Bringing the poles together
The extending polarization
I understand why so many people dislike debates. They often feel endless, never reaching a conclusion—if anything, people leave even more certain of how wrong the other side is and how right they themselves are. It's rare to hear someone pause and say: “Wait… maybe you're onto something.” It's almost as if there's an unspoken rule: you must never agree.
On its own, I think that's deeply problematic. It's like yin and yang, but with half the circle missing. I'll come back to this later.
What seems clear is that no matter the topic, the world is growing more polarized. It's getting harder to have conversations where we connect across differences, solve problems together, or explore meaningful perspectives. More and more, people cling tightly to their own version of truth, unable—or unwilling—to meet others on equal ground.
I don't mean to exaggerate, and of course not everyone acts this way, but the tendency is growing. In times of uncertainty, misinformation, war, and economic instability, it can feel safer to doubt everyone you don't already know well.
Polarization has a strange kind of comfort. It gives us a clear sense of who we are and who we are not. It creates “us” and “them,” a simple story to hold onto when the world feels uncertain. The “others”—with worldviews that don't match—end up being dehumanized by shame, isolation, or harsh labels: cultist, Nazi, crazy, mentally ill, childish, dumb, evil. Anything that might take away the reason to listen.
But that clarity comes at a cost. Whatever the reason, polarization is happening—and it's tearing at our ability to connect. That is a big problem if we want to build a safe and just world.
Polarization doesn't just damage conversations—it damages lives. Families are torn apart. Communities split. Trust in democratic spaces crumbles. And while we argue endlessly about who is right, the real problems—climate breakdown, injustice, inequality—go unsolved. Every wall we build between us is time stolen from the urgent work we share.
So, a core philosophy is this: we must melt these poles. There are only two poles worth protecting (pun intended).
From Hardline to Heartline — and The power of vulnerability
The Heartline rests on a simple shift:
From closed and distant → to open and connected.
Whether we agree or not, we are all human. We all share this planet.
If we isolate ourselves and refuse to talk together, there will be no solutions, no future.
—Not for any of us.
Connection doesn't come from being the sharpest debater. It comes from daring to be vulnerable. To say, “I don't know everything.” To admit doubts, fears, or hopes. Vulnerability opens a door where certainty shuts one. When we show we're willing to listen and to share ourselves honestly, we create space where real dialogue can grow.
Back to yin and yang.
What is the other half of the debate? A debate is, in short, two sides arguing for their own point of view. So what’s the opposite? I don’t have a neat term for it yet, but it looks something like this:
A setting where, instead of fighting for our own perspective, both people seek to understand the other’s idea, belief, history, and humanity. Where we remember that the person in front of us exists just as validly as we do, they too are human, and deserve to be treated with dignity.
We need a setting where we show that we care enough to listen to why they think as they do.
If no one shows interest in understanding others, why would others care to understand them?
Debates can be good at challenging points of view, but without the will to truly understand, we can’t connect or move forward. Instead, we just drift further into polarization.
Practicing Connection
Debates can sharpen arguments, but without understanding, they harden walls. True progress only comes when we also practice curiosity.
This is something anyone can practice. Find someone you disagree with and ask about them. Not to judge, fight, argue, or expose flaws—but to discover who they are and why you see things differently.
Showing this interest doesn’t mean agreeing. It means recognizing another human being. And you might just find you have far more in common than it first appeared.
At the end of the day, I believe most people want the same things: safety, love, connection, fairness, stability, justice.
So next time you meet someone you disagree with—without having to agree—try to see who they are.
Core example
For this topic, in a newspaper I read in the morning, I found a great example of two people on opposite sites who sat together and for a time laid down their arms to try and understand rather than debate.
It was an ultra feminist and a - I guess you can call it - anti-feminist. At first they were shown a photo of the other and instantly felt confirmed in their perceptions of who the other was.
“That’s exactly how I picture they look”
The thing is that as they sat down and talked, showed curiosity and willingness to understand the other, they soon learned they had much more in common than what they thought - something they told after the interview. They also expressed that now they also understood exactly where they definitely disagreed. Still, they expressed that they learned a lot, and felt less judgemental toward the other and at the core there was just a human being behind all the words.