I think that’s a wrap, folks. The good old days of friendly political discourse have disappeared quicker than the American middle class. Gone are the times when most of us could disagree and debate in a civil manner, regardless of which side of the aisle our preferred political heroes happened to sit. Now, we much prefer to feign outrage and hurl overused and dramatized slurs like “Nazi” and “Libtard” from the very second we find we disagree politically.

What happened? It would be easy to blame this new normal on the political rise of Donald Trump and the divisive rhetoric he peddled as a candidate and continues as President. But I don’t think it’s that simple. The erosion of the political middle ground is a symptom of something deeper, something that has been festering beneath the surface for years.

We humans have always been tribal. In the past, we were united by bands of fellow hunter-gatherers or even by families and physical communities. But in our increasingly digital and globalized world, those connections have frayed. We’ve divided ourselves into tribes based on ideology, isolating within bubbles that reinforce our beliefs and amplify our fears.

This is not a recent phenomenon, of course. We’ve been sectioning ourselves off along religious and political boundaries for centuries. But what’s different now is the sheer speed and scale at which this fragmentation is happening. Social media platforms feed us content that aligns with our views, while cable news networks cater to their respective audiences, creating parallel realities where the “other side” is not just wrong, but dangerous.

The middle ground, once a space for compromise and mutual understanding, has become a no man’s land. Politicians who dare to straddle the divide are met with scorn from both ends of the spectrum. Voters are increasingly pressured to pick a side—left or right, us or them—with no room for nuance or dissent. This polarization has made it nearly impossible to have constructive conversations about the complex issues facing our country.

But before we despair, let’s remember that we have the power to choose our response to this division. We can’t control the actions or beliefs of others, but we can control how we engage with the world around us. This starts with recognizing that most people, regardless of their political affiliation, want the same basic things: security, opportunity, justice, and a better future for their children. We may disagree on how to achieve those goals, but we must start by acknowledging our shared humanity.

We also need to step outside our echo chambers and engage with those who think differently. This doesn’t mean abandoning our principles, but rather, approaching conversations with curiosity and an openness to understanding the other side. It’s about focusing on what we can control—our actions, our words, our attitudes—and letting go of the need to convince others to see things exactly as we do.

Finally, we must hold our representatives accountable for the rhetoric they use. When it comes to political leaders, words actually do matter. Or at least they should. When politicians stoke fear and division for political gain, they erode the very fabric of our democracy. It’s up to us, as citizens, to demand better—not just from our elected officials, but from ourselves. We must practice patience and restraint, refusing to be drawn into the cycle of outrage and retaliation that so often characterizes modern discourse.

The death of the political middle ground is not inevitable. But reviving it will require a collective effort to move beyond the simplistic narratives that pit us against one another. It’s time to stop seeing politics as a zero-sum game and start recognizing that we’re all in this together. If we can focus on what is within our power, maintain our integrity, and act with wisdom and compassion, we might just begin to heal the deep wounds that have divided us for too long—I wouldn’t bet the farm on it, but I suppose there’s always a chance.

Author: Nick Allison is just a banged-up Army Infantry vet of the War in Iraq. He lives in Austin, TX with his wife, their children and two big, dumb, ugly mongrel dogs. Don’t take anything he says too seriously… he’s just trying to figure out this ride we call existence like everyone else. Also, he enjoys writing his own bio in third-person because it probably makes him feel more important.