The solution to our political divide is within each of us
Every day, the news brings fresh reminders of just how divided we are. Violent protests. Political attacks. Horrific headlines, like the murders and attempted murders of lawmakers in Minnesota. Each incident is immediately seized upon as proof of how far gone the other side is — evidence of either creeping authoritarianism or runaway anarchy.
But the greater danger may not be in what’s happening — as horrific as it is — but in how we’re choosing to see it. We no longer interpret events through a shared lens of concern or accountability. Instead, we reflexively use them to confirm the worst beliefs we hold about one another.
Are the protests in Los Angeles a sign of civic unrest or extremist violence? Is President Donald Trump offering law-and-order assistance in California — or is he flexing authoritarian muscle? The answers depend on your politics. But more importantly, they depend on your assumptions.
And right now, we’re assuming the worst. Of each other. Of everything.
In my work as a communications strategist and persuasion expert, I spend much of my time helping leaders connect across deep divides. One of the core principles I teach is something I call active empathy — the practice of not just hearing someone’s beliefs, but truly trying to understand why they hold them. What are they afraid of? What are they protecting? What do they value?
It’s something I believe we desperately need more of in our public discourse.
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Right now, we’re not practicing empathy. We’re practicing judgment — and it’s exhausting us. We’re walking on eggshells with friends and family. We’re fearful of speaking up. We’re watching relationships deteriorate over headlines and hashtags. And we’re losing the ability to see those we disagree with as anything other than threats.
Author Brené Brown offers a provocative idea: "All I know is that my life is better when I assume that people are doing their best. It keeps me out of judgment and lets me focus on what is, and not what should or could be." Imagine what would happen if we applied that idea — not just in our personal lives, but to our politics.
What if we assumed most Trump voters aren’t fascists or racists — but people who want safety, prosperity and opportunity?
What if we assumed most protesters aren’t rioters — but citizens fighting to be seen and heard?
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What if we assumed that disagreement doesn’t mean malice — and that we could hold different truths without dehumanizing one another?
I’m not suggesting we stop holding people accountable. Or that we should abandon our convictions. I’m asking for something more challenging: to extend a little grace. To resist the instinct to flatten others into caricatures. To listen before we judge.
To my friends on the left: not everything Republicans say is an attack on democracy. Many of them are trying to protect what they see as core American values — freedom, family, faith. That doesn’t make them dangerous. It makes them human.
To my friends on the right: not every protest is unlawful. Not every concern about racism or inequality is exaggerated. Many of the people raising those issues have lived through systemic injustices you might not have seen — but they’re real.
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None of us is helped when we see the other side as irredeemable. In fact, that’s what makes the divide wider. What if we stopped looking for enemies and started looking for common ground?
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We are living in a time when fear is louder than trust, and cynicism is more popular than hope. But I believe we can change that — if we start by changing our posture.
Ask yourself: Why do they feel the way they feel? Why do they believe what they believe? Not to agree — but to understand. You may not change your mind. You may not want to. But you might stop being so afraid of one another. You might stop feeling so judged. You might even stop losing friendships over political differences.
We are in danger of forgetting that people are not the worst thing they’ve ever said or believed. That identity is not destiny. That disagreement does not mean destruction.
If we want to live in a less angry, less divided, less fearful country, we have to start assuming the best in each other again — or at the very least, stop assuming the worst.
Because when we do, we can finally stop yelling. Start listening. And maybe, just maybe, begin to heal.