I grew up in a community that was embroiled in the annual drama of an epic battle between good and evil, where brave warriors (or cowardly mercenaries, depending on how you look at it) battled to determine whether justice or injustice would prevail.
Of course, I’m talking about the Michigan State vs. Ohio State football game. That’s an exaggeration, but it’s interesting to see how our attachment to particular sports teams has the power to mold us into tribes, and from these tribal groups emerges the familiar dynamic of polarized tribal thinking (and feelings).
I remember as a kid watching one of these annual games at Michigan Stadium. I was on the Ohio State team, and on that Saturday, my team lost. From what I remember, it was a tough loss.
The Michigan fans surrounding me in the stands seemed to get more and more depraved and depraved as the game went on. I noticed how arrogant they were in contrast to the generous and humble demeanor of the Ohio State fans. I noticed their disorderly behavior alongside the politeness of my team’s stadium. And so on.
Somehow, “that team” and those who root for it were not just opposing sides in a bona fide sporting contest, but were imbued with a sense of moral inferiority that was the only reason anyone could root for a clearly inferior team.Similarly, those of us who root for the right team should be grateful for our intelligence and moral integrity in the right loyalty.
All of this is pretty silly, but it shows how easily we as humans can slip into this attitude: that those on my side are wise and noble, and those on the other side are stupid and corrupt. We are especially prone to this when it comes to issues that matter to us, like politics and religion. I’m human, so I can’t escape this tendency.
Nearly a decade ago, I began my role as pastor in a church whose congregation was politically very diverse: there were devout Democrats, devout Republicans, and everything in between. As the 2016 election loomed and politics became especially heated, I began to notice a familiar dynamic at work in my mind. It was as if I was watching the Michigan-Ohio State football game again. Subtly, and against my will, I felt my attitude toward people who held different views from my own shifting.
This pained me deeply. All I wanted was to love and even be liked by everyone in the congregation I was supposed to care for. I realized politics were what got in the way of that.
So I made a conscious decision to distance myself from this whole thing, to not worry about what was happening with the election or to be under any illusion that the future of the world or the fate of all good depended on the outcome of the election. I had more important things to worry about.
Interestingly, Michigan fans became human again, so to speak, and I found myself feeling genuine sympathy and understanding for people on both sides of the divide during that time. The truth is, I loathe politics and its demonic, almost magical ability to turn our minds against one another and turn disagreements on important issues into moral struggles between the elect and the damned. We will always be part of the former group. I would rather stay out of politics and stay aloof.
But ideas matter, as do the policies that embody them. We have a responsibility to engage. But how we view others in doing so matters. No one side of us has a monopoly on wisdom and virtue. We all belong to the common human camp of sinners with limited intellects who need grace and who often err.
If we remember this, we will avoid esteeming our enemies so low that we dehumanize them and see them as unworthy of being treated decently, and we will avoid esteeming ourselves so highly that we leave no room for growth and change. Compassion and humility towards others are necessary conditions for a functioning political community, not tribal warfare.
— John Milliken represents his father, Charles. John writes for Joyful Resistance on Substack.
