In an age when millions feel invisible to those in power, these aren’t rhetorical questions. They’re the foundational need that either builds democracies or tears them apart.

I never thought I would find myself in agreement with US Republican Congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene on anything, given our profound differences on so many fronts. Yet when she broke ranks with her Republican colleagues by labelling Israel’s actions in Gaza a “genocide” and urging a halt to US funding, here we were: two voices converging on a call for humanity amid the rubble. This unexpected alignment underscores a fundamental truth: even those we perceive as polar opposites often share more than we realise, especially when it comes to core concerns like justice and the sanctity of life.

This realisation forms the foundation of my conviction that every solution begins with a conversation. This isn’t just idealism; it’s a documented reality. When we genuinely engage, transformation follows. Yet we must recognise a dangerous truth: while authentic dialogue heals, those with malicious intent weaponise the very grievances that conversation could address.

The predators of grievance

When people feel unseen, unheard, and dismissed, they become vulnerable to the politics of grievance. This is where opportunists strike. The US soybean farmers tell this story with devastating clarity. Many voted for Trump, believing he had their backs and understood their struggles. But they were duped. Instead of protection, they got tariffs that destroyed their Chinese exports whilst watching their government deliver a US$20 billion bailout for Argentina, a direct competitor, flooding those very markets.

“I trusted him,” one Iowa farmer told reporters. “He said he’d fight for us. Now I’m watching my family’s farm, four generations old, circle the drain.”

This is the playbook of the grievance peddler: identify people who feel abandoned, mirror their pain just enough to gain trust, promise simple solutions to complex problems, then exploit that trust for personal gain while delivering nothing of substance.

As H.L. Mencken warned, “For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple and wrong.”

Australians recognise this playbook too. Politicians like Matt Canavan, Pauline Hanson, Andrew Hastie, Barnaby Joyce and Jacinta Nampijinpa Price have built careers on stoking grievances about immigration, Indigenous rights and climate action, while offering simple solutions that never materialise into meaningful help. They claim to speak for “forgotten Australians”, yet their voting records consistently favour corporate interests over the working families they claim to champion. Canavan, for instance, rails against renewable energy while voting to protect fossil fuel subsidies that offer little to the regional communities he claims to represent.

The 2023 Voice referendum offers a stark national example. Rather than engaging in genuine dialogue about how Indigenous Australians might have meaningful input into policies affecting their communities, opponents offered simple, fear-based narratives. Nationally, the result was a resounding No.

Yet in the electorate of Goldstein, something remarkable happened. Leading a non-partisan campaign of 600 volunteers from Labor, Greens, Team Zoe, and beyond, we defied the polls predicting a No outcome. Through a human-to-human ground game built on real conversations, not slogans or fear, Goldstein delivered a Yes result, one of the few electorates to do so. This wasn’t luck. It was proof that genuine dialogue, even on deeply divisive issues, can cut through manipulative narratives when people feel genuinely heard. The national failure, however, left persistent grievances festering, ready for the next opportunist to exploit.

Genuine conversation as protection

Here’s the antidote: genuine conversations. Not the heading nodding, performative listening of the demagogue or career politician, but real dialogue that values people’s experiences and works towards actual solutions.

When communities create spaces for authentic conversation, the con becomes visible.

Real conversation involves reciprocity, vulnerability and follow-through. It doesn’t promise easy fixes or scapegoats. It acknowledges complexity whilst working towards tangible change.

Those US soybean farmers offer a cautionary tale and a road map forward. If their communities had been having ongoing conversations about trade policy and agricultural sustainability, the empty promises would have rung hollow. Now, they need to organise, talk amongst themselves and with experts and ask hard questions: Who benefits from these policies? Whose interests are actually being served? This is how communities build immunity against future betrayals.

Genuine dialogue builds critical thinking.

It creates networks of trust based on demonstrated care, rather than performed concern. It inoculates against manipulation because people learn to recognise the difference between being heard and being handled.

Consider Daryl Davis, a Black American musician whose deliberate engagements with white supremacists transformed lives. In the 1980s, Davis approached a Ku Klux Klan member at a bar and posed a disarming question: “How can you hate me when you don’t even know me?” Over ensuing decades, more than 200 Klansmen abandoned the group, surrendering their robes. Davis’ approach didn’t erase differences; it humanised them. As he reflects: “When two enemies are talking, they’re not fighting.”

Our hardwired capacity

At the core of such encounters lies our shared neurobiology. Humans are hardwired for connection through curiosity, helpfulness, and fairness, not as personality traits but as neurobiological evolutionary survival mechanisms that helped our species thrive in groups and solve complex problems.

Curiosity triggers dopamine surges, making discovery feel good. Helpfulness releases oxytocin and dopamine, creating strong bonds and a sense of belonging. Even toddlers, under the age of two, instinctively help others before they can speak well. Fairness activates the insula and prefrontal cortex when we perceive injustice. Children as young as three will reject unfair rewards, even at personal cost.

Research shows that even brief conversations between strangers with opposing political views can reduce negative stereotyping by up to 10%, with effects lasting months.

In Colombia, “peace laboratories” brought together former guerrillas, victims and military personnel. One former FARC combatant described finally understanding the pain he’d caused: “I saw her as a person for the first time, not an enemy.”

How to have the conversation

Begin with self-awareness. Reflect on your own triggers. Create neutral spaces and start with open invitations: “What experiences have shaped your perspective?” Practice active and reflective listening by echoing their words: “It seems like this weighs heavily on you because of this. Is that accurate?” Seek shared humanity by disclosing relatable vulnerabilities. Pose open-ended questions that spark curiosity rather than interrogation.

Not all interactions merit investment, though. Walk away when someone rejects your input without inquiry, offers only one-sided exchanges, attacks character rather than ideas, or provides simple solutions to complex problems without acknowledging trade-offs. Exit politely: “I appreciate the discussion; let’s revisit another time.”

From dialogue to action

Genuine conversations propel us toward solutions for the wicked challenges of our era.

Research from MIT’s Centre for Collective Intelligence found that groups with diverse perspectives consistently outperform homogeneous groups by 20%-30% on complex problem solving.

The Transition Towns movement, which began in Totnes, England, has spread to more than 50 countries, proving that grassroots dialogue can spark global transformation.

In Australia, the Yarra Valley Climate Action Group brought together dairy farmers, urban residents and environmental scientists to create water management strategies that honour both agricultural livelihoods and ecosystem health. One farmer noted, “I thought greenies wanted to shut us down. Turns out we all want the same thing: a future for our kids.”

The stakes

Every solution begins with a conversation: a deliberate choice to listen amid the noise, to see the humanity in the “other,” and to co-create paths forward.

As democracies falter under the rise of demagogues, this isn’t just about being civil. It’s about whether we can build the civic infrastructure to resist authoritarianism and create resilient communities capable of solving complex problems together.

Do not wait for permission or perfection

Text that neighbour whose politics puzzle you. Host a coffee chat on a local issue. Join a forum amplifying unheard voices. Your words could be the spark that disarms a grievance, ignites an alliance and mends a fracture.

The world needs your voice in the room. What will you say first?

The conversation awaits.

The views expressed in this article may or may not reflect those of Pearls and Irritations.