Indivisible Issues: Is the 21st Century the Age of Polarization?

Polarization has reached new heights in the past two decades, fueled in large part by a rapidly evolving media landscape and an increasingly divided legislature. Photo courtesy of Ted Eytan.

The 21st century has been a whirlwind. In the past two decades, we’ve seen unprecedented technological growth that has propelled the world into a new era of interconnectedness and accessibility. From the September 11th attacks to the COVID-19 pandemic, life-altering events have shattered the old norm and forced us to adapt to an ever-evolving status quo. As civilization shifts, so too does our political landscape: American polarization continues to metastasize, showing few signs of remission on the horizon. 

The first piece in this series established that this phenomenon is not exclusive to any particular decade or recent trend. To the contrary, political divisions have permeated the United States since its founding, albeit in varying dosages. Since Reagan’s presidency and his cultivation of modern conservatism, however, we’ve seen a continuous uptick in partisan rancor, suggesting dire consequences for our current period. Even so, the causes of today’s severities go much deeper than the seeds of just one movement planted over 40 years ago; countless developments have shaped the American people, as well as the representatives they elect, since then. So what makes the present era so different, and how did it get this way? 

A defining feature of 21st-century political polarization is the rise of the “culture war,” a term popularized by sociologist James Davison Hunter in his 1991 book, aptly titled Culture Wars: The Struggle to Define America. The idea is that our divisions stem from fundamental differences between progressive and traditionalist values, which seep into politics by way of subjects like abortion, LGBTQ+ rights, and the ideal dynamic between church and state. Each side of the discourse holds fundamentally different worldviews from one another, making it difficult to reach any common ground. 

This worked hand in hand with the increasing prevalence of “affective polarization.” That is, people don’t just disagree with their opponents on policy, they view them with aversion and contempt for having those policies. Indeed, the moralization of politics, where opposing groups consider the other immoral for their beliefs, has inflamed hostilities and only exacerbated the gap between sides. We’ve seen ethics-centered tensions before in American history: one reason slavery caused such a nationwide schism was the intense moral rationale held by each side. 

The same phenomenon is present here but applies to numerous contentious policies rather than one central controversy. Moreover, the partisan trends of the last few decades reflect identity-based attitudes: women, people of color, and college graduates skew heavily Democratic, while men, white people, evangelicals, and inhabitants of rural areas lean Republican. Factors such as race, class, gender, geography, and lifestyle are inextricably tied to political affiliation, a trend that has been built up over centuries—from the Civil War to the resurgence of conservatism—but is now more defined than ever. 

Another recent trend lies in the media—both mainstream and social. In the 1980s and ‘90s, major outlets like CNN, MSNBC, and Fox News started to grow more partial, and their partisan associations are no secret today. With little overlap between conservative and liberal-leaning sources, consumers with predisposed political preferences could reinforce their beliefs while avoiding any challenges to their worldview. At the same time, the less politically engaged now have an overabundance of media choices and can opt out of news consumption entirely, reducing the total number of moderates in any given audience. For the partisans, however, social media only made things worse; algorithms designed to create echo chambers and promote provocative content, combined with the newfound ability for everyone in the world to express their opinion publicly with little to no filter or fact-checking all at once, resulted in polarized pandemonium. 

And third, the ideological gap between Republicans and Democrats in Congress continues to widen, with Republicans in particular veering rightward over the decades and Democrats struggling to keep pace. Wealthy donors play a notable role in this, financing campaigns that align with their views no matter how extreme those views may be. Ideological overlap between the parties, which was common half a century ago, is now nonexistent. Politicians target messaging to voters that uphold their policies while demonizing the opposing side, pitting one faction of society against the other. 

If the culture war signified polarization itself, the media and politician-driven rhetoric acted as its conduits. As demographics, ideas, and movements change and evolve, people and organizations with large platforms can selectively funnel those developments to the public and portray them in a way that suits their preferences. This fuels the fire of an already divided public as the material they consume grows narrower and narrower, constantly affirming their beliefs while alienating those who carry different ones. 

All these factors were gaining traction by the mid-2010s. Donald Trump’s presidential run, however, stoked polarization like never before. In the mounting cultural chasm between the progressives and traditionalists, Trump was the ne plus ultra of the traditional. He campaigned on a vituperative disdain for the nation’s shifting demographics, a stark distrust of liberal-leaning media and institutions as a whole, and carried a populist flair that gave his supporters not only someone to love, but to worship. He drove a wedge between countless groups—whites and non-whites, urban and rural, young and old, men and women, college-educated and not—and often used bigoted rhetoric to do so. More so than even Reagan, Trump reinvented American conservatism to revolve around himself and his ideas, potentially embedding himself permanently as a partisan juggernaut on the national stage. 

Trump also was, and still is, known for saying the quiet part out loud. In debates, he would shamelessly employ name-calling, personal attacks, and snide interjections against his opponents. At his rallies, he would frequently lie, spread conspiracy theories, and use explicitly racist speech to gain popularity and appeal to the biases and prejudices of people who felt they were being left behind by society. Republicans tended to find these comments inspiring and energizing, while Democrats overwhelmingly found them frightening and offensive. Very rapidly, phenomena like affective polarization, the culture war, media partisanship, and misinformation campaigns on social networks were exacerbated. An unshakable battle between Trump’s America and everyone else’s was taking hold. 

A breakdown of political polarization would be incomplete without acknowledging the attempted insurrection at the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021—an event that perfectly encapsulates the impacts of this country’s mounting divisions. Following Trump’s refusal to accept his loss to Joe Biden in the 2020 presidential election, his unfounded declarations of voter fraud led his supporters to storm the Capitol building in an effort to prevent the certification of Biden’s victory. The riot resulted in the building’s evacuation, millions of dollars worth of property damage, at least five deaths, and hundreds of arrests and prosecutions that continue to this day. In so many ways, January 6 was a culmination of long-brewing tensions in the country. We collectively witnessed the clear and present danger posed by misinformation campaigns and extremist instigation, particularly when propagated by influential right-wing ideologues who relentlessly vilify and defame the opposing side. 

The immediate aftermath of that day saw a notable sum of Republicans condemning Trump for his involvement, but these convictions have faltered as the 2024 election draws near. Many former critics of Trump in the GOP are now endorsing him for president, prioritizing loyalty to their party over democratic diligence. Much like during the Gilded Age, it is now more a game of power and party dominance than legitimate efforts to enact policy changes and better the country. Among Republican voters, too, concerns over the Capitol riot have died down over time, while Democrats largely remain outraged. January 6 could have served as a wake-up call to lawmakers that polarization has reached a breaking point. Instead, three years later, the same old tribalist patterns continue, only growing worse as time goes on. 

With a more robust understanding of the issue in our present day, it’s worth questioning what “side,” if any, is at more of a disadvantage in this conflict. As mentioned above, congressional Republicans have steered farther to the right than Democrats have to the left in the past 40 years, trending well into the post-Trump era (if we can even call it that). Moreover, Democrats have won every popular vote in a presidential election since 1992 except one, yet two different Republicans have taken office solely due to winning the electoral college. With measures like the filibuster in place to ensure incremental change even during times of crisis, one can’t help wondering if our current system benefits conservatives, who value resistance to progress above all else, over liberal and progressive policymakers. Indeed, there’s this constant question of what political polarization would look like in a perfect world, how much the parties would diverge, and what policies they would have. Many point to the role of the Overton Window—the ideological spectrum of accepted ideas in mainstream politics for a given place or period—as a useful framework for understanding today’s discourse. Given the institutional structures that tend to favor the GOP, it could be said that the American Overton Window is slanted disproportionately rightward in comparison to what voters actually believe. While a complete reorientation of our current dynamic and the governmental elements that factor into it isn’t likely to happen anytime soon, it’s nonetheless important to consider as we begin to envision a better future for United States politics. 

In November of this year, Americans will face a political reckoning beyond compare. In the ever-growing split between partisan factions, a Biden-Trump rematch will surely throw one side of the aisle into disarray, perpetuating a cycle of bitterness and hysteria that at this point is starting to feel eerily normal. With the everyday content we consume inculcating us with hostility to the other side, it’s no wonder that we feel so distant from them, whoever they are. It’s no wonder that we feel that our identities and perspectives can never be reconciled. The modern world dually champions interconnectedness and separation. But much like periods of high polarization in the nation’s history, this too shall pass. Or rather, it can pass, assuming we take the necessary steps to mitigate its effects. The next and final piece in this series will explore the lasting personal strain that divisions have placed on Americans and possible solution-based approaches to the issue. Reaching common ground and resuming productive discourse between warring sides may just prove central to keeping our democracy from falling to ruin.

Elliot Heath (CC ’27) is a columnist for CPR planning to study English and film studies. A native New Yorker, he’s passionate about U.S.-based politics, social issues, and the arts. He can be reached at emh2276@columbia.edu.