Essay
Comment
Identity
Politics
7 min read

Outsourcing our identities: the corrosive effect of political tribalism

Political identities need to connect with core identities, Andy Flannagan reflects on how political disagreement can distort the lives of participants.
Across the heads of a roadside crowd, men wearing orange sashes and military band uniforms march along.
An Orange parade in Larkhall, Scotland.
Ross Goodman, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

I spent the first 24 years of my life in Northern Ireland. I am incredibly proud to say that it is my homeland. I am still a regular visitor. I love it. I love the people. However, that doesn’t change the fact that my beautiful, yet broken home provides a disturbing case study in what can happen when two communities live in the same space, but separately.  

That is sadly what is happening in the USA right now, and increasingly what is happening in the UK too. What is at the root of an inability to co-exist with those with whom we disagree? There are many answers to that question. I am not saying that what follows is the only answer, but that perhaps some ancient realities underly our present-day struggles. 

When we hold too tight to an identity and someone pokes it, we get angry. But what shifts us from holding something healthily to grasping it with a clenched fist? 

It is difficult to have an academic discussion about where the border (if any) should be in Ireland. The hurt and history go deep. Reactions are visceral. You only have to note the violent responses to a green, white and gold flag flying on a civic building, or an unwelcome red, white and blue kerbstone appearing overnight to realise that something deeper is being triggered. Similar to the ‘culture war’ issues that plague our present, these coloured symbols illicit emotional reactions because they challenge our very identity.  

When we hold too tight to an identity and someone pokes it, we get angry. But what shifts us from holding something healthily to grasping it with a clenched fist? In the political realm these tribal identities may be conservative, progressive, brexiteer, remainer, Democrat, Republican, or many others. 

We all need what I would call these ‘secondary identities’ to survive and get things done in this world. We need a sense of belonging to a tribe. But without a strong primary identity, we cling to these secondary identities so tightly that we are unable to engage healthily when someone challenges them. I’ll put my cards on the table. I believe that the primary identity of every human (whether we believe in a deity or not) is that we are made in the image of God. We have divine DNA in us. It’s the common thread of our humanity, designed to represent (or image) the kind, just leadership of God to the world. 

This is our core identity. This is the thing that people should see if they bite into us like a stick of rock. But if we lose connection with that core, we will still find our identity elsewhere. Our God-given desire to get a sense of who we are and where we fit in continues to operate.  

The problem with idols is that once you give your primary allegiance to them they exact an increasingly large price from you, without you even noticing it. 

The ancient scriptures also give us a useful language for what happens when we give over too much of our identity to a cause or group. The nation of Israel were experts at doing this. In their bones they wanted to worship something or someone, but rather than the hard yards of a mystical journey with a God who was often playful or invisible, they chose the more tangible, internet-speed version and created an idol from what they already had and what they already knew. Cue golden calves and strange statues. 

This grasping for simplicity, and tangible immediacy, helps to explain why Brexit or wokeness have become an idol. And why Trump has become an idol too. In Northern Ireland, the Irish flag has become an idol, as has the Union Jack. And the problem with idols is that once you give your primary allegiance to them they exact an increasingly large price from you, without you even noticing it.  

We often talk about shifts in culture without recognising that the word culture is derived from the same root as the word cult. ‘Culture’ provides invisible, uncontested leadership – it is that which we presume to be true, without stopping to question it, as we would not question a cult leader. 

This is about avoiding the outsourcing of our identity to things that may be good, but that shouldn’t control us. 

In my work with Christians in Politics, bringing Christians together from across the political spectrum, I have become fairly good at spotting when folks start to lose touch with their primary identity. You notice it from the visceral, speedy reactions on social media, subliminally prioritising their immediate emotional state above the emotions of others.  

Sadly, this accelerated during the COVID lockdowns, when it was all too easy to spot the radicalisation of previously fairly centred people. More time than usual on social media, more fear than usual from living through the global pandemic, all leading to them spending more time down algorithm-induced rabbit holes. 

This is not about the elimination of emotion. Nor producing an anodyne, academic, rational public square. After all, many who believe that they are made in the image of God also follow the human who they believe perfected that image, and he spent plenty of time raging against injustice and turning over tables.  

This is about avoiding the outsourcing of our identity to things that may be good, but that shouldn’t control us. Such things should influence us, but they shouldn’t forge us.  

The term idol is useful as it is now in popular usage thanks to TV shows like American Idol. Something in us knows that such here-one-minute-gone-the-next celebrity is not exactly bad for us, but also that such celebrity does not exist without a large number of people giving inappropriate amounts of time and attention (proportional to their talent) to these celebrity lives. 

There is a reason people try to keep religion and politics away from polite dinner table discussions. 

The challenge is that the most toxic idols are often actually really good things. Money. Food. Sex. These are good things. But as many of us know, if they start to control us rather than serve us, our happiness, waistlines, and marriages may be in trouble. With this understanding we can affirm someone’s political activism and enthusiasm as a good thing. We can affirm a political ideology as broadly helpful, but critique it when it has clearly become an idol in someone’s life, commanding time, energy and in real senses – worship. 

There is a visceral quality to our present debates that goes far beyond the discussion of policies. The enraged offence and wild language thrown at the other side speak of a deep and unhealthy suffusion of our identities to these tribes. 

The reactions we see on social media are the reactions of a child when their iPad is taken away. It is primal. Bearing in mind the toxicity of the social media-scape, it is easy to see how tribes are needed for protection, but if our responses to every situation are the knee-jerk reaction of our tribe, then we leave no space for breath, reflection or even prayer. And there is certainly no time to consult some ancient wisdom. There is a reason people try to keep religion and politics away from polite dinner table discussions. Nobody likes their identity being questioned. But rather than avoid these subjects, could we instead be so rooted in our primary identity that a disagreement doesn't have to lead to the end of fellowship and embrace? 

Tom Wright often points out that in life we will always need progressive (things need to change) moments but at times we also need conservative (things need to stay the same) moments. History is littered with both being significant. To pretend that one is always more important than the other is intellectually vacuous.

Our 'othering' of them renders them less human in our eyes and we are then able to countenance appalling things happening to them,

The same is true of parenting. There are times when a progressive response is required (okay you can start eating solid food now) and times when a conservative response is required (no, we still don't pour milk on the laptop). On a more serious note, discussions around parenting styles that sit on a spectrum between earth-motherly co-sleeping and Gina Ford military drilling are another good example of when disagreements within and between families get visceral. Again, it is because we don't just feel that this is a theoretical discussion. So much of our identity is unhealthily tied up in our insecurities around parenting that we feel that our very person is being attacked. The political and parenting spectra are eerily similar. 

Failing to remember that we are all made in the image of God and all part of the one human family also leaves the door open to the next level of ugliness – it leaves us able to dismiss' those we disagree with. They become people who are easy to label, mock, and dismiss. Our 'othering' of them renders them less human in our eyes and we are then able to countenance appalling things happening to them. They may become people we would rather see removed from proceedings than have reconciled to us. We forget the words of theologian Vinoth Ramachandrara, who said that:  

"when you stand face to face with another human being, made in the image of God, you are standing in the presence of a vehicle of the divine".  

Yes we need to be part of earthly tribes, but we also mustn't lose our identity to the tribe.  

Article
Culture
Digital
Film & TV
Work
7 min read

What my film about the prodigal son really means

Our relentless focus on productivity devalues the things that make us human

Emily is designer and animator at the Theos think tank.

An animated man runs through a jungle.
In Sync with the Sun.
Theos.

Watch now

In his 2021 book 4,000 weeks: Time Management for Mortals, Oliver Burkeman observes that an obsession with productivity doesn’t give us more control over our lives, ‘instead, life accelerates, and everyone grows more impatient. It’s somehow vastly more aggravating to wait two minutes for the microwave than two hours for the oven - or ten seconds for a slow-loading web page versus three days to receive the same information by post.’ 

With technologies like artificial intelligence rapidly accelerating our lives, this constant demand to squeeze more into our time is not only limited to the mundane tasks that we have to do and wish we didn’t. It seeps into what we want to do and indeed must do in order to flourish: creating art, spending time in community, and caring for others. The problem is that these things cannot be measured in productivity metrics because they inherently do not function in that way. How do you measure how ‘productive’ a conversation is? Or a work of art? Artists such as Vincent Van Gogh or Emily Dickinson didn’t see their influence in their own lifetime. 

The more we measure our lives in productivity metrics, the more we devalue the things that make us human, ultimately making our lives and the world around us increasingly artificial. This is the basis of my recent film, In Sync with the Sun, which is a short animation about the rhythms of activity and rest that are written into our world, and what happens when an obsession with productivity takes over.  

I wrote the initial script for the film after a period of burnout. I was fully in the “make the most of every second” mindset, which left me feeling exhausted and confused about where my value resides. In response, I began researching the sleep-cycles of various animals and I was liberated by surprising details such as the fact that lions, which we see as mighty and majestic animals, sleep for around 21 hours a day. Even creatures like jellyfish, which don’t even have brains as far as we know, still have cycles of rest. Every living thing thrives in these rhythms of activity and rest, even down to plants and minuscule organisms. Our whole world is built on this pattern, in sync with the sun. Yet for us humans, our rhythms have been broken by technology, leaving us confused about our limitations and what we should do with our short lives.  

The film begins in nature, deep in the jungle where some leopards are sleeping. But the tranquility is abruptly interrupted by the voice-over declaring, “the war against sleep began when artificial broke into the night.” Brilliant white light breaks up the deep blues and purples on screen, until the screen is filled with blinding white. I wanted it to feel like that moment you peer at your phone in the middle of the night - the pain of your pupils trying to adjust. If you think about it, for 99.9 per cent of human history, our eyes would have never had to do that - until now.  

Artificial light wasn’t powerful enough to change that. Instead, it’s given us an unquenchable guilt about how we use our time. 

With his invention of the light bulb, Thomas Edison was determined to banish the night, and the limitations it enforced on us. Edison was known for being fiercely obsessed with productivity and, as a result, was an anti-sleep warrior who believed,

“There is really no reason why men should go to bed at all.”

As someone living a century on, I find it baffling to imagine that humans should eradicate sleep entirely. Perhaps because just 100 years later we are seeing the results that sleep-loss and over-working can have on our physical health and wellbeing. Maybe we cannot supersede nature after all, since we are an embedded part of it. It seems that “Sabbath" rest is written into our world and into our humanity. Artificial light wasn’t powerful enough to change that. Instead, it’s given us an unquenchable guilt about how we use our time. Now we decide when the day ends, so whoever can rest the least wins. 

The battle is still raging; incandescent bulbs only set aflame that root desire to be increasingly productive. The hamster wheel is spinning uncontrollably, and we must keep up. So, what do we do? The attempt to remove the limitations outside of us has revealed that they are in fact inside of us too. Therefore, the only way to keep up is to remove the human from the hamster wheel altogether. The failure of artificial light leads to the birth of artificial minds.  

 As a creative, this is what frustrates me most about artificial intelligence; that it is mostly being driven by this quest to bring everything under the reign of productivity. It goes without saying that this is greatly needed in some areas of society. Just like artificial light, it can and will do a lot of good in the world. However, when the obsession with productivity is prioritised over human flourishing, that’s when we know there is a big problem with how we view our lives.  

Thinking back to the examples of Van Gogh and Emily Dickinson; what is lost when we don’t allow space for artists, carers, mothers, or any skilled role that requires an element of patience? For me personally, I can’t force creative inspiration, instead it comes at me, often at times when I’m not looking for it. Similarly, sometimes that inspiration leads directly to an instant idea, but most often it’s a vague idea I jot down to which later life experiences and opportunities then build onto, forming it into something bigger and more in-depth. This could be compared to a role or situation that requires relationship building. Sometimes there are moments of instant bonding and “productive” progress in relationships, but it’s often more complex where external experiences or changes, which are outside of our control, may unexpectedly deepen understanding between people after long periods of frustration. 

In my animation, I used the metaphor of a butterfly to illustrate this sentiment. After the character realises he is not made for a life of relentless productivity, he steps out of the black and white skyscraper into the lush wilderness. A butterfly lands on his productivity badge and the voice over says, “You’re not a machine.” I imagine the Creator saying this to the loved creation. Creatures like butterflies seem completely unproductive to our human standards. They take weeks to form in the chrysalis and exist in the world for less time than that. Yet they are a source of wonder and beauty for anyone who has the privilege of seeing one up close. A reminder that nature is not in a rush. Where AI is concerned, however, speed and profit are the focus of desire. But looking at the world around us - that we are a part of - it’s clear that not everything can or should be valued by these limiting metrics alone. 

The overarching narrative of In Sync with the Sun is loosely inspired by the biblical story of the prodigal son. The main character has travelled far away from his home in pursuit of success, and he eventually realises that this master does not love him. At the end he comes home again, finding connection in community and in the good rhythm of productivity and rest that he came from. I wanted the film to address the issues that an unhealthy obsession with productivity can cause, and instead evoke a desire to accept and live more in sync with the boundaries and rhythms that are embedded in the natural world we are a part of.  

The film ends with the line, “The only thing that can stay awake is not awake at all.” In the midst of the changing world of AI, humans might be tempted to measure our productivity levels in comparison to these machines. However, technologies always raise the productivity bar higher and higher, and one day we need to accept that we simply aren’t going to be able to reach it. We don’t sit apart from nature like technology does, so let’s stop resenting that, and instead celebrate it. To quote Oliver Burkeman again,  

“the more you confront the facts of finitude instead - and work with them, rather than against them - the more productive, meaningful and joyful life becomes.” 

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