Social cohesion

It was a jarring moment. ANZAC Day—one of the few shared civic rituals that still carries weight—became a site of tension. Reports of booing during Acknowledgements of Country unsettled many. It didn’t feel like ordinary disagreement. It felt like something thinner underneath our shared life had been exposed.

Set alongside rising antisemitism after recent violence, and sharper edges in debates around immigration, the pattern becomes harder to ignore. Disagreement about the place of Indigenous ceremony in public life, or the scale and shape of immigration, is not new. Nor is it unhealthy. A plural society will always debate its direction. But there is a difference between disagreement and what we are beginning to see: a more reactive, combative, identity-charged public square.

Why now? History suggests that in times of pressure, societies tend toward tribalism. When people feel threatened—economically, culturally, or existentially—they reach for identity markers that feel secure. The result is a sharpening of “us” and “them.” Add to this the fact that the last few decades of relative stability were, historically speaking, unusual. As that season recedes, a more familiar pattern of contest and combativeness returns.

There is also a deeper shift. As the influence of Christendom has waned, so too has the shared moral narrative that held us together. In its place, competing visions of identity emerge—nationalism on one side, progressive individualism on the other—each offering coherence, but often deepening division. The centre thins. The ability to disagree without fracture weakens.

For the church, this is a moment of calling. We are to be a people who hold conviction and community together. “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18). “Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace” (Ephesians 4:3). We can debate and disagree, while still honouring the dignity of the other as a brother or sister, mindful that all our knowledge is partial (1 Corinthians 13:9). We are also called to welcome the stranger and care for the vulnerable (Deuteronomy 10:19; James 1:27).

In a strained social moment, the church has an opportunity to embody something different—not vague niceness, nor reactive tribalism, but a robust capacity to live together across difference. To disagree without contempt. To remain in fellowship and dialogue, without demanding uniformity in matters that are not essential.

As Stanley Hauerwas puts it:

“The church is not to be a reflection of the world, but a social alternative.”