Are you afraid to disagree?

There’s something deeply unsettling about watching people grow farther apart, especially when the issues dividing them seem unbridgeable. You see it at the dinner table, when a conversation that starts with good intentions ends in raised voices, hurt feelings, and everyone retreating into their corners. You feel it in your bones when lifelong friends suddenly find themselves at odds over the latest headline, no longer able to see each other as the people they’ve known and loved, but as representatives of some “other side.”

This is the harm of polarization. It’s not just the disagreements themselves—those are inevitable. It’s the walls we build between us when we lose the ability, or the willingness, to listen. These walls become fortresses, protecting us from having to consider that maybe, just maybe, we don’t have all the answers. And when we refuse to engage with each other, we stop finding common ground, and the consequences are dire.

True collaboration is only possible when there is space for disagreement. Disagreement is actually the solution to tearing down the walls we’ve built so that we only hear echoes. It sounds ironic, doesn’t it? We have to disagree to find new solutions. And yet, we seem unwilling to disagree anymore. We’re afraid to listen to different perspectives, fearing that our minds might change, that our firmly held beliefs might destabilize, shaking the identity we’ve built around a specific belief. But imagine if we were willing to be destabilized. Imagine if we were open to thinking about something differently, not as a threat to our identity, but as an opportunity for growth.

I remember a time not too long ago when conversations—yes, even the hard ones—felt more productive. People didn’t always agree, but there was a shared understanding that collaboration and compromise were essential. Today, it feels like we’ve lost that ability. Now, when we face challenges as a society, from social justice to economic disparity, the first instinct is to retreat into our respective camps, firing off accusations and insults from behind our walls.

What’s at stake here isn’t just a matter of personal relationships, though those certainly suffer too. When we can’t find common ground, we stall as a society. Politics becomes gridlocked, solutions to pressing problems are left unexplored, and we stop moving forward. We become so entrenched in defending our positions that we forget the bigger picture—that we’re all part of the same community, with shared interests and a common future.

Polarization also erodes our trust in one another. How many times have you heard someone say they’ve lost faith in institutions, the media, or even their neighbors? That erosion of trust is a direct consequence of our inability to find common ground. When we view people as "others" or assume they are inherently wrong because they hold different beliefs, we shut down any possibility of collaboration. And without collaboration, we’re stuck—unable to tackle the big challenges because we’re too busy defending our walls.

But here’s the thing: it doesn’t have to be this way. I believe, deep down, that we still have the capacity for dialogue. I’ve seen it in small moments—when two people who disagree are brave enough to listen to one another and find shared values beneath the surface of their disagreements. It takes courage to break down those walls, to admit that we don’t know everything and that others’ perspectives are worth hearing. But in those moments, real change can happen.

Finding common ground isn’t about giving up what you believe in or compromising your values. It’s about recognizing that there’s more that unites us than divides us. It’s about being willing to listen, to question our assumptions, and to work together toward solutions that serve the greater good. When we make that effort, we don’t just move forward on specific issues—we rebuild trust, strengthen communities, and create a path toward a more connected, compassionate world.

So, when we talk about the harm of polarization, it’s not just a theoretical problem. It’s a real, tangible force that’s tearing at the fabric of our society. But it’s not too late to change course. If we can find ways to engage in meaningful dialogue, to listen more than we speak, and to prioritize connection over division, we can start to heal. And that healing starts with each of us, one conversation at a time.