If you really believe that “Mexicans are rapists and murderers,” all devout Muslims spend their lives plotting against America and planning international terrorism, the only good “injun” is a dead one, “I’m from the government, and I’m here to help,” or that Eagle Scouts are always prepared to walk an old lady across the intersection, faithfully adhering to their oath to “do a good turn daily,” you may have to reconsider your reasoning. Both the generous, favorable generalizations and the patently unfair indictments of various groups of people are a dangerous practice.

The smiling, fresh-scrubbed Boy Scout may throw you to the asphalt and snatch your purse; Abdul and his two wives may turn out to be the best neighbors you’ve ever had; your Native American neighbor may be the only one to take the time to bring your wife a meal after her surgery; the government may grind you up and spit you out; and you can be assured that Mexicans—based on my own experience—are some of the greatest people you’ve ever known.

Should we call them “generalizations” or “reliable general truths?” These examples are just the tip of the iceberg for one of mankind’s biggest problems. It’s human nature to simplify—and over-simplify—our manner of discernment for trusting others.

Human beings seem to need to categorize—to find convenient, simple, obvious, non-specific labels that describe whether others are good, bad, benign or dangerous. The application of labels simplifies our assessments of others, making it unnecessary to look at the individual. The assumption seems to be that the label is all we need to know.

Unlike the packaging on food and drug products, no actual assay is required. If people were compelled to list their ingredients on their labels, we’d likely be seeing a very different picture of who they really are.

Here in Utah, much of the population has done it for years—finding some sort of secure comfort in both prominent and subtle labels. Luckily, the local “only true religion” made it so easy to identify who was worthy of trust and who was worthy of suspicion. Labels made it oh, so easy to do a silent judgment of others: Don’t look just now, but he’s having a drink; ahem, there’s a steaming black liquid in his cup; I saw his Zippo as he was looking for his change; I can see his “temple garment lines” under his neatly pressed slacks, so he’s one of the good guys.

Gosh, that made it easy. Any consummate Mormon could figure it out immediately—who was a good human being and who would likely cheat you in some scam.

Of course, Utahns aren’t the only ones. Much of mankind makes the mistake of judging books by their covers. Even someone’s outward appearance is a kind of label. Beauty suggests that the interior of a person is good, an innocuous pair of bifocal glasses are the dead giveaway for a high IQ, but a roguish face reliably implies that the person has lower moral and ethical standards.

And that brings me to the current, perplexing matter of our voting choices.

Just like in the old western series, we should be asking, “Who was that masked-man?” It’s impossible to tell from the flashy white stallion he’s riding, whether he actually is the Lone Ranger, committed to truth and justice, or just another desperado ready to drill you with six .45-caliber slugs.

Democrat, Republican, Conservative, Liberal, Progressive, Right, Left. These are some of the labels the American voter must learn to ignore if there’s going to be any chance of actually voting for the substance of a candidate. I think it’s safe to say that the majority of our political candidates are no more identifiable than the spooks and goblins who will be knocking on your door this Halloween. The challenging part is that these people wear their costumes and disguises all year round, and it can take some digging to figure things out—if that’s even possible.

While it may be helpful to go to multiple purveyors of “truth,” the broader view is no assurance that we’ll get it right. Sadly, we already know that mis- and disinformation are already running rampant, and that AI will inevitably make it even more difficult to verify what we’re seeing and hearing.

Let’s face it: There’s nothing transparent about politicians, and the labels and platitudes that come from their mouths have little to do with their core beliefs and commitments.

A recent AP poll asked Americans if they considered Trump and Harris to be “Christian,” and to what degree. Though most of those polled acknowledged Trump’s love of the lie, both candidates reaped pretty marginal scores on the assessment of being “Christian.”

Harris, as we know, came from a relatively religious upbringing. Trump, it seems, pretty much gave up on religion because it caused him such a nagging discomfort.

But the results of the poll are the least of my concerns. What worries, perplexes and astounds me is that the designers of that survey seem to believe that the label “Christian,” is somehow synonymous with moral, ethical and good, which is a terrible affront to all the other groups of people who consider themselves to be among the righteous.

We should all consider the truth—that no religion, culture, group or party is morally and ethically superior. At the core, Christians, Muslims, Jews, Hindus and even Rastafarians all maintain similar rules for the living of good lives.

Just remember, this Halloween—only a week before our presidential election—that we live in a world of labels and masks. It’s our job, as Americans, to try our best to ferret out the truth from beneath the disguises.

Our nation depends, for its survival, on an intelligent, informed, responsible vote from every eligible voter.

The author is a retired businessman, novelist, columnist and former Vietnam-era Army assistant public information officer. He resides in Riverton with his wife, Carol, and their adorable and ferocious dog “Poppy.”