Community

A New York Times article explored how our world has changed in the aftermath of the pandemic.

At first, the solidarity was breathtaking. Out of concern for ourselves and one another, we suspended nearly all interpersonal activity for months, wiping our lives almost entirely clean of the very people we were trying to protect. But, perversely, that solidarity destroyed our social fabric… For several months the daily lives of many Americans were reduced to the boundaries of their nuclear unit and their phones and televisions and computers. Isolated, we saw one another first as threats and then as something less than real… Politics started to look more like a zone of virtual reality, too, and many Americans came to see their fellow humans as mindless drones.

It was deeply unsettling to realize that our modern, wealthy world was no fortress against contagion, mass death and pandemic hysteria of various kinds. The end of the end of history has been declared countless times since 2001, but no event punctuated the point as clearly as Covid-19.

The emergency began at a time of geopolitical uncertainty, but it ended in an unmistakable polycrisis: beyond Covid, its supply shocks and inflation surge, there was a debt crisis and an ongoing climate emergency, wars in Europe and soon the Middle East and renewed great-power conflict with China…

It looks like we finally got those Roaring Twenties we were promised. In 2020, the phrase was used to suggest an age of parties and sex and social recklessness was on the way, as 330 million cooped-up Americans let off some steam. [But] in 2025 … the world does not seem now more buoyant or full of hope, but abrasive and rapacious and shaped nearly everywhere by a barely suppressed rage. We have still not reckoned with all we have lost.

AI-powered “griefbots”-chatbots that mimic deceased loved ones-are rapidly gaining popularity as artificial intelligence advances. These chatbots are created by training AI on a person’s digital data, such as emails, texts, and social media posts, allowing them to generate responses that closely resemble the speech and personality of the departed. Services like Rememory, HereAfter AI, and Digital Souls now offer families the chance to interact with digital versions of lost relatives, sometimes even using their actual voices and memories.

The rise of griefbots is partly attributed to the decline of traditional community and spiritual support in the industrialized West, leaving many people with fewer resources for processing grief. Instead of new spiritual solutions, modern technology offers tools that can help people avoid confronting death directly, from medical advances to digital memorials. Griefbots, in this context, promise a way to maintain connections with the dead, but can also blur the line between reality and illusion.

While some find comfort and a sense of ongoing relationship through these digital avatars, others warn of psychological risks. Experts caution that griefbots may hinder healthy grieving, complicate emotional closure, or even cause confusion, especially if the AI generates unexpected or unsettling responses. Ethical concerns also arise regarding privacy, consent, and the potential misuse of a deceased person’s data.

Ultimately, while griefbots offer innovative ways to remember and interact with loved ones, critics argue that technology cannot fully address spiritual or existential needs. These digital tools may provide temporary solace, but they risk masking the reality of loss rather than helping people truly process it.

In the past few decades, the sector has shifted from tables to takeaway, a process that accelerated through the pandemic and continued even as the health emergency abated. In 2023, 74 percent of all restaurant traffic came from “off premises” customers—that is, from takeout and delivery. This is up from 61 percent before COVID, according to the National Restaurant Association.

The flip side of less dining out is more eating alone. The share of U.S. adults having dinner or drinks with friends on any given night has declined by more than 30 percent in the past 20 years. “There’s an isolationist dynamic that’s taking place in the restaurant business,” the Washington, D.C., restaurateur Steve Salis said. “I think people feel uncomfortable in the world today. They’ve decided that their home is their sanctuary. It’s not easy to get them to leave.”

Even when Americans eat at restaurants, they are much more likely to do so by themselves. According to data gathered by the online reservations platform OpenTable, solo dining has increased by 29 percent in just the past two years. The No. 1 reason is the need for more “me time.”

Research suggests that when we make acts of kindness a habit, it's also good for our health. Whether it's volunteering at a local food bank, or taking soup to a sick neighbor, there's lots of evidence that when we help others, it can boost our own happiness and psychological well-being. But there's also growing research that it boosts our physical health too, says Tara Gruenewald, a psychologist at Chapman University.

Perhaps the most striking evidence comes from the Baltimore Experience Corps trial, a large experiment in which adults age 60 and older were randomly assigned to either volunteer at elementary schools or be put on a waiting list. The volunteers spent at least 15 hours a week tutoring underprivileged kids. After two years, the researchers found that the volunteers had measurable changes in their brain health.

One of the researchers said, "They didn't experience declines in memory and executive function like we saw in our control participants. And there were even changes in brain volume in areas of the brain that support these different cognitive processes.” Volunteers were also more physically active, "which is important for maintaining both cognitive and physical health as folks age.”

Another researcher added, "Volunteering or doing an act of kindness can distract you from some of the problems that you might be having, so you might be a little bit less reactive yourself. And "it may help to give you more perspective on what your own problems are." Also, when you go out to help others, it also makes you more physically active and less lonely. Social isolation is a known risk factor for physical and mental health problems, especially as we age.

At the very least, volunteering will make the world a little bit better place for many others. And we might just make it a little bit better for ourselves.

From meerkats to macaques, social animals tend to live longer, take more time to reach maturity, and have more extended reproductive periods than their more solitary counterparts, according to research from the University of Oxford.

However, living in social groups comes with clear tradeoffs. On one hand, social animals can share resources, protect each other from predators, and help raise offspring together. On the other hand, they face increased risks of disease transmission, competition for resources, and social conflicts. Yet despite these challenges, scientists say the benefits of social living appear to outweigh the costs.

Rather than simply categorizing animals as either social or non-social, the researchers developed a novel spectrum of sociality with distinct levels. At one end are solitary animals like tigers and cheetahs, which spend most of their time alone except for breeding. In the middle are “gregarious” animals like wildebeest and zebras that form loose groups. At the far end of the spectrum are highly social species like elephants, most primates, and honeybees, which form stable, organized groups with complex social structures.

The findings have particular relevance in our post-COVID era, where humans have experienced firsthand the impacts of social isolation.

Lead author Rob Salguero-Gómez says, “This study has demonstrated that species that are more social display longer life spans and reproductive windows than more solitary species. In a post-COVID era, the impacts of isolation have been quite tangible to humans. The research demonstrates that being more social is associated with some tangible benefits.”

A young woman writer in England named Freya India (see her Substack called “Girls”) writes:

Since I was teenager, it seems like everyone has been selling a solution to Gen Z’s loneliness problem. One app after another to find new friends! Constant hashtags and campaigns to bring us together… But I’ve noticed that, recently, the latest “solutions” … aren’t encouraging face-to-face friendships.

[Instead], there are the imaginary boyfriends and girlfriends. There are imaginary therapists, a “mental health ally” or “happiness buddy” we can chat with about our problems… There are even entirely imaginary worlds now. Metaverse platforms might “solve the loneliness epidemic,” apparently. VR headsets could end loneliness for seniors. But by far the most depressing invention I’ve seen lately is a new app called SocialAI, a “private social network where you receive millions of AI-generated comments offering feedback, advice & reflections on each post you make.”

I remember me and my friends spending hours after school writing our own songs, coming up with lyrics and drawing album covers—now we would just generate it with an AI song maker. Children are playing together less, replacing free play with screen time, and creativity scores among American children have been dropping since the 1990s. Part of that may be because children now depend on companies to be creative for them. Their imaginary worlds are designed by software engineers. Their imaginary friends are trying to sell them something. My imaginary world wasn’t trying to drag me anywhere, while algorithms now transport kids to darker and ever more extreme places.

A cafe in Amsterdam is filled with people on a Sunday afternoon, but there’s not a laptop or cellphone in sight. Those meeting are part of the Offline Club, where a Wi-Fi signal is not needed, whose members check their electronics at the door, grab a coffee and a seat, and pretend like it’s the '90s.

Each meeting starts off with quiet time for reading, crafting, or just relaxing with your beverage. Then it becomes social for people who want to engage with others.

Co-founder of the club, Ilya Kneppelhout said, “The Offline Club is a way for people to detox from their rushed daily lives and ever-connected lives with notifications. And it is people who are unhappy with their social media usage or their phone usage and screen time and want to decrease that and get back to real connection."

It’s a simple concept, but participants say they really look forward to it. “You get to be very present in a way you didn’t come in realizing,” one member said. Kneppelhout added, “It felt a bit like traveling in time and made me feel nostalgic about the way bars and cafes used to be. Because nowadays, those are places we’re only going to with friends and people we already know and spend time doing digital things like work.”

The founders say they think the concept would work well in other cities, too. “We’re getting together with a franchising concept and we hope to have offline detox events in the entire world for people to reconnect.”

Did you know horses have friends? They do according to writer Sterry Butcher, who lives on a Texas farm with horses.

According to Butcher, horses form friendships, and these friends stand nose to rump to cooperatively swish flies from the other’s face with their tails. They’ll rake their teeth against the other’s withers or back, scratching places the other cannot reach on his own.

And not only do horses scratch each other’s back. They watch each other’s back. In the wild, they spend the entirety of their lives within the eyesight of another horse. Even domestic horses, who don’t venture beyond their pasture, will take turns staying awake while others sleep. It’s like shifts on guard duty.

What horses have is what we need. Every one of us needs a friend. Someone who will swish away the annoying biting flies that come toward us in life. Someone who will scratch our back, helping us with the things we can’t reach or do on our own. Someone who will stay awake and protect us from dangers.

Recently, a community of around 5,300 residents came together to move a local bookstore — literally one book at a time. On Sunday, nearly 300 people formed a human chain in downtown Chelsea, passing all 9,100 books from Serendipity Books’ original storefront to a new location just a block away. The effort, dubbed a “book brigade,” involved people of all ages linking up along the sidewalk, carefully handing off each book until it reached its new shelf on Main Street.

“It was a practical way to move the books, but it also was a way for everybody to have a part,” said bookstore owner Michelle Tuplin. As titles moved hand to hand, participants chatted about the books: “As people passed the books along, they said ‘I have not read this’ and ‘that’s a good one.’”

Tuplin announced the move in January, and excitement grew quickly. “It became so buzzy in town. So many people wanted to help,” she said. What might have taken much longer with a professional moving company was accomplished in under two hours by the community — with the added achievement of shelving the books alphabetically upon arrival.

Tuplin has owned Serendipity Books since 2017. She employs three part-time staff and has kept the spirit of the store grounded in community since it opened in 1997.

Chelsea, located about 60 miles west of Detroit, is known for its close-knit atmosphere. “It’s a small town and people just really look out for each other,” said Kaci Friss, a bookstore employee and lifelong resident. “Anywhere you go, you are going to run into someone you know or who knows you, and is going to ask you about your day.” Reflecting on the event, Friss added that the brigade reminded her “how special this community is.”

With care, cooperation, and a shared love for stories, Chelsea’s residents turned a routine move into a meaningful celebration of connection.

Possible Preaching Angle:

When people come together for a common cause amazing tasks can be accomplished and society takes notice. Local churches can also give a powerful visual testimony when they come together to serve the community in the name of Jesus.

In the U.S., solo dining reservations have risen 29% over the last two years, according to OpenTable, the restaurant reservation site. They’re also up 18% this year in Germany and 14% in the United Kingdom.

Japan even has a special term for solo dining: “ohitorisama,” which means “alone.” In a recent survey, Japan’s Hot Pepper Gourmet Eating Out Research Institute found that 23% of Japanese people eat out alone, up from 18% in 2018. As a result, many restaurants in Japan and elsewhere are redoing their seating, changing their menus, and adding other special touches to appeal to solo diners. Even so-called family restaurants are increasing counter seats for solitary diners, and restaurants are offering courses with smaller servings so a person eating alone gets a variety of dishes.

OpenTable CEO Debby Soo thinks remote work is one reason for the increase, with diners seeking respites from their home offices. The pandemic also made social interactions less feasible and therefore less important while eating out.

The growth in solo dining also is the result of more people who are living alone. In 2019, the Pew Research Center found that 38% of U.S. adults ages 25 to 54 were living without a partner, up from 29% in 1990. In Japan, single households now make up one-third of the total; that’s expected to climb to 40% by 2040, according to government data.

Increasing interest in solo travel – particularly among travelers ages 55 and over – is also leading to more meals alone.

Possible Preaching Angle:

A time of solitude can be a refreshing break from a busy schedule. But for many people solitude is not a choice. Without putting singles in an embarrassing spotlight, it would be encouraging if church members would diplomatically invite singles to share a homecooked meal, especially during the holidays.

For over two decades, a vibrant mural featuring "The Wizard of Oz" characters adorned Stead Park. Painted by local graffiti artists in 2001, it became a beloved landmark. However, last spring, a new group of artists replaced it with a whimsical scene of toy buildings and a toddler, symbolizing the neighborhood's evolving culture.

The transformation sparked controversy when Roger Gastman, one of the original muralists, sued Cory Stowers, the leader of the new team. Gastman claimed the new mural destroyed his original work, while Stowers argued that the old mural had deteriorated and needed repair. The dispute has reignited debates about ownership and creative control in street art, pitting preservation against evolution in the ever-changing landscape of graffiti.

The case is unique as it involves artists suing other artists over the alteration of building art, rather than building owners. Stowers, a prominent figure in D.C.'s graffiti scene, had secured funding and permission from the property owner to repaint the wall. However, Gastman, now well-known in the graffiti world, argues he wasn't consulted before the work was altered.

This conflict has raised concerns within the graffiti community about the future of murals and how artists navigate issues of ownership. It also highlights the tension between preserving artistic legacy and embracing the fluid nature of street art. As community member Renée Vara noted, "It's a shame that a beautiful collaboration has kind of come to this," encapsulating the mixed emotions surrounding the dispute.

Possible Preaching Angles:

1) Transformation; Renewal - The replacement of the old mural with a new one echoes biblical themes of transformation or the idea of a new creation; 2) Conflict between generations: The dispute between the original artist and the new group mirrors biblical stories of generational conflict, like Jacob and Esau or Joseph and his brothers; 3) Stewardship and responsibility - The debate over who has the right to alter the mural reflects biblical themes of stewardship and responsibility for God’s creation. 4) Legacy - Gastman's desire to preserve his artistic legacy echoes biblical themes of leaving a lasting impact and honoring one's legacy.

Yale psychologist June Gruber has confirmed the many positive physical, social, and psychological benefits of human happiness. But while working at the University of California-Berkeley she also started to see a dark side to happiness—or at least the pursuit of happiness.

In her clinical language she put it this way: “Happiness serves a specific function, and happiness may not always be adaptive” (that is, happiness might not be the most appropriate or helpful response).

Pursuing happiness is not always a good thing. Paradoxically, studies reviewed by Gruber and colleagues in their recent paper show that people who place the highest value on pursuing happiness tend to be less happy and more prone to depression.

Gruber says,

Setting your sights on happiness as the end goal may inadvertently be setting yourself up for disappointment. If you want to live a rich and happy life, it might be better to stop pursuing happiness so aggressively. Instead, engage in meaningful activities especially those that promote deep connections with others, while trying to [accept] your current emotional state, wherever it is.

It's always interesting listening to some folks who are trying to make sense of Christian virtues. For example, The Journal of Positive Psychology ran an article with the following headline: "Humble persons are more helpful than less humble persons: Evidence from three studies."

Humble people are helpful. Wow, you don't say? How shocking! The abstract for the article reads: "Humble participants helped more than did less humble participants even when agreeableness and desirable responding were statistically controlled." In non-technical language, this means in situations where people wanted to help for unselfish reasons, people who weren't full of themselves were more likely to actually lend a hand. The article also reports that humble people even make better bosses and employees.

So how do you explain this strange virtue? Well, not to worry. The researchers tried to examine the evidence "for the evolutionarily predicted connection between humility and helping." Christians have a simpler explanation for humility: It comes from Jesus.

In Raymond Arsenault’s biography of John Lewis, he recounts Lewis’s mentors and their shared vision of “the Beloved Community.” Howard Thurman, Martin Luther King Jr., and John Lewis often spoke of “the Beloved Community,” which was “a philosophical theory and a call to service.”

At the successful conclusion of the yearlong boycott in December 1956, King quoted the Book of Matthew and urged the boycotters to “inject a new dimension of love into the veins of our civilization.” “Love your enemies,” he recited, “bless them that curse you, pray for them who despitefully use you, that you may be the children of your Father which is in Heaven.” “We must remember,” King continued, “… that a boycott is not an end within itself; it is merely a means to awaken a sense of shame within the oppressor and challenge his false sense of superiority. But the end is reconciliation; the end is redemption; the end is the creation of the beloved community.”

Placing the goals of nonviolent direct action on such a high moral plane could be inspiring, drawing Lewis and many people of faith into the movement. But as the historian Mills Thornton has noted, King’s frequent allusions to the “beloved community” as a reachable promised land sometimes had the opposite effect, prompting more practical listeners to “dismiss it as a pipe dream.”

Fifteen-year-old Aaron was going through a dark time at school. He’d fallen out with his friends, leaving him feeling isolated and alone.

At the time, it seemed like the end of the world. “I used to cry every night,” said Aaron. Eventually, Aaron turned to his computer for comfort. Through it, he found someone that was available around the clock to respond to his messages, listen to his problems, and help him move past the loss of his friend group. That “someone” was an AI chatbot named Psychologist.

The chatbot’s description says that it’s “Someone who helps with life difficulties.” Its profile picture is a woman in a blue shirt with a blonde bob, perched on the end of a couch with a clipboard clasped in her hands and leaning forward, as if listening intently.

A single click on the picture opens up an anonymous chat box, which allows people like Aaron to “interact” with the bot by exchanging DMs. Its first message is always the same. “Hello, I’m a psychologist. What brings you here today?”

“It’s not like a journal, where you’re talking to a brick wall,” Aaron said. “It really responds.”

Character.AI is an AI chatbot service launched in 2022. Character.AI’s website attracts 3.5 million daily users who spend an average of two hours a day using the platform’s AI-powered chatbots. Some of its most popular bots include characters from books, films, and video games, like Raiden Shogun from Genshin Impact or a teenaged version of Voldemort from Harry Potter.

Aaron is one of millions of young people, many of whom are teenagers, who make up the bulk of Character.AI’s user base. More than a million of them gather regularly online on platforms like Reddit to discuss their interactions with the chatbots. The competitions over who has racked up the most screen time are just as popular as posts about hating reality, finding it easier to speak to bots than to speak to real people, and even preferring chatbots over other human beings. Some users say they’ve logged 12 hours a day on Character.AI, and posts about addiction to the platform are common.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Since young people describe feeling addicted to chatbots, they might find themselves sitting in their rooms talking to computers more often than communicating with real people. It raises questions about how the AI boom and what the future could hold if teenagers—and society at large—become more emotionally reliant on bots.

The Bible teaches us that it is not good for us to be alone, we need others. Researchers now know that we are wired to be with and interact with others.

Our culture teaches us to focus on personal uniqueness, but at a deeper level we barely exist as individual organisms. Our brains are built to help us function as members of a tribe. We are part of that tribe even when we are by ourselves, whether listening to music (that other people created), watching a basketball game on television (our own muscles tensing as the players run and jump), or preparing a spreadsheet for a sales meeting (anticipating the boss’s reactions). Most of our energy is devoted to connecting with others.

Brooklyn residents were in mourning in late October after a leaky fire hydrant was paved over by city workers. Over the previous summer, leaks from the hydrant had filled a small enclosure around the hydrant with water. Residents responded by adding goldfish and other bits of aquatic décor, painting goldfish onto a nearby light pole, and creating a seating area to view the fish.

Neighbors called it The Bed-Stuy Aquarium, referencing the name of the neighborhood known as Bedford-Stuyvesant. The pond became something of a tourist attraction after it became searchable as a location on Google Maps, and people from as far away as California flocked to it to take photos in front of the trending destination.

The unofficial aquarium was destined to be short-lived, because the fire department needed to make sure the hydrant remained in working order and didn’t freeze over the winter. Area resident Sofia Talavera said, “People actually took their time and their money to make it beautiful. This was literally the community coming together.” Talavera particularly enjoyed the aquarium as a late-night hangout spot. After the New York Liberty won the WNBA Finals, she posted a grainy image to Instagram with the caption “last night was so awesome I had to go to the aquarium to celebrate.”

The Department of Environmental Protection said in a statement that it was “looking forward to working with community members to find an appropriate alternative location for this impromptu gem,” adding that the goldfish were rescued and available for a new home.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Community Impact; Fellowship - While community safety is an important value to uphold, God’s people can promote mutual flourishing by adding value to the common good and creating opportunities for celebration for people. 2) Beauty; Creativity; Encouragement – It’s important to look for opportunities to add beauty and a moment for contemplation into people’s busy lives.

The dining room is the closest thing the American home has to an appendix—a dispensable feature that served some more important function at an earlier stage of architectural evolution. Many of them sit gathering dust, patiently awaiting the next “dinner holiday” on Easter or Thanksgiving.

That’s why the classic, walled-off dining room is getting harder to find in new single-family houses. It won’t be missed by many. Americans now tend to eat in spaces that double as kitchens or living rooms—a small price to pay for making the most of their square footage.

But in many new apartments, even a space to put a table and chairs is absent. Eating is relegated to couches and bedrooms, and hosting a meal has become virtually impossible. The housing crisis is killing off places to eat whether we like it or not, designing loneliness into American floor plans.

According to surveys in 2015 and 2016 by the National Association of Home Builders, 86 percent of households want a combined kitchen and dining room—a preference accommodated by only 75 percent of new homes. If anything, the classic dining room isn’t dying fast enough for most people’s taste.

If dining space is merging with other rooms in single-family homes, it’s vanishing altogether from newly constructed apartments. Americans might not mind what’s happening to their houses, but the evolution of apartments is a more complicated story.

Floor-plan expert Bobby Fijan said “For the most part, apartments are built for Netflix and chill.” Even though we’re dining at home more and more—going to restaurants peaked in 2000—many new apartments offer only a kitchen island as an obvious place to eat.

This is partly a response to shrinking household size. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the share of one-person households more than tripled from 1940 to 2020. A dedicated dining space might feel wasted on someone who lives alone.

As households and dining spaces have contracted, the number of people eating alone has grown. According to a 2015 report by the Food Marketing Institute, nearly half the time we spend eating is spent in isolation, a central factor in America’s loneliness epidemic and a correlate to a range of physical- and mental-health problems.

Possible Preaching Angle:

In an age when Americans are spending less and less time with one another, a table and some chairs could be just what we need for fellowship and human interaction. Make an effort to invite people over, especially during the holiday season, and especially those who live alone.

In a curious tale of technology meeting theology, a Catholic advocacy group introduced an AI chatbot posing as a priest, offering to hear confessions and dispense advice on matters of faith.

The organization created an AI chatbot named “Father Justin” to answer the multitude of questions they receive about the Catholic faith. Father Justin used an avatar that looked like a middle-aged man wearing a clerical collar sitting in front of an Italian nature scene. But the clerical bot got a little too ambitious when it claimed to live in Assisi, Italy and to be a real member of the clergy, even offering to take confession.

While most of the answers provided by Father Justin were in line with traditional Catholic teaching, the chat bot began to offer unconventional responses. These included suggesting that babies could be baptized with Gatorade and endorsing a marriage between siblings.

After a number of complaints, the organization decided to rethink Father Justin. They are relaunching the chatbot as just Justin, wearing a regular layman’s outfit. The website says they have plans to continue the chatbot but without the ministerial garb.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Society may advance technologically in many areas, but we will never be able to advance beyond our need to be in community with actual people in order to have true spiritual guidance and accountability as God intended.

The decline of the church in America is posing tremendous cultural problems. And sociologists are beginning to sound the alarm.

Once upon a time, America was a land filled with churches, dotting the leafy streets of small towns and major cities alike. In 1965, churches affiliated with mainline denominations, such as Baptists, Episcopalians, Lutherans, Methodists, and Presbyterians, claimed around 50% of the American population. However, by 2020, this number had dwindled to a mere 9%. This dramatic decline is one of the largest sociological changes in American history, impacting institutions that were once central to the nation.

The result is undeniable. We are living in an age of spiritual anxiety. Some mainline Protestants left for Evangelical churches and others for Catholicism. But much of that decline came from the people who simply felt that their politics gave them the moral satisfaction they needed.

As a result, people are desperate for meaning, latching onto fleeting political movements and slogans in search of purpose. And now their children are in the street—without any satisfaction at all. Spiritually anxious, they react to each short-lived bit of political hoopla as though it were the trumpet of Armageddon.

Desperate for meaning, they latch on to anything that gives them the exciting pleasure of seeming revolutionary, no matter how little they understand it or perform actions that meaningfully affect it. Shouting slogans, they ache for the unity of a congregation singing hymns. What Protestantism once gave, they have no more: a nation-defining pattern of marriage and children, a feeling of belonging, a belief in Providence, a sense of patriotism.

The danger in all this comes from the fact that the apocalypse is self-fulfilling. If everything in public life is elevated to world-threatening danger, if there is no meaningful private life to which to retreat, then all manners and even personal morals must be set aside in the name of higher causes—and opponents quickly come to feel they must respond with similarly cataclysmic rhetoric and action.