Reed Schroer, a 70-year-old Lutheran pastor from Rhodes, Michigan—about an hour north of Flint—never saw eye to eye with his brother-in-law. Over 50 years, they argued about religion, taxes, and organized labor. But they also had what both would describe as a good relationship, built on an interest in scripture, a devotion to the rural communities of northern Michigan, and, ultimately, their love for Schroer’s sister.
In 2016, that balance was upset by events in Washington, and Schroer found himself increasingly frustrated by the “conspiracy theories and right-wing talking points” his brother-in-law embraced, and less and less able to convince himself that the man’s rhetoric, which Schroer found odious, belied his core beliefs—or that the two could even find a way to talk about it. The men went more than eight months without speaking. “He always drove me nuts, but in the past I might get so frustrated I would storm out of the house to cool off, and he’d chase me down the street saying, ‘I love you, man,’” says Schroer. Now, this communion has been replaced by silence and alienation.
Schroer’s experience resonates across the United States today, in families and institutions. As the Democratic Party battles over whether a moderate or liberal presidential candidate stands the better chance of winning the White House in November 2020, many Americans are asking a similar but broader question: Has the country ever been so divided?
Academics, for their part, are attempting to measure what often feel like widening gaps. In 2017, Stanford’s Matthew Gentzkow looked at a series of Pew Research Center surveys of Americans’ views on policies ranging from government regulation to welfare, immigration, and the environment, and noted that fewer individuals in 2014 than 10 years earlier held positions that put them across the political divide from their own, self-identified political party. “Most Americans hold relatively moderate views on, say, immigration,” he writes. “But the frequency of Republicans holding pro-immigrant views, or Democrats holding anti-immigrant views, has decreased substantially.” Where Americans’ political views and social attitudes, charted, might once have looked like a bell curve, with the majority gathered at a moderate center, the line increasingly shows two separate humps where Democrats and Republicans congregate.
Gentzkow, along with Brown’s Jesse Shapiro and Amazon’s Matt Taddy, has also looked at the polarization of politicians, as measured by the language they use. Republicans, they find, are more likely to talk about death taxes, where Democrats use the term estate taxes. This might not be surprising to anyone who witnessed the “antiabortion” versus “pro-life” semantic split following Roe v. Wade, and yet the researchers find that this polarization is a relatively modern phenomenon. “Partisanship of language has exploded in recent decades, reaching an unprecedented level,” they write. “From 1873 to the early 1990s, partisanship was nearly constant and fairly small in magnitude. . . . Beginning with the congressional election of 1994, partisanship turned sharply upward.” They can now guess a politician’s party on the basis of a one-minute speech with 73 percent accuracy, compared with about a 55 percent chance over the 120 years from the late 19th century to the late 20th.
Nor do divides appear confined to politics and policy. Chicago Booth’s Marianne Bertrand and Emir Kamenica examined three national surveys that probe Americans’ consumption habits, leisure time, and social attitudes. They find that different groups of Americans—rich and poor, black and white, men and women, politically liberal and conservative, college educated and not—tend to eat different food, watch different television programs, pursue different hobbies, and adopt different social attitudes. The algorithms the researchers developed for their study were able to predict people’s income bracket with nearly 90 percent accuracy on the basis of the brands of products and services they bought; they could do the same for gender by looking at what TV shows and films people watched and what magazines they read; and they could predict race with 75–85 percent accuracy using self-reported stances on topics such as marriage, law enforcement, and government spending.
Now more than ever?
Yes, then, the nation appears to be divided. But whereas Gentzkow, Shapiro, and Taddy saw some gaps growing over time, Bertrand and Kamenica’s research undermines the idea that cultural division is a contemporary phenomenon. Their data sets stretch back to at least 1990—with some, namely the time-use and social-attitude surveys, beginning in the mid-’70s—and reveal that, on almost all measures, these divides have not widened over the decades.