Prejudice is a reality every police officer and detective knows well. It’s a force that drives people to commit murder, and at times, it even seeps into the conduct of those sworn to uphold the law. Prejudice is an equal-opportunity offender, dividing communities, dominating headlines, and fueling violence wherever it takes root.
When five police officers were killed in a racially charged attack in Dallas, Texas, the President addressed the nation with a sobering question: “Faced with this violence, we wonder if the divides of race in America can ever be bridged. We wonder if an African-American community that feels unfairly targeted by police, and police departments that feel unfairly maligned for doing their jobs, can ever understand each other’s experience.” But prejudice, by its very nature, resists understanding. It is, fundamentally, irrational. As defined by the American Psychological Association, prejudice is “a negative attitude toward another person or group formed in advance of any experience with that person or group.”
In other words, prejudice makes up its mind before any facts are in. It doesn’t wait for a reason.
Most definitions underscore its illogical core, describing it as “an unreasonable dislike of a particular group,” or “an irrational attitude of hostility directed against an individual, a group, or race.” Psychologists have mapped out its anatomy: it starts as an emotional impulse, warps our thinking, and then compels us to act. The “affective component” is emotional, ranging from mild unease to outright hatred. The “cognitive component” is a set of assumptions and stereotypes. And the “behavioral component” shows up as discrimination and violence. Humans are 'otherists.' We are drawn to those who are like us and wary of those who are not. We build relationships based on shared traits—politics, religion, hobbies, even TV shows and dress styles. Share on X
Prejudice is not a rare disease. Everyone has some unexamined bias lurking in the background. Maybe racism isn’t your particular “ism,” but chances are, there’s another form of favoritism at work in your mind and actions. The list is long: ableism, ageism, antisemitism, classism, colorism, lookism, nativism, sexism, shadeism, sizeism—the list goes on. If you can name a group, someone has coined a term for the bias against it. If you’re honest, you’ll admit you’re not immune.
Seventeenth-century poet Fulke Greville once wrote, “A fish will sometimes with pleasure rise out of his element, and spring into ours: so a man will sometimes with pleasure rise from prejudice and falsehood, into the sphere of reason and truth. But the fish will most naturally and joyfully dive again into his element of water; and the man as joyfully and naturally into his element of prejudice and falsehood.” We are, by nature, prone to return to our prejudices.
Modern research confirms this. Nearly every definition of prejudice centers on exclusion—a dislike or rejection of others. But there’s a flip side: our tendency to include. When we shun someone, we reveal our preference for those we embrace. This is the root of what I call “the father of all ‘isms’”: Otherism.
Humans are “otherists.” We are drawn to those who are like us and wary of those who are not. We build relationships based on shared traits—politics, religion, hobbies, even TV shows and dress styles. We seek out friends and partners who mirror us, relegating the rest to the category of “other.” The depth of our self-absorption is astonishing. Studies show we react more positively to people who look like us, especially if they share family features. We gravitate toward those who match our age, height, weight, eye color, and skin tone. This tendency is so ingrained, it shows up in our neural wiring.
Even online, where appearances are hidden, we seek out those who share our views or affiliations. In romance, the myth that “opposites attract” falls apart under scrutiny—similarity is the strongest predictor of attraction and lasting satisfaction. We choose partners who look, think, and act like us, and even share similar genetic markers.
Otherism is the “ism” behind all “isms.” Racism, sexism, colorism—these are simply the most obvious forms, based on visible differences. Other biases, like antisemitism or classism, require a bit more investigation. But the impulse is the same: our prejudicial inclination to distance ourselves from those who are different.
Social media magnifies otherism. Now, even a single comment or belief can fracture friendships and families. Why? The answer is pride. Secular dictionaries may highlight pride’s positive side, but its darker aspect—“exaggerated self-esteem”—drives us to favor those like us and exclude those who aren’t. The Bible warns of this danger, describing pride as “inordinate self-esteem” that leads to contempt for others. Pride is the engine of otherism, and thus, the root of prejudice.
Rod Serling called prejudice “the singular evil of our time… It is from this evil that all other evils grow and multiply.” The biblical writers understood this long before modern psychology. They knew that prideful otherism breeds injustice and that the solution begins with confronting our own pride. If we want to fight injustice, the battlefield is within. True change comes when we recognize our own biases and seek common ground, rather than fixating on what divides us.
To learn much more about the danger of “otherism,” its impact on human flourishing and how it establishes the reliability of the Biblical record, please read The Truth in True Crime: What Investigating Death Teaches Us About the Meaning of Life.
