Evangelical Republicans made deals with the devil all the way to their holy grail: Overturning Roe v. Wade.

It's a journey that began decades ago, and involved broad, successful coalitions across groups who hated each other.

There's a lot to learn from their example—and we could spend years unpacking all the facets of this horrifying history. Today, I want to focus on who we choose to work with, and why.

Many of us have hard lines attached to our values. We might not want comrades who support genocide, who refuse to mask up, or who vote with the Democratic establishment. In a way, these hard lines help us feel that we are acting in integrity, and feel safe from the slippery slope into sloppy liberal bullshit.

But we also want our movements to work—and that often requires broad appeal.

Do we want the Hollywood blockbuster hit that charms audiences worldwide, but ends up being bland and forgettable? Or the indie fave that wins raves and awards but never earns back its budget?

We spend a lot of time judging each other, and a lot less time creating specific strategy to reach our collective goals.

In short, we're pretty skeptical of making deals with devils.

Many forms of conflict resolution share the same core: helping different individuals or groups recognize, and build on, shared values.

And that goes beyond shared issues, like climate change or electoral access. Shared values go even deeper. What do we care about? What do we believe in? What's underneath the issue at hand?

When we identify our shared values, we can grow deeper connections. Maybe we disagree about how to reach our goals, or when—(fast vs. slow creates vast divides among leftist groups!)—and maybe our goals look radically different, at first glance. And yet a deep dive, from a place of curiosity and care, can help us see beyond all that. We start to draw on our shared humanity, and find new ways to respect and support each other.

We stop trying to convince and cajole, and start making small invitations instead.

It makes sense that we hold deep contempt, and even hatred, for leaders who have fundamentally failed us, over and over. And that still doesn't mean those people are our enemies.

It doesn't mean there's no chance we can work together.

The end doesn't always justify the means, and our moral compasses are often very sensitive to this truth. We don't want to compromise ourselves. And we don't want to lose.

What's the solution?

Here's a starting point: The next time you find yourself dismissing a possible collaborator, try asking "What would it take for us to work together?"

And just make a little mental note of your answer—and theirs, if you ask them directly.

Maybe you'll find yourself dialing back the judgment, and dialing up the curiosity.

It's a delicate and difficult task to build broad, effective coalitions for change while maintaining the soul of the work. We need deep self-reflection, intersectionality, and honest reckonings. The more we care, the more protective we become of what we're building.

We might not need to make deals with the devil. We might just need to make space for all of us to be complete, complicated human beings.

I wonder if that would be enough.

Much love,

Nat

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