Page 81 - Time Magazine-November 05, 2018

ably, with the percentage viewing their opponents
“very” unfavorably nearly tripling since 1994. Too many of our
This fall, a group called More in Common re-
leased a comprehensive survey of America’s “hid-
den tribes,” seeking to understand the sources of citizens spend too
American polarization. It concluded that much
of America’s political anger was driven by what it muchof their energy
called “the wings,” which are flanked by the 8% of
Americans who are “progressive activists” and the where they can have
6% who are “devoted conservatives.”
The members of the tribes on each end of the the least impact
spectrum share some common characteristics.
They’re disproportionately white, they’re well off,
and they’re intensely engaged in politics—roughly
twice as likely to list politics as a “hobby” than the
average American. They’re motivated. They have
means. And they focus many of those resources
and much of that energy opposing a political
enemy they view as truly dangerous.
Now let’s contrast the polarizing wings with the
suffering segments of society. The overdose crisis is
harming every social class, but it’s hitting the least
educated the hardest. And it affects single men and
women disproportionately, with overdose rates sky-
rocketing for single men without a college degree.
To be clear, I’m not arguing that poor Ameri-
cans are killing themselves with drugs because
of politics. Nor am I arguing that political fights
among the relatively affluent are contributing to
the crisis. No, the question I raise is this: When
their fellow citizens are suffering on such a terrible
scale, what are the most engaged, most resourced
Americans doing with their lives?
Unless yoU’re among the tiny group of people
who exercise actual, substantial political author-
ity, each of us can only have a large influence on a
small number of people and a small influence on
a large number of people. In other words, we have
the potential to transform a life. We have minimal
capacity to individually change American politics.
So after we take care of ourselves and our fami-
lies, where do we expend our excess emotional and
financial energy? Is it on the community that we can
immediately and consequentially reach? Or is it on
a national polity that seems immune to our rage?
While some members of our most partisan class do
engage in their communities, for millions of Ameri-
cans, the answer is clear. Politics is the true faith,
and political argument is the work that replaces our
religious salvation.
Solving our most pressing problems is a titanic
undertaking, and they won’t be fixed simply by put-
ting a stop to political squabbling. Indeed, the scale
of our challenges contributes to a sense of futility.
Americans die by the tens of thousands, and each
life is hard to save. This can lead us to throw up our
hands and focus on the shouting that seems more
manageable. Thus too many talented and passion-
ate citizens spend too much energy where they can
have the least impact. The nation that hates thus too
often ignores the nation that mourns.
The solution isn’t to disengage. “Can’t we all just
get along” is a naive call in a nation so profoundly
divided by consequential questions. Those for and
against access to abortion, for example, should en-
gage each other in the marketplace of ideas, even
when doing so can be emotionally fraught. We
should debate the Saudi alliance, the Mueller probe
and tax rates. There is, however, a matter of prior-
ity and proportion that often gets lost, and that can
and should demand a sustained policy response to
our national malaise. But there’s a problem. The
opioid crisis is so deep-seated and complex that it
doesn’t fit neatly in the partisan box. Is there any
way through that doesn’t require cooperating with
the people we’ve grown to hate?
Not long ago I was deeply convicted by an off-
hand comment at my church. A woman lamented
that she was “too busy for her community.” She was
too busy for the people she could influence most.
That’s me, I thought. That is my most fundamental
flaw. I don’t know my neighbors well, but you can be
sure that I know when someone is wrong online. I
sometimes struggle to provide even my own friends
who’ve battled addiction and alcoholism with suf-
ficient support. Life gets busy, after all, and there are
always libs to own. This is the inversion of our priori-
ties from the neighbor whose life I can help change to
the nation I can’t save.
This is a moment of profound historic impor-
tance. For the blessed, privileged class of Americans,
the challenge is clear. A mass cultural crisis demands
a mass cultural response. And if loathing for the dis-
tant partisan motivates us more than love for the
close neighbor, I’d argue that we’re failing that test.
That is the hate that will ultimately shame us all.
French is a senior writer for National Review
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