Every day brings reminders of our divisions. We see violent protests, political confrontations, and alarming news, like murder attempts among Minnesota lawmakers. Each incident becomes another piece of evidence, confirming fears of either strict authoritarianism or chaotic disorder.
The real issue might be less about the events themselves and more about our interpretations. We no longer view what’s happening through a shared lens of concern and accountability. Instead, we seem to reflexively use these occurrences to validate our worst suspicions about each other.
Take the protests in Los Angeles. Are they signs of civil unrest or just extremist violence? Is President Trump aiming to ensure law and order in California, or is he flexing authoritarian control? Your political stance shapes your answer, but perhaps even more crucially, it depends on your underlying assumptions.
Recently, there’s been discussion about whether political violence stems from the feeling that people’s needs are ignored or if it’s simply part of life.
There’s a growing tendency to assume the worst in one another.
As a communication strategist, I often help leaders bridge deep divides. One principle I promote is proactive empathy—a practice of genuinely understanding others’ beliefs and the fears and values behind them.
Now, more than ever, we seem to need this in public discourse.
The narrative around the anti-ICE protests raises questions about whether we’ve learned anything. People are increasingly judging rather than empathizing, which is exhausting. We’re cautious around friends and family, hesitant to express opinions. Headlines and trends seem to worsen relationships, making it difficult to see dissenters as anything other than threats.
Brené Brown offers a powerful perspective: “When we assume people are doing their best, my life gets better. It shifts focus away from judgment.” If we embraced this mindset, the impact could reach far beyond personal relationships and touch the realm of politics too.
What if we assumed most Trump supporters aren’t hateful? What if many protesters are just expressing genuine concerns?
What if we recognized that differing opinions don’t equal malicious intent? We can hold contrasting truths without dehumanizing one another.
I’m not suggesting we abandon accountability or core beliefs. Rather, I advocate for a challenge: let’s apply grace. Resist the urge to simplify others into caricatures. Prioritize listening before jumping to conclusions.
To friends on the left: not every Republican action undermines democracy. Many are trying to uphold what they see as essential values.
To those on the right: not every protest is unlawful, nor are concerns about racism invalid. Many raising these issues have experienced serious injustices.
When we consider the other side irredeemable, it widens the rift between us. What could happen if we sought common ground instead of enemies?
We live in an era where fear often outweighs trust, and irony seems to prevail over hope. However, a shift in attitude could spark change.
Ask yourself: what leads others to feel their way? Even if you don’t agree, understanding can reduce fear. It might even help maintain friendships that political differences threaten.
We risk forgetting that extreme views aren’t the worst thing, and that identity doesn’t equal destiny. Inconsistency doesn’t always lead to destruction.
If we want to foster a less angry, divided, and fearful country, we must start by assuming the best in one another. When we do, we can silence the shouting and truly begin to listen. And maybe, just maybe, healing can start.
