In recent years, American politics has grown sharper, louder, and more divided. Social media outrage, partisan media ecosystems, and zero-sum cultural battles have turned public deliberation into a spectacle of antagonism. Falsehoods spread faster than verified information, and citizens increasingly regard those with opposing views not merely as competitors in debate but as threats to the nation. This breakdown poses serious concerns for the sustainability of the republic. Democracy requires disagreement without dehumanization. The challenge is how to reduce rhetoric, restore trust in fact-based dialogue, and rebuild a political culture rooted in decency.

History shows that disagreement does not have to breed hatred. Even fierce adversaries can find common ground. Henry Bergh, founder of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA), and circus proprietor P.T. Barnum once seemed like irreconcilable enemies: Bergh condemned Barnum’s use of animals in his shows, while Barnum bristled at the interference. Yet over time, the two came to respect each other. Barnum adopted reforms, Bergh acknowledged his influence, and their relationship shifted from conflict to friendship. When Bergh died in 1888, Barnum attended his funeral—a gesture that underscored the possibility of dignity even amid deep disagreement. Their story reminds us that principled opposition does not preclude civility.

The path back to a more civil society will not be easy, but it is possible—and history shows it is necessary. Earlier generations endured deep fractures: the Civil War and Reconstruction, the upheavals of the 1960s, the McCarthy era. The nation faltered at times but also recovered through appeals to conscience, pragmatic cooperation, and recognition of shared interests. We face a similar choice today.

Disagreement itself is not a weakness; it is evidence of freedom. But democracy corrodes when disagreement hardens into contempt. By 2022, a Pew Research Center survey found that 72% of Republicans and 63% of Democrats said members of the other party are “immoral” or “dishonest.” This is not mere polarization—it is moral condemnation of fellow citizens. Research in political psychology shows that when opponents are viewed as fundamentally illegitimate, arguments are dismissed, echo chambers grow, and emotion eclipses evidence. Compromise disappears, facts are trumped by loyalty, and winning becomes more important than serving the public.

Leaders play an outsized role in setting the tone. When elected officials respond to critics with measured arguments rather than venom, they establish a healthier standard for public life. Republican Senator Margaret Chase Smith’s 1950 “Declaration of Conscience” against McCarthyism is a worthy example: she resisted her party’s extremism with integrity. Such principled courage is rare today but urgently needed. Real leadership also means placing truth above affiliation. George Washington warned that factional loyalty could eclipse loyalty to the nation. His caution is worth revisiting in an age where words become gospel based on who says them rather than their validity. Upholding democratic values requires rejecting falsehoods even when allies spread them and strengthening institutions such as a free press, transparent government, and civic education.

Structural reforms can also change the incentives of political behavior. Town halls and debates too often become stages for viral soundbites rather than serious dialogue. Reforms like reducing partisan gerrymandering, adopting ranked-choice voting, and promoting open primaries weaken ideological rigidity and create space for coalition-building. While no reform is a cure-all, these measures help shift the focus from grandstanding to problem-solving by encouraging candidates to appeal to a wider range of citizens.

Citizens also carry responsibility for lowering the temperature. Small choices shape the culture: asking questions instead of lashing out, pausing before posting hostile comments, and checking facts before sharing information online. People are more willing to reconsider their views when they feel genuinely heard—a reminder that civility can encourage reflection. Resisting the pull of outrage and hyperbole in favor of substance and solutions can also help repair public discourse.

Information habits matter as well. Most Americans consume news from outlets that reinforce their views, but democracy benefits when people read across ideological lines and verify claims with nonpartisan fact-checkers such as PolitiFact or FactCheck.org. Breaking out of these “information silos” fosters a culture where truth carries more weight than narrative.

Equally important is humanizing those with different perspectives. Dehumanization thrives on distance, while contact fosters empathy. Programs like Braver Angels bring Americans of divergent views into structured dialogue, which helps participants develop a greater understanding of others’ perspectives.

American history offers reminders that division can be overcome. The founding era was anything but harmonious: Federalists and Anti-Federalists clashed over the Constitution, and newspapers of the 1790s routinely published slanderous accusations. Yet institutions like checks and balances, a free press, and regular elections compelled adversaries to coexist and compete peacefully. Importantly, leaders often debated fiercely without rejecting the legitimacy of their opponents.

The 1860s brought the deadliest conflict in American history, yet even amid civil war Abraham Lincoln appealed to “the better angels of our nature.” His Second Inaugural Address urged reconciliation: “With malice toward none, with charity for all.” Reconstruction sought to expand rights and rebuild national unity, though it was cut short by political backlash. Still, it demonstrates that even after civil war, the country attempted renewal.

At the turn of the 20th century, the U.S. faced industrial upheaval, mass immigration, labor conflict, and urban poverty. Political discourse was often divisive, but reformers like Theodore Roosevelt, Ida B. Wells, and Jane Addams worked across class and political lines to enact meaningful change. They used facts, journalism, public service, and coalition-building as tools of reform.

The civil rights movement of the 1950s and 60s showed the moral power of nonviolence. Activists such as Fannie Lou Hamer, who rose from a Mississippi sharecropper’s life to become a national voice for voting rights, faced brutality with remarkable composure. When she testified before Congress in 1964, her trembling voice carried the full weight of the democratic promise: “Is this America, the land of the free and the home of the brave?” Her courage in the face of death threats and pursuit of decency amid racial upheaval reminded the nation that moral authority comes from undeniable truth and principled passion.

After the political trauma of Watergate, Americans might have turned permanently disillusioned. Instead, the response was bipartisan reform: Congress passed transparency laws, curbed executive overreach, and reinforced public trust in government. The press, courts, and legislature fulfilled their constitutional roles without collapsing into chaos. The system held because enough people put country before party.

The United States does not need unanimity; it needs a culture capable of disagreement without violence or hatred. Our lives vary widely. We come from different communities, shaped by distinct histories, religions, schools, geographies, and families. Those experiences give each of us a unique way of seeing the world. We would do well to remember that as we dig in on our positions or dismiss dissenting views. The country faces enormous challenges; hating each other should not be one of them. We cannot always stop others from hating us—but we can refuse to hate them back because hatred solves nothing and does not align with our values. When we hate each other, we are underachieving.

More than seventy years ago, Senator Margaret Chase Smith warned her colleagues against riding the “four horsemen of calumny—fear, ignorance, bigotry, and smear.” Today, steering away from those riders and back toward integrity and truth may be the only way to keep democracy in the saddle. And we can do it without hating those who disagree with us.

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Andrew Kirschner is the founder of Epic Walking Tours in New York City. He leads tours that explore the history of the civil rights, immigration, animal rights, women’s suffrage, labor rights, and LGBTQ+ movements.