SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
empathy
Beyond Division: Choosing Compassion Without Losing Accountability
Compassionate dialogue is a framework that allows us to hold and navigate varied viewpoints without a communications breakdown.
Oct 05, 2025
How do we hold compassion for human loss while also confronting the harm of the beliefs they carried into the world? This tension came into sharp focus in the aftermath of the shooting of conservative commentator Charlie Kirk. Social media quickly split between mourning and condemnation. Some offered condolences to his friends and family, while others condemned his legacy and criticized his supporters.
The clash revealed a deeper duality that many now feel: Grief for a human life lost alongside clarity about the damaging impact of certain viewpoints. If you find yourself torn between mourning a life and rejecting a legacy of harm, you are not alone. This is the conflict of our moment: how to honor our shared humanity without excusing the consequences of speech that undermines it.
The tension is understandable. We can hold compassion for a person who is harmed because of their viewpoints, while at the same time making clear that harmful speech cannot be dismissed as just another opinion. Violence is never the answer, but neither can we ignore the ways speech shapes lives and communities. Respect cannot coexist with speech that dehumanizes. Balancing compassion for human loss with accountability for words that dehumanize is the only way both truths can coexist—and the only way society can survive.
The path forward requires more than moral outrage; it demands frameworks for engagement. Compassionate engagement, the process of creating the conditions for compassion and accountability to exist side by side—offers one way to navigate this difficult terrain.
By starting with listening rather than persuasion, Sanders revealed that people who appear divided by ideology actually share common desires for dignity and opportunity.
Compassion is not absolution. To mourn a life is not to excuse the harm that that life’s words or actions set in motion. Compassion marks a refusal to celebrate violence, even as we continue to confront and resist the ideologies that wound communities. Accountability can—and must—stand alongside compassion.
For example, some argue that Kirk was respectful in person and that he simply had a viewpoint. Others note that he could be dismissive, using selective or misleading “facts” as counter-arguments and engaging in rhetoric that cast entire communities as less than fully human.
Compassionate dialogue can help build community across these different perspectives. It is a framework that allows us to hold and navigate varied viewpoints without a communications breakdown. Compassionate dialogue is not about agreement; it is about a way of engaging that opens conversations rather than shutting them down.
Compassionate dialogue begins with three practices: listening before responding, asking questions that invite reflection, and resisting the impulse to reduce others to their most polarizing positions. It asks us to slow down enough to see the person behind the viewpoint, even when we disagree. These practices don’t erase disagreement, but they keep it from collapsing into contempt.
Research backs up what compassionate dialogue shows in practice. Studies of intergroup contact consistently find that when people are brought together across differences in structured ways, trust grows and prejudice decreases. Evaluations of dialogue programs also show that approaches built on storytelling, perspective-taking, and listening can reduce polarization. Even large-scale studies of everyday conversations suggest that when people take turns fairly and truly listen, they come away feeling more connected. The lesson is clear: Dialogue done with care doesn’t erase disagreement, but it can soften division and build enough trust to imagine solutions together.
I have seen this in practice during dialogue sessions at the Yale School of Public Health. Participants who had built trust within their groups were able to express divergent perspectives openly and, at times, discover solutions by grounding themselves in shared values rather than clinging to distinct viewpoints. This approach allowed everyone to remain anchored in a “both-and” lens that centered their shared human experience.
There are glimpses of what this middle can look like. On a trip to West Virginia, Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) spoke with Trump voters. Instead of beginning with a scripted pitch about his political agenda, he asked attendees to share their own perspectives on healthcare in their county. By starting with listening rather than persuasion, he opened a conversation that revealed shared concerns about dignity, affordability, and the future.
His question demonstrated a possible approach to cut past party divisions, inviting people to reflect on their lived experiences—what it feels like to try to afford healthcare, pay bills, or build a stable future. By starting with listening rather than persuasion, Sanders revealed that people who appear divided by ideology actually share common desires for dignity and opportunity.
This approach mirrors what compassionate dialogue calls us to practice: leading with questions, grounding in humanity, and finding connection without erasing difference.
Compassion and accountability are not soft ideals, but obligations born of relationship. Coexistence depends on meeting in the middle, where shared humanity becomes our compass. We can choose compassion without losing accountability and build a society that refuses to let either stand alone.
Keep ReadingShow Less
In Defense of True Dialogue: Why Charlie Kirk's Methods Should Not Be Our Model
In our collective shock at yet another shooting, we must not make a critical error: conflating condemnation of political violence with endorsement of Kirk's approach to political engagement.
Sep 22, 2025
On the same day Charlie Kirk was killed, there was yet another school shooting in Colorado in which two young people were critically injured. Two weeks before, there was a mass shooting at a Catholic church in Minnesota where two children were killed and 21 other people were injured. Yet Kirk's murder is the only instance of gun violence over this period that has been treated as a national tragedy deserving of prolonged mourning and wall-to-wall media coverage. US President Donald Trump refused to allow flags to fly at half-mast on his inauguration to honor Jimmy Carter but demanded that on September 11, the anniversary of the attack on New York City, flags be lowered for Charlie Kirk.
Political violence is never acceptable, and as researcher Erika Chenoweth has demonstrated, it is not an effective way to enact social change. While Kirk's death represents a dangerous escalation in our national discourse that further threatens our fragile democratic foundations, how we talk about it will determine whether we move toward our shared humanity or whether we reinforce the dehumanizing context that Kirk himself, along with Trump, contributed to creating.
In our collective shock at yet another shooting, we must not make a critical error: conflating condemnation of political violence with endorsement of Kirk's approach to political engagement. As voices across the political spectrum, including that of Ezra Klein, have rushed to characterize Kirk as someone who was "practicing politics in exactly the right way," we risk elevating a model of engagement that was antithetical to the kind of meaningful dialogue our democracy desperately needs right now.
As an educator who has spent years understanding and facilitating genuine political dialogue, I feel compelled to speak up. We stand at a crossroads where our response to this moment will shape how we understand political engagement going forward. We can choose to learn from this moment—to honestly name political polarization as an urgent crisis requiring our collective attention, and to truthfully acknowledge how Trump, his MAGA movement, and weaponized social media have directly fueled this polarization. Or we can miss this crucial opportunity for thoughtful national reflection and make the devastating mistake of holding up Kirk's methods as an example to follow.
What Real Dialogue Looks Like
Extensive research in psychology has given us clear insights into what constitutes meaningful political dialogue. Patricia Gurin, Biren Nagda, and Ximena Zúñiga's groundbreaking work on intergroup dialogue shows that structured conversations across differences can foster insight into others' worldviews, increase empathy, and motivate collaborative action toward equity and justice.
In my classroom, if someone acted the way Kirk did with students, I would feel obligated to redirect the conversation back to our class agreements about respectful dialogue,
Dr. Tania Israel, whose research forms the foundation for meaningful cross-political conversation, emphasizes that true dialogue requires active listening, "listening to understand instead of listening to respond." It involves creating space for elaboration through open-ended questions, demonstrating genuine curiosity about different perspectives, and building the kind of connection that allows people to share their stories and values authentically.
This is not what Kirk practiced. What Kirk did on college campuses was not dialogue, it was performance art designed for viral content and ideological point scoring. His social media accounts documented a consistent pattern of cruel, confrontational bullying that prioritized entertainment value over genuine understanding.
The Kirk Model: Bullying as Entertainment, Not Engagement
An examination of Kirk's campus appearances reveals a pattern that consistently violated the basic principles of respectful dialogue. Faculty members who witnessed his events noted that Kirk routinely interrupted students, mocked young people for entertainment value, and engaged in what can only be described as organized bullying. His "prove me wrong" format was designed not to genuinely engage with differing viewpoints, but to create gotcha moments that would play well on social media. Like Trump, he was first and foremost a social media influencer.
In my classroom, if someone acted the way Kirk did with students, I would feel obligated to redirect the conversation back to our class agreements about respectful dialogue, agreements that establish ground rules ensuring no one's humanity is denied and no one's reality is erased. Kirk's approach consistently violated these basic principles of respectful discourse.
Students at California State University, Northridge recognized this when they organized against his appearance on their campus, noting that Kirk had routinely engaged in antisemitic conspiracy theories, racist rhetoric against civil rights, and discriminatory language targeting LGBTQ+ students. These weren't political differences; they were fundamental violations of the respect required for genuine dialogue.
The Dangerous False Equivalence
As journalist Maria Ressa reminds us, good journalism requires a courageous commitment to facts and ethical standards in the face of disinformation. Its central mission is to hold power accountable and serve as a bulwark against democracy's erosion. Yet in the aftermath of Kirk's death, much of our media has failed this test by creating a false equivalence between condemning political violence and celebrating Kirk's methods.
How can we discuss the conditions that led to political violence while celebrating someone whose entire approach was designed to demean and dehumanize his political opponents?
Columnist Jamelle Bouie captured the essence of this problem: "That the Trump administration and the MAGA movement are less interested in deliberation and governance than they are in domination and obedience should shape and structure our sense of this political moment." When one faction's explicit goal is to curb the rights of opponents and force them into political inequality, calls for dialogue that deny that reality are harmful.
Kirk was not engaged in the kind of good-faith dialogue that democracy requires. He was, as Bouie notes, part of a movement more interested in domination than deliberation. His campus appearances were not exercises in democratic engagement, and no, he was not practicing politics the right way. Kirk’s campus appearances were trolling operations designed to humiliate and dehumanize students who disagreed with him.
The Stakes of Getting This Wrong
As we grapple with the epidemic of gun violence, school shootings, and the dismantling of democratic norms, we cannot afford to elevate models of engagement that contributed to these problems. How can we address the tragedy of bullying in schools—which then contributes to school shootings—while simultaneously holding up someone who made his career bullying college students? How can we discuss the conditions that led to political violence while celebrating someone whose entire approach was designed to demean and dehumanize his political opponents?
My friend recently told me that "a neighborhood is resistance." This resonated deeply because it speaks to the patient, relationship-building work that real democratic engagement requires. Kirk's approach was the opposite—designed to break down communities and relationships for entertainment value. He dehumanized students to generate viral content, endearing himself to Trump and the MAGA movement that thrives on such cruelty.
A Path Forward
We all want to talk to each other. We see this in our neighborhoods—we nod to one another, notice when someone hasn't been around, look out for each other. This fundamental human desire for connection is precisely why we must distinguish between genuine dialogue and its performative imitations. True dialogue, as Dr. Israel's research demonstrates, requires communication strategies that emphasize active listening, acknowledge differences while finding common ground, and approach disagreement with intellectual humility rather than ideological dominance—the opposite of what Kirk's social media documented from his campus visits.
Political violence is never acceptable and will not move us toward justice. And importantly, a majority of political violence is perpetrated by the right-wing extremists and Trump’s MAGA movement has contributed to the conditions of this violence. Such violence reflects the brokenness of our system and the urgent need for repair. But we must not respond to this tragedy by celebrating Kirk's mockery of political engagement. There should be no statues erected in his honor on college campuses, no elevation of his name alongside figures like Martin Luther King Jr. who actually advanced democratic discourse. Kirk's methods were not a model for democratic engagement, they were part of the problem that contributed to our current crisis.
The memory we should be blessing is not that of viral confrontations and campus trolling, but of the patient, respectful work of building bridges across difference.
If we truly want to honor democratic dialogue in the wake of this tragedy, we must commit to the harder work of genuine conversation—the kind that builds understanding rather than scoring points, that creates community rather than destroying it, and that treats our political opponents as fellow human beings rather than targets for entertainment. This stands in stark contrast to Kirk's approach, which was designed precisely to bolster his influence within the Trump ecosystem through cruelty and division.
A free society depends on our ability to engage across difference without fear of violence. But it also depends on our commitment to engagement that is grounded in respect, curiosity, and genuine democratic values. In this moment of national reckoning, we must choose models that build democracy rather than undermine it.
The memory we should be blessing is not that of viral confrontations and campus trolling, but of the patient, respectful work of building bridges across difference. That is the dialogue our democracy needs, and it's the opposite of what Charlie Kirk practiced.
Keep ReadingShow Less
On Charlie Kirk, Public Grieving, and Violence
The country is turning him into a symbol, even as his legacy fuels harm, fear, and loss for families who will never be mourned this loudly.
Sep 12, 2025
I want to be clear: I don’t condone killing of any kind. That’s not who I am, and that’s not what I believe.
This post is also not about advocating for or against gun laws (although we know that the majority of Americans do agree with common-sense laws). This is about societal attention and whose lives are mourned publicly, and how certain narratives and policies shape who we grieve and why.
I am struck by how many people on my feed are publicly grieving Charlie Kirk. It feels dissonant. Let me explain why.
None of these same people posted about Minnesota House Member, Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman, and her husband being murdered in their sleep. Nor did they post about Speaker John Hoffman and his wife being shot in their sleep by the same shooter (they did survive).
None posted about the 48 school shootings that have occurred already in 2025, leaving 19 dead and 81 injured (including one just hours after Kirk was shot, where two more children are critically injured, and at least four more injured in the Colorado school shooting).
None posted about the 50,000+ Palestinian children killed or injured in what can only be described as genocide.
None posted about the 688 women in the US who died in childbirth in 2024, or the 49,000 who almost did. Primarily women of color of course.
None posted about the 14 people who have died in Immigration and Customs Enforcement custody so far this year.
I could go on and on with these examples.
He spent his career normalizing deadly ideas (from gun culture to dehumanization), and in the end, he was consumed by the same violence he helped spread.
Here’s the dissonance: Charlie Kirk actively contributed to the narratives and policies that fueled this violence. He supported policies that tore children from their parents’ arms, while claiming to be a family man. He spread racist, homophobic, transphobic, antisemitic, and Islamophobic ideology while claiming to be a Christian. He near shouted misogynistic ideals while being married to a woman. Through Turning Point USA, he built a media machine that thrived on outrage, disinformation, and deepening division.
He once said, “I can't stand the word empathy, actually. I think empathy is a made-up, new age term that—it does a lot of damage.” If you don’t believe in empathy, it makes it much easier to oppress others and create division. It makes it much easier to push a narrative without regard for the consequences of that narrative.
He spent his career normalizing deadly ideas (from gun culture to dehumanization), and in the end, he was consumed by the same violence he helped spread.
Charlie Kirk didn’t physically commit violence himself, though he profited from fear, division, and policies that harmed and continue to harm marginalized people, thus perpetuating the violence. His influence amplified oppression, and that influence brought him financial gain, visibility, and political power.
It is, of course, deeply sad for his children. No child should have to lose a parent like this.
That being said, the way his death is being framed publicly goes beyond grief. It edges into martyrdom. This is turning him into a symbol, even as his legacy fuels harm, fear, and loss for families who will never be mourned this loudly.
We should grieve children, families, and communities first. Not the people who profited from their suffering.
Keep ReadingShow Less
Most Popular