When to engage or disengage online, at church, or anywhere

At the root of my attraction to writing is the assumption that conversation can lead to positive impacts. Like many, I feel a moral responsibility to stand up for what I believe is right. However, I have come across limitations of this vision in an era of divided politics, fake news, and hyper-scrutiny of our language and consumer choices.

After many heated discussions with other members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I have decided to emotionally disengage from some relationships and conversations. I was struggling to understand what it meant to share our faith and “choose what is right” when our views had become so divergent, and I needed a break from the tension this was causing.

It was clear that my words were not persuading anyone. It also became clear that I was feeling pressured to ignore the nuances of my experience. Across America, a mandate to reduce all issues to a binary choice of political parties seemed to hang over mundane conversations, with the risks of that choice portrayed in increasingly cataclysmic terms.

Failure to speak out or pay attention to the right causes, so the narrative went, could result in irreparable harm. In this cultural moment, the anxiety of defending perceived moral red lines or enforcing philosophical purity has often become more important than relationships with people. Something about the conversation felt very wrong.

I started by selecting my social media accounts. I removed followers (left and right) whose ties to me were so distant that they couldn’t understand the context of my life, comments, and perspectives. I still attended church, carrying out the routines and rituals that shape our common culture, without inspecting too closely the deep political differences among members that they mask. The church was the only in-person space in which I experienced political diversity. While I often appreciated this access to diverse thoughts, it was easier to be a member when I knew others in the congregation less and didn’t think much about what specific social views should flow from gospel principles. It also felt empty.

What the scripture shows

Not surprisingly, Latter-day Saint tradition does not offer a clear ethic of social disengagement. The Bible, the Book of Mormon, and modern church history show examples of people whose courageous words inspired important changes, as well as people who withdrew to preserve their beliefs and families. Figures like Jonah and Abinadi convey messages that are received with varying degrees of success. On the other hand, Christ remains silent when judged by Pilate, and the Book of Mormon begins with the family members whom the Lord instructs to leave their fallen homeland to preserve their faith and their lives.

Makoto Hunter, a graduate student at the University of California, Santa Barbara, notes that this theme of disengagement “recurs throughout the Book of Mormon—the Jaredites ‘shut down’ in their last-hour flashback sequence, and the followers of Alma the Elder disassociate themselves from King Noah’s society.” She notes that you can also find the theme of disengagement in pioneer history, with “Latter-day Saints fleeing the United States and becoming convinced that they could not count on justice.”

And yet, Hunter notes, the disengagement is unlikely to last: “The separatist society of the Jaredites collapses, and the people of Alma find fulfillment not in separationism but in reintegration with the broader Nephite culture, becoming a ferment into a larger loaf. The exodus of pioneers is frustrated when it turns out that there is no escape from the expansionism of a continental empire.” While separation is sometimes necessary, scripture and history suggest that impersonal forces like geography, economics, and war tend to bring us back into relationship with one another.

As I pondered the ethics of detaching from strained relationships, I became aware of the number of people around me who were also taking breaks from social media or, increasingly, discussing the possibility of leaving the United States in search of hypothetical greener pastures. I started asking friends who lived abroad what they thought of our escapist fantasies. These friends shared a common theme: other countries have problems, but you are not responsible for them. You can leave.

The pull to return

Our desire to separate is often a fantasy of leaving behind circumstances that seem impossible to navigate, but few of us are willing to permanently abdicate responsibility for the relationships that form our families and homes. Most Americans I know who move abroad end up feeling an urge to return and help solve their country’s problems. And the immigrants I know who have made careful decisions to move permanently typically maintain ties to their places of origin. As with the ebb and flow of separation and reintegration we see throughout our faith tradition, taking a break can be a reset and a restoration. But there’s a good chance we’ll return to the relationships we left behind in surprising ways.

When did we leave our country? Our church? Our weddings? When will we stay? When will we return? The gospel does not provide a roadmap for how I should handle my own strained relationships or use my voice in an age of division. There is no plan for how to heal the political divisions in our countries, congregations, and families. But I found that my emotions calmed as I followed my intuition and continued to tune out. I started thinking more intentionally about my values ​​and in what contexts and mediums it was productive to speak up. I stopped feeling the need to respond to every instance of political discourse around me. Slowly, I felt ready to get involved again – but on better terms.

Our theology suggests that engagement, separation, and reengagement ebb and flow as we meander toward Zion. Sometimes we are called to speak. Sometimes we are asked to remain silent. Sometimes building Zion means retreating. Sometimes it means building bridges. Sometimes it means holding on. As for me, I always want people back.

Natalia Brown is a writer, mother, and Latter-day Saint living in Colorado. She is writing in a personal capacity. Your views do not necessarily reflect those of the church or your employer.