By Chris Richards
Founder, Antiha.org
Published March 15, 2026
Weekly Way — Week 2, Day 1
The Weekly Way
A weekly Antiha series exploring how the teachings of Jesus challenge the culture of outrage, political tribalism, and modern forms of hatred.
Each article examines how Radical Love, Radical Peace, and Radical Forgiveness reshape how Christians think, speak, and live in a divided world.
![[HERO] The Trap of Political Tribalism](https://cdn.marblism.com/Pc3C_1wyg-3.webp)
The air today feels heavy, doesn’t it? If you spend more than five minutes online or turn on the evening news, you can almost hear the low-frequency hum of collective anxiety. We are living in a moment where the pressure to pick a side is relentless. It isn’t just about who you vote for anymore; it’s about which "reality" you inhabit. We’ve drifted into a dangerous age of political tribalism, an invisible architecture that dictates our social lives, our friendships, and even our spiritual health.
To understand political tribalism, we have to recognize the psychological trap it creates. It is the process by which our ideological affiliations stop being a set of ideas and start being a primary identity. In this world, the person across the aisle isn’t just a neighbor with a different perspective; they become an existential threat to our way of life. This shift is subtle but catastrophic. It replaces the complex, multi-dimensional beauty of the human person with a flat, two-dimensional caricature. It asks us to trade our conscience for a jersey.
Tribalism turns neighbors into enemies.

Why is this happening? To understand tribalism in politics, we have to look at how we are wired. Humans have a deep, ancient instinct for belonging. Historically, being part of a tribe meant survival. If you were cast out, you were vulnerable. Today, that same survival instinct is being hijacked by political machines and digital algorithms that profit from our fear. They convince us that our "tribe" is under attack and that the only way to be safe is to circle the wagons.
In the New Testament, we encounter a specific word for the people we are told to fear: Echthros (ἐχθρός) — someone who stands in active hostility or hatred toward you. While we often translate this as "enemy," the Greek describes a person who opposes you. Political tribalism functions by teaching us to see every political opponent as an Echthros (ἐχθρός) by default. We are conditioned to believe that if "they" win, "we" lose everything.
This state of constant alarm creates a profound spiritual problem. When our Lēb (לֵב) — the heart or the inner seat of our will — is occupied by political anxiety, there is little room left for the Holy Spirit to move. We become reactive instead of reflective. “For where jealousy and selfish ambition are, there is confusion and every evil deed.” (James 3:16, WEBUS). Is there a better word for our current cultural climate than "confusion"? Tribalism thrives on it. It muddies our moral clarity, leading us to excuse the sins of our own side while obsessing over the failures of the other.
One of the most radical things about Jesus was his absolute refusal to be co-opted by the tribal interests of his day. He lived in a society every bit as divided as ours. You had the Zealots who wanted violent revolution against Rome. You had the Sadducees who wanted to maintain the status quo. You had the Pharisees who focused on legalistic purity as a means of cultural survival. Each group wanted Jesus to join their ranks. They wanted a Messiah who would validate their anger and crush their specific enemies.
Instead, Jesus introduced a "Third Way." He did not come to take sides within their system. He came to establish a different Kingdom entirely. When Jesus stood before Pontius Pilate, the representative of the world's greatest political power, he spoke words that should fundamentally shift the Christian response to political division: “My Kingdom is not of this world. If my Kingdom were of this world, then my servants would fight, that I wouldn’t be delivered to the Jews. But now my Kingdom is not from here” (John 18:36, WEBUS).
Jesus was describing a Politeuma (πολίτευμα) — a citizenship or a way of life that transcends earthly borders and ideological camps. By declaring that His Kingdom was "not from here," He wasn't saying He didn't care about the world. He was saying that His authority didn't come from human systems or tribal consensus. This gave Him the freedom to love the Roman centurion, the Jewish tax collector, and the Samaritan outcast all at the same time. He looked past the political branding and saw the Imago Dei (צֶלֶם אֱלֹהִים) — the image of God — in every human face.

If we are honest, we have to admit that political tribalism causes division because it offers us a false sense of righteousness. It’s easier to feel "good" by pointing at the "bad" people on the other side than it is to do the hard work of Metanoia (μετάνοια) — a total transformation of our own minds and hearts. Tribalism allows us to outsource our morality to a party platform.
But the Way of Jesus calls us out of the trenches. In the most famous and difficult portion of Jesus’ teaching about loving enemies, He says: “But I tell you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who mistreat you and persecute you...” (Matthew 5:44, WEBUS). This isn't just a nice suggestion for personal piety; it is a direct assault on the foundations of tribalism.
Think about it: you cannot maintain a "them vs. us" mentality while you are sincerely praying for the "them." Overcoming political division as a Christian begins when we realize that our primary loyalty is to the King who died for our political opponents. If we find ourselves unable to speak kindly of or pray for someone because of their voting record, we have allowed an idol to take the place of Christ in our hearts.
Antiha is built on the belief that we must return to the Roots of our faith to find a way through the hate. This means practicing Radical Love, Radical Peace, and Radical Forgiveness. It means refusing to let social media algorithms dictate who we are allowed to see as a neighbor.
How do we do this practically?
Humanizing the "enemy" begins when we intentionally seek out the stories of the people our tribe tells us to hate. When we look past the label, we are forced to remember that they bear the Imago Dei (צֶלֶם אֱלֹהִים) just as we do.
We also have to limit the noise. This means recognizing that much of the outrage we feel is manufactured by systems and algorithms that profit directly from our division.
Finally, we must practice presence. By moving from online arguments to physical presence—sharing a meal or a neighborhood—we find that it is much harder to hate a person when they are standing right in front of us.
The trap of political tribalism is that it promises us safety while stealing our souls. It offers a community built on shared hatred rather than shared love. But the Kingdom of God offers something better: a community where the walls are torn down, and the only thing that matters is our shared identity in Christ.
As we go through this series, I invite you to join us in a radical experiment. What if we stopped being "Red" or "Blue" for a moment and focused simply on being "Anti-Hate"? What if we decided that no political victory is worth the price of our neighbor’s humanity? It won't be easy. The pull of the tribe is strong. But the pull of the Cross is stronger.
Political tribalism asks us to hate our neighbors. The Way of Jesus asks us to love them.
This article is part of the Weekly Way series exploring political tribalism, ideology, and the teachings of Jesus in a divided age.
It Starts With Me. Not Left. Not Right. Anti-Hate.