“From the place where we are right, flowers will never grow in the spring.
It becomes hard and trampled like a yard.
But doubts and loves dig up the world like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place where the ruined house once stood.”
“The passion for setting people right is in itself an afflictive disease.” Marianne Morris
We were having a family discussion on our shady porch in sunny San Diego when my son-in-law thoughtfully asked, “Is it wrong to feel rage when someone espouses a point of view steeped in moral righteousness which is in direct opposition to your point of view . . . . . . about which you also feel morally righteous?
One of the many things I love about my son-in-law is his willingness to ask hard questions. As a cancer surgeon, he is faced with hard questions everyday which I couldn’t even begin to face. This question, however, fell into my wheelhouse. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.
It seems to me that the question strikes at the heart of the moral dilemmas we are facing today and why we have become so deeply polarized. As a glaringly obvious case in point, people feel morally righteous on both ends of the political spectrum. Approximately 25% of Americans strongly identify with a more progressive agenda, and another 25% strongly identify with a more conservative agenda. Both parties hold deeply opposing views on topics like foreign policy, abortion, immigration, freedom, and religion, and both groups believe fervently in the “rightness” of their opinions and “wrongness” of their opposition.
As someone who resists identification of any sort, but who leans “left” on most issues, I have a difficult time giving equal weight to opinions at both ends. My experience tells me that, while the strengths of the beliefs are fairly equivalent, the substance of the foundations supporting those beliefs is not. Opinions and facts are two different things.
When people feel deeply, morally righteous about their political beliefs, it usually isn’t just a disagreement over data—it is a clash of fundamental moral frameworks. Jonathan Haidt’s Moral Foundations Theory shows that very progressive and very conservative worldviews rest on entirely different core values. For example, progressives tend to prioritize peace, anti-imperialism, human rights, and diplomacy, while conservatives prioritize security, military might, duty, and protection of the “in-group.” Through my lens, I see the left being more focused on justice and the right more focused on justification. I’m sure that statement makes me guilty of being morally righteous as well.
There are many other issues that may even be more emotionally charged. Simplistically, on the issue of abortion, progressives focus on bodily autonomy, right to choose, and women’s equality; conservatives focus on the personhood of the fetus, the protection of the unborn, and sacred duty. On immigration, progressives see national borders as arbitrary lines, equity as the critical variable, and welcoming strangers as a foundational principle; conservatives focus on the rule of law, national identity, protection of American jobs, and threats to security. On the idea of freedom, progressives support protections from systemic bias, resources to provide basic needs, and opportunities to live a fulfilling life; conservatives see freedom as being left alone by the government with no limits on speech, religious practice, or gun ownership.
In regard to religion, progressives believe in separation of church and state, inclusivity, and secular government; conservatives see religion as the bedrock of civilization, as providing moral guardrails, and as necessary to prevent social decay. One would think that churches, with thousands of years of moral reasoning—and clergy on the ground in every region of the world – would be uniquely positioned to facilitate a dialogue that might lead to less polarized world. Clearly, that hasn’t happened.
The problem is that none of these issues is simple. There are complex dynamics underlying every issue that creates divisiveness. It’s easy to understand why people can look at the same situation but see it through entirely different lens. If only a new set of glasses could reconcile our differences.
To understand why both sides feel so intensely righteous about their views of the world, it helps to look at the psychological and cultural foundations upon which they are built.
When people are asked to set aside their biases, change their beliefs, or soften their moral righteousness, they aren’t just being asked to rethink a conclusion—they are being asked to dismantle the psychological scaffolding and cultural armor that keeps them feeling safe, belonging, and whole. Our brains prioritize certainty and comfort over objective truth.
Historically, isolation from the tribe meant physical peril. Today, that evolutionary code manifests as a deep dread of cultural exile. Two people from different cultural foundations can look at the exact same set of facts and see entirely different moral realities. When dialogue between “tribes” begins with an attack on someone’s core beliefs, the other side instinctively doubles down.
Real dialogue requires the capacity to step back and observe our own thoughts, ego reactions, and cultural conditioning without immediately reacting to them. To move past this cultural chasm, the approach has to shift from intellectual combat to relational safety. People only unlock their biases when they feel safe enough to drop their armor.
Dialogue shifts when we stop treating a difference of opinion as a defect of character. It requires the discipline to notice the physiological “spike” of anger or defensiveness during a conversation. Beneath rigid ideological positions usually lie deeply human anxieties. Responding to those underlying concerns is often the only key that unlocks the door to a genuine, defensive-free conversation.
The opening quotes from two poets capture the problem succinctly: “From the place where we are right, flowers will never grow” and “The passion for setting people right is in itself an afflictive disease.” Ahh, it’s always the poets who capture the essence of problems and possibilities.
But let’s go back to the porch and my son-in-law’s question. The rub in all of these academic and artistic explanations is that it’s exhausting to navigate a conflict when you have invested time, rigor, and energy into understanding the factual reality of an issue only to face someone whose position is fueled by misinformation or willful ignorance. The rage you feel is a completely valid response to an asymmetric situation. In short, you feel angry when you encounter someone who views differences as simply matters of opinion when you have deeply researched the reality and the historical contexts from which that reality emerged. It’s perfectly natural to experience that feeling—we get into the muck when we express those feelings with hostility and righteousness.
When dealing with someone who is willfully uninformed, however, spouting facts is a recipe for failure. Studies have shown time and again that presenting data to someone whose identity is tied to their belief often makes them double down. The solution, if it is actually necessary to engage, rests more in asking questions than reciting facts, e.g. “Help me understand how you reached that conclusion and what your sources are.” Also, understanding that facts and opinions are fundamentally unequal means accepting that you do not own an equal amount of your time and emotional energy to every opinion.
I’m hoping that my son-in-law will keep asking hard questions. I also hope that more of us will entertain doubts, dig deep for love, and listen to the whispers that tell us when to engage and when to question. Finally, I’m hoping we will create a world with less moral righteousness and more objective reality. May it be so.
