In our recent vlogging debut, Stefanie and I discussed a topic that continues to emerge as a burning issue in both our lives: How can we find common ground on topics that are controversial? The imperative to discuss this topic has become eminently clear in the wake of the US election, which has quite literally pitted friends and families against each other.

Although I’m Canadian, I spend quite a bit of time in the States, and some of the stories I’ve heard in recent weeks have surprised me. One friend told of a son who stopped talking to a parent because he felt his parent’s vote disrespected his life choices. Another friend told of her difficulty discussing political issues with friends who had voted differently than her—the only way she was able to maintain those friendships was by avoiding all conversation around politics.

Disengaging vs. engaging

I actually relate to the knee-jerk reaction to disengage from people whose opinions threaten us. A few months ago, my husband invited a couple to our house for dinner—someone he knew from work. The guy was born in South America and had travelled extensively. The woman was born in Eastern Europe. They were relatively new to Canada, raising two young girls here.

I noticed early in the conversation that many of this couple’s beliefs made me deeply uncomfortable. I found them stereotyping people from different nations and religions. They expressed what I felt were extreme views on both social and educational issues. I swallowed my discomfort, not wanting to get into a heated debate in my own living room. But then the woman made a comment about sexuality that I found so deeply, personally offensive that I lost it. I can blame the wine I was drinking, or put it down to the strength of my conviction, but let’s call a spade a spade: I shut her down hard. I raised my voice. I got up in her face. I told her unequivocally that she was wrong. Not surprisingly, they left shortly thereafter.

My husband—who is irritatingly reasonable—sat down with me once they were gone. I thought he would be upset by my extreme reaction, but instead he was disappointed (worse, huh?). He said, “You missed an opportunity. These people aren’t enemies. They just come from different places and hold different beliefs. If you had taken the time to explain your feelings and opinions, they would have listened. They may not have changed their minds, but you would have given them an alternative viewpoint that may have helped them eventually see another side of the argument.”

The flip side to that mandates me to listen to their opinions and beliefs. I find it highly unlikely they would have changed my mind, but at least we could have found a middle ground where we were able to maintain mutual respect. My way stopped the conversation. My husband’s way would have kept it going.

Mea culpa

It’s easy to bla bla bla about “being the change we want to see”, but what does that mean in practice? In this case, I think it means accepting culpability for causing half the problem. The “other side”, the people I don’t agree with, are not solely responsible for bringing us to this impasse. I am responsible too. There were instances when I refused to hear. When I shut people down and told them their beliefs weren’t valid. When I smirked about or ridiculed another’s opinion. When I mounted my high-horse and took refuge in being right.

Which implies, of course, that other people are wrong. That there’s only one reasonable way to resolve the extremely complex, interconnected, opposing challenges we encounter as a society. Am I truly so self-righteous that I believe my answer is always the right answer? Because, if so, I’m no better than the people I claim to oppose.

Wouldn’t it better if we stopped turning this into a contest and decided to talk about it like adults? I’m not saying this will solve the world’s problems. Some opinions are so antithetical to our existence as a democratic society that it’s impossible to let them stand. But not every issue has to be so polarized. Even views that we deeply, inherently oppose likely hold some kernels of truth. The only way to discover them is to try our best to listen without judgment, and ask the people we disagree with to afford us the same courtesy.

Do you agree? Or no? There’s no wrong answer. We invite you to join the debate. Comment on this post, share your thoughts on our Facebook page, tweet using #commonground.