We’re surrounded by apocalyptic rhetoric. Here’s how to survive it | Opinion

“The left is systematically trying to exterminate people who hold views like me.”

So concluded one of my close friends — a very conservative legal scholar at a large research university — after I inquired about the background of a legal case before the Supreme Court. Seeking another opinion, I listened to a typically liberal podcast analyzing the same case.

The conclusion of the guest commentator was that the case was an attempt by the right to “eliminate anyone who isn’t a Christian white male from society.”

Exterminate. Eliminate. How did the rhetoric around politics today become so apocalyptic?

For much of human history, my field of religion has cornered the market on apocalyptic language intended to induce enough fear in the pews to bring people to their knees. Today, it seems like politics have mastered the art of inducing fear, with the goal of bringing people to the polls rather than the altar.

Of course, severe partisanship has been a part of the American story ever since Jefferson and Adams, but it seems like recently the other side has become evil — not just misguided. For both sides, the opponent’s presumed agenda is no longer to convince the middle but to convict the other side; their goal is less to elect their side but exterminate and eliminate my side.

I’m convinced the shift toward apocalyptic worldviews in politics is due in part to a fundamental shift in the way we interact with each other. Historically, the people seeking to influence us — preachers, politicians, publicists and promoters — were primarily trying to convince us that their path, party, person or product was the best option. Our most valuable resource was the power of our choice, the ability to consider where to place our dollars, votes and souls.

Today’s influencers exist in a different environment. There are so many options out there and so many entities dedicated to influencing us that their most fundamental task is to break through the noise. With dozens of emails a day, an unending social media feed, hundreds of possible TV choices, thousands of newspapers deliverable to our virtual doorstep and every religious viewpoint imaginable on YouTube, the reality is that our most valuable asset today is our focused attention.

In this cut-throat attention economy, it takes a lot to stand out. The easiest way to cut through the noise is to shock the audience and stoke outrage, especially fed by moral indignation.

Much of America is at the point where they turn off the TV at discussions of policy differences; they will scroll right by ‘thoughtful’ sermons; and most advertisements stream right by with hardly a glance from us.

But explain how some nefarious group wants to secretly harm their children or how the faith community down the street funds terrorists who are plotting to destroy our town, now you’ve got my attention!

I get it. Such an instinct feeds upon a basic impulse for group survival, but the manufactured threats peddled today usually are more often grounded in a spark than a fire. Their intent is not to provide an accurate appraisal of our world, but to rise to the forefront of our attention. And when we fall for it, we incentivize their toxicity.

In the end, apocalyptic rhetoric has always been the weapon of last resort in religious speech; when you can’t inspire people, scare them.

But now apocalyptic and predatory attention-seeking is slowly taking over our society. How can we respond?

Instead of falling for hyperbolic click-bait about the secret motives of those on the other side, let’s talk to our actual neighbors. Whether it is my gay conservative friend or my evangelical liberal neighbor or my gun-rights activist progressive, people rarely fit neatly in the boxes in which they are placed online.

Instead of reading about the worst in each other, let’s gather together again and compassionately listen to each other. Even when people hold positions with which I strongly disagree, I often discover that they have a very real, meaningful personal experience that led them to their position that provides important context no online article can capture. And while I may never see eye-to-eye on some issues, we usually agree on dozens of other issues; at a minimum, we can share frustrations about visiting the DMV, interacting with PG&E, or why the weather folks so often get it wrong. So let’s first search for areas of commonality before difference.

In the end, it gives me a sort of peace when I realize that despite literally millennia of warnings that a religious apocalypse is imminently upon us, it hasn’t yet come.

We can also survive this era of secular apocalyptic rhetoric but it is up to us to direct our attention in more holistic and wholesome approaches to one another. Of everything in your inbox and screen, I hope this message grabs your attention.

Contributing columnist Stephen Lloyd-Moffett is a professor of religious studies at Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo.

This story was originally published February 26, 2023 at 6:00 AM.