When Intent Stops Mattering - A Political Parable

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Imagine a town that sits along a winding river. The town is struggling economically and the people living there disagree when it comes to what to do about it.

Some folks believe the waterway is the key to new prosperity. They want to develop the riverside, build docks for trade, and create waterside markets.

Others see riverside development as a threat. They worry about possible flooding and they don’t want to see the river polluted. They feel that keeping business growth away from the river’s edge is a better path forward.

The pro-riverside development people see their opponents as well-intentioned, but naive and a little backwards.

The pro-inland development people see their opponents well-intentioned, but a little short-sighted.

The two sides disagree strongly, but they’re able to get along and live together. They go to each other’s kids’ birthday parties and see each other at church on Sundays. Each side thinks it’s got the better answer but they can still understand how the other side got to their position.

Then something shifts.

The pro-inland development people determine that the reasons the pro-riverside development people have for their position don’t matter. Suddenly, what was previously a disagreement about how best to proceed is now a moral referendum.

Good people want to block riverside development. Bad people don’t.

Because the opponents to riverside development deeply believe they’re standing up for what’s right, they convince other townsfolk that good people block it while bad or confused people don’t. The message is clear, simple, and wildly successful. So successful that kids start to learn it in school.

Time passes and contempt deepens the divide. Pro-inland people are resentful that the opponents won’t get on board. (What’s wrong with these people?) And pro-riverside development people are tired of being told they’re backwards and hateful at every turn. (Stop telling me I’m awful!)

One day, one of the advocates of riverside development, we’ll call him Alfie, decides enough is enough. Alfie is tired of being told he’s a horrible person for his position. He’s fed up with his kids being taught that his view is wrong. So he starts speaking out. Alfie garners support quickly.

There are a few things to note about Alfie.

First, the very act of speaking up against widespread moral condemnation requires either extraordinary conviction or a personality that's resistant to social pressure. In other words, when a political position is socially condemned, it will take a certain personality type—often someone who's willing to be confrontational, maybe even someone who thrives on opposition—to step into that hostile environment. More moderate voices will, quite rationally, decide the social cost is too high.

Second, there's an incentive structure at play. Once a position becomes morally and socially stigmatized, there's little benefit to advocating for it cautiously or moderately—you'll face the same condemnation either way. This creates an incentive to be bold or extreme, since:

• You're already paying the social cost

• Being provocative can draw more attention to your cause

• And strong rhetoric can rally others who feel similarly silenced

Third, there's an audience dynamic. When people feel their views have been unfairly silenced, they may become less concerned with the tone or specific positions of someone willing to champion their cause. The mere fact of having someone stand up against condemnation and contempt can quickly become more important than the details of what that person says or how they say it.

Fourth, there can be a radicalization effect. The experience of being morally condemned despite having what one considers reasonable views can lead to resentment and a desire to push back more forcefully than one otherwise would.

Given all of this, it should come as little surprise that the pro-riverside development folks don’t mind that Alfie obnoxious and rude sometimes. As well as why, while some of them prefer riverside development that involves tasteful restaurants and quiet ferries over Alfie’s suggestion of garish high-rise buildings and pollution-dumping factories, this isn’t a deal breaker.

Meanwhile, the riverside development opponents express genuine shock and outrage that people would pay any attention to this Alfie charlatan. In fact, their willingness to support him is further proof of their selfish and destructive tendencies. “I knew it!” Alfie’s opponents exclaim knowingly, “his supporters are moral monsters!”

Rather than understanding that this very situation was triggered by treating the intent and reasoning of the pro-riverside development as irrelevant, they dig in.

When it comes to Trump and his policies, progressive social media reveals something remarkable—not in its criticism of Trump himself, but in its persistent confusion over how we got here.

Like our parable of riverside development, the question isn't whether Trump—or Alfie—deserves some or even all of the criticism being thrown his way. It's what happens when moral condemnation becomes intrinsic to a set of political positions, and when reasonable explanations for those positions are ignored or treated as irrelevant.

If, in spite of understanding this link, you still believe that riverside development—or its real world equivalent—must be stopped at any cost because the future of the town depends on it, then you might at least engage with the consequences of that stance.

Standing firm in sanctimony may feel good, but it can’t prevent riverside development from occurring. And it can make it more likely that, if it does happen, it will be championed by someone like Alfie.

The path from contempt for disagreement to political crisis isn't mysterious - it's predictable. So, if anyone chooses to walk down it anyway, he should at least be honest about what’s being risked: not the prevention of the changes he opposes, but a resentment that puts the Alfies of the world in charge.