Seneca once said, “Nothing great is ever accomplished suddenly.” This is as true today as it was in the days of Ancient Rome. Most great feats come about gradually, punctuated by qualities of endurance, perseverance, and intentionality. This is especially true for progress in the political sphere.
It is no secret that we live in extremely polarized times. Americans who identify as Republican or Democrat not only distrust those in “the other party,” they also describe them as more close-minded, dishonest, immoral, and unintelligent. It’s no surprise, then, that we tend to believe that we share few of the same values and goals with people who vote differently than us. More striking, and perhaps due to the fact that we have few friends from across the aisle, we have dangerously erroneous perceptions of what “they” think. According to the research group More in Common, across a range of issues, “Democrats and Republicans imagine almost twice as many of their political opponents as reality hold views they consider ‘extreme’”. The categories of good vs. evil and red vs. blue have put millions of people into oversimplified boxes that disregard nuance, gray-area, or the complicated experiences of life.
Even so, there is a sunray of hope that lies underneath these despairing data. Most of us feel some responsibility to reach across differences, and we tend to believe there is something to be learned when we do. Despite living in divisive times, those of us who actively debate and dialogue in politics can attest to something optimistic: When you have a sit-down among people of goodwill, even when they passionately disagree on important issues or come to the table having different political allegiances, conversations can be highly productive and meaningful. /People can cultivate friendships across these lines of difference, and along the way we might even begin to acknowledge that “the other side” has some valid points. Let us illustrate.
Just two weeks ago, I (Brett) was having a conversation with a pro-life advocate. Like me, he’s Catholic, and it was on this common ground in which we started a very human-to-human discussion. Our conversation, by the way, did not start with politics, but it kind of “glided” that way. As it did, abortion issues came up and he was initially taken aback that, as a devout Catholic, I am not staunchly “pro-life.”
As the discussion progressed, I made a point to be heard at natural and helpful intervals, but I also made sure to listen to him. I didn’t get defensive, or point fingers. Instead, after letting him “lead” most of the conversation, I asked him if I could share a story with him.
I told him about an experience I had a number of years ago while serving as a member of the Peace Corps in rural Paraguay alongside a family in dire poverty. I shared this story in a way that humanized it for him. After sharing, I could tell it rocked his current paradigm (worldview) regarding abortion. Unlike most of the examples we see in the media, I didn’t take this observation as an opportunity to pounce in righteousness; I instead decided to give him space to process what he’d just learned and begin to understand my point of view.
After a minute, I asked him a question. “Now, do you really think this issue is always black and white? That this is just clear-cut, good vs. evil?” He sighed, “Of course not. I just can’t advocate for abortion. But, I think what was at hand there was a matter between a dirt poor farmer, his daughter, and God.”
Often, abortion issues are the most delicate and untenable political topic for opponents to discuss, but the result of this discussion was astounding. We had a productive discussion even though neither of us changed our mind; and the only reason this outcome came about is because we both put to practice the old adage of St. Francis of Assisi - seek first to understand, then to be understood.
In my own work, I’ve (Graham) had the opportunity to host and participate in dozens of conversations across political and cultural differences, often with people who walk into the room assuming very little common ground exists. At one event I hosted, Republicans and Democrats began the day discussing among themselves various stereotypes used to describe them. In the debrief, Republicans listed terms like racist, homophobe, and anti-immigrant as most common. Democrats listed items like elitist, unpatriotic, and baby killer. The discussion moved from calculated reflection and careful phrasing to open and honest self-criticism and a growing use of statements like “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone explain it that way before.” There wasn’t necessarily much agreement on key issues. No one left having changed their position on abortion, immigration, or much else. But the tone of the conversation reflected an honest desire to ask questions rather than make declarations. People started referencing each other’s comments, building on them rather than pushing past them.
By the end of the afternoon, participants who had begun the day describing themselves and others in abstract terms were speaking about specific people in the room. Not caricatures, not categories; people. The differences remained, but they were no longer the only thing that defined the interaction.
Both of us have seen versions of these moments we experienced again and again. Not dramatic conversions or tidy resolutions, but small recalibrations. A willingness to stay in the conversation a little longer. A recognition that disagreement does not require dismissal. These are not sweeping victories. They are incremental, often fragile. Yet they are precisely the kind of progress that makes more meaningful engagement possible over time.
Now, as we’ve moved beyond Easter Sunday, inching closer to our 250th Anniversary of American Independence, it’s a remarkably opportune time for us all - Americans, Democrats, Republicans, Christians, and Secularists alike of goodwill - to heed the words of St. Francis of Assisi and sowing effective habits of listening and empathy. It will not solve all of our problems, or reunite the country overnight, but Seneca’s Rome wasn’t exactly built in a day either.
