Civil Discourse and Being Intellectually Honest

Social Media is a dark, grotesque cesspool where the worst of society curdles.

I’ll bet you think so too, regardless of your religion, political affiliation, race, gender, or social background. Charlie Kirk didn’t need to die for you to come to that conclusion. 

What makes it so bad, though? Why is it that the average person, talking to someone face-to-face, seems willing to discuss most topics civilly, yet when their faces slide behind their profile, the boiled slop comes out?

I don’t have a degree in political science, so I’m not going to pretend I have expertise in this arena. But since I can remember as a child, I’ve heard people claim that Americans pride themselves on the admonition of civil discourse. At the same time, I can’t remember a moment in my life where I felt this was truly my lived experience. When it came to politics, discourse was rarely civil. Rarely.

These days, I hear so many influential political and spiritual leaders say, “If your boss/leader/pastor doesn’t respond to (X) the way I’m telling you to respond, you need to abandon that person and come over here.”

That is quite the opposite of civil discourse.

Civil discourse is the idea that we can disagree, debate, and vote differently while still respecting one another, knowing that echo chambers create blind spots. But now it’s not just that people hold different political views; it’s that they increasingly despise those who don’t share their views.

Researchers call this affective polarization, a term that describes the growing emotional hostility between members of opposing political parties. Unlike ideological polarization, which is about differences in policy, affective polarization is about animosity toward people themselves. It’s less “I disagree with your idea” and more “I don’t like you because of your ideas.”

This shift has serious consequences, and research on the subject is highlighting major issues: when we indulge in disparagement, exaggerations, and groupthink rhetoric (especially on platforms like social media), we’re pouring fuel on a fire that’s already threatening the fabric of how America functions. 

How did America get to this point anyway? Pretty much since the rise of critical theory (among many other approaches to criticism), partisanship has become a social identity. I’m not blaming everything on the rise of Critical Theory in academia, but there’s an obvious shift in the 60s onward for us. Political affiliation in America now carries the weight of belonging, much like religion or ethnicity. When your political side becomes your tribe, it creates a sharp line between us and them. Once drawn, those lines are hard to erase. So, regardless of where it started, it’s here and alive on its own.

Also, we’re witnessing a period of ideological sorting. The claim is that Democrats have become more consistently liberal; Republicans more consistently conservative (at least in each other’s eyes), and every idea in between is being dumped between these two fat categories. At the same time, cultural, racial, and geographic identities have also clustered around party lines. The result is a widening canyon of difference; less overlap, less nuance, more certainty that “they” are not like “us.”

Then there is media and elite behavior, which have amplified the divide. Politicians, pundits, and commentators increasingly speak in combative terms, framing every issue as a partisan battle that “threatens our democracy” (I’ve heard that line ad nauseam every election year). Social media rewards the outrage, ensuring that the loudest and most divisive voices rise to the top of our feeds. What we consume daily isn’t measured debate; it’s highlights of hostility.

The consequences of affective polarization are sobering.

It’s changing how we relate to one another. Fewer people are willing to marry, befriend, or even interact socially with someone from “the other party,” and again, this goes beyond just politics now. It’s no longer unusual to hear people dismiss entire groups of fellow citizens as immoral, stupid, or dangerous.

All of this is eroding civil discourse. When the opposing side is seen not as a rival but as an enemy, dialogue disappears. Instead of listening, we caricature. Instead of seeking compromise, we vilify. Social media only magnifies the problem, groupthink spreads unchecked, exaggerations take root, and mutual distrust hardens. And to top it all off, less and less face-to-face interaction removes us from how our brains attune to each other and process our differences and opposing viewpoints.

The only healthy way humans are designed to process difference is through in-person discourse. Remove that and give everybody a bunch of angry videos with flat ideology, and you’ve created a Molotov cocktail of polarization, slowly catching the country on fire.

A healthy democracy requires trust; not just in institutions, but in one another. When we stop seeing our neighbors as fellow citizens and start viewing them as threats, we open the door to anti-democratic impulses. If “they” are dangerous, then maybe bending the rules to defeat them feels justified. That logic, repeated often enough, erodes the very foundation of fair and peaceful governance.

The danger won’t stop at politics. Affective polarization seeps into everyday life, straining friendships, families, workplaces, and neighborhoods. Distrust becomes a default setting. The more we caricature and disparage, the harder it becomes to cooperate on anything, whether it’s a community project, a business endeavor, or even something as ordinary as getting along with our neighbors.

The research is unsettling, but it’s also clarifying. If the problem is fueled by rhetoric, stereotypes, and tribal thinking, then part of the solution must be found in how we speak, how we relate, and how we choose to engage.

That means resisting the easy pull of groupthink and caricatures. It means remembering that our neighbors are more than their vote, and that identity is never as simple as a red or blue label. It means calling for leaders and being the kind of citizens who refuse to demonize.

Above all, it means reclaiming the lost art of civil discourse. Not a weak, watered-down civility that avoids disagreement, but a strong, principled civility that holds firm convictions while still honoring the humanity of others.

Because if affective polarization teaches us anything, it’s this: the health of our democracy depends not just on the laws we pass or the votes we cast, but on how we choose to see, and speak about, each other in the process.

Put your phone down.

Find someone.

Process your differences.

Face to face.

And watch how things change for the better.