Have you ever been to a college football game? I don’t even
like crowds, and yet there is something exhilarating about hanging out with
50,000 of your fellow fans, rooting for your team. The conflict is set, the stakes are clear. At
the end of the evening, you’ll emerge victorious, or you won’t. But there’s
always next season.
It’s especially fun in the student section, where enthusiasm
is at its highest. You’re all on the same side, rejoicing at each first down,
groaning over every fumble. If a call goes against your team, you all agree it
was a bad call, because it’s your team, even if the replay does rather look as
though the knee touched the ground. It’s all in good fun, because at the end of
the day, it’s just football.
But I’m seeing the same behavior when it comes to politics.
There is this bitter rivalry between the two parties, and everyone’s expected
to root for the home team. Everything my party does is good, everything your
party does is evil. Don’t show me the replay, because I don’t care. I’ll
believe what my friends believe, because we’re on the same side.
Is it truly unimaginable that a person who believes women
should make their own choices on abortion can also believe high corporate taxes
are bad for job growth? Or that we spend too much on welfare and not enough on
alternative energy research, or vice versa?
When a controversy pops up, do we really consider the
implications, or do we blindly believe or dismiss information based on what our
friends are saying? After all, if something is controversial, it usually means
there are strong arguments on both sides. Hardy anyone’s against home-grown tomatoes or puppies.
It’s fine to have opinions. It’s fine to share opinions with
friends. It’s not fine to marginalize or insult everyone who has a different
opinion, especially when we haven’t researched the issue ourselves. Headlines
aren’t a sound basis for policy-building.
If we want to vow unquestioned loyalty to the home team,
there’s always football.
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