How False Beliefs Propel Cultural Conflict

A new study shows the misguided futility of the history wars

A Pennsbury School District security guard observes a Pennsbury School Board meeting
A Pennsbury School District security guard observes a Pennsbury School Board meeting in Levittown, Pennsylvania on December 16, 2021 (Kylie Cooper / AFP / Getty Images)

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Are you a Democrat? Let me ask you a question: What percentage of Republicans believe “it’s important that every American student learn about slavery, Jim Crow, and segregation”? Let me follow up. What percentage of Republicans believe that “schools should teach both our shared national history and the history of specific groups such as Black, Hispanic and Native Americans”?

Are you a Republican? Let me ask you a question: What percentage of Democrats believe “all students should learn about how the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution advanced freedom and equality”? Let me follow up. What percentage of Democrats believe that when students learn about American history, they “should not be made to feel personally responsible for the actions of earlier generations”?

It might surprise you to know that Democrats and Republicans are wildly wrong in their assessments of their political opponents’ beliefs. Democrats estimate that only 32 percent of Republicans believe that students should learn about slavery, Jim Crow, and segregation. The real number is 83 percent. Democrats believe that only 30 percent of Republicans think schools should teach the history of specific groups. The real number is 72 percent.

Republicans believe that only 45 percent of Democrats think schools should teach how the Declaration and Constitution advanced freedom and equality. The real number is 92 percent. Republicans believe that only 43 percent of Democrats think students should not be made to feel personally responsible for the actions of past generations. The real number is 83 percent.

These giant “perception gaps” are the “most notable finding” in More in Common’s yearlong survey of American attitudes toward teaching history. The results are clear: “Both Democrats and Republicans alike grossly overestimate whether members of the opposing party hold extreme views.” On issue after issue, there is far more agreement than disagreement on even the most hot-button issues surrounding race, identity, and history.

This finding isn’t surprising. In previous surveys, More in Common found that Republicans and Democrats consistently believe their opponents are more extreme than they truly are on many of the most polarizing disputes in the culture wars, including matters related to race, police brutality, immigration, and gun violence.

These data match my experience. I’ve lived in both deep-blue and deep-red parts of America, I attend both progressive and conservative gatherings, and it’s clear to me that opposing Americans simply don’t understand one another. Differences between the groups are real, but they’re simply not as extreme as we believe.

Crucially, in these same surveys, Americans report holding highly negative views of their political opponents. For example, 75 percent of Republicans perceive Democrats as “brainwashed,” 73 percent believe Democrats are “hateful,” and 81 percent call Democrats “arrogant.” Similarly, 75 percent of Democrats think Republicans are brainwashed, 78 percent say Republicans are hateful, and 79 percent view Republicans as arrogant.

If you have deeply negative personal views of your opponents, I’d argue that you’re far more likely to believe the worst about them, including that they possess extremist ideologies.

Why are both sides so hostile and so wrong? Has a mass psychosis gripped the American people? I’d suggest that a key part of the answer can be found in the same survey I cited above. Although most Americans are in broad agreement, there are two groups that emphatically don’t agree with each other, and that also happen to be among the most politically engaged and politically active communities in America.

According to More in Common data, the most polarized “wings” of American politics consist of 14 percent of the population: the 8 percent of Americans who are “Progressive Activists” and the 6 percent who are “Devoted Conservatives.” Both groups are more than twice as likely as other Americans to view politics as a hobby, and they really disagree about key issues in teaching American history:

A full 97 percent of Progressive Activists agree the country needs to do more to acknowledge earlier wrongs, whereas just 9 percent of Devoted Conservatives agree. The wings are similarly divided as to whether “Lingering on the past prevents us from moving forward.” A full 94 percent of Devoted Conservatives but only 11 percent of Progressive Activists agree with this statement.

Combine this activist minority’s disproportionate commitment to politics with their disproportionate consumption of political media, and you can see how the narrative of deep difference takes hold. Political media is quite adept at feeding its activist audience the kind of content it craves—a tsunami of stories highlighting every extremist and every act of extremism they can find.

In right-leaning America, where I live, this means that social-media accounts such as “Libs of TikTok” have generated huge traffic in large part by combing through social media for the wildest examples of left-wing extremism (no matter how obscure) and pushing that content into right-wing Twitter feeds. Conservatives are thus exposed to a nonstop parade of progressive horribles and emerge believing that “the left” has lost its mind.

Indeed, More in Common’s data indicate that the more news Americans consume, “the larger their perception gap.”

But understanding the problem is not the same thing as solving the problem. So long as the “exhausted majority” of Americans continues to cede the public square to the most motivated, most extreme segments of the public, their toxicity will continue to leak into our attitudes. After all, although a minority of Americans pay close attention to the news, partisan animosity is still widespread. We believe we know what to think about our opponents because we’ve been told what to think by our most politically active peers.

Think of it like this: Every institution is ultimately defined by the members who care the most. In churches, there’s an old cliché that 20 percent of the congregation does roughly 80 percent of the work. Based on long experience, I think that’s wrong; it’s more like 10 percent of the congregation does 90 percent of the work. And who do you think the pastor listens to? Who do you think then defines the culture of the church? It’s the people who care. It’s always the people who care.

And so it is with the culture wars. Yes, Americans may rouse themselves to vote against extremists. For example, Trump’s cohort of election-denying loyalists faced defeat after defeat in swing states in 2022. Yet if the grassroots and the media class remain utterly captured by those same extremes, then it will be virtually impossible to improve American political culture. As soon as the sting of the immediate defeat fades, the activists rise again and dominate the political conversation until the next election—until the next chance for average Americans to make their voices heard.

Although understanding the problem doesn’t solve it, it should encourage Americans to know that many of our political and cultural differences are, in fact, overblown. There is a broad degree of consensus over some (but certainly not all) of the most contentious topics in politics. And perhaps when you know that your fellow citizens are not as extreme as you fear, you’ll feel just a bit more warmth for those who vote red or blue.

But that’s just a start. If there exists a majority consensus, there must also exist a majority will. Americans who long for social peace can’t be passive. They must demonstrate the courage to rouse themselves, absorb the slings and arrows of the angry wings, and seek the agreements that are within their reach.

David French is a contributing writer at The Atlantic and the author of its newsletter The Third Rail.