to acknowledge, when applicable) the lack of civility in their political system, which allowed them to move forward. Peace walls may remain scattered around the city, education may still be segregated by religion, and competing United Kingdom and Republic of Ireland flags may stand in contrast in neighborhoods, but a lack of civility or morality does not persist. Despite decades of hardship and violence amongst one another, morality has prevailed; it began by first acknowledging that there were things to correct. I hope Americans realize that this is possible for our political discourse and the way we treat one another within our nation. Now, obviously, there are some differences between our two nations, and I am in no way attempting to insinuate that our situation is comparable to ‘The Troubles’ or the pain that continues for Northern Ireland citizens. But this brings me to my motivation for writing this article.
In short, I look forward to the day when I too can sit in the political district of our nation’s capital, in the days surrounding an election, and peacefully sip on my iced strawberry matcha latte as if it were unremarkable from any other day. As a country, we have a long road ahead of us if we truly wish to reach that point in our political discourse. Collectively we must recognize our faults, but also commit to putting forth daily effort as individuals toward improving our discourse. It could not have been easy for the people of Northern Ireland to move past the Troubles, to get up every morning and consciously make an effort to be civil to others with different identities, politics, and religious affiliations, as attacks came and went. Yet, they continued to make that effort in good faith for future generations. Today, you can walk the main strip in Belfast and watch citizens walk right past each other, never guessing that this was a society riddled with hatred and violence mere decades ago.
It is not impossible for us to do the same. It is not impossible for us to return to the civility of the Mitt Romney versus Barack Obama debates and re-engage those standards in our discourse. It is not impossible for both political parties to treat each other with respect and value their humanity outside of politics. It is not impossible for us to bring back morality and compassion within politics. We could learn a thing or two from the people of Northern Ireland, and for the little girl who dreamt of her time to cast her vote for president and finally take part in American democracy, I hope we do, and soon.
Image courtesy of Alex Nguyen, University of Michigan BFA Student, Penny W. Stamps School of Art & Design
