“Many of us are divided into tribes that aren’t just different, but are actively pitted against one another,” Jane Caro wrote recently.
Right now, it’s hard not to agree with Caro. We have just seen the victory of Scott Morrison over Bill Shorten in the Australian federal election 2019 – and it seems like Australians are divided, writing passive aggressively (or just plain aggressively) about the rightness or wrongness of the result.
But I’m interested in Caro’s use of the passive voice, as though polarisation is something that’s foisted on us. It’s especially interesting since her article was highlighting the negative response to some drunken tweets she put up – tweets that were extremely polarising.
It occurred to me we often talk about polarisation like this, as though it’s a cultural phenomenon that we just have to deal with.
But is polarisation just something that’s happening to us?
Polarisation is a term that’s bandied around when talking about the English-speaking world, often referenced in the fallout of Brexit and the United States under Donald Trump. Here in Australia, we are also a polarised nation – and possibly more polarised than the global average.
We’re divided into tribes:
Left versus right.
Religious versus secular.
Baby boomers versus millennials.
Urban versus rural.
Haves versus have nots.
This may seem natural – diversity isn’t a bad thing in a democracy. But polarisation isn’t just strong disagreement. It’s much more fundamental. As one writer described it, polarisation is when we’re not just saying the other guy is wrong – we’re saying they’re corrupt and amoral.
We’re not saying we see the world one way; we’re saying our way is morally superior.
And we’re buying into the lie that one set of political beliefs is entirely right and our rivals are totally wrong. As one writer put it,
a serious and urgent crisis is being caused by bad people—people who, faced with a simple moral choice, have decided to choose the obviously immoral option (usually for reasons of greed or self-interest).
From there, we can wind up in an endless cycle of clashing goals. We define ourselves so strongly by our “in-group” (our belief system, political party, generation, etc) that we end up automatically rejecting anything that we associate with the “out-group”.
The more we negatively judge the other side, the more we dislike them. And the more we dislike them, the more we negatively judge them. And round it goes.
Some external forces can contribute to this polarised climate.
We can blame the media for this polarised climate, and to some extent that’s true. In Australia, we have very little diversity in our traditional media outlets, and the big two (Fairfax and News Corp) are more polarised than ever.
Similarly, social media exposure can play a role, where information can thrive even when it’s exaggerated or inaccurate.
And I’m not going to pretend to explain all the complex political machinations that can lead to polarisation.
It’s complex, and there’s a combination of forces that play into polarisation.
But we can’t forget that our psychology is actively part of the process – both consciously and unconsciously.
After all, as someone who reads the news and uses the internet, I am not passive in this.
Aren’t I playing into the culture of “political yelling” when I “like” that flippant tweet? Am I sharing clickbait that exaggerates the side I prefer to hear? Do I choose to talk to people I agree with, rather than others who I don’t?
If we’re all humans, then we have to admit we’re susceptible to psychological shortcuts. Those can include wanting to be with the “in-group”, or basing our opinions on emotion, rather than facts.
So maybe the question isn’t just, “What is causing polarisation?”, but “How am I causing polarisation?”
Disagreement is inevitable, even healthy. This isn’t about forcing consensus. But it is about noticing biases that aren’t helpful. While our climate may make it difficult, there are ways to interrupt the causes of polarisation and start a better conversation.
Here are some.
Embrace ambivalence.
Find an issue that you have mixed feelings about – and even make a list. Complex issues aren’t easy, and ambivalence can be more productive than dogma.
And regardless of what social media tells you: It’s okay not to have an opinion on everything.
Get informed.
Find five new facts – or five facts to fact-check – about an issue that you care about. Ensure that at least two of them demonstrate why someone would disagree with your position.
The loudest voices aren’t the most informed – and neither are the people who most align with your position.
Talk about motivations.
It’s easy to focus on past actions and blame games. But when you talk to someone about what’s really motivating them, it’s often easier to find something of value in their perspective.
For instance, “I care about seeing my children get good jobs or go to university.” Or, “I care about taking care of the most vulnerable members of society.”
Listen.
It can be harder than it sounds. More on that here.
This doesn’t mean that there won’t still be schisms in society. There will – that’s the nature of humanity.
But, however passionately I may disagree with you, I can make more progress when I’m actively open-minded and graceful about what I say. I can also offer the benefit of the doubt.
That’s something that can benefit everyone.
