Mike Tobias
As we approach another presidential election, there’s a growing sense of urgency on both sides of the political spectrum. The stakes feel higher than ever, with many convinced that if the opposing candidate wins, it could lead to the collapse of America as we know it. This fear isn’t just political rhetoric—it’s a deeply held belief that is driving people to the brink of despair, preparing for what they perceive as an inevitable conflict.
Perception is reality—but whose reality are we living in?
But here’s the irony: this very perception, if left unchecked, could create the scenario we all fear. When large groups of people believe that a political outcome will lead to disaster, they begin to act as though that disaster is already happening. This mindset, shared by many on both sides of the aisle, can actually lead to the division and unrest we so desperately want to avoid.
In this post, I want to explore how our perceptions—especially when it comes to politics—shape our reality. I’ll share a personal experience that brought this concept into sharp focus and delve into the idea that while our fears may be rooted in genuine concerns, they can also drive us toward outcomes that none of us truly want. Along the way, we’ll examine the growing belief that America itself is fundamentally flawed, and why this perception is particularly dangerous. Despite its imperfections, America’s Constitution remains one of the fairest and most resilient forms of government on the planet. It’s a system designed to protect us from exactly the kind of collapse that so many fear.
Let’s start by taking a closer look at how our perceptions can create the reality we dread.
Recently, I found myself reflecting on conversations I’ve had with two friends—let’s call them Alex and Chris—both of whom I deeply respect and care about. They each have strong opinions about the upcoming election, and their views couldn’t be more different. Alex is convinced that their preferred candidate is the only one who can steer the country in the right direction, while Chris feels just as strongly that a victory for the other candidate is the only hope for America.
When I’m with Alex, I can see the logic in their arguments. They talk about the policies and positions that they believe are crucial for our nation’s future, and it’s hard not to nod along in agreement. Alex’s passion is palpable, and I understand why they feel the way they do. But then I sit down with Chris, and they present a completely different perspective. Chris’s concerns about the other candidate are real and valid, and once again, I find myself agreeing. They make a compelling case for why their candidate is the better choice, and I can’t deny the strength of their arguments either.
Our perceptions don’t just influence our opinions; they shape our reality.
But here’s the thing: while I understand and appreciate where both of them are coming from, I can’t help but notice how deeply entrenched they’ve become in their views. They’re not just advocating for their candidates—they’re genuinely fearful of what will happen if the other side wins. This fear has become so intense that it’s almost like they’re living in two different realities, each shaped by their own perceptions.
This is where the battle of narratives comes into play. On a broader scale, we’re seeing a clash of narratives from both sides, each trying to define the truth of what’s happening in our country. But there’s another, more subtle battle happening within each of us—the battle of the narrative we tell ourselves. We construct our understanding of the world through stories, and those stories are shaped by the information we consume, the people we talk to, and the experiences we have.
The real battle isn’t just between political parties—it’s within our own minds.
For Alex, the narrative is one of progress and protection—where the wrong choice could undo everything that has been built. For Chris, it’s a narrative of preservation and restoration—where the right choice is all that stands between the country and disaster. Both narratives are powerful, and both are deeply personal. The problem is that these stories can become so all-encompassing that they start to eclipse reality. The narrative becomes the truth, and anything that contradicts it is dismissed as false or dangerous.
As much as I value our friendships, I’ve found myself hesitant to challenge their views too directly. I’m not one to overly correct or confront in these situations, especially when it comes to people I care about. But I also see the danger in the kind of vitriol that’s creeping into our conversations. The more Alex and Chris dwell on their fears, the more convinced they become that the other side’s victory will lead to disaster—and that’s what worries me the most.
Their perceptions aren’t just influencing their opinions; they’re starting to shape their reality. And the real danger here is that if enough people feel the way Alex and Chris do, we could find ourselves in a situation where those fears actually come true—not because the winning candidate is inherently destructive, but because our collective anxiety drives us toward conflict and division.
This is the first lesson in understanding how perception shapes reality: it’s not just about how we see the world, but about how those perceptions influence our actions, and in turn, the world around us. If we’re not careful, our perceptions could lead us down a path that none of us truly want to follow.
As I continue to reflect on my conversations with Alex and Chris, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something larger at play—a dangerous trend that’s becoming increasingly common across the country. Both of my friends, like many Americans, genuinely believe that if the other side wins, it will lead to the collapse of our nation. It’s a fear that’s rooted deep in their perceptions, and it’s a fear that I’ve seen echoed in countless conversations, social media posts, and news headlines.
This kind of fear isn’t just an emotional response—it’s also a physiological one. When we perceive a threat, our brain’s amygdala, the area responsible for processing emotions, especially fear, goes into overdrive. This triggers the release of stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline, which prepare the body for a "fight or flight" response. In the context of politics, where the perceived threat isn’t immediate physical danger but the potential collapse of our way of life, this response can create a sustained state of anxiety.
Anxiety, when prolonged, affects not just our mental health but our decision-making abilities. It narrows our focus, making it harder to see the bigger picture or consider alternative viewpoints. This is why, when people like Alex and Chris are so convinced that the opposition’s victory will lead to disaster, their brains are effectively conditioning them to see the world in black and white—us versus them, survival versus destruction.
When we act on our fears, we risk making them come true.
But here’s where the danger lies: when a large portion of the population believes that the outcome of an election will lead to disaster, they start to prepare for that disaster as if it’s inevitable. This kind of preparation can manifest in many ways—stockpiling resources, forming groups for “protection,” or even engaging in rhetoric that dehumanizes the other side. It’s a mindset that turns the idea of civil unrest from a distant possibility into something that feels almost certain.
The irony is that this very perception—the belief that the other side’s victory will bring about our nation’s downfall—can actually create the conditions for such a downfall. If enough people act on their fears, we could see protests turning into riots, refusal to accept election results, and even violence. What starts as a perception could become reality, not because the election itself was fraudulent or the government tyrannical, but because we allowed our fears to drive us to the brink.
This is the essence of a self-fulfilling prophecy: when we act on our fears, we often bring about the very outcome we’re trying to avoid. The more we believe that the country is on the verge of collapse, the more likely we are to engage in behaviors that make that collapse possible.
It’s a sobering thought, but it’s also a reminder of the power our perceptions hold. If we’re not careful, we could create the very reality we dread. That’s why it’s so important to take a step back and question the narratives we’ve come to accept as truth. We need to ask ourselves: are we allowing our fears to shape our actions in ways that could be harmful? Are we so convinced of the other side’s threat that we’re willing to risk the stability of our nation?
The truth is, America has faced difficult times before, and we’ve always found a way through. But the key to navigating these challenges is not to succumb to fear, but to hold fast to the principles that have guided us for over two centuries. This means trusting in the process, even when the outcome isn’t what we hoped for, and remembering that the strength of our nation lies in our ability to come together, even when we disagree.
We’re at a critical moment where our perceptions could either tear us apart or bring us closer together. The choice is ours.
As we navigate these turbulent political waters, it’s crucial to remember that America’s strength doesn’t just lie in the choices we make at the ballot box—it lies in the framework that guides those choices. Our Constitution, despite its age and the imperfections that some point to, remains one of the fairest and most resilient systems of government ever devised.
There’s a growing perception, particularly in some circles, that America itself is fundamentally flawed. The argument goes that the system is broken beyond repair, and that perhaps it’s time to start over. But this perception is not only dangerous—it’s misguided. It overlooks the fact that our Constitution was designed precisely to handle the kinds of challenges and disagreements we face today.
A key aspect of addressing challenges effectively lies in how we define the problems before us. The way we frame an issue profoundly influences the solutions we pursue. Cognitive science and psychology tell us that problem definition is crucial because it shapes the way we process information and make decisions. When we define a problem in narrow or absolute terms, we limit our ability to see alternative solutions. Conversely, when we define a problem more broadly or in a way that considers multiple perspectives, we open ourselves up to a wider range of possibilities.
For example, if we define the current political climate as a battle between good and evil, where the opposing side must be defeated at all costs, we’re likely to pursue solutions that are combative and divisive. This narrow definition limits our ability to find common ground and exacerbates the divide. However, if we redefine the problem as a challenge of governance—one where differing viewpoints must be reconciled for the good of the nation—we are more likely to engage in dialogue and seek solutions that unite rather than divide.
How we define the problem shapes the solutions we seek.
This principle is embedded in the very structure of our government. The Constitution’s system of checks and balances, its separation of powers, and its capacity for amendment all reflect an understanding that how we define and approach problems will evolve over time. The Founding Fathers knew that the issues facing the nation would change, and they designed a system flexible enough to adapt to new challenges while maintaining stability..
In many nations, a leader who gains power can hold onto it for decades, often with disastrous consequences for democracy and individual freedoms. In contrast, America’s system is designed to prevent such an outcome. The separation of powers between the executive, legislative, and judicial branches ensures that no single branch can dominate the others. And if the people are unhappy with their leaders, they have the power to change them through peaceful, democratic means.
But perhaps more importantly, our Constitution allows for self-correction. It’s a living document, capable of being amended as society evolves. The fact that we can amend our Constitution to address new challenges is a testament to the foresight of our Founding Fathers. They understood that while the principles of liberty and justice are timeless, the application of those principles might need to change as the world changes.
Yet, this system only works if we have faith in it. We must trust in the processes our forefathers put in place, even when the outcomes aren’t what we hoped for. This requires a level of humility and patience that can be difficult to muster in today’s fast-paced, instant-gratification culture. But it’s essential if we want to preserve the integrity of our democracy.
For those of us who believe, this faith extends beyond our government—it’s rooted in something higher. We put our trust in God as the highest good, believing that He guides us through all of life’s challenges, including political ones. This faith gives us the perspective to see beyond the temporary struggles and to recognize the enduring strength of the structures that have served us for over two centuries.
In this time of heightened division, it’s more important than ever to remember that America’s Constitution was built to withstand the pressures of intense political strife. It was designed to ensure that power remains in the hands of the people and that our nation can continue to grow and adapt. Rather than viewing America as the problem, we should see it for what it truly is: a remarkable experiment in self-governance, one that has succeeded far beyond what its founders could have imagined.
Let’s not lose sight of this. America is not perfect, but it is uniquely equipped to handle its imperfections. If we allow ourselves to believe that the system is broken beyond repair, we risk undermining the very foundations that protect our freedoms. Instead, let’s put our faith in the democratic process, in the Constitution, and in the belief that, together, we can continue to build a nation that reflects the highest ideals of liberty and justice for all.
In this time of division, let’s choose to be builders rather than destroyers.
As we stand at this critical juncture, with so much at stake in the upcoming election, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. The fear, the anxiety, the uncertainty—these emotions are real, and they’re powerful. But we must remember that how we respond to these feelings will shape the future of our country.
A significant part of what fuels this intensity is the media—in all its forms. We all know that media outlets thrive on divisiveness; they feed on conflict and controversy because it grabs attention, keeps us glued to the screen, and drives engagement. Whether it’s through cable news, social media, or online platforms, the media often presents the most extreme viewpoints, whipping us into a frenzy and making it harder to see the common ground we share.
This divisiveness isn’t just a product of the times—it’s a driving force behind them. I forced myself to watch both the Democratic and Republican National Conventions, and I’ll be honest, it was hard to listen to both sides at times. The rhetoric, the jabs, the polarization—it’s enough to make anyone want to tune out. But one thing became clear to me as I watched: despite their differences, both sides love America. Both sides believe they are fighting for the future of this country, even if their visions for that future are vastly different.
This realization is crucial. If we allow ourselves to be manipulated by media narratives that paint the other side as the enemy, we lose sight of the fact that, at the end of the day, we are all Americans. We all want what’s best for our country, even if we disagree on what that looks like.
This is where our challenge lies. We need to combat the divisiveness that the media thrives on by refusing to be swept up in the frenzy. Instead, we should seek out the commonalities that unite us, the shared values that bind us together as a nation. We must be vigilant in questioning the narratives we’re fed and intentional about seeking out diverse perspectives—not to fuel our anger, but to broaden our understanding.
In many ways, we are facing our own modern-day Tower of Babel. In the biblical story, humanity’s arrogance led to a project that sought to reach the heavens—a tower that would make them equal to God. But because of their pride and refusal to work together in humility, God confused their language, scattering them across the earth and halting their progress. Today, we see a similar kind of division, where our inability to communicate and find common ground threatens to tear us apart.
When we allow our differences to divide us, we risk losing the strength that comes from unity.
Just as the people of Babel were scattered because they could no longer understand each other, we risk fragmenting as a society when we allow our differences to define us more than our shared humanity. The lesson of Babel is not just about the dangers of hubris but about the consequences of division. It’s a reminder that our strength comes from unity and collaboration, not from imposing our will or isolating ourselves in ideological silos.
The first step is to challenge our own perceptions. We need to be willing to step outside our echo chambers and listen to opposing viewpoints—not with the intent to argue or convince, but to genuinely understand. This requires humility and an open mind, qualities that are often in short supply in today’s polarized world. But it’s essential if we want to move forward as a nation.
We also need to put our faith in the democratic process. This means voting, of course, but it also means respecting the outcomes of elections, even when they don’t go our way. It means trusting that our system, with all its checks and balances, is designed to reflect the will of the people over time. Change doesn’t always happen overnight, but our Constitution ensures that it can happen peacefully and democratically.
Most importantly, we need to put our faith in something higher. For those of us who believe, this means trusting in God as the highest good, as the guide who leads us through times of uncertainty and strife. It means recognizing that while we may not always understand His plan, we can trust that He is working for the good of all.
Our perceptions will shape our reality—but our actions will determine the outcome.
In this time of division, let’s choose to be builders rather than destroyers. Let’s choose to see our fellow citizens not as enemies, but as partners in this grand experiment of democracy. Let’s choose to trust in the systems that have protected our freedoms for over two centuries, and in the higher principles that guide us all.
The future of our nation is in our hands. Our perceptions will shape our reality—but it’s our actions, guided by faith and grounded in the Constitution, that will determine the outcome. Let’s choose wisely.
As I look back on the conversations I had with Alex and Chris, I can't help but wonder how different our discussions might have been if we all took a step back to see the bigger picture. Imagine if, instead of being entrenched in their respective narratives, Alex and Chris could momentarily set aside their fears and consider the possibility that the other side also has the country's best interests at heart. How might our dialogue change if we were all willing to question our own perceptions and seek out the common ground that unites us rather than the differences that divide us?
"The way forward requires more than just talking; it requires listening. Be open to the idea that our reality isn't the only reality."
-Mike Tobias
This brings us to a crucial point: the way forward requires more than just talking; it requires listening. It requires us to actively challenge the narratives we've built around ourselves and to be open to the idea that our reality isn't the only reality. If we can approach conversations with humility and a genuine desire to understand, we might find that the path to unity is closer than we think.
To help foster this kind of understanding and bridge the divides in our country, here are a few actionable steps:
Engage with Opposing Viewpoints:
Make a conscious effort to consume media from sources that challenge your beliefs. This doesn’t mean you have to agree with everything you read or watch, but understanding where the other side is coming from is the first step in bridging the gap.
Practice Active Listening:
In conversations, especially those about politics or sensitive topics, focus on listening more than speaking. Ask questions that encourage others to explain their perspectives fully, and try to find the underlying concerns or values driving their views.
Reflect on Your Own Narratives:
Take time to reflect on the stories you tell yourself about the world. Are these narratives helping you connect with others, or are they creating more division? Consider how your perceptions might be shaping your reality and whether they could be adjusted to foster greater understanding.
Seek Common Ground:
In every conversation, look for points of agreement, no matter how small. These can serve as a foundation for more constructive dialogue and can help de-escalate tensions.
Support Democratic Processes:
Put your faith in the systems that have served our country for over two centuries. Participate in elections, respect their outcomes, and engage in civic activities that strengthen our democratic institutions.
By taking these steps, we can each contribute to a more unified nation. The future of America doesn’t rest solely on who wins the next election; it rests on our ability to work together, to understand each other, and to build a shared reality based on mutual respect and a commitment to the common good.
In the end, our perceptions will shape our reality—but it’s our actions, guided by faith and grounded in the Constitution, that will determine the outcome. Let’s choose wisely.