CMV: Our politics focus too much on distractions instead of shared needs

“We the People.” Our Constitution begins with those words. They are a reminder that before we were Democrats or Republicans, urban or rural, red or blue, we were simply Americans. Today, that seems easy to forget. We unfriend each other on social media over political memes. We line up on opposite sides of cable news echo chambers. We fight viciously about symbolic issues that barely touch our lives—while ignoring the challenges that could define our future.

But if we zoom out, we see something clear: politics is not more important than our basic needs, the ones we all share.

Psychologist Abraham Maslow’s famous hierarchy of needs lays this out plainly. At the base are the fundamentals: food, clean water, shelter, sleep. Next, safety: physical security, health, financial stability. Then belonging: the love of family and friends, and the sense of being part of a community. No matter who we vote for, we all want these things. We all worry about paying our bills, keeping our kids safe, and knowing there’s a roof over our heads.

These needs unite us. And yet our political discourse has drifted away from them. Instead, we are consumed by what I’ll call “culture war distractions.” We rage over trans bathrooms most of us will never use. We argue about a “War on Christmas” that isn’t happening. We let social media convince us that our neighbor is our enemy because of a lawn sign. Meanwhile, the really big issues that will shape our future get pushed aside.

Consider the challenges we rarely discuss with the same passion:

• A national debt now exceeding $34 trillion—a burden we are silently handing to our children and grandchildren.
• Climate change, whether you believe in it or not, is already fueling wildfires, floods, hurricanes, and droughts that threaten lives and livelihoods.
• A growing wealth and income gap: the top 1% of Americans now control more than 32% of the nation’s wealth, while the middle class continues to shrink.
• A self-perpetuating political class more interested in fundraising and stoking outrage than governing. Outrage is profitable; solutions are hard.
• The disruptive power of generative AI, which is already erasing dignified jobs once thought “safe” in creative, technical, and analytical fields. Without careful planning, millions more will lose meaningful work—and Universal Basic Income will become less a bold idea than a last resort.

Add to this a crumbling infrastructure, a healthcare system millions can’t afford, and declining trust in institutions, and we face a perfect storm. But instead of demanding that our leaders tackle these structural problems, we’re too often baited into battles over symbolic issues that do little to improve anyone’s daily life.

This matters because the higher levels of Maslow’s hierarchy—esteem and self-actualization—are not luxuries. They’re what give our lives meaning. Dignified work, for example, isn’t just about a paycheck. It’s about pride, purpose, and respect. Ask the steelworkers and auto plant employees in the Midwest’s Rust Belt whose livelihoods were stripped away by global economic shifts. Those jobs didn’t just support families; they built communities and identities. When they disappeared, it left a vacuum that fear and anger rushed to fill.

We see the same dynamic now with AI. If we fail to prepare for technological disruption, more Americans will lose the ability to provide for their families with dignity. When that happens, people understandably grow disillusioned and desperate—and demagogues thrive on desperation.

This is not a uniquely American story. Around the world, farmers displaced by drought, workers left behind by automation, and young people priced out of opportunity share the same pain. Regardless of our exterior individuality and circumstances, we are all just humans trying to make our way in the world. We want our families to be safe. We want to feel we belong. We want to believe the future will be better than the past.

American history tells us we are capable of rising above division when it matters. During the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln reminded us that “a house divided against itself cannot stand.” At our founding, E pluribus unum—“out of many, one”—became our national motto. We have always been a diverse, messy, imperfect people. But we have also always been strongest when we focused on what we share.

We can do that again.

We must demand that our leaders focus less on symbolic culture-war skirmishes and more on the real challenges that shape our future. Safe streets, affordable healthcare, strong schools, dignified jobs, a livable planet, and a functioning democracy—these matter more than winning the next viral outrage cycle. We should not tolerate politicians who spend more time on television than writing legislation, or who prioritize fundraising emails over hard choices.

This shift starts with us. We the People. We have to see through the noise and ask ourselves: do we really want to keep fighting about library books, or do we want to solve the fact that 60% of Americans live paycheck to paycheck? Do we want to be pawns in an outrage economy, or do we want to pass down a country better than the one we inherited?

Our politics will never be without disagreement. That’s the beauty of democracy. But disagreement is different from division. If we can remember that clean air, safe streets, and a fair shot at the American Dream matter more than the culture-war outrage of the day, we might rediscover what has always been true: we are stronger together than apart.

Because at the end of the day, before we are Democrats or Republicans, Christians or atheists, urban or rural, we are humans. Humans trying to make our way in the world. And the things we need most—the things we love most—are the things we share.