There's no denying that the middle ground has all but disappeared from our political discourse. Times used to be that people from divergent ideologies could come together to hash out their viewpoints and then reach some kind of mutually agreeable understanding, if only an agreement to disagree.

But times have changed, and now, polarization rules. Mere adversaries have become enemies, and the once-nuanced contest of political-speak has devolved into a zero-sum game. My way or the highway. If you're not with us, you're against us. Death before dishonor. And all that stuff.

Obviously, this is no intelligent way to run a country. Clearly, our politicians and pundits could take a lesson in discourse from those of us who talk about the arts

Oh, sure, jazz writer Stanley Crouch slugged a fellow critic the other day. And OK, the Guthrie's Joe Dowling and I once did water pistols at 15 paces over a review.

These, though, are the rare exceptions in an otherwise civil, yet spirited conversation where people can disagree without trying to destroy each other.

But just imagine if it were otherwise. What if the Ann Coulters and Jim Hightowers of the world were let loose in the nation's theaters and galleries?

Can't you just see some critic accusing a theater of being part of the "hate America" crowd because they did a production of "The Crucible?" Or Jasper Johns being labeled as a right-wing wacko because he used the American flag in some of his paintings?

I suppose it might shake things up a bit - and give the arts a little more exposure in the mass media. But I would submit to you that this is the kind of exposure we can probably live without. Better to savor our place on the high ground.

When I talk to aspiring writers about the craft of criticism, I always tell them a couple things. Of course, I say, it's important that we be fearless in our opinions - to be valuable, critics have to stake out a position, articulate it vigorously and defend it with gusto.

But that's usually the second thing I say. The first thing is that valid criticism must be grounded in knowledge and respect for the process of making art. You might not care much for the product, but you have an obligation to at least tacitly acknowledge the work and thought and good intentions that led to that product.

And this, of course, is the problem with political criticism. It's not about the art of persuasion anymore, or the discrete skill of putting things into context. It's about scoring points and victory at any cost. It's not a parlor game for thinking people. It's a slugfest between schoolyard bullies.

Can we reverse the trend? Maybe. Let's walk Al Franken and Bill O'Reilly through a Hans Richter exhibit and then sit 'em down for an evening of Samuel Beckett. If nothing else, maybe they'll learn a little something about absurdism.