Sacred truths — whatever a community considers sacred — shape our collective sense of right and wrong and help communities cooperate. When virtually all community members profess a dictum, it becomes sacred within that community.
Those who believe religion and politics aren't connected don't understand either. — Mahatma Gandhi
When someone says doing something is a "must or must not," be alert — this may be sacred in the community. Shared experience leads to simple stories told and retold that weave a protective cocoon of justifying myth around the truth. A myth is simply a story that illustrates a truth and provides an example of its value. Another way to identify a sacred truth is that believers display emotion when the dictum is questioned. Sacred truths and their myths shape our collective sense of right and wrong and help communities cooperate.
Sacred truths appear in differing sizes, weights, and consequences. When they are too specific or too general they can become a burden. Likewise, when an organization obeys a once important truth beyond its utility, the organization can lose touch with reality. Not all truths are true forever. Not all truths should be sacred forever. But change is difficult, especially when it involves deeply held expectations.
To the extent that a group's identity nests in a sacred truth — which is normal — and an individual's identity ties to the group, then what psychologists call the "principle of agency" can take over. The person substitutes the group's conscience for his or her own. We recognize this when someone says "I was only following orders." Collective habits of mind and action that serve sacred truths tend to substitute for individual reality testing.
Within a given situation, you increase your power, at least in the short term, by aligning with sacred truths. This speeds decision-making and helps cement relationships. Maintaining relationships that support such beliefs will be less costly than challenging sacred truths. Good politicians seldom, if ever, challenge a sacred truth — such challenges lead to culture wars.
Sacred truths enshrined in texts carry special weight in human affairs. Both the U.S. Constitution and the Bible, because they are "fixed" in text, permit each generation to appeal to the text as its inspiration for a "new old" interpretation of truth. Every U.S. officeholder swears to uphold the constitution. Arguments ensue over interpreting the text, but no one may challenge the text itself, and the process for amending the text is daunting.
The mission statement on the office meeting room wall remains the motto under a new manager and new team members — because each team needs an identity, and the words serve that need. Community arises and remains within the team because its members revere the text. Words on the wall dampen a group's need to reanalyze "Who are we?" or "What is our goal?" A sacred text can even answer new questions because it is the authoritative source of answers.
Sacred truths resist change because our beliefs make and define who we are. We have a strong tendency to stick with whatever we believe. Our motives tend to meld with our convictions to bring the sacred into the political. The sacred is good; the profane, bad. The good is us; the bad, others. Our inclination to avoid examining sacred truths stems from the very nature of "belief" as opposed to "fact." One may argue about facts or prove and disprove them logically. Beliefs are what they are.
To "unbelieve" is to change our very being. To "unbelieve" is to become a threat because the unbeliever reduces solidarity and weakens the community. While this language is religious, it captures an important reality about the role of sacred truths in community. When we invest ourselves similarly in nonreligious aspects of life, we actually add them to our religion. Sooner or later, citizens will advocate positions contrary to their community's standards — and will undertake political action to move forward.
Positive politics may take longer — but we achieve more and have more fun doing it.