Ideologically? Socially? Romantically? No one wants to be rejected, but inevitably we all do our fair share of rejecting. Admittedly, I have never asked myself how I would want to be rebuffed, such that I would still feel mutual respect and a desire to move forwards together. That requires a confidence found only when we feel unthreatened by others and by our own hurt. But we can’t avoid conflict forever. If we’re going to reject and be rejected for the rest of our lives, we should talk about how it should happen.
Let’s start with ideological rejection. Gone are the days when Alexis de Tocqueville wrote of Americans working with each other’s differences through “the art of association.” Now, our differences are left unresolved. Instead of telling a friend their jokes are offensive, we stop hanging out. Instead of confronting protesters, we walk past them. Just thinking about politics is exhausting. But keeping the peace in the short term comes at a steep cost in the long run. Now, we can’t even agree on basic facts, let alone ideas. Perhaps it’s time for us to re-learn how to work through our disagreements.
So tell me, how would you like me to disagree with you?
This is what I asked Jadon Urogdy ’27 and Nathan Kuczmarski ’26. Both study political science and serve as leaders in civic engagement on campus. So I’m not surprised that some of their answers, though profound and powerful, initially feel too visionary for me to apply to my everyday conflicts. Urogdy advises me to “signal that you’re willing to break down barriers,” while Kuczmarski asks me to “have intellectual humility.” But if it were that easy, I wouldn’t be writing this piece. Jake Matlof ’28, studying English, offers a simpler heuristic: “You can be extremely direct so long as you aren’t insulting.” He pauses. “Even if you are insulting, I would still debate you.” All three agree that we need to see more civil disagreement.
Both Urogdy and Kuczmarski got involved in civic engagement at Stanford because of experiences with unconstructive dialogue back home. Growing up in rural Michigan, Urogdy saw how quickly political conversations would shut down because classmates dismissed differing views. That experience now motivates his work as the vice-chair of Democracy Day and the senior advisor of StanfordVotes. Kuczmarski had similar experiences over the dinner table back home in Ohio. His parents would “talk past each other” when debating politics, choosing to disagree on values they normally would have agreed on. It had been his role to serve as a conduit, and at Stanford Political Union (SPU), he found a familiar role facilitating dialogue on campus. He now serves as its president.
In contrast to Urogdy and Kuczmarski’s experiences with political confrontation, Matlof saw people silently disengage instead. Last year, when taking COLLEGE 102: “Citizenship in the 21st Century“, Matlof was disappointed to see that while “the premise of the class… [was to] foster safe spaces for disagreement and discussion… there wasn’t a whole lot of that.”
When asked where he finds opportunity for discourse now, Matlof wryly answers, “I’m friends with some poli sci majors.” This resonates with me: I, too, curate when and how I expose myself to confrontation. Frankly, conflict is scary. In Kuczmarski’s words, “rocking the boat of what we believe isn’t just throwing off one piece of cargo and replacing it with another. It’s replacing the paneling of the boat itself while you’re in the middle of the ocean.” Few would want this terrifying experience, so we naturally avoid subjecting others to it, if only to avoid inviting others to rock our own boat. We tell ourselves it’s more considerate to just keep the peace, except in certain spaces deemed safe.
But there’s a fine line between keeping the peace and neglecting a problem. At some point, agreeing to disagree became not a strategy for coexistence, but a fatalistic attitude towards conflict resolution in a polarized world. Of course, the necessity of tough conversations doesn’t make it any easier. When was the last time you walked up to a classmate and said, “I really disagreed with your comments in class yesterday?”
Ironically, my original example was going to be: “I disagree, I believe we should invest more money into oil and gas.” But I instinctively rewrote it after imagining how you, the reader, may react. I want to make my point without repelling you, lest you do the same to me. But perhaps if we both prepare for this hurdle of perceived rejection, we can get through it together.
How should we prepare? Leaning on Urogdy and Kuczmarski’s experiences with civil dialogue, here are a few principles to follow:
- It’s OK to not reach consensus. “I might not personally wear a top hat, but the world is more whimsical because other people do,” Kuczmarski quips. More seriously, he notes that “the goal is to understand each other… this is just one part in the larger democratic process.”
- Give time to process and adjust. “Because our beliefs are so entwined with our culture and identity… lead with curiosity about why I believe what I do, and show patience as I reflect and adjust,” Kuczmarski says.
- Not everyone needs to be an expert. “If you start off a conversation super… passionate about something… and you learned all the statistics and all the numbers to back up your argument, then people are going to get defensive,” Urogdy shares.
- Give space for other opinions. “The less you elicit votes… the more they’re going to be willing to listen,” Urogdy advises, reminding us that “we need to step back because what we learn today will serve us tomorrow.”
- Always assume good intentions. While someone challenging our deeply held world views can feel like an attack on our world, it’s likely that there are “valid reasons their world seems different for them,” Kuczmarski shares.
The list continues, but what strikes me is how applicable this advice is to both the disagree-er and to the one being disagreed with. That’s just proof that in a truly constructive dialogue, those roles are fluid. When we confront others, we’re really confronting our own world views. So the next time you need to have a tough conversation, remember to prepare for more than just rejecting them kindly. Prepare to reject your current self too.
“Disagreeing well is what our democracy demands of us,” Kuczmarski explains. “Democracies are… [slow] because they move at the speed of people’s beliefs. That slowness can be frustrating, but by consistently practicing constructive disagreement, we can slowly move toward a better world that we’ve all worked together to create.”