Would you ever be friends with someone of opposing political views?
Stop, close your eyes, and picture your closest friends. Do you think they all vote the same as you? Open your phone and scroll through your group chats. Listen to your Stu conversations. If no one challenges you, you haven’t built a community. You’ve literally built an algorithm with an embedded confirmation bias, a perfectly curated feed of people who already agree with you. Sure, it’s comfortable and safe. But it’s intellectually useless.
My parents don’t have to close their eyes to find someone with opposing views – all they have to do is look into the eyes they fell in love with. My mom holds a bachelor’s degree in history and literature with high honors from Harvard, a JD from Yale, where she was a Paul & Daisy Soros Fellow, and a doctorate in international relations from Oxford, where she was a Rhodes Scholar. Under the Obama and then Trump administration, she was the 27th Counselor on International Law in the U.S. Department of State. She is a loyal and lifelong Democrat who believes the government should protect people, through regulation, safety laws, and international cooperation.
My dad was a Senior Executive at Apple, Samsung, and Nokia, and founded and led three start-ups. He was the former Ipod Chief. He holds an MBA from Yale University as well as Bachelor's and Master’s degrees in Computer Engineering from Case Western Reserve University. He’s an independent who distrusts overregulation and believes too much government makes things worse.
There’s no doubt my parents are smart people. They’re both successful. Both informed. And both insanely stubborn. Yet, when it comes to something so deeply rooted in morals, like political affiliation, their views differ. How can two people with such differing stances share a life together? I called them to find out.
The first issue we touched on was heavy: gun laws. My dad, a former soldier, learned how to use a gun when he was my age. His eyebrows knit together as I asked if a gun was a right or a privilege. “Everybody has the right to have a gun,” he said firmly, “but it comes with training, responsibilities, and accountability.” My mom nodded. “I’m not an absolutist either,” she added, “but prefer to err on the side of more restrictive policies.” For a moment, I thought they were completely in agreement. I was about to move on when my mom stepped in. “Our disagreement has arisen primarily with respect to whether each of us would be comfortable having a gun in the home.” I was surprised she was comfortable sharing this on record. I thought of the mezuzah on our front door as she noted my dad’s application for a California gun license. My mom is tremendously against it. She went on. “I think statistics show that keeping a gun in the home and having more guns in society is very clearly correlated with increased gun deaths and gun violence.” My dad seemed dismissive, but didn't argue.
We moved on to talk about DEI, a sensitive topic for my dad, apparently. His frustration was palpable; he spoke of seeing people in high positions who he felt occupied those roles because of something other than pure merit. My mom let him finish, but then jumped in immediately. “It's a little bit misleading to suggest that anything could ever be purely merit-based,” she countered, arguing that even standardized test scores are products of educational opportunity. My dad sighed, looked up and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling but my mom simply laughed. Then my dad cracked a slight smile.
This is when things took a turn. Our last topic was the recent US military sinking of Venezuelan ships. My dad began arguing about the increased capabilities of non-government organizations operating in “gray areas.” My mom interjected with a sharp tone, "Actually, the law is pretty clear about boat strikes.” My dad gave me a pointed side-eye. He continued on about drug dealers with submarines and drones: “When a group of drug dealers have submarines, machine guns, drones, and helicopters, they are becoming a military!” My mom snapped back, “The idea that these kids who are shuttling drugs back and forth have anything to do with that is ludicrous.” They both glanced at one another, the tension peaking. I got ready to start writing furiously. Suddenly, they just dropped it. After 23 years of marriage, they knew when to value the person over the point.
So which party did I choose? How do their views affect me? As I interviewed my parents, I noticed myself disagreeing with both at times. Their impact isn’t confined to one label I wear, but to a lesson I can utilize: the importance of debate. They taught me that it’s possible to disagree without being condescending, argue while maintaining compassion, and to respect without compromising beliefs.
Don’t let political labels dictate who you respect. Don’t build your life like an algorithm. Seek out people who think differently and who challenge you intellectually. Polarization doesn’t begin in Congress, but at the tables in the Stu. In who we choose to befriend, and who we choose to ignore. If we only surround ourselves with people who mirror us, we don’t grow. We don’t learn. We just get louder and more certain. Don’t be afraid to talk to those who don’t feed into your confirmation bias. Because the people who challenge you might not just change your mind—they might change your life. If my parents can build a 23-year marriage across the aisle, the least we can do is learn to sit at the same table.