I say this not because

I say this not because I am seduced by the proximity to power. I see my invitations tothe White House for what they are—exercises in common political courtesy—and ammindful of how quickly the long knives can come out when the Administration’s agendais threatened in any serious way. Moreover, whenever I write a letter to a family whohas lost a loved one in Iraq, or read an email from a constituent who has dropped out ofcollege because her student aid has been cut, I’m reminded that the actions of those inpower have enormous consequences—a price that they themselves almost never have topay. 　　It is to say that after all the trappings of office—the titles, the staff, the securitydetails—are stripped away, I find the President and those who surround him to be prettymuch like everybody else, possessed of the same mix of virtues and vices, insecuritiesand long-buried injuries, as the rest of us. No matter how wrongheaded I might considertheir policies to be—and no matter how much I might insist that they be heldaccountable for the results of such policies—I still find it possible, in talking to thesemen and women, to understand their motives, and to recognize in them values I share. 　　This is not an easy posture to maintain in Washington. The stakes involved inWashington policy debates are often so high—whether we send our young men andwomen to war; whether we allow stem cell research to go forward—that even smalldifferences in perspective are magnified. The demands of party loyalty, the imperativeof campaigns, and the amplification of conflict by the media all contribute to anatmosphere of suspicion. Moreover, most people who serve in Washington have beentrained either as lawyers or as political operatives—professions that tend to place apremium on winning arguments rather than solving problems. I can see how, after acertain amount of time in the capital, it becomes tempting to assume that those whodisagree with you have fundamentally different values—indeed, that they are motivatedby bad faith, and perhaps are bad people. 　　Outside of Washington, though, America feels less deeply divided. Illinois, forexample, is no longer considered a bellwether state. For more than a decade now, it’sbecome more and more Democratic, partly because of increased urbanization, partlybecause the social conservatism of today’s GOP doesn’t wear well in the Land ofLincoln. But Illinois remains a microcosm of the country, a rough stew of North andSouth, East and West, urban and rural, black, white, and everything in between.