America's political divide has reached a breaking point. Rather than engaging with real people holding nuanced views, we're battling caricatures—the right sees every liberal as a totalitarian communist, while the left sees every conservative as a totalitarian fascist.

Both sides refuse to see shades of grey.

The irony is hard to miss. Democracy is meant to prevent totalitarianism — yet we all swear the other guy is the fascist. This isn’t just ugly; it’s dangerous. People are being murdered because we’ve lost the capacity to tolerate disagreement. There’s something disturbingly familiar about this moment: the same moral panic, the same compulsive hunt for evil that once fueled witch hunts. We flatter ourselves that we’ve outgrown mass hysteria, yet here we are, scanning our neighbours for monsters.

Psychologists call this kind of all-or-nothing thinking splitting—dividing the world into pure good and absolute evil. It’s often a marker of mental illness, which raises an unsettling question:

Are we in the midst of a collective mental health crisis? If so, what could possibly heal it?

Perhaps the answer lies in adopting more modest expectations. When bridging profound differences requires tediously long discussion and hair-pulling frustration, maybe we should aim for something simpler: friendships where we agree to disagree, handling conflicts as they arise with the same diplomatic courtesy we'd extend to polite strangers.

We tend to feel closer to those we agree with, so continually attempting to reach consensus with a friend is understandable. But part of growing up is accepting our separateness, even if it makes you feel a tiny bit lonelier in this world. A slightly more distant friend is better than no friend at all. 🙂

This willingness to hold space for differences without needing to destroy entire relationships might be the foundation for something larger.
Trump seems the living embodiment of our splitting and polarisation —a walking manifestation of our collective mental health crisis. But which came first? Is Trump in power because we are collectively mentally ill, or are we collectively mentally ill because Trump is in power? Perhaps he's both symptom and accelerant, a feedback loop made flesh.

If we could look inward and address our own mental health, perhaps we'd stop empowering those who embody our worst instincts. This isn't just an American problem. Extend this idea worldwide — to every flawed leader in every country. We, the people, vastly outnumber the small cadre of leaders dominating us. A fundamental shift in cultural attitude and mental health could render these figures powerless.

After all, a country is only as moral and ethical as its culture. If people cannot raise their own moral behaviour, how can we expect anything better than what we've got? Perhaps it's true that we get the leaders we deserve—not as punishment, but as reflection. They are mirrors held up to our collective character, showing us exactly who we are in this moment.

Either that or Trump is the Anti-Christ.

(Hee hee! I couldn't resist that one... 🙂 )