By nature, human beings are considered social creatures. Yet, in reality, we tend to be more “team-oriented” than truly social. From the moment we enter the world, society begins to shape us—not to engage openly with diverse ideas, but to pick a side. Whether in sports or politics, we are taught to align ourselves with one of two camps. In Kuwait’s sports scene, local football passion is sharply divided between Al-Qadisiyah and Al-Arabi. In Saudi Arabia, it’s Al-Hilal and Al-Nassr. In Egypt, the rivalry is between Al-Ahly and Al-Zamalek.

The fanbase is conditioned to believe in a binary: one team or the other, while other clubs are often sidelined—regardless of merit. This way of thinking reflects a broader psychological pattern: our minds are trained to accept a two-option reality, where everyone else is considered peripheral. The same binary logic appears in politics—though it’s wrapped in formal language and social traditions. Children grow up hearing: “We support this party,” or “The other side doesn’t understand anything.” Loyalty is inherited, not examined.

Pride is taken in children parroting political slogans whose meanings they barely comprehend. In sports, fans are offered an image to idolize—star players and heroic victories. In politics, that image is often a flag, a leader, a dream of national greatness. In both cases, emotional investment is engineered. The strategy is similar: amplify identity, create rivalry, and convince the public that the other side is the villain. If your team loses? Blame the referee. If your candidate fails? Cry fraud.

This binary mindset has expanded beyond local borders. Nations, too, fall into this programmed duality. The question is no longer who governs wisely, but who leads the world—America or China? Yesterday, it was America versus Russia. Today, it’s another face-off, just with new players. Zero or one, red or blue—our brains seem to crave simplicity in a complex world. In the Arab region, this same narrative unfolds. The unspoken question: who leads the Arab world—Saudi Arabia or Egypt? The debate plays out not in political halls but on digital stages, where social media becomes an arena for rivalry and division, not dialogue.

Caught in the middle is the audience. Ordinary people find themselves dragged into heated arguments and fruitless debates, sometimes escalating into real-world tensions. Meanwhile, those in power—politicians and club presidents alike—sit comfortably at elegant tables, exchanging pleasantries. In sports, millions are made in ticket sales, merchandise, and broadcasting rights. In politics, power consolidates quietly, and wealth multiplies. The public is left with frayed nerves and empty slogans.

Perhaps it is time we pause and reconsider. The world is not limited to black or white. It is neither necessary nor healthy to constantly ask who is first or second. No country leads in everything, and there is no shame in someone else excelling in a given field. Extreme loyalty to a team, a leader, or a country—when it clouds judgment—becomes a form of intellectual bondage. What the Arab world needs today is not hollow pride or rivalry, but unity through cooperation. Our strength lies in integration, not polarization. We need a conscious, balanced society that dares to step outside the noise. But do we have the courage to be the rational voice in a world consumed by noise? Most of us are still walking paths designed for us, cheering more than we think, clapping more than we question. The choice to break free starts with awareness—and a refusal to be just another number in someone else’s game.

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