Talking Too Much About Religion and Politics is Corrupting Your Heart and Happiness and Everything That is Good in Your Life

Artificial dividers, futile arguing, and tribalism

The Fire of Rome, 18 July 64 AD, Hubert Robert, 1785

I went on a trip to Buenos Aires earlier this year. I stayed at a hostel right in the city center and met a million people from all over the world. One night, a group of us—two Brits, a Chilean, and a German—went to a pizza place for dinner. I had selected it, somehow missing or forgetting to mention that it was a twenty-five minute walk. I didn’t even think twice about this distance, but it definitely annoyed some of the others.

I sensed that this hike to the restaurant led to some ever-so-small resentment toward me to start the night, which boiled over into some rather large resentment once I started expressing some political opinions. The night devolved into me arguing with the two British people, who were socialist minded, while the German and Chilean listened along, admitting afterwards they didn’t quite pick up on everything. It got quite heated at points. I don’t want to get into details, because that is not why I’m telling this story.

I’m telling this story because I recently had an epiphany recently that talking too much politics—and religion, which I’ll get to after—is corrupting to the heart and soul and everything that is good in life. I’m of course being hyperbolic here, but I don’t think it’s too much of an exaggeration. People always warn you that discussing politics and religion is bound to become controversial and uncomfortable and heated, and they’re right. I guess I just didn’t care until recently, but seeing the effect of it has me wondering if it’s even worth having these conversations anymore.

The dumbest part of most political debates is that it makes a switch flip in people’s heads. Like, take two people who get along in every way, and who likely want all the same basic things most people want—love, security, health—and throw around some politically charged terms, ones that don’t even affect them that much, and watch them turn on each other like hungry dogs. Wokeness. Capitalism. MAGA. Communism. Blah, blah, blah.

Sure, you can make the case that these abstractions and systems do affect people. Of course they do. But the key question: how much? How much do they really affect you? In the reality of your day-to-day life? Do they make any difference in you becoming better at your job? From learning that new language? From becoming more fit? From being a better friend? A better lover?

They don’t. If you’re being honest, at least, you’ll realize this. They just don’t affect you that much. The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal and prominent Substacks and podcasts will have you convinced they do, but the reality is that, most of the time, in most of the United States at least, if you turned your phone off completely, you wouldn’t even know there were any “issues.”

Why do I want to have these debates about politics, after all? Is it because I’m a courageous philosopher defending the Enlightenment values I admire? Maybe. Or is it because I’m tipsy and want to prove I know more than you? Why do I want to have these debates about religion? Is it to show that I’m a fierce, independent mind who represents reason and freethinkers? Maybe. Or is it because I want to “win” a debate and feel good about myself? As much as I would prefer to think it is the former, the ugly truth is probably something closer to the latter.

Now, I’ve written in the past about the importance of not being politically indifferent, but I think it is kind of like walking on a tightrope. I still stand by much of what I wrote there, specifically the following:

…while it is obviously foolish to have opinions on political matters you know little about, it’s equally misguided to claim complete political indifference. It is better to be engaged within reason. Engagement doesn’t mean being a news junkie or indulging in emotional tribalism. Rather, it’s about understanding and articulating some fundamental values and ideas that are political in nature.

So I say to you, consider the issues and don’t shy away from important conversations. Know that being thoughtful about politics is a crucial part of being a responsible human. Certain political stances reflect core values that impact your relationships—whether with friends, associates, or a potential partner. Being indifferent signals a certain level of irresponsibility.

However, I do worry that this is dangerously close to a ridiculous idea I heard people throw around in college. The idea went something like this: if you didn’t have an opinion about a certain issue, or, more provocatively, did not care about a certain issue, then you were a bad person. You can only not have an opinion or not care because you’re privileged, they would say.

This take is as childish as it is misguided.

At any given moment, there is a mind-boggling number of problems in the world and being talked about in the media, many of which are political in nature. It is literally impossible to pay attention to—never mind understand—more than a handful at a time. So this idea that there are certain issues in which you are morally obligated to take a position is both naive and flat-out ridiculous.

Our knowledge will always be incomplete. Our attention is limited and information is increasingly unlimited. As a rule, you can discard the idea that you need to form an opinion on something with the utmost peace of mind.

So, moving on, let’s talk about religion for a moment.

As with politics, take two people who get along in every way, and who likely want all the same basic things most people want, and throw around religiously charged terms and watch them turn on each other like hungry dogs. Paradise. Revelation. Haram. Catholic Church. Blah blah blah.

And again, sure, you can make the case that these abstractions and systems do affect people. Of course they do. But once more, the key question: how much? In the United States of America in the 21st century, at least? Is it really that much? Wouldn’t the committed Protestant from Texas and the devout Muslim from Saudi Arabia who met at a party get along perfectly fine, sharing stories and smiles, until the topic turned to their favorite ancient books?

Can’t you see how toxic this is? We’re tribal and emotional creatures, so it makes sense. But that doesn’t make it any less awful in my view, the way these things divide us. It is almost certainly a Quixotic hope, but I always wonder how much better every color and creed of person would get along if they didn’t have such a fierce attachment to their religious views or political stances. Of course, part of what gives people a sense of identity is precisely their religious and political tastes, but it’s becoming more apparent to me that this is rather unhealthy. Everyone wants to take the pretty girl on the date, win at the sport they play, excel at work, or whatever. But we kill each other over different interpretations of texts written thousands of years ago in dead foreign languages; we seek to destroy each others’ lives on the internet over not much more than “ReD tEaM gOod, bLuE tEAM BAd.” It’s sickening.

Additionally, the certainty people tend to have about the ultimate nature of reality is absurd. The Christian is confident they will end up in heaven with Jesus. The Muslim is confident Muhammad is God’s final prophet. The Hindu is confident reincarnation is real. The atheist is confident there is no spiritual world or forces. Nonsense. Nonsense across the board.

Guess what? No one knows. No one knows about the ultimate nature of reality. I think some ideas are much more or less likely as true explanations than others, but at the end of the day, existence itself and our consciousness remain deeply mysterious.

And this is amazing to me, how much we don’t know. It’s why I read so widely and deeply. It’s part of why I can’t help but be interested in religion. I have an intensely curious mind. I’ve always wondered about the big questions—God, time, knowledge, meaning. Similarly, I can’t help but be interested in politics. I’ve always been fascinated by human nature—war, government structures, economic systems, good and bad leadership, public speaking, ideas.

I’ve read and thought too much about these topics to put out the fire of my fascination. So while I’ll still tell you why I think communism and socialism are obviously evil, or why both Wokeness and MAGA are extremely awful, I’ll hesitate before I say it, and prefer to not even say it at all. It feels naive to dismiss the importance of politics and religion, but I don’t want any more unnecessarily strained conversations because of these grand abstractions. I’ve found that it’s just not worth it. It’s so ugly sometimes. It’s largely distracting at best, and poisonous garbage that doesn’t even matter at worst. On the other hand, my family always matters. My friends matter. My girlfriend matters. Bench-pressing, laughing myself into a state of pain, and being in awe of great art matters. The song “Ain’t Nothing Like The Real Thing” by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell matters.

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