Bridging the divides

A close friend of mine once said, 'If you do not need to think about politics, it means it has little effect on you and your wellbeing'. That statement really stuck with me. It made me reflect on what being political truly entails, and I sought answers. After speaking to my other friends, some of them mentioned that not being political could also be seen as a political statement in itself.

So, does being political require an encyclopaedic knowledge of every piece of legislation and the voting record of each politician? Does it mean advocating passionately for a particular party or ideology? Or can it mean merely existing?

I believe simply being alive in today's society requires grappling with politics on some level. Our everyday lives are shaped by political decisions about healthcare, education, jobs, social services, civil rights and more. The policies enacted by the government we elect have real consequences for all of us.

Remaining apathetic or withdrawn from the political process could speak to a place of privilege, but it might also mean other things. For marginalised groups especially, being political is a crucial tool to make their voices heard and to influence change.

A deep entanglement

I first started thinking deeply about politics during the Covid lockdowns. Debates within my family over the handling of the pandemic in Slovenia, the uproar surrounding the US election, the storming of the Capitol, and the Black Lives Matter movement – all of these events highlighted the deep entanglement of political beliefs with various aspects of our lives.

In Slovenia, for example, discussions around the pandemic seemed to align with one's political inclinations, reflecting the influence of political ideologies on public health attitudes. Watching people I care about descending into political hostility was disheartening. I yearned for greater unity and empathy.

When I entered my psychology degree in late 2020, I started to learn more about theories which reflect the situations we are experiencing today. I became invested in the theories in social psychology that might explain our political behaviours. As I learned more about attribution, intergroup behaviour and social identity theory, I started to be more and more fascinated by Political Psychology.

This led me to more closely examine the factors that divide us. In the final year of my degree, I became fascinated with developing ways to bridge the partisan divisions we experience. I developed a study where individuals from different viewpoints on the political spectrum facing levels of political persuasion were invited to reflect on either values important to them or to their political group. After this, they were asked to rate the likelihood of forming friendships with those people from their own political group, or from the outgroup.

The results showed me that the 'divide' might be harder to resolve than I thought. Reflecting on one's own values did not impact the openness to socialisation in the experimental condition. But it also taught me that understanding all sides is crucial. When I presented my study at a university event, I mentioned my positionality as a researcher was coming from a more 'liberal' perspective, but that I find the importance of remaining unbiased in research and trying to understand all viewpoints is key.

This led a person in the audience to express they felt I had presented my results in a biased way and focused too much on the results of the right-wing participants in my study. That really made me think; even with my understanding of cognitive biases, it can be hard to escape them.

Politics today seems driven less by ideology than by cultural identity. Belonging to a political party is an expression of our values and worldview. This makes disagreement feel like a personal attack rather than simply a difference of policy opinions. I tried to defend my stance, by explaining I was actually trying to be impartial, but then I realised that defensiveness arises when our core beliefs are challenged.

It is tempting to demonise the other side and dismiss their views as irrational or dangerous rather than making efforts in good faith to understand their reasoning. I started to reflect on how I could be more impartial and how my positionality as a researcher on this topic could influence my interpretation of the results, and thus demonstrate biases I might be unaware of. I started to realise that even as a quantitative researcher, escaping these stances might be hard.

I also reflected on how such dynamics fuel polarisation. Seeking only biased sources that confirm our preconceptions creates an echo chamber. Social media algorithms cater to our biases, creating a feedback loop. The result is oversimplified narratives and an 'us versus them' mentality. We lose nuance and complexity in issues that are important to us.

The dehumanisation prevalent in today's rhetoric is equally concerning. Rather than debating policies, we toss around personal insults and question others' intelligence or motivations. These tactics breed resentment and prevent thoughtful discussion of solutions. However, surely progress depends on uplifting our shared hopes and values, while respectfully articulating disagreements?

Respect and compassion the foundation

So where does this leave us as everyday citizens wanting to engage constructively with politics? Firstly, remember that no party or movement holds a monopoly on truth, wisdom, or morality. Well-intentioned people can interpret facts differently.

Seeking to understand why someone has arrived at a perspective different than your own demonstrates an open mind, not weakness. Therefore, making respect and compassion the foundation, even when there is conflict, is so important.

We need to focus policy debates on substantive issues rather than partisan personalities. I reflected on how we might do this – here are my favoured suggestions:

• Avoid simplistic characterisations of those with whom you disagree.
• Evaluate specifics of legislation on merit, not just on party affiliation.
• Be equally willing to critique leaders on your own side.
• Try and maintain nuance, as most issues are complex and there are usually reasonable points on both sides.
• An open exchange of ideas and willingness to compromise are democratic ideals, so why not engage in these?
• Consider diverse news sources to challenge your biases and make efforts to engage with people outside your typical social circles.
• Look for shared concerns and values amid any differences.
• Avoid demonising language and remind yourself of others' humanity - while passionate advocacy is welcome, temper it with compassion.
• Appeal to our universal desire for justice, opportunity and security when tensions run high – remaining hopeful that most people aim for the same righteous ends, even if the means differ.
• Champion facts and consider critically overcharged rhetoric designed to inflame emotions.
• Change often happens gradually through listening as much as speaking.
• Do not let perfection become the enemy of progress. Compromise and incremental steps forward are not signs of weakness but of enduring democratic values.

All of the dialogues I shared with people have taught me something. Being political in divisive times requires courage, patience and an open heart. We are sometimes scared of voicing our opinions for fear of saying the wrong thing or appearing unknowledgeable. The path forward calls on our shared humanity more than partisan identities.

Though the divisions feel daunting, I believe in the power of diverse individuals speaking out, while still embracing humility, empathy and that seemingly elusive ideal – unity. If we persist in good faith, our justice will speak louder than injustice. With malice toward none and charity for all, the ties that bind us are stronger than the forces that would tear us apart.

Noemi Hrvatin is an Academic Mentor at London Metropolitan University and a postgraduate student at the London School of Economics and Political Science, pursuing an MSc degree in Social Research Methods.