For the Left, Thanksgiving is about politics; for the Right

Michael J. Knowles once observed with piercing clarity: “For the Left, Thanksgiving is about politics; for the Right, politics is about thanksgiving. The different approaches to holiday conversation come from opposing views of politics.” At first his words appear as commentary on the divisions of our age, but in truth they strike deeper. They remind us that even the sacred table of gratitude has not been spared the weight of ideology, and that the way one views politics shapes not only debate, but the meaning of celebration itself.

The essence of his saying is this: for some, the feast of Thanksgiving is an arena for struggle, for reinterpreting history, for advancing causes and critiques. For others, the feast is the source of politics itself, for in giving thanks to God, family, and heritage, they root their vision of society in gratitude, not grievance. One side sees politics as the heart of the holiday; the other sees thanksgiving as the heart of politics. In this tension lies a clash of worldviews—a conflict not just of opinion, but of first principles.

History gives us many mirrors of this divide. Consider the days of the French Revolution. There, the feast days once dedicated to God and community were transformed into festivals of political ideology. What was once sacred became a stage for arguments about power and progress. Contrast this with the early American Thanksgiving, where men and women paused their labor not to debate governance, but to give thanks for survival, harvest, and providence. In one case, politics devoured tradition; in the other, thanksgiving nourished politics. Knowles captures this eternal struggle: do we feast to argue, or do we feast to remember?

His words also remind us of the fragility of unity. The family table, which should be a place of warmth, can become a battlefield when politics replaces gratitude. Yet the opposite is also true: when thanksgiving guides the heart, political vision is tempered by humility and reverence. For the one who gives thanks recognizes that all blessings—freedom, prosperity, family—are not owed but given. Politics grounded in thanksgiving becomes service, but politics grounded in grievance becomes domination.

The wisdom here is not to ignore politics, but to see where its roots must lie. If the heart of politics is not thanksgiving, it will wither into pride or resentment. If the heart of Thanksgiving is only politics, it will lose its joy and become a hollow ritual. The teaching of Knowles is not simply about the Left and the Right, but about the direction of the human spirit: whether we see the table as a weapon of debate, or as an altar of gratitude that shapes how we live together.

The lesson is clear: when you gather at the table, do not let arguments steal the purpose of the feast. Let gratitude be first, and let any conversation about politics flow from thanksgiving, not from strife. For in gratitude, hearts are softened, divisions are bridged, and the true meaning of politics—care for the common good—can emerge. Without gratitude, politics becomes nothing but noise and contention.

Therefore, let Michael J. Knowles’s words be remembered as a call to wisdom: let Thanksgiving remain sacred, and let politics be guided by thanksgiving rather than consume it. For nations, like families, endure not when they debate most fiercely, but when they give thanks most deeply. Let the feast be a reminder that before we are divided by opinion, we are united by the blessings of life, family, and providence. In this way, the table may once again become not a battlefield, but a place of renewal for both the heart and the nation.