In the current political climate in the United States, when large majorities of Americans are exhausted by the divisiveness, terrified about political violence and threats to our democracy, and worried that our best days are behind us, the idea of “bridging differences” could seem foolish, impossible, or even dangerous. How can we even begin to find common ground with “the other side” when we seem to occupy two different realities, based on two different—and competing—sets of facts? Why should we even give any daylight to viewpoints that seem to be completely at odds with our most cherished values? Doesn’t even entertaining ideas that we see as hateful, outlandish, or demeaning give them weight and legitimacy?
I completely understand those concerns and recognize that it can be tempting to write off those with whom we disagree. On many days, I am tempted to do the same. Yet I firmly believe that now, perhaps more than ever, is the time when we need to build stronger connections across lines of difference in this country. And I believe it’s possible.
My optimism comes from more than a decade of work bringing together people on opposite sides of contentious issues: college students from liberal and conservative campuses; progressive leaders heading to Israel and the Palestinian Territories; formerly incarcerated criminal justice reform leaders and union leaders representing correctional officers; Trump and Harris supporters leading up to the 2024 election; and many others. Time and again, the people I engage with come away with a deeper understanding of one another, less hostility, and a greater likelihood of finding solutions to shared challenges—or at least of preventing their disagreements from spiraling into further rupture or even violence—without abandoning their values or beliefs. How does this happen?
My approach rests on four main principles—the four components of what I call The Invitation. When I invite people into dialogue, I do it with these four basic terms:
- My intention is to take seriously the things that others hold dear. If it matters to you, then it will matter to me;
- I am not here to convince anyone they are wrong or to try to change them. I am curious why people think the way they do;
- Rather than thinking I am diminished by listening carefully to ideas I might disagree with, I trust that I am enhanced by listening to them; and
- I believe there is more common ground and experience than I anticipate. And when there is not, I can fundamentally disagree with someone and still respect–even love–them.
While many of the stories shared in this piece come from the realm of organized “courageous conversations” that I facilitate as well as public programs I host, my experience is that as the toxic rhetoric increases and polarization drives us further and further into our camps, some of the most powerful rewards of practicing this invitation start personally and build out from there. From the dinner table to the classroom then on to our congregations and our workplaces and eventually into our local and even national politics, if we think differently about how we relate to those we disagree with, we can begin to transform not only our immediate relationships but also our broader culture.
This way of engaging is not going to solve all the challenges we face in our country. Conversations alone are not enough to reduce extreme polarization and partisan conflicts. We are in a very difficult time. I too would like to see greater economic opportunity, greater worker ownership, a primary system that doesn’t play to the extreme voices and an election system that incentivizes collaboration. I long for social media platforms that reward nuance rather than outrage and a rededication to national community service that would knit future generations together.
Those structural solutions to the crisis we have created seem like a far off fantasy today. And, I believe that we first need cultural shifts in how we see and talk to one another. That can start with how each of us relates to that uncle who voted differently, that colleague who posted something on Slack that rubbed us the wrong way, or a fellow congregant who spoke disparagingly about a point of view that we hold. If we weave these four principles into our everyday conversations, we can promote cultural shifts that build the foundation for broader movements for change.
1. Take seriously what matters to others
My intention is to take seriously the things that others hold dear. If it matters to you, then it will matter to me.
It’s tempting to overlook this step, but it’s crucial. If you share something important to you and I dismiss it—rushing to refute it or shift focus to my own priorities—why would you be interested in hearing from me? Taking your concerns seriously doesn’t mean agreeing; it means recognizing their importance to you. This is a key point that is often overlooked. If I can convey to you, honestly, that I hear the value, for you, of what you are saying and because of that I will pay attention to it, that earns trust.
This principle often arises in my work with Evangelical Christians. As a Jew, Jesus is not central to my life or theology, but for my Evangelical friends, he is the Christ—and nothing is more important. If I were to dismiss their discussions of their relationship with Jesus, it would quickly undermine our trust. Listening attentively and valuing their perspective, even if it isn’t mine, fosters trust, respect, and understanding. In turn, this openness encourages them to honor and acknowledge my deeply held beliefs.
Later, down the road, we can unpack our differences and be direct with each other about the tensions we might have, based on these deep differences, but that will go much better if we have acknowledged those things that we each hold dear.
2. Cultivate curiosity over convincing
I am not here to convince anyone they are wrong or to try to change them; I am curious why people think the way they do.
Initially, many of us who are committed to pushing back against the current political crisis might find this approach challenging. For those focused on changing hearts, minds, and behaviors to address perceived injustices, it can seem counterproductive to commit to conversations without the goal of at least pursuing change. I tried leading with persuasion for many years and learned that, instead, exhausting my capacity to understand others transforms the conversation’s potential.
When I enter a conversation with the sole aim to convince, discussions often become narrow and rigid. Approaching a conversation with curiosity instead opens space for it to evolve. Letting go of the belief that success requires winning someone over broadens possibilities. Adopting a posture of authentic openness—acknowledging my own blind spots and willingness to be changed—significantly shifts the conversation’s energy.
I’ve witnessed this repeatedly in my work with corrections officers. Those working in prisons and jails often feel so under siege that exploring new possibilities can seem impossible. However, when I invest time listening, show genuine curiosity about their experiences, and avoid pushing my own views about the terrible flaws in the system, I find that they don’t just open up to new ideas but also have plenty of them. If I focus on persuading a corrections officer about the need for more programming for people who are incarcerated, I’m likely to encounter arguments about staffing shortages and safety concerns.
But if I approach the conversation with sincere interest in understanding their work, the risks they face, their analysis of the problems and their definition of success, the tone shifts. They often share moments when they felt supported, safe, and able to help an incarcerated person transform their life. They actually long for those moments as well. Being truly curious about their challenges creates space for meaningful dialogue and the potential for new solutions.
I’ve seen a similar dynamic unfold in the wake of the 2024 election and the beginning of Trump’s second presidency. Many liberals find it hard to see common ground with those who support Trump, and when they talk with a Trump voter, are often quick to detail all of the crimes that they see the administration perpetrating.
But just as I’ve learned in other challenging conversations, curiosity goes further than trying to convince. If you approach this moment determined to change minds, you’re likely to meet, or even deepen, resistance. What’s important is to stay present with the specific individual who is in front of you. Remain curious about how this person came to this position and avoid lumping all Trump voters with all MAGA enthusiasts and with President Trump himself. This flattening of 75 million Americans into one narrow identity does them a disservice.
If you take time to understand the fears, frustrations, and hopes that influenced people’s votes, the conversation can expand. In that expanded conversation there is at least the possibility of getting beneath the headlines, understanding the deeper motivations and the underlying worldview that leads to their positions.
If nothing else, from there you are better positioned to engage meaningfully about the things that matter rather than exchange jabs over headlines based on a caricatured understanding of the other person. Maybe you will learn something that surprises you or maybe you will just be better equipped for more effective persuasion the next time around. Maybe they will surprise you and the very places where you thought the deepest divisions would show up are actually places with more common ground than expected.
3. Be enhanced by disagreeable ideas
Rather than thinking I am diminished by listening carefully to ideas I might disagree with, I trust that I am enhanced by listening to them.
A common perspective today views exposure to opposing opinions as harmful. Some people argue that allowing the expression of differing views can amount to platforming hateful ideas or threatening deeply held values. As a result, organizations—from college campuses to radio shows—often refrain from featuring unpopular perspectives, for fear of criticism, protests, or other social consequences. However, as research by Cass Sunstein and others has found, these kinds of ideological echo chambers exacerbate polarization: When groups wall themselves off from opposing views, their own beliefs tend to grow more extreme.
In this third element of The Invitation, I advocate a different approach to ideas that we find disagreeable, uncomfortable, or even insulting. Rather than viewing these ideas as threats to be shut down, we can see them as valuable sources of information. While some may fear that exposure to opposing ideas will spread them further, and do greater harm, my experience suggests the opposite in two important ways.
First, when the mean, inaccurate, or even hateful thing gets said, if I give it space, it often doesn’t gain momentum but rather peters out, reveals the cracks in its own internal logic, or leads to a qualification or seed of doubt shared by the very person who said it. That is not the case when I try to land a quick counter punch or turn away from the person.
Second, counter intuitive as it may be, engaging with deeply divergent ideas often clarifies and sharpens our own beliefs. It can help to refine our own thinking and allow us to explore our blind spots. While we may not always become more receptive to those with whom we disagree, at least we will know accurately where we, and they, stand.
Recently I met a colleague in the West Bank who over the course of a conversation said something about how “Jews here are a cancer in the West Bank.” Though painful and unsettling to hear in a living room in Ramallah, I still felt a strong sense of intrigue as her blunt perspective washed over me. It was raw and real and I felt my senses light up. But, more important than how I felt, this is her true viewpoint—one that is indeed quite widespread—so it is something we must engage with if we are to find security and peace in the region.
Some would say that I should have written her off. And with her, anyone else who feels that way.
But, I felt that I must meet her where she is, using this invitation to engage and then, based on some level of relationship, try to move forward constructively. Some would ask “why?” Can’t we just turn away from those who might say dehumanizing things or take what we believe to be extreme positions? What comes to mind is the line, “You don’t make peace with your friends, you make it with your enemies.” That starts with meeting them where they are; not where you wish they were. As I followed up with her, reflecting back what I heard and commenting on how it sounds like Nazi rhetoric to me, she opened up. Explaining how she didn’t mean to express hatred, but rather her feeling that the land is disappearing before her eyes. No, this did not entirely heal the wound I felt. And she and I do not see eye to eye on even what to call this land.
Still, one of the biggest questions facing us all isn’t just where can we find common ground, but how do we live together when our differences may indeed be irreconcilable. In this time of extreme partisanship, when it feels that the very foundations of our democracy are under attack, it can seem almost ludicrous that listening to ideas that seem antithetical to one’s values may be good or healthy. But it may well be that this apparently irrational move is the only way to find a path to lasting solutions, enter into constructive relationships with those where we have the deepest disagreements, and turn the tide away from hate and division.
The immortal words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. point us in this direction: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” And, in my experience of working very hard over the years to convince people to see things my way or to confront their blind spots, it was when I slowed down, listened more, and opened up that those I disagreed with actually became more open to examining their own blind spots, revealing nuance, and shifting their ground.
4. Love your neighbor
I believe there is more common ground and experience than I anticipate. And, when there is not, I can fundamentally disagree with someone and still respect—even love—them.
My approach to this work and The Invitation is not about seeking watered-down compromises or some vague kumbaya middle ground, but rather about managing deeply held, fundamental disagreements. While I am, of course, a fan of bipartisanship focusing on collaboration where we can find agreement, this invitation centers more on pluralism—the way we live together with our deep divides. In this fourth element, we are hopeful that we will find more common ground and agreement than expected. Research on moral foundations theory shows that people across ideological divides often share core values—such as care, fairness, and loyalty—but prioritize them differently. Recognizing these shared values can foster respect and rapport, even in the midst of disagreement.
Still there will be times when we have no common ground or shared experience and face fundamental disagreements. For example, my friend Elizabeth is Evangelical and believes I will not have eternal life because I have not accepted Jesus Christ as my lord and savior. My colleague Danielle believes we need to strongly defend the second amendment to keep our communities safe. My friend Lori works faithfully as an ultrasound technician in the pro-life movement.
In each case we have deep disagreements. The popular wisdom today is to walk away from these people, call them out, or cancel them. But I am of a different mindset. In these cases, I have actually learned from them and I believe they have from me as well. Our positions on the issues that divide us have not transformed, but our relationships have. By going further than simply respecting or tolerating those differing views, by committing to love those people, we rebuild our capacity to live together, lean into our differences, solve problems, and ultimately, change the culture.
I know this can be hard to imagine as it appears to many that the foundations of American democracy are being washed out to sea. But often, those who voted for and support these changes are not haters seeking our country’s destruction. Renowned civil rights attorney Bryan Stevenson often says: “Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done” as he advocates for the humanity of those on death row. He challenges us to see one another not through the lens of our mistakes or disagreements, but through our shared humanity. Too often, we reduce people to a single belief, political stance, or moral conviction, allowing those differences to define the entire relationship. If we can remember that those convicted of murder are more than that heinous act, then can’t we conjure up the belief that those who vote differently than we do, who advocate for different policies, and who understand right and wrong differently are also more than what we view as their worst political deed?
This can serve as a reminder that each of us is a work in progress, not a static fixed figure. We are not each a voting block, but an individual. Given different inputs, experiences, and exposure, our positions and attitudes shift along with our hopes, fears, and dreams. This invitation asks us to have a little more faith in each other and trust that we can each do our part to still bring out the best in each other and together turn our country around.
In an age of polarization, it can feel naive to believe that listening, curiosity, and love can make a difference. But science tells us otherwise. Active listening builds trust. Curiosity reduces defensiveness. Exposure to diverse ideas counters confirmation bias. And there is nothing more powerful than love when it comes to stamping out hate, even amid intractable disagreement.
These principles are not just aspirational; they are practical tools rooted in decades of psychological and social science research. If we embrace them, now more than ever, we can begin to heal divides, build bridges, and create spaces where all people feel seen, heard, and valued. We can make sure that America lives up to its promise.
Techniques for practicing the invitation
Practice taking seriously what matters to others: A practical technique I call “The Footprint” draws people into sharing more deeply and revealing a bit more. Rooted in active listening, this approach can foster trust and reduce defensiveness. The technique is straightforward but challenging to master: The listener reflects only the speaker’s exact words without adding opinions or trying to steer the conversation. For example, recently I asked an Evangelical leader in higher education, “Are you a Christian nationalist?” He answered quickly, “I couldn’t be.” While I felt a tug to push him about the rising tide of Christian nationalism in our country, I caught myself and simply said, “You couldn’t be.” He carried on, “I am a Chistian and I am a proud patriot. But, my loyalty could never be to a single nation or anything else of this earth. I am ultimately loyal to Jesus Christ.” This is not what I expected. I hadn’t heard this point of view before. By staying true to the speaker’s words, I conveyed curiosity, attentiveness, and non-judgment—avoiding steering the conversation. He went in a direction I hadn’t expected and the learning grew from there.
Practice curiosity over convincing: A simple way to practice this second element of the invitation is by asking open-ended questions—those that cannot be answered with a simple “yes” or “no.” These questions encourage the speaker to delve deeper and share more, rather than feeling defensive. Examples include: “What was that like for you?” “Can you tell me more about that?” “What would an example of that be?” “To what extent do you…?” “In what ways might you?” and “How did you come to see…?” These questions invite the speaker to move beyond their standard answers or headlines, to share something deeper. Curiosity can generate openness to nuance where there may have been none initially. Research by political scientists David Broockman and Joshua Kalla suggests that open-ended questions foster connection, reduce polarization, and create space for nuance.
Practice strong back, soft front: Stay rooted in your beliefs while remaining open-hearted. Imagine standing tall with a “strong back,” firm in your values, while maintaining a “soft front”—a posture of curiosity and compassion. In your next challenging conversation, pause and breathe. Ask yourself: “Can I hold my ground while staying open to this person’s experience? If I know where I stand, then maybe I can be a little less rigid, a little less defensive. Maybe I don’t have to be so quick to throw my jab because I can rest assured in my values and remain curious.”
Practice loving your neighbor: When speaking with those interested in exploring bridge-building, I often ask them to recall a recent time when they learned something from a conversation with someone whose views differ greatly from their own. If they can’t recall such an example, I encourage them to seek out these opportunities—within their families, workplaces, congregations, or neighborhoods—and invest time in listening as a place to start. The 16th-century Persian poet Hafiz wrote, “How do I listen to others? As if everyone were my most revered teacher speaking to me their cherished last words.” By committing to spend time with those who see things differently and practicing this kind of deep listening even when it is really hard, we can begin to make meaningful progress toward solving the problems we face together.
Source: Four Steps for Inviting People to Discover Common Ground