Part 2: From Critical Theory to Civic Renewal
How One Former Progressive Learned to Move from Division to Unity.
NOTE TO READER:
Part One ended with a realization: even the movements and frameworks that once inspired me—including progressivism—were still speaking the language of division. The problem wasn’t merely ideological; it was civilizational. Long before today’s culture wars, we’ve been programmed to see through a lens of separation—to divide before we relate, to organize around what sets us apart rather than what binds us together.
Beneath every ideology lies this deeper current I call the Culture of Separation. It’s so familiar we hardly notice it—woven into our habits of thought, moral reflexes, even our best intentions. In the pages ahead, I want to ground this pattern in lived experience—ordinary encounters that reveal how easily separation hides inside love, conviction, and the pursuit of good.
Part 1: Part One. From Captivity to Clarity: Rediscovering the Soul of Liberation
Part 2: Part Two. From Clarity to Communion: Beyond the Culture of Separation
Part 3: From Communion to Co-Creation: Birthing the Symbiotic Age
Part Two. From Clarity to Communion: Beyond the Culture of Separation
The Collateral Damage from Unexamined Ideology
Many movements that aim for justice, regeneration, or a new world still carry unexamined ideological DNA—patterns of thought inherited rather than consciously chosen.
These invisible codes shape not only how we think but how we relate—teaching us to divide before we connect.
I experienced this fracture very close to home. When I once told my mother (bless her heart) that I simply liked something libertarian candidate Ron Paul had said, she replied, “If you vote for him, I will disown you.”
That moment revealed how deep the wound runs: even a mother’s love can be eclipsed when ideology becomes identity, and the need for safety within a worldview overshadows relationship itself. What starts as a sincere desire to do right can quietly become a barrier that isolates us from the very people we’re meant to love or understand.
I began noticing that same tension everywhere — not just between ideologies, but within families, communities, even well-intentioned movements. We defend our belonging by drawing lines.
This is part of what I call the Culture of Separation—a world so consumed by its righteous battles that it forgets relationship itself. We condemn those who “other” others while easily othering them in turn—making inclusivity an exclusive club.
While clamoring for belonging, we dismantle the very structures—family, faith, community, tradition, nation—that make communion possible.
Cut off from rootedness, people lose orientation and become easy prey for ideologies promising meaning without connection. A person without roots becomes fragile and easily controlled.
Once you’ve seen this fracture, you start to recognize its pattern everywhere — the same impulse repeating across every scale of life, from the personal to the political. The same reflex that turns politics into identity also turns conviction into subtle contempt. It hides inside our language of virtue, persuading us that to be “on the right side” is enough, that we are better than, or more evolved than, those who don’t share our views.
That same fracture appeared again in a more personal conversation I had recently. I spoke with a woman who led a global women’s peace movement but was beginning to feel it wasn’t fulfilling her deepest calling. She wanted to focus on her local community, and for the first hour our exchange overflowed with energy and hope—until I mentioned that my journey to heal my own division began through following Jesus Christ.
Her warmth evaporated. She explained that, in her view, religion had no role in building community, that she practiced “non-duality” and Oneness, which to her was a more evolved form of spirituality than traditional Christianity.
After the call, I felt the chill of a deeper irony: what she called “non-duality” had become a new dualism—the enlightened versus the unenlightened.
She, like many well-meaning seekers, had replaced one ideology with another, creating her own “religion” while denying she had one. I share this not to judge her belief, but to name the quiet cost of unexamined ideology—the way even our loftiest ideals can fracture the very peace and community we seek to build.
When “Inclusivity” Becomes a Secular Form of Ritual Purity
That exchange lingered with me. It wasn’t her words alone but the certainty behind them—the unspoken conviction that a personal relationship with God was primitive or superstitious—that made me realize how deeply our culture has severed spirit from structure.
We all carry this confusion: thinking that intellect equals wisdom, or that progress is on par with love.
That made me wonder how someone who rejects working with Christians—two billion people—could truly hold space for Symbiotic Culture, which rests on reverence as its very foundation.
When transcendence is forgotten, ideological purity becomes the new expression of “holiness.” Movements (on both the left and right) that lose their spiritual center begin to treat moral or ideological alignment as a test of virtue. They demand conversion rather than communion, seeing human imperfection as contamination to be cleansed rather than redeemed through relationship. Being “right” (or left) becomes more important than how we treat one another.
This is the secular form of ritual purity—a faith in systems, slogans, and structures to save us when spirit and love no longer bind us.
It’s the logic of materialism disguised as moral progress—the dismissal of religious faith as little more than a security blanket and shifting faith to the next great material or technological “fix.” Yet our deepest problems are not mechanical but relational—not solved by purification, but by participation in something greater than ourselves.
And this is where rebuilding begins—not through purity, but through renewed relationship: remembering who we are in connection with one another and with the Source of life itself.
When Ideology Replaces Relationship
This pattern of substituting mental structures for heartfelt connection has surfaced again and again throughout my forty years of experience.
I remember helping build the Local Living Economy Network in Reno more than 20 years ago. Some participants wanted it to be a green or regenerative business network only. I’m grateful we widened the circle. Had we not, we would have missed the conventional, main street businesses and community organizations that became the strongest partners for local resilience.
That choice taught me that real change begins not when we narrow the circle, but when we risk opening it.
Later, while forming the Local Food System Network, the same instinct appeared. Many wanted it limited to organic or regenerative farms. Yet the first conventional grower to join eventually became the region’s largest organic food producer. Inclusion, not purity, made transformation possible. Transformation came not through argument but through shared work and trust.
I’ve also seen this narrowing impulse in what are now called new-economy or solidarity-economy movements, where the words new and just were defined so rigidly that they excluded anyone who wasn’t part of a cooperative or collective. The leaders meant well—they aspired to cooperative ownership, ecological sustainability, and social justice—but in practice, they included only those who already mirrored their own framework.
At a national conference envisioning a “new economy,” I mentioned that I ran a for-profit company and didn’t feel welcome as the participants were excited about cooperatives, land trusts, collectives, and getting beyond private property or private businesses like mine. Despite the organizer’s reassurance, I felt like an outcast. The irony was unmistakable: a movement for economic diversity could not tolerate anyone who didn’t think like they did.
Even movements like post-capitalist or degrowth that purport to offer solutions often define themselves more by what they oppose—profit, markets, private business or property, capitalism—than by the quality of relationship they seek to embody. In trying to design systems free from exploitation, many unconsciously reproduce the same suspicion and exclusion they hope to transcend. Consequently, they limit their influence and impact.
The more a network enforces values alignment, the smaller its field of influence becomes.
These siloed movements often build an inspiring but tiny enclave economy—coherent, yes, but cut off from most of Main Street. The broader community just moves on without it, and potentially valuable ideas never reach the very people who would benefit most.
So, the question is why?
Why do so many well-intentioned organizations and movements stay inside the bubble of their own belief system?
As I’ve suggested, this comes from losing a Transcendent ground of being. In its absence, a hidden misplaced faith arises: that system design will save us. It’s a kind of secularized moral and social engineering with matter as first cause—better structures → better people → better outcomes. And so we keep fighting over which method will finally deliver salvation: capitalism, socialism, communism, or the next new system we invent.
This inversion of the true hierarchy of being traces back to the post-Enlightenment disillusionment that gave rise to Marx and his vision of remaking humanity through material conditions—the “new man” shaped by the system.
But history shows that changing structures cannot redeem the soul; only a higher orientation can transform the heart – and the world.
And, as you may have noticed, those who put faith in these models can be as fervent as religious evangelists!
In a way, each of these solutionary models becomes a “faith”, and so their most fervent proponents end up preaching to the choir, so to speak. Energy flows into replicating the “right” model among the already converted instead of building trust across differences. But life doesn’t work that way. Main Street encompasses many views, populated by people who don’t share our vocabulary—and that’s exactly where real change has to begin.
I’ve also witnessed this in the regenerative-economy world, where talk of ending extraction sometimes morphs into suspicion of anyone outside the creed. At one gathering, I asked why Main Street businesses, churches, and civic groups weren’t invited. A colleague replied, “Because they’re not regenerative.” That single sentence captured the deeper issue: we mistake alignment of ideas for readiness to love and willingness to serve.
Purity is treated as a safeguard to cultivate trust, but it becomes a wall that thwarts engagement.
I began to realize this wasn’t just a local pattern—it was a cultural reflex repeating everywhere. Whether in neighborhood projects, business networks, or national movements, purity always disguised itself as protection. And whenever it did, relationship was the first casualty.
When Purity Becomes a Wall
The same reflex I saw locally appeared again on a national scale.
A regenerative leader once commented on a post I wrote about “re-villaging” our neighborhoods. I had suggested simply getting to know our neighbors. She replied, “Why should I? They’re not into regeneration.” Her words echoed my early days as a progressive anti-war activist, when I dismissed PTA parents as “normies.” We only wanted relationship if others supported our cause.
We had forgotten how to love beyond ideological agreement.
That same spirit now shows up in national movements that speak of “big tent” unity but begin with pre-sorting. In one large online forum, leaders encouraged each other to use dehumanizing language—equating the U.S. President and his supporters with fascists or even Hitler.
When these leaders promoted national protests against what they called the rise of authoritarianism, I asked whether their tent included conservatives, evangelicals, or anyone who had voted the other way. I was told their coalitions must first unite progressive groups, promising conservatives or traditional faith communities could be invited later.
But that invitation never comes.
As one organizer explained, they would reach out “after we establish shared values.” It became clear that “shared values” meant ideological alignment, not humility or mutual respect. The tent was large only for insiders—purity logic dressed as democracy. Which leads us to an inconvenient truth I have discovered time and time again:
You cannot build a united, symbiotic culture on a foundation of exclusion.
Half the country has been written off as morally irredeemable. In the name of democracy, many have – often unconsciously -- adopted the logic of purification. Across the U.S. and E.U., dissent from progressive ideology is routinely labeled “far-right.” Any movement that demands conformity before cooperation is not liberating—it reproduces the domination it claims to resist—the oldest story in human organization, captured perfectly in The Who’s lyric: “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.”
Yet even this cycle of domination hints at our longing for something higher—a unity not of ideology, but of spirit.
The Long Lineage of Separation
The pattern of separation I’ve witnessed in modern progressivism is not new; it echoes across millennia. To understand why our age struggles to reconnect, we have to look back to when meaning first drifted from relationship to mechanism—when life itself began to be seen as a machine rather than a mystery.
Our species has carried tribal reflexes for hundreds of thousands of years: stay inside the tribal matrix or be cast out.
Around 2,500 years ago, the first materialist philosophers began to interpret the cosmos without reference to the Divine. Meaning was relocated from relationship to matter, from communion to mechanism—a shift that quietly re-wired the Western imagination.
Millenia later, the Enlightenment further de-platformed God (or the sacred if you like), shifting moral authority from transcendence to human reason and institutions.
By the nineteenth century, competing secular “salvations”—liberal, socialist, communist, fascist, and later managerial capitalism—promised redemption through structures rather than sanctification through love.
Detached from the Source that once ordered them, our highest virtues—Love, justice, compassion—devolved into ideology. The result is a Culture of Separation: ancient tribalism in modern moral garb.
Progressivism is only the latest expression of this wider pattern of seeking material solutions to problems rooted in spiritual separation.
The same is true for technocratic capitalism and revolutionary collectivisms. Each treats power as the ultimate goal, and persons as merely “instruments” to be manipulated. That’s why so much activism (and even corporate “purpose”) defaults to loyalty tests and liturgies of denunciation: purity codes disguised as virtue, conformity in place of communion.
When transcendence is eclipsed, movements organize around grievance and conversion—anti-this, post-that—while the deeper wound remains relational and spiritual.
These patterns, sadly, have shaped every well-intentioned modern movement for economic, social, and political change.
The challenge before us is not to tighten our circles but to widen them—to recognize that the people still working inside “old systems” may carry the very seeds of renewal we need.
If separation has a lineage, so does renewal. The same stream that produced division still conceals a current of reconnection—waiting to be remembered. That widening begins in the ordinary ground of relationship.
From Purity to Partnership: Practicing Symbiotic Kinship
After tracing the long lineage of separation, I realized that repair doesn’t start in theory or at the level of systems. It begins where we live—through what I call Symbiotic Kinship: a way of life that consciously promotes relationships across tribal, cultural, and ideological divides for the common good.
I had to learn this the hard way.
Through years of trial and error, I discovered what works and what doesn’t—and realized that if I truly wanted to unite my local community, my desire for unity had to surpass my attachment to ideology.
That was the turning point.
Ideology is always tempered by reality—by the ground where real people live, love, and struggle together. I saw this again and again: when people meet around a shared purpose rather than a shared position, trust grows naturally. Ideology may be where people are “coming from,” but it won’t help us get where we need to go.
Real-world relationships are where rebuilding begins. It calls us to practice cooperation that transcends belief, to weave communities where difference becomes strength and shared purpose overrides suspicion. True regeneration begins not with purity but with partnership. Healing starts when humility restores relationship, and renewal takes root through virtue—the daily practice of love in action.
What I discovered at the local level revealed a universal truth: the same virtues that heal relationships are the ones that sustain civilizations—love, trust, humility, courage, and fidelity. These are not lofty ideals but the infrastructure of freedom itself, the moral architecture beneath every lasting community.
I’ve seen again and again that what binds a neighborhood, a movement, or a nation isn’t policy or ideology—it’s the daily work of people choosing to stay in relationship. When trust is restored, even divided groups can find common purpose; when it breaks, no system can hold.
The real architecture of any community is invisible yet tangible—how we treat one another, how we listen, forgive, and keep showing up.
That is where God—or, if you prefer, the Transcendent—re-enters civic life: not through dogma, but through the living presence of love organized into practice.
And when that love is practiced long enough, it points back to its Source. What begins as neighborly care becomes communion.
Through communion, we rediscover what it means to love God.
Filled with that gift of Love, we are moved to share it with others. As Pope Benedict XVI wrote in Caritas in Veritate (“Charity in Truth”), authentic love—caritas—is inseparable from truth, and it carries within it a spirit of gratuitousness: the generosity that gives without expecting anything in return.
This same spirit of gratuitous love can—and must—be practiced in daily acts of “mutual benefit” and care in the communities where we live.
In my forthcoming book, I describe how this spirit can be embodied through small Symbiotic Circles—modern “villages” of trust that practice embody love as a daily practice. I’ve often compared these circles to entering a cathedral or temple: sacred spaces where we remove our “shoes” before entering, leaving outside the ego-based identity binaries that divide us—progressive or conservative, pro-life or pro-choice, pro-Israel or anti-Israel, pro-market or post-capitalist, pro-Democrat or pro-Republican, climate optimist or climate alarmist.
We don’t pretend these differences don’t exist, nor do we seek uniformity.
Instead, within these spaces, we learn to hold difference without hostility. We lay down our weapons of opinion to practice listening, generosity, and shared purpose. Holding such space requires discipline—the humility to leave our personal stances on national or global controversies at the threshold so that something truer than ideology can emerge between us. This is how love becomes the structure of an emerging Symbiotic Age —where the architecture of relationship replaces the architecture of control.
That’s why rebuilding our world begins where we live. Love is not an abstraction; it’s the structure that allows freedom to take root.
The future belongs to those who learn how to make love practical—in policy, in partnership, and in the places we inhabit together, until every home becomes a small reflection of the Kingdom of Heaven, of Love itself.
Thank you for reading. Let me know what your thoughts and feelings are by replying to this message.
Part 1: Part One. From Captivity to Clarity: Rediscovering the Soul of Liberation
Part 2: Part Two. From Clarity to Communion: Beyond the Culture of Separation
Part 3: From Communion to Co-Creation: Birthing the Symbiotic Age
Very well said. I have come to similar conclusions myself, from a scientific perspective.
Together we unite science Abd religion!
My science perspective starts from thinking about dissipation of high grade sun light as low grade earth scattered light. The shift in frequency from optical spectrum to infrared spectrum when starlight encounters a planet creates a change in entropy of the radiation. That change in entropy determines the extent of material reorganization that takes place on the planet.
Structure- such as hurricanes, oceans, waves and so on - emerges in the flux of energy. On earth matter in that stream of energy can re-organize itself.
We can think of structure as stored information. Over time different stocks of information emerge. DNA in biological systems. Geological layers in rocks. Curation of atmospheric composition, soil composition, the economy itself.
Scientists are learning that under non-equilibrium conditions matter can “learn”, ie stored information such as chemical structure can influence the information stored later. There is a memory of the past that affects the future.
So machine learning takes energy and resource as does human learning.
We then see politics emerging as competitions between patterns of stored information in human minds.
That stored information - whether it’s religious belief or ideological identity - affects how humans behave and choose to organize flows of energy that reorganize matter- the tools we build to do work.
We can choose to violently stamp out other peoples patterns or listen to them and allow our patterns to change in response.
Those are the only choices!
Different stocks of information emerge with flows of matter energy and information between them. Stocks such as social capital (the network of one to one relations) , learned skills in the work force, financial capital (a record of value created and who owns it), natural capital (dna library and organism distribution) , the built infrastructure (tools for rewriting matter patterns - manufacturing, agriculture).
For N stocks there are (N-1)/2 flows of resource so a matrix of flows between stocks exists - resistances exist which dissipate energy to heat and do thermodynamic work. If The total sum of entropy created exceeds the planetary flow of radiation entropy, then material entropy builds internally and poisoning occurs.
Some amazing structures can emerge but sustainability comes from regenerating those stocks - self-reinforcing patterns
For humans, whose mastery of nuclear power means we now can add to the solar influx of energy, increasing the entropy output of earth’s heat to space or use of stored energy in fossil fuels, the choices we make - which are based on information patterns in our brains - determine what structures emerge and how that energy flows between stocks. We are now at the level of energy dissipation where we macroscopically affect the oceanic and atmospheric compositions.
So the choices for how we allow our brain patterns to move around determine everything about the structures on earth.
We have only two choices for how we move those patterns around: one rooted in love. The other in hatred.
We can open our mind and listen to other patterns - give ourselves time and energy to learn about other ways of being - or we can seek to dominate and control other peoples patterns.
In our economy we each believe need money to acquire resource and have the patterns of matter we need. So we get jobs. This collective belief in social rules aligns our behavior. But the lack of sharing ownership of capital is act of violence.
We are forced into labor in a market where the output of our labor is owned by someone else and we all agree to this! It’s engrained in our collective brain patterns.
We can choose to open our minds to allow our brain patterns to evolve naturally until we find brain patterns that are stable to a diversity of flows of patterns. To do this we need to create space to learn about each other - build relationships with the people we hate.
Or we can seek to protect our patterns from changing through force. Literally deploy energy to dispel brain patterns that take over our preferred choices.
But the secret to peaceful transfer of patterns is to create the time and space to allow those patterns to exchange - this is deliberative democracy.
We have to recognise that learning about each other is a thermodynamic process. And we need to put resource into that.
If we don’t do that then we run the risk of locking ourselves into the violent combat of dominating brain patterns.
The system that will win will be the one that dissipates the most energy and produces the greatest entropy.
We can either choose to dissipate such energy through violence or through thinking and learning.
That’s the choice we have! :)
This was one of those very few posts I read all the way down to the very end. So comforting.
Are you familiar with David Jay, “Relationality”?