Why is this person so adamant — and so closed off to all other perspectives?
Photo by Corelens _ Polina Tankilevich
T here’s a familiar rhythm to modern public life now. A crisis erupts. A video circulates. A headline spikes. And within hours — sometimes minutes — the world fractures neatly into opposing camps. Talking points harden. Certainty rushes in. The question is no longer what happened or what might help, but which side are you on? The speed with which this happens should trouble us, not because disagreement is new, but because curiosity disappears almost instantly. Flashpoint moments reveal more about our incentives than our principles. When something shocking or destabilizing happens, ideologues and pundits don’t move toward understanding — they sprint to their corners. Heels dig in. Language hardens. Certainty crowds out inquiry. We’re told this is “holding the line,” as though rigidity itself were a virtue. But almost every durable solution lives in the grey. Compromise isn’t weakness. Collaboration isn’t betrayal. Working through discomfort — rather than numbing it with slogans — is the only place where real progress has ever occurred. That requires seeing connective tissue instead of obsessively spotlighting division. It requires acknowledging the shared human condition rather than endlessly cataloguing difference. Which raises an important question we almost never ask: Why is this person so adamant — and so closed off to all other perspectives?
Are they selling a book? A podcast? A TV show? Running for re-election? Polishing a personal brand? Or are they simply aware of a far older truth — that people crave belonging — and that offering moral certainty to a tribe is far easier than offering solutions? Because helping people feel good about feeling bad is a business. It’s a lucrative one. Selling outrage, grievance, and ideological purity costs nothing and scales infinitely. It asks nothing of the consumer except loyalty. It doesn’t require thought, only allegiance. And it flatters people by turning emotional discomfort into moral righteousness. That doesn’t make it moral. Or ethical. Or honest. Consumers of these salve-sellers should be clear-eyed: they don’t want your growth, your understanding, or your independence. They want your devotion — and your refusal to question the story you’re being sold. This is true on both sides of the political spectrum. But you can opt out. You can choose to see humans first. To ask harder questions. To tolerate uncertainty. To resist the false comfort of absolutes. The endless bifurcation of humanity into competing tribes isn’t a path toward repair — it’s a business model. And it’s not designed to help you. Staying there, however, is optional.
THE DESIRE TO FEEL GOOD ABOUT FEELING BAD The Emotional Payoff of Ideological Tribalism
by Ben Brooks
112 SPOTLIGHT ON BUSINESS MAGAZINE • VOL 26 ISSUE 2
HEALTH & WELLNESS • SPOTLIGHT ON BUSINESS MAGAZINE 113
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