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I hate how we talk about politics.

This might come as a surprise, because at least part of my day job involves writing about politics in Kansas. But the exposure has solidified my belief that lawmakers, officials, journalists and the general public all could do a better job of thinking about what they’re doing and why.

Our conversation about politics fails at least in part because it’s inevitably couched in adversarial terms. In one metaphor, Democrats and Republicans are two teams fighting for victories. This leaves less-engaged members of the public as passive spectators and suggests that ideological debate exists only to score points for one side or another. Cue the cheers and pouring of Gatorade.

I hate that.

In another metaphor, the parties and their ideological camps fight a brutal war. This has become the favored interpretation recently, as politicians nursing grudges try to crush their opponents through the machinery of government. During a war, both sides strive for enduring victory, and the ends might justify the means.

I hate that even more.

Each of these metaphors depends on fundamentally distorting the nature of governance. The game metaphor depicts statesmanship as meaningless posturing. The war metaphor insists that half of the country (pick your half) has gone to an irredeemably dark place.

In reality, we elect people to public office to make our state and nation better, representing us while they do so.

We can debate the “better,” and we can debate who that “us” includes, but politics exist to shape government.

For that reason, I think we need a new metaphor, one that doesn’t pit Americans against one another. Perhaps this metaphor could cool temperatures and increase cooperation. Or maybe not. I’m trying to be realistic here.

Regardless, we should work toward thinking of politics as a neighborhood bar. Not an ominous dive, mind you, or a place for students to pick up one another. No, a cozy neighborhood watering hole, the kind of place called a “pub” by our cousins in Britain or “Cheers” by Ted Danson and company.

If you’re not lucky enough to be familiar with such a spot, let me elaborate. It serves as a community gathering spot. It has regulars. The bartenders know the customers and chat, or don’t, as required. You can visit and read a book in the corner or debate philosophy. You can spend a couple of hours there with friends or drop by for 20 minutes. Whatever you like.

Such bars don’t primarily exist to intoxicate customers. Sure, people will have a drink or two, but the business doesn’t depend on customers imbibing to excess. No, the drinks serve as a bit of social lubricant. Folks might just have a soft drink and check up on friends.

What I appreciate about such bars is that any one person’s political leanings make no difference. The customer might be a diehard MAGA supporter or pushy progressive. Regardless, if you insult the bartender or order too many drinks, you’re not welcome. If you’re friendly and get along with others, you have an open invitation to visit. How you behave matters.

Sure, you encounter some loudmouths. You put up with some cranks. But you accept them as part of the scenery.

Our country would be stronger if we engaged in politics the way people visit such bars. A variety of people come together, with mutual respect. Differences can be aired, or not, depending on how we feel. And everyone unites if something needs to be done. In a bar like this, if someone gets sick or has an emergency, everyone springs into action. The bartender calls for assistance. Others will tend to the distressed person. Still others will watch outside for help to arrive.

You don’t see such behavior just in bars, of course.

You can see it in coffee shops or restaurants that the enjoy the patronage of regulars. You can see it in social clubs and certain houses of worship. You can see it at trivia nights and bowling leagues. You can see it among extended families.

In all of these circumstances, we primarily value one another as people — not as politicians or activists, not as Democrats or Republicans, not as liberals or conservatives. We give one another the benefit of the doubt and wish the best for them and their loved ones and families.

Unfortunately, we live in a turbocharged political world. No one benefits from unilateral disarmament, so extremism spirals. Treating government debates as pitched battles leads to extreme rhetoric and destructive actions. Policy-making suffers, and the general public pays the price.

In my job as Kansas Reflector opinion editor and columnist, I work in this context. That means I often write forcefully, passionately. Real people and their families have become entangled in the rhetoric. The consequences appear so grave that no other course makes sense. I can’t be the one man sipping a cocktail while others aim howitzers and launch Hail Marys.

I hope that in years to come we can somehow wrench ourselves away from that narrow, zero-sum approach to politics and toward a community-focused, humanistic approach. Such a change would take everyone deciding to rethink our basic approach toward local, state and federal government.

I wouldn’t hate that.