Hyten is co-executive director of Essential Partners.
Abortion is one of the most polarized topics in American politics, yet we know that most Americans hold nuanced, complex, sometimes contradictory perspectives on abortion. A recent Pew study found that many supporters of abortion access are open to some restrictions, while many opponents say it should be available in some circumstances.
It is a peculiar irony that the complexity of those views also creates the circumstances for our national polarization. In their everyday lives, people have had vanishingly few opportunities to talk about abortion. It is often taboo or else people find it too difficult to articulate their views —and they choose silence.
This reticence has allowed the most extreme voices to dominate this discussion in the media, in our politics and in our communities. As a result, few if any political leaders express the views of the people they represent. Polarization is anathema to a functioning democracy.
Since the Supreme Court handed down a decision that effectively reversed Roe v. Wade, one polarized national conversation has turned into 50 distinct deliberations unique to the history, context and communities within each state.
As you navigate conversations about this topic in the coming months — whether in direct response to the Supreme Court draft decision or not — it is essential to honor both the complexity and the urgency around this conversation. It is also vital to the future of our nation that we empower the voices of everyday people, so they are able to clearly articulate and advocate for their views.
The organization that I lead, Essential Partners, was founded 30 years ago out of the need for better public discussions about divisive topics like abortion. In 1994, following the murder of two women’s clinic workers by an anti-abortion activist, our founders spent more than five years leading confidential dialogues between pro-life and pro-choice leaders in greater Boston.
"The most important thing I learned from the dialogue,” said Nicki Nichols Gamble, who was then the president and CEO of Planned Parenthood League of MA, “is that there is no more fundamental or profound responsibility for a leader than to understand the differences of opinions around you."
It is now more urgent than ever that our leaders understand the differences of opinions around them. But that can't happen as long as we are trapped in a public debate that is dominated by extreme voices. Now is the moment to break out of that old, dysfunctional, polarized pattern.
Drawing from our work on these conversations over the past three decades, I want to share three recommendations to help you have a healthier, more open, more nuanced conversation with someone who may have a different perspective.
Reflect on your own views
Make sure you understand yourself and what you want to share. Before a conversation about abortion, take a few moments to reflect on your own values. Think about a personal experience that shaped your view. Think about a person in your life who influenced your perspective. Consider taking notes if it helps you focus or remember what’s most important to you.
Make your purpose clear
Hard conversations often implode because people enter them with different purposes. One person is curious; the other person is trying to win. So before you dive in, make sure everyone has the same goal. It can be as simple as saying, “I’m not here to try to change your mind, shame you or scold you. I want to understand you and be understood. How does that sound?” You’ll be amazed at what can happen with a shared purpose.
Embrace the personal
Abortion is already personal. Embrace that fact in these hard conversations. When you talk about your views, speak only for yourself — not on behalf of all women, or all Christians or all liberals. Talk about me, my, and I, rather than you, we, and everyone. Talk about an experience that shaped your values rather than an argument in favor of your view (or against another view). Make yourself known in the way you wish to be known.
Private conversations have a profound influence on the public discussions of issues like abortion. When Americans fail to talk about important political questions, we cede the conversation to hard-line, divisive stances. We erase the diversity of thought that allows our democracy to thrive.
In the wake of this ruling, we have a choice. Whether we fall further into political polarization and dysfunction will depend on the conversations we are willing to have today.
A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.