In the heart of Europe, where the ideals of unity and equality are supposedly cherished, a subtle yet pervasive force threatens the fabric of our societies: tribalism. This isn't the tribalism of ancient clans, but a modern incarnation that divides communities along lines of ethnicity, religion, and political allegiance. Coupled with performative political gestures—what some might dub "church gate politics"—these dynamics pose significant challenges to building a forward-looking, egalitarian society.
Consider the political landscapes of Hungary and Poland. In recent years, leaders in these nations have championed nationalist agendas, emphasising ethnic homogeneity and often marginalising minority groups. This brand of tribalism fosters an "us versus them" mentality, eroding the inclusive principles upon which the European Union was founded.
But it's not just in Eastern Europe. Across the continent, there's been a notable rise in far-right parties that capitalise on fears of immigration and cultural dilution. These parties exploit economic anxieties and social uncertainties, presenting themselves as defenders of a threatened way of life. Such tactics, even when accepted to a minority fringe voice, deepen societal divisions, making it increasingly challenging to foster a sense of shared community. They have the potential to gather momentum.
Enter "church gate politics." Picture a politician, not necessarily devout, strategically positioning themselves at the entrance of a church, mosque, or temple. They shake hands, exchange pleasantries, and project an image of piety and community involvement. The aim? To garner votes by appearing as one with the people, leveraging religious sentiment for political gain. This is not about detailed provision of any thoughts and policies. This is the politics of “familiarity” and being seen…
This performative act is not limited to religious institutions. Politicians might don traditional attire at cultural festivals or adopt local dialects in speeches—all in a bid to resonate with specific groups. While on the surface, these gestures seem harmless, they often mask a lack of genuine commitment to the communities they aim to woo.
The impact of tribalism and performative politics on society isn’t just theoretical—it’s deeply felt in the way communities interact, how policies are shaped, and how people perceive their leaders. At its core, this entanglement creates division rather than unity. When politicians lean into identity-based appeals—whether through ethnic alliances or religious posturing—it doesn’t bring people together; it drives them apart. Instead of celebrating diversity, it fosters an "us versus them" mindset, making different groups feel like they are in competition rather than part of a shared society. Trust erodes, resentment festers, and the idea of collective progress takes a back seat to narrow interests.
Then there’s the issue of representation. When political figures engage in these performative acts without genuinely engaging with communities, people see right through it. It’s the classic case of a politician showing up for a photo-op at a church or a cultural event, only to disappear the moment the cameras stop rolling. Over time, this breeds cynicism. People stop believing that leaders are there to serve them, and instead, they see politics as a game of optics—one where the most skilled performer, not the most competent leader, wins. This disconnect between the electorate and those in power undermines faith in public institutions, making it harder to rally collective action around meaningful change. And yet, in terms of percentage return on investment, the result may be those few votes that make a difference in the next election.
Perhaps most dangerously, when decisions are shaped by tribal loyalties or religious affiliations rather than by what’s fair and just, policies become biased. Resources don’t get allocated based on need, but on who belongs to the right group or who has the right connections. Meritocracy takes a hit, and opportunities that should be open to all become privileges reserved for a few. This isn’t just unfair—it actively holds societies back from achieving their full potential.
So, what’s the way forward? First, we need to push for a more inclusive narrative in our public discourse. The media, schools, and public institutions should focus on stories that highlight shared human experiences rather than those that reinforce divisions. The more we see ourselves as interconnected, the harder it becomes for politicians to exploit our differences. We can acknowledge what makes each of us different, and at the same time look to the commonalities shared in populations, without making individuals feel “othered”.
We must demand authenticity from leaders. It's not enough for them to show up at churches, mosques, or temples for votes. If they truly want to engage with communities, they should be there even when there are no elections on the horizon—listening, learning, and working toward tangible solutions. A handshake at the church gate means nothing if it isn’t followed by real policies that improve people’s lives.
It is clear that civic education is crucial. If people can recognise when they’re being manipulated, they’re less likely to fall for it. Teaching critical thinking skills, media literacy, and political awareness should be at the heart of any strategy to create a more informed electorate. Because in the end, a society that understands the game politicians play is one that’s far less likely to be fooled by it.