A Nation Hungry for Connection
There Is Hope
By Jim Wilson
For several years now, like many Americans, I have found myself increasingly discouraged by the toxic polarization that seems to dominate our national life. Every day brings another political insult, another angry accusation, another reminder of how deeply divided we have become. The anger seems endless. The insults grow sharper. Every disagreement becomes a battle. Every issue becomes a test of loyalty. Too often, our political leaders appear to prosper by keeping us anxious, suspicious, and divided, more interested in amplifying our fears than easing them. Cable news and social media thrive on outrage. It is easy to conclude that the bonds holding us together are fraying beyond repair and to believe that the country is coming apart.
And yet, over the past few weeks, three very different events have reminded me that beneath the noise, there is another America—an America that receives far less attention but may be far more representative of who we really are.
The first has been the arrival of World Cup teams from dozens of nations across the globe. In town after town, Americans have welcomed athletes and visitors with enthusiasm, generosity, and curiosity. People of every age, race, background, and political persuasion have gathered to celebrate the games. They have cheered not only for their own teams but for the spirit of international competition itself. Watching crowds mingle, laugh, and share experiences with people from different cultures has been a powerful reminder that openness and hospitality remain deeply rooted American virtues.
For millions of passionate soccer fans from all walks of life, cheering within huge stadiums, in the public squares surrounding the stadiums, and in millions of homes across the three host countries, the nation’s challenges, its political polarization, and its anxieties receded, if only for two hours. It was a truce of sorts: a moment of reconciliation made possible by sport.
Washington Post reporter Leon Krauze was in Mexico City for the opening World Cup game. In an essay The World Cup Offers a Glimpse of Something only Soccer Can Offer he wrote: “…with the tournament now underway, it feels like the world has collectively exhaled. Soccer has once again offered something only soccer can offer: a glimpse of a shared humanity.”
Krauze goes on: “Mexico itself has been transformed. Before the opening whistle, commentators fretted that the country’s various maladies — from poverty to violence and corruption — would mar the festivities. The country’s problems have, of course, not vanished. But the tournament has brought to the surface that other Mexico so often buried beneath the ugly headlines: a Mexico that is colorful, hospitable, generous, and musical — chaotic in the best sense of the word. A Mexican fan helping someone cross a gigantic puddle, Koreans and Mexicans dancing together inside a taqueria, a duck, named Merlin, wearing the team’s national colors — this is the Mexico I’m happy the world can glimpse.”
Equivalent scenes have unfolded across all three host countries. The Scots took over Fenway Park and the streets of Boston — and embraced a police officer who juggled a soccer ball a few times in front of them. The Brazilians painted Times Square yellow days before the French turned it blue. The residents of Lawrence, Kansas, have turned their town green and totally supported the Algerian team with meals, music, and welcoming festivities. The orange tide of the Dutch marched on Arlington, Texas, behind its double-decker bus; the Japanese fans, as they always do, stayed after the final whistle to tidy the stands. What has prevailed is that sense of community — a rebuttal of the divided, isolated world on which authoritarian voices feed and delight.
What struck me was not simply the soccer. It was the atmosphere. In cities from Mexico City to Vancouver and Toronto, from Los Angeles to Atlanta, from Philadelphia to Kansas City, visitors described being greeted warmly by volunteers, restaurant workers, hotel clerks, and ordinary citizens eager to make them feel at home. Outside stadiums draped in colorful flags, families posed for photos with visiting fans, children traded team scarves, and conversations in dozens of languages blended into a cheerful hum.
One television reporter remarked that the crowds looked like “the United Nations having a block party.” At a time when our political discourse often emphasizes who does not belong, these gatherings celebrated the opposite idea—that people from every corner of the world can come together in friendship and mutual respect. I had almost forgotten how much, as a nation, we welcome and enjoy visitors. The contrast between what has become a divisive norm and this welcoming and all-inclusive reality could not be sharper.
The second was the remarkable run of the New York Knicks. Growing up near Boston, I am a Celtics fan. Yet I found myself pulling for this underdog group and for the city that embraced them. Seeing tens of thousands of people pour into the streets of New York, united by nothing more than their affection for a basketball team, was unexpectedly moving. For a few weeks, differences that normally separate people seemed irrelevant. Republicans and Democrats, rich and poor, lifelong New Yorkers and recent arrivals—all were part of a shared experience. The joy was spontaneous, communal, and genuine.
Led by Jalen Brunson, a player whose toughness and humility seemed to embody the spirit of the team, the Knicks captured the imagination of New Yorkers in a way not seen for years. Suddenly, orange and blue jerseys were everywhere. Sports bars overflowed. Subway riders who had never met exchanged knowing smiles. Complete strangers embraced after big victories. These images brought back memories of the strong sense of unity surrounding the 1980 Miracle on Ice; that, too, was a dark time in our national mood.
Television cameras panned across a crowd outside Madison Square Garden. There were young professionals in business attire, construction workers just off their shifts, grandparents, teenagers, immigrants, lifelong New Yorkers, and recent arrivals. They differed in every imaginable way except one: for that moment, they belonged to the same community.
The chants of “Let’s Go Knicks!” echoed through the streets. Car horns became musical instruments. The city was celebrating not simply a basketball team but the joy of sharing an experience with millions of neighbors.
On the steps of City Hall, the mayor presented the key to the city to this team … “Over these past weeks, as the Knicks kept winning, our city has come together as one,” Mamdani said. “Neighbors invited neighbors over. Strangers high-fived one another in the street. Subway conductors sang their announcements and bus drivers danced behind the wheel. So often when this city comes together, it is because we are forced to, by a moment of tragedy or adversity. What a gift it is to be brought together by pure, unfiltered joy. For as long as we live, we will remember this feeling of a city together, a city alive, a city overcome by happiness.”
Sports cannot solve our political problems. But they remind us of something important: human beings long to belong to something larger than themselves. We crave connection. We want reasons to celebrate together. The crowds in New York were not celebrating a political victory over their opponents. They were celebrating one another.
The third event was the opening of the Obama Presidential Center. I recognize that Americans hold differing views about Barack Obama and his presidency. That is entirely appropriate in a democracy. But what struck me was not politics. It was the tone of the occasion.
The speeches by Barack and Michelle Obama reflected themes that once seemed commonplace in American public life: respect, service, citizenship, community, hope, and faith in the future. Whether one agrees with every policy they supported is beside the point. The message was larger than partisan politics. It was a reminder that America is strongest when we see each other not as enemies to be defeated but as fellow citizens engaged in a common experiment. The larger message was about community, participation, and faith in the future. Both Barack and Michelle Obama spoke about service and the responsibilities we owe one another as members of a democratic society. Barack spoke of building a generation of citizens committed to solving problems together. Michelle spoke of hope, opportunity, and the importance of helping young people believe that they matter and that their voices count. Both expressed their abiding faith in democracy, in the people, and the idea that democracy is not something someone else does for us; it is something all of us must do together.
What unites these three events is not sports, politics, or international competition. It is something deeper. Each event revealed an America that exists largely outside our political arguments. It is the America of volunteers, neighbors, coaches, parents, teachers, fans, community leaders, and ordinary citizens. It is an America where people still show kindness to strangers, rally around local causes, welcome visitors, and gather in celebration. And above all, have a strong desire to be connected to each other and to a larger community.
The contrast with the body politic today is striking. Our public discourse often suggests a nation consumed by hatred and retribution and irreconcilable differences. But everyday life tells a more complicated story. Most Americans are not spending their days looking for people to despise. They are raising families, helping neighbors, volunteering at churches and food banks, coaching Little League teams, supporting local charities, and trying to leave their communities better than they found them. America is often kinder than its politics. The America we see on television is frequently a distorted reflection of the America we encounter in our neighborhoods.
None of this means our problems are insignificant. Political polarization is real. Distrust is real. Anger is real. These unifying moments do not stop wars or end political cruelty. They do not make the world more democratic. They do not redeem governments or erase injustice. But they carve out a fragile space in which enemies can remember, however briefly, that they belonged to something larger than their quarrels. We should not minimize the challenges facing our country. But the events of recent weeks provide evidence that points in the opposite direction.
The welcome given to visitors from around the world, the joy of a city united behind its team, the hopeful message of a presidential center dedicated to civic engagement are powerful – and hopefully lasting -reminders that the forces pulling us together remain strong, hopefully greater than the forces pulling us apart.
Beneath the surface, each moment revealed the same truth: The loudest voices are not necessarily the most representative voices. To quote FDR, speaking in the depths of the Great Depression: “A nation is not defined by its loudest arguments that dominate the daily news. It is defined by the character of its people.”
“It ain’t over ‘til it’s over,” but I feel a glimmer of hope.
Jim Wilson taught history and economics for 49 years in Connecticut before retiring to the Upper Valley in 2008. Since then, he has taught numerous Osher classes on current politics and related issues. Jim lives in Strafford, enjoys many outdoor activities, and travels frequently.