Today, Canadians head to the polls — and whether you've been following the election closely or keeping a cautious distance, you may have noticed the emotional temperature running high. Conversations feel more charged, debates more personal, and the gap between differing views seems wider than ever.
As a counsellor, I'm less focused on political sides and more interested in the human patterns underneath these reactions. I wanted to offer some reflections — not political commentary, but a look at the psychology behind why this time feels so intense, and how we might navigate it with a little more compassion and resilience.
We’re Wired for “Us vs. Them” Thinking
Humans are built for belonging. Historically, being part of a group wasn't just nice — it was necessary for survival. And with that belonging came a natural "us vs. them" instinct.
When times feel uncertain or threatening, that instinct ramps up. Politics start to feel less like policy debates and more like existential battles. Who's on my side? Who's not?
It's not because people are bad or closed-minded — it's a protective reflex, part of being human.
Stress, Trauma, and the Search for Something Solid
The last few years have stretched most of us thin. Covid-19 brought health fears, financial uncertainty, loneliness, and a deep sense that the ground could shift at any moment.
When we're living with that much stress, our brains crave something solid — simple answers, clear sides, certainty. It's comforting to find a group that says, "You're right. They're wrong. We've got this."
Political conversations tap into that deep human need for safety and stability, which can make them feel far more charged than they might have in calmer times.
Why Our Political Loyalties Run So Deep
Political beliefs don't just pop up out of nowhere. For a lot of us, they’re rooted in the worlds we grew up in — shaped by the values our families held, the communities we lived in, the stories we were told about what was right, wrong, fair, and unjust.
Sometimes, loyalty to a political tradition is less about policies and more about belonging — a thread that connects us back to family, culture, or early experiences of safety and acceptance.
That’s why you might meet someone who, on paper, seems out of sync with their political label — but when you understand the emotional roots of their loyalty, it makes more sense. Political identity often isn’t purely intellectual. It’s personal, relational, and emotional.
When Beliefs Feel Like Part of Who We Are
At a certain point, political views can get woven into our very sense of self.
If my "side" is attacked, it can feel like I’m being attacked.
If a policy I support is criticised, it can feel like a personal judgment on my character.
This makes conversations harder — because we’re not just debating ideas anymore; we’re protecting something tender and important inside ourselves.
Fear, Anger, and How Campaigns Hook Us
Political messaging — from all sides — often leans heavily on emotion. Fear, outrage, disgust: these feelings move us faster and more powerfully than facts ever could.
Campaigns and media outlets know this. Emotional reactions strengthen group loyalty, mobilise action, and bypass the slower, more effortful work of critical thinking.
That doesn't mean people are easily manipulated or foolish — it just means political messaging is playing to very normal, very human instincts.
Living in a Bubble (Without Even Realising It)
Thanks to social media and algorithms, it's easier than ever to live inside an echo chamber — seeing and hearing mostly the voices that already agree with us.
Confirmation bias — the tendency to seek out information that fits what we already believe — is a natural human habit.
But when it's amplified by technology, it becomes harder to stay open, curious, or even aware that other perspectives exist.
Critical thinking takes energy. It asks us to tolerate uncertainty, to sit with discomfort, and to question ourselves — which isn’t easy when life already feels overwhelming.
When Political Conflict Hurts More Than It Should
For people with histories of trauma — especially trauma involving safety, autonomy, or identity — political conversations can feel particularly threatening.
It’s not "just a difference of opinion" if your nervous system is interpreting it as a threat to your very safety.
Sometimes the kindest, healthiest thing you can do is set a boundary around these conversations.
Not every discussion has to be engaged with. Protecting your peace is not the same as avoiding reality — it's recognising your limits with compassion.
So Where’s the Hope?
It might not always seem like it, but critical thinking isn’t dead.
It’s a muscle — and like any muscle, it can be strengthened.
Things like:
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Listening longer than feels comfortable
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Reading things you don’t instantly agree with
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Asking yourself, "What else might be true?"
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Admitting when you're unsure
These small practices make a difference — not just in how we think, but in how connected we stay to each other.
A Reminder to Be Gentle With Yourself
If you find yourself feeling frustrated, anxious, or exhausted by political discussions — you’re not alone.
If you notice strong emotional reactions rising up — that's your humanity, not a flaw.
Sometimes the most courageous thing we can do is slow down and ask ourselves:
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What fear or need is this touching in me?
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Where can I choose curiosity instead of certainty?
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How can I stay connected to my own values, even when it's uncomfortable?
Whatever the outcome of today’s election, tending to our critical thinking, compassion, and resilience remains meaningful work — work that carries on long after the ballots are counted.
Jess Golden
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