We All Say We Want Unity. So Why Are We So Angry?

Today is President’s Day. I did a little research and found something strange.

If you read presidential speeches from both parties over the last century, you’d think we were the most unified, compassionate people on earth.

Republicans have said things like:

  • “With malice toward none; with charity for all…” — Abraham Lincoln
  • “The welfare of each of us is dependent fundamentally upon the welfare of all of us.” — Theodore Roosevelt
  • “Compassion is not weakness, and concern for the unfortunate is not socialism.” — 2000 campaign speech

Democrats have said things like:

  • “If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.” — John F. Kennedy
  • “Let us not seek the Republican answer or the Democratic answer, but the right answer.” — 1958 speech
  • “There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America.” — 1992 campaign speech

And George H. W. Bush said:

  • “We cannot hope only to leave our children a bigger car, a bigger bank account… We must hope to give them a sense of what it means to be a loyal friend… a citizen who leaves his home… better than he found it.”

If you stitched those quotes together and removed the names, most Americans would nod along and say, “Yes. That. More of that.”

So here’s the honest question:

If both sides talk like this… why doesn’t it feel like this?

The Leadership We Hear vs. The Leadership We Imitate

For decades, presidents have invoked unity, dignity, mercy, shared responsibility, and moral courage. But in practice, what often gets rewarded isn’t restraint, it’s dominance. It’s not gentleness, it’s viral humiliation. The most shared clips are not thoughtful reflections; they’re verbal knockouts.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth: culture imitates influence.

If the loudest, most rewarded voices model outrage, then outrage becomes the language we speak. If sarcasm gets applause, sarcasm becomes what’s valuable. If humiliation wins airtime, humiliation becomes the strategy.

We say we want unity, but we reward combat. This isn’t just one party or another. It has become a fundamental part of our society.

What Happened in the Last Decade?

The last ten years didn’t invent division, but they definitely poured gasoline on it. Around 2016, it seems that everything shifted. Outrage became entertainment. The pandemic intensified it. The 2020 election deepened it. Every step along the way, the temperature rose.

When people live in a constant climate of threat, survival instincts kick in. And survival mode does not prioritize thoughtful interaction. It prioritizes protection. It doesn’t ask, “Is this wise?” It asks, “Is this safe?”

Which is why we now have millions of people who genuinely believe they are defending goodness — while simultaneously dehumanizing the people across from them.

We don’t start by hating. We start by defending. Then we justify, harden, repeat.

And Scripture saw this coming long before cable news.

Why Arguing Actually Makes Us More Extreme (What the Research Shows)

Here’s the uncomfortable part: arguing doesn’t usually move people toward the middle. It often pushes them further out. I’m not being cynical, it’s actually how our brains work.

In the 1950s, Leon Festinger introduced Cognitive Dissonance Theory, showing that when our behavior and beliefs don’t line up, we experience psychological discomfort. To resolve that discomfort, we adjust our beliefs. In one classic study (Festinger & Carlsmith, 1959), participants defended a boring task as interesting. Afterwards, many of them actually reported believing it was interesting. Why? Because once they argued for it, their minds adjusted to reduce internal tension.

Translation: when you publicly defend something, even casually, your attachment to it increases.

Then in the 1970s, Henri Tajfel’s “Minimal Group Paradigm” showed something even more unsettling. People were randomly assigned to meaningless groups — based on arbitrary preferences like abstract paintings. Within minutes, participants showed favoritism toward their assigned group and bias against the other. No history. No ideology. No policy disagreements. Just identity.

We don’t just hold positions. We become them.

Later research on attitude polarization (Lord, Ross, & Lepper, 1979) demonstrated that when people are presented with mixed evidence on a controversial issue, they don’t usually moderate. They interpret the evidence in ways that strengthen their original position. Exposure to debate can increase polarization.

Add in motivated reasoning and identity-protection, and the pattern becomes clear: once a belief is tied to our identity, challenging it feels threatening.

And when something feels threatening, our survival wiring activates.

We don’t think, “Is this wise?” We think, “Am I safe?”

We don’t calmly evaluate. We defend like our survival depends on it.

That’s why arguing often hardens people instead of softening them. The more we fight to prove we’re right, the more our brains reward loyalty to our tribe.

Which explains something important: many Americans genuinely believe they are defending goodness, while simultaneously becoming more entrenched and less charitable. We’re becoming evil in the name of righteousness.

We’re not just disagreeing. We’re bonding with other people in the trenches with us. Which makes it hard to lay down our weapons of mass destruction.

What the Bible Actually Says About Anger, Rivalry, and Devouring Each Other

James writes to believers under pressure: scattered, destabilized, uncertain. His instruction is not soft. It’s surgical:

“Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters! Let every person be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger. For human anger does not accomplish God’s righteousness.” (James 1:19–20, NET)

Notice what he does not say. He does not say anger is never understandable. He says it does not produce the righteousness God desires.

Then he goes further:

“But if you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast and tell lies against the truth. Such wisdom does not come from above but is earthly, natural, demonic. For where there is jealousy and selfish ambition, there is disorder and every evil practice.” (James 3:14–16, NET)

That phrase “selfish ambition” refers to factional rivalry, partisan spirit. James is not addressing Roman politics. He’s addressing believers fighting inside the church.

He continues:

“But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, accommodating, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial, and not hypocritical. And the fruit that consists of righteousness is planted in peace among those who make peace.” (James 3:17–18, NET)

Peace is not weakness in James. It is strength under control.

Paul echoes this in 2 Corinthians:

“For though we live as human beings, we do not wage war according to human standards, for the weapons of our warfare are not human weapons, but are made powerful by God for tearing down strongholds. We tear down arguments and every arrogant obstacle that is raised up against the knowledge of God, and we take every thought captive to make it obey Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:3–5, NET)

Paul does not deny conflict. He redefines it. The war is not against people. It is against arrogance, distorted thinking, and pride.

Then Galatians drops the line that should make all of us pause:

“But if you continually bite and devour one another, beware that you are not consumed by one another.” (Galatians 5:15, NET)

That’s not metaphorical fluff. It’s a warning. Communities that feed on each other collapse.

So What Do We Do?

Here’s the tension: both political parties speak the language of unity. Both invoke compassion. Both quote Lincoln’s “better angels of our nature.”

But rhetoric does not form character. Modeling does.

And if modeling from the top has trained us to reward outrage, then renewal cannot begin at the top. It has to begin at the bottom, with us.

If the loudest voices are strengthening our survival instincts, then quieter voices must shape our consciences.

If leaders say, “Seek the right answer,” then we must actually practice that — even when it costs us points with our tribe.

If presidents speak of mercy, then mercy must be visible in us. Real cultural change is not viral. It’s formative.

And here’s the hopeful part: influence doesn’t only flow downward. It can also rise.

Outrage is contagious. But so is peace.

Contempt spreads. But so does honor.

Sarcasm multiplies. But so does kindness.

We have spent years perfecting the art of proving we’re right. Maybe it’s time to practice the harder discipline of being righteous.

And while that might not trend any time soon, it might just bring some healing we all need.