We’re All to Blame For Toxic Polarization

Which means we can all be part of the solution.

On a regular basis in my bridge-building work, I’ll come across someone or some group of people who are convinced that toxic polarization is the fault of Those Bad People Over There. The problem is Evangelicals (say non-Evangelicals). The problem is young men (say commentators who are neither young nor men). The problem is Donald Trump (say never-Trumpers). The problem is Democrats or Republicans (say, respectively, non-Democrats and non-Republicans).

I get this impulse, because I’ve fallen prey to it myself. As a Never Trumper, I’m tempted to blame Trump for the sorry state of our political discourse. I’ve also gotten a lot of hate from Social Justice Fundamentalists (SJFs) (Tim Urban’s excellent term for woke folks), and so I’ve been tempted to pretend that they’re responsible for 100% (or at least 90%) of our toxic polarization.

But as understandable as this impulse is, I think it’s a cop-out. The truth is that we’re all to blame for toxic polarization.

We’ve all said things to people in the out-group that we know weren’t helpful. We’ve all shared insulting jokes about those people over there with our in-group. We’ve all struggled to love people in the out-group as much as we love people in our in-group.

I know I have, at least.

It might sound bleak or angry to say that we’re all to blame for our broken politics, but I actually think this idea is hopeful for at least two reasons.

1) As someone who’s contributed my fair share to our toxic politics, I can take comfort in the fact that I’m not alone. We can all cringe at how we’ve sometimes treated (or even thought about) members of the out-group. But we can hopefully also all laugh a little, the relieved laughter of knowing that our behavior puts us in good company.

I watched Eddington last year, a surreal half-horror story about a small town that was torn apart by toxic polarization during the pandemic. As a film, it might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I loved what I saw as the core message: “Let’s be honest, we all went a little bit nuts during COVID-19.”

2) If we’re all responsible for our toxic polarization, then each of us is in a unique position to do something about it. If SJFs were the sole cause of the problem, then that would mean that I’m helpless to help fix our great country, because I can talk about SJFs until I’m blue in the face but I can’t actually change their behavior.

But if I’m responsible for toxic polarization? I can do something about that.

We can all choose to take a step, however small, towards being a vector of peace in our politics and away from being a vector of conflict. We can choose to sit down and truly listen to that person across the aisle, without trying to win the argument. We can choose to (gently) call out our in-group when they say something insulting or offensive about the out-group. We can choose to take the first step towards repairing a relationship in our own lives that’s been fractured by politics.

Probably my favorite step to take is to ask God how He sees this or that group or person who belongs to a different tribe from me.

I’ve used this strategy with atheists (who I often have enormous difficulty wanting to bridge with, owing to my own insecurities around my faith), with Social Justice Fundamentalists, and with friends or family members who have badly hurt me. The results never cease to amaze me. Each time I pray this prayer—God, how do You see XYZ person?—I feel a profound upswell of love and understanding for them. It reminds me viscerally of what James Catford says: “Wherever we draw the lines in society—about who is acceptable and who is unacceptable—Jesus is to be found on the other side of the lines.”

We celebrated America’s 250th yesterday, and for me it was a bittersweet moment. I love our country and our Founding Fathers deeply, and in that sense it felt wonderful to celebrate them. But that feeling was also tarnished by a deep fear that America might be in her sunset years. We might not last another 250 years.

I don’t think my fears last night have to come true. Whether our country lasts another 250 years, or collapses within the next 30, is ultimately up to us.

But I think that if we want to renew our democracy and build the kind of vibrant pluralistic society that most of us want, we have to start leaning more on God’s wisdom. We have to start asking Him how He wants us to think about—and treat—the people whom we cannot stand.

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