Moore-Vissing leads Public Engagement Partners and is a fellow at the Carsey School of Public Policy at the University of New Hampshire.
I traveled to Northern Ireland this summer to understand American divisiveness by looking through the eyes of another divided country. Here’s what I learned: The United States is a divided country that hasn’t accepted that we are a divided country, and that’s holding us back.
Most of us are caught in a fight-or-flight mentality when it comes to the divisions in our country right now. When we encounter someone who is on the “other side” of the political spectrum, the tendency is either to disengage from that person or to convince them why they are wrong. It can feel like those on the other side are so repugnant that they challenge our notion of what it means to be human and American.
But here’s the thing: America doesn’t have a premium on being divided. Lots of countries have grappled with divides, including Germany, North and South Korea, South Africa, and Northern Ireland. Despite our longing for American exceptionalism, we are not dissimilar from these other countries. We need to face the fact that the United States is a divided country. It’s painful and it’s difficult. And it’s not changing anytime soon.
Northern Ireland’s ability to “name the problem” by admitting it is a divided country has enabled it to move toward greater peace. This realization came at a high price – the deaths of 3,000 Northern Irish people, injuries of many more, and a history of hurt and grief that will forever be part of the consciousness of the country. But after years of pain, fear and loss, people realized that the consequences of divisiveness are much, much worse than learning to accept that the country is divided and live with that reality peacefully.
Here's the risk to Americans if we don’t come to that same conclusion. During the Troubles, many Catholics and Protestants ceased to see each other as human. We’re at that precipice now in the United States. It feels like there is no common ground between liberals and conservatives, and that people on different sides of issues cannot possibly coexist. The risk is grave and urgent, because once we lose this humanity, at best it spurns greater isolation and disconnection from anyone different from us, and at worst it lays the ground for violence and civil war.
After naming the problem, Northern Ireland was able to create programs and policies to address its dividedness. The national police force changed policy to require equal amounts of Catholics and Protestants in office so as to decrease bias and promote collaboration across differences. At Corrymeela, a nonprofit peace center that builds bridges between Protestants and Catholics, Protestant and Catholic youth come to a retreat center to meet peers different from themselves and learn about the things they have in common. For many children, this is the first time they have met someone from the other side. If we were able to name the problem in the United States, we could create policies and programs that allow people to recognize their shared humanity.
For instance, although we champion the value of conversations across differences, and these conversations indeed make huge differences in society, many of us have no desire to participate in such exchanges. If we asked a white, rural, male Trump supporter and an urban, Black, liberal female to get together and listen to each other, many people would likely decline this invitation. But these two people inevitably have things in common just by being human – they might both have young children, love fried fish, or have recently lost their fathers. However, in most contexts these people likely will not encounter each other at all, and so they won’t ever have an opportunity to discover how they both share the experience of being human – of wanting to be loved and feel safe, to feel connected and valued, to feel successful and secure.
American democracy at the national level needs major reforms. However, for most of the American public, reforming national democracy is a daunting and unreachable task, but one thing we can do is build relationships at the local level. The notion of building relationships across differences can feel quixotic – tilting at windmills and an impossible dream. But part of the beauty of being human is that we have the capacity for empathy and kindness, and these feelings can grow even in the most painful circumstances.
As evidence, at Corrymeela in Northern Ireland, I saw the magnificence of what it looks like to let go of divides. I met Eleanor Hayes, a Protestant nurse who worked in the emergency room at the height of the Troubles. Sometimes there were so many people injured in an act of political violence like a bombing that the hospital would have to put the perpetrators of incidents in beds next to the victims they had injured. Seeing humans wounded on both sides of the conflict led Eleanor to realize that people share more than they differ, and drew her toward a path of peace. The people I met in Northern Ireland were not apolitical or dispassionate. They still had their own belief systems and values. But they realized the price of divisiveness is not only too high, but also an unwinnable game. In the words of the 1980s film “War Games,” the only way to win the game was not to play.
If we want to address divides in our local communities, building relationships across differences is the place to start. We need to be able to put a face to the other side. I live in a politically purple neighborhood. I’m on one side of the political spectrum, and the people who live across the street from me are on the other. At the beginning of spring this year, I was trying to single-handedly lug a grill up the stairs to my deck. When my “other side” neighbor saw me struggling, she crossed over to give me a hand. As we lifted the grill together, I asked her how her dog was. The appearance of my neighbor with her old black lab was a staple in my daily life, and I hadn’t seen them walking lately. She shared that the dog had passed away. I felt sadness for her in that moment as well as gratitude for her help in lifting the grill.
When I watch the news and feel anger rising in my throat for the politics of the other side, I think of my neighbor’s face. It doesn’t change how I feel about my beliefs. But it does help me to realize that behind the politics, there are people.



















U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio delivers a keynote speech at the 62nd Munich Security Conference on Saturday, Feb. 14, 2026, in Munich, Germany.
Marco Rubio is the only adult left in the room
Finally free from the demands of being chief archivist of the United States, secretary of state, national security adviser and unofficial viceroy of Venezuela, Marco Rubio made his way to the Munich Security Conference last weekend to deliver a major address.
I shouldn’t make fun. Rubio, unlike so many major figures in this administration, is a bona fide serious person. Indeed, that’s why President Trump keeps piling responsibilities on him. Rubio knows what he’s talking about and cares about policy. He is hardly a free agent; Trump is still president after all. But in an administration full of people willing to act like social media trolls, Rubio stands out for being serious. And I welcome that.
But just because Rubio made a serious argument, that doesn’t mean it was wholly persuasive. Part of his goal was to repair some of the damage done by his boss, who not long ago threatened to blow up the North Atlantic alliance by snatching Greenland away from Denmark. Rubio’s conciliatory language was welcome, but it hardly set things right.
Whether it was his intent or not, Rubio had more success in offering a contrast with Vice President JD Vance, who used the Munich conference last year as a platform to insult allies and provide fan service to his followers on X. Rubio’s speech was the one Vance should have given, if the goal was to offer a serious argument about Trump’s “vision” for the Western alliance. I put “vision” in scare quotes because it’s unclear to me that Trump actually has one, but the broader MAGA crowd is desperate to construct a coherent theory of their case.
So what’s that case? That Western Civilization is a real thing, America is not only part of it but also its leader, and it will do the hard things required to fix it.
In Rubio’s story, America and Europe embraced policies in the 1990s that amounted to the “managed decline” of the West. European governments were free riders on America’s military might and allowed their defense capabilities to atrophy as they funded bloated welfare states and inefficient regulatory regimes. Free trade, mass migration and an infatuation with “the rules-based global order” eroded national sovereignty, undermined the “cohesion of our societies” and fueled the “de-industrialization” of our economies. The remedy for these things? Reversing course on those policies and embracing the hard reality that strength and power drive events on the global stage.
“The fundamental question we must answer at the outset is what exactly are we defending,” Rubio said, “because armies do not fight for abstractions. Armies fight for a people; armies fight for a nation. Armies fight for a way of life.”
I agree with some of this — to a point. And, honestly, given how refreshing it is to hear a grown-up argument from this administration, it feels churlish to quibble.
But, for starters, the simple fact is that Western Civilization is an abstraction, and so are nations and peoples. And that’s fine. Abstractions — like love, patriotism, moral principles, justice — are really important. Our “way of life” is largely defined and understood through abstractions: freedom, the American dream, democracy, etc. What is the “Great” in Make America Great Again, if not an abstraction?
This is important because the administration’s defenders ridicule or dismiss any principled objection critics raise as fastidious gitchy-goo eggheadery. Trump tramples the rule of law, pardons cronies, tries to steal an election and violates free market principles willy-nilly. And if you complain, it’s because you’re a goody-goody fool.
As White House Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller said not long ago, “we live in a world … that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power. These are the iron laws of the world that have existed since the beginning of time.” Rubio said it better, but it’s the same idea.
There are other problems with Rubio’s story. At the start of the 1990s, the EU’s economy was 9% bigger than ours. In 2025 we were nearly twice as rich as Europe. If Europe was “ripping us off,” they have a funny way of showing it. America hasn’t “deindustrialized.” The manufacturing sector has grown during all of this decline, though not as much as the service sector, where we are a behemoth. We have shed manufacturing jobs, but that has more to do with automation than immigration. Moreover, the trends Rubio describes are not unique to America. Manufacturing tends to shrink as countries get richer.
That’s an important point because Rubio, like his boss, blames all of our economic problems on bad politicians and pretends that good politicians can fix them through sheer force of will.
I think Rubio is wrong, but I salute him for making his case seriously.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.