Social Justice, Teslas, and the Trouble with Moral Symbols

As the world languished under the weight of a burgeoning pandemic, Lisa and I strapped on our N95 masks and ventured to the Portland Tesla dealer to check the last box on a long-imagined plan.

A year earlier, while remodeling an outdoor courtyard, I realized I could install conduit in the footings to connect a garage charger to the basement electrical panel. But even more, we could add to our existing solar array and make our car and house completely free of external energy needs.

The Tesla purchase on April 26, 2020, finalized several years of hard work toward energy independence in the McMinn household. But what once symbolized energy independence now carries a different weight—one tied to shifting political narratives and social justice debates.

We loved the car immediately, even imagining washing it every week. Yeah, that part didn’t work out so well. People know our car because it may be the dirtiest Model 3 they have ever seen. We excuse it as being related to “farm life.”

Are We Selling?

Lately, multiple people have asked if we plan to sell the Tesla. As you may have guessed from the story so far, Lisa and I lean left, and so do many in our social circles. So the question we’re getting might reasonably be translated this way:

“Given that Elon Musk owns Tesla and got rich doing so, will you use your driving choice to express your discomfort with Mr. Musk’s recent political moves?”

No one has used these exact words, but this seems a fair interpretation. And it causes me to ponder social justice, a big theme in my circles.

No, we're not selling the Tesla. It's too dirty.

But I do find myself a bit embarrassed driving it now. Five years ago, it spoke something of our values—innovation, sustainability, a step toward a better planet. Now, the car represents something we perceive to be more tainted.

Symbols change. What once signified innovation and sustainability, at least to us, now carries different political meaning. And this shift has me thinking about how we use symbols, status, and economic choices to express—and enforce—our moral convictions.

Justice, Retaliation, and Tribalism

The Tesla story raises a larger, troubling trend—our inclination to wish or bring reputational or financial harm upon those with whom we disagree. When done by those who share our political persuasion, we call it justice. When done by those on the other side, we call it retaliation.

At first glance, this is understandable. Our spending reflects our values. But it’s worth asking: When does principled action become more about punishing than persuading? And when does social justice blur into social bullying?

This tension between justice and retaliation isn’t new—it’s part of how we’re wired. Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt, in The Righteous Mind, explores how tribalism sneaks into even our most reasoned conversations, shaping not just our beliefs but our moral identities.

Haidt writes, "Once people join a political team, they get ensnared in its moral matrix. They see confirmation of their grand narrative everywhere..." (p. 365).

Then, on the next page, Haight concludes with this statement I have posted before:

Curious about this moral divide, I turned to ChatGPT for perspective. Here’s how our conversation went.

A Conversation with ChatGPT

Mark: I'm pondering the topic of social justice and the political disparities we're facing in the world just now. In the US, it seems that both sides seem to think the other group is selfish and unaware of the real needs of the world.

ChatGPT: Yes, exactly. Both Republicans and Democrats—along with many people across the political spectrum—care about social justice, but they prioritize different aspects and methods for achieving it. The challenge is that each side often perceives the other as being fundamentally misguided or even morally flawed, which deepens divisions.

For example, Democrats tend to emphasize systemic solutions—government policies, economic redistribution, and legal protections for marginalized groups. They may see justice as requiring collective action and structural change. Republicans often emphasize personal responsibility, free markets, and community-based solutions, believing that justice is best achieved through individual empowerment rather than government intervention.

Both perspectives arise from deeply held values, yet political polarization often distorts these differences into moral accusations—each side sees the other as selfish or naïve. Democrats may view Republicans as indifferent to suffering, while Republicans may see Democrats as undermining personal responsibility and traditional values.

Building Better Social Connections

Because I’m writing a series on building better social connections in a lonely world, this reflection leaves me wondering: What would it look like to engage across our political and moral divides without defaulting to boycotts and battle lines? How do we create a culture where dialogue, not division, shapes our relationships? Are there ways to mend the deep divides that seem to run through most families and many friendships?

Here are a few themes I'm pondering for reaching across our divides.

Psychology helps us understand the cognitive biases (e.g., confirmation bias, tribalism) that fuel polarization.

Genuine Conversation allows for the possibility of mutual learning rather than mere opposition.

Generosity puts our eyes on real people as we think about social justice. As a small example of this, the extra energy we generate from our solar panels each year help cover electricity costs for low-income households.

Self-Confrontation reminds us how often we're wrong about so many things--important and unimportant.

Kindness gives us pause before resorting to moral accusation, and encourages us to see the best in one another.

Gratitude helps us remember the things that go right in the world even as some things fall apart.

Grace reminds us that no one has a monopoly on truth, and we should approach others with humility rather than hostility.

In polarized times like these, it’s easy to forget what truly holds us together—joy, compassion, curiosity, love, laughter, even the quiet, unspoken understanding that comes in comfortable silence. Maybe these are the things we should be trying to preserve.

I memorized this passage from the Bible in junior high:

Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with each other. Don’t be too proud to enjoy the company of ordinary people. And don’t think you know it all! (Romans 12:15-16)

These words helped me navigate junior high drama. Maybe they still have something to offer us today.

Perhaps the real question isn’t whether we sell the Tesla, but whether we can hold onto the deeper values that first led us to care about justice, sustainability, and each other—not as weapons, but as bridges.

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Though never a frequent blogger, I may be Very Infrequent in the coming 15 months. Lisa and I have a book manuscript due on June 1, 2026, which may well be my last book. I want to give both the book and my co-author the attention they deserve.