Why step onto the battlefield where the culture wars rage if you can experience the thrill of a fight by shouting at your fellow soldiers in the barracks?
Because I care about the health and vibrancy of the church, and because I want to see a more just and righteous society, I can’t help but be discouraged when I see believers expending more and more energy in opposing and battling the people with whom they share closest alignment than they do making real and enduring strides toward cultural change.
I call it “fighting phantoms.” We yield to this temptation when minor differences begin to loom large, like ghosts haunting every interaction, until they threaten your group’s effectiveness. Whether it’s disagreements over strategy or infighting over issues on the periphery of your primary mission or purpose, the small shadows of difference lengthen into scary specters. Soon you’re swinging your sword at phantoms—wounding the people closest to you while making little to no progress in the cause that once brought you together.
We see phantom-fighting when someone gets elected to office and then spends most of their time chastising their fellow party members rather than working with them to advance legislation. We see it when advocates for a righteous cause focus primarily on calling out their allies over differences in method or strategy. We see it when people who come to the same theological conclusions start opposing each other because of the particular path they took in arriving at those conclusions, or when people in the same theological camp don’t agree exactly on how their vision should inform their church’s practice.
In these cases, the fight has moved from the battlefield to the barracks.
Why Do We Fight Phantoms?
What motivates this strange phenomenon? Is it psychology? Sigmund Freud pointed to “the narcissism of minor differences”—when a group of like-minded individuals, committed to a cause, begin to downplay their similarities and emphasize their divergences to create a new sense of self and superiority. Drawing lines of differentiation is an easy way to stand out, and continual categorization can fast-track a new coalition or identity. Rather than gathering as many people as possible into a coalition to support a cause, the group engages in a purification ritual—saving their strongest fire for those on the periphery of their own side.
Is it technology? Perhaps we should look at the perverse incentives of an increasingly digitalized existence marked by unhealthy habits on social media. Performative individualism has become a marker of online interaction, pressuring us to try on new identities in the back-and-forth of online debate. We settle for signals over substance. Vibes matter more than vision. Outrage trumps outcomes.
Is it institutional weakness? Yuval Levin has pointed to one reason for stagnation in our politics: more and more politicians get rewarded when they use the institution as a platform for popularity instead of submitting to the institution’s norms in a way that would mold and shape their character, a crucial component in forging a lasting movement. The way to get accolades today is through performing online, not finding consensus or seeking to persuade.
I’m sure there’s something to all these explanations, but in the end, there’s a more obvious reason we like fighting phantoms. It’s fun. Exaggerating the differences of the people to your immediate right or left, with whom you agree on 80 to 90 percent of everything, is exciting. It’s not only fun. It’s easy. Once you draw new lines and train your sights on those with whom you once made common cause, you get a sense of satisfaction in creating and belonging to a new in-group. Phantom-fighting provides the false thrill of thinking you’re making a real difference in the battle.
Fighting Phantoms Online Is a Game
Fighting phantoms doesn’t make sense in terms of military strategy. It’s irrational. But it can be fun. Which is why on Twitter (I still refuse to call it X), many of the loudest voices from different sides of the spectrum—those committed to fighting phantoms—often gush about how many people are now following them, or how many views their posts get, or how one of their sick burns “ratioed” some online opponent.
All this talk reveals something important about the online version of fighting phantoms: it’s a game. And games are fun, especially when social media constantly rewards you with the dopamine rush that makes you think you’re winning. The way to “level up” is to reject the boring approach of always railing against those on the other side of the political aisle and to focus instead on the flaws of the people who are largely with you, just divergent in some way. Draw new lines. Narrow the circle, and your voice gets louder.
But only for a time. Eventually, the circles get too narrow, and your online voice diminishes. When the game is over, there’s often little to show for the effort.
Pick Your Battles Wisely
Following Jesus doesn’t resemble the game of phantom-fighting.
A life of virtue is marked by patience, not popping off. A life of wisdom is marked by slowness, not speed. A life of holiness is marked by self-control, not impulsiveness. A life of love is marked by self-giving, not slander.
Yes, disagreements with brothers and sisters will arise. Debate and dialogue will always have a place. People often fit uncomfortably in the same coalition. There’s a place for meaningful discussion over aims and methods, for warnings about unintended consequences, for disagreeing forcefully at times over certain decisions, and, yes, even for parting ways when divergences grow too big. But the fracturing of coalitions should be met with tears, not glee.
What’s more, long-lasting improvements in culture and society are most likely when people press through these challenges and keep their focus on the main battlefield, where the stakes are highest. We must be on guard against the constant temptation to abandon the battlefield in favor of skirmishing in the barracks.
Fighting phantoms is great for attracting attention, but the future belongs to those who know how to make music, not just noise. It’s those who resist the impulse to tear down and learn instead to build who make progress. It’s those who broaden and solidify coalitions, not those who seek short-term profit from every crack and fracture, who experience forward momentum.
A fractured church is a much smaller threat to the Evil One’s schemes than a unified (not uniform) battalion of believers who don’t take their eyes off their primary objective, who lock arms with as many like-minded soldiers as possible, and who devote their lives to Christ’s law of love. “Let us pursue what promotes peace,” Paul tells us, “and what builds up one another” (Rom. 14:19).
It’s not fun we’re after but joy. Not the narcissism of small differences but the selflessness of intense devotion. Dressed in truth and righteousness for the gospel of peace, we mustn’t retreat from the spiritual battlefield into the comfort and fun of fighting phantoms.
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