Olivia: Most of us think the key to fixing our divided world is winning the argument. We gather our facts, sharpen our points, and go into battle. Jackson: Right, it’s about being better armed with information. Proving the other side is wrong. Olivia: Exactly. But what if the real problem isn't that we lack the right facts, but that we've forgotten how to ask the right questions? What if the most powerful tool we have is admitting we might be missing something? Jackson: That’s a tough pill to swallow. Admitting you might be wrong feels like losing. But it’s a fascinating premise, and it’s at the heart of the book we’re diving into today. Olivia: It is. We’re talking about I Never Thought of It That Way: How to Have Fearlessly Curious Conversations in Dangerously Divided Times by Mónica Guzmán. Jackson: And what makes this book so compelling, so immediately credible, is Guzmán's own life. She’s a liberal journalist, a Mexican immigrant, and her own parents are proud, enthusiastic Trump supporters. This isn't just theory for her; it’s her Thanksgiving dinner table. It’s her reality. Olivia: That personal stake is what gives the book its power. She’s not writing from an academic tower; she’s writing from the trenches of family love and political division. And to understand her solution, we first have to understand her diagnosis of the problem, which she boils down to a three-letter distress signal: S.O.S.

Jackson: S.O.S. That sounds appropriately alarming. What does it stand for? Olivia: It stands for Sorting, Othering, and Siloing. Guzmán uses this brilliant analogy of a house party to explain it. You walk into a party. What’s the first thing you do? Jackson: You scan the room, find people you know, or at least people who look like they might share your vibe. You gravitate towards them. You don't usually make a beeline for the person in the corner who seems like your complete opposite. Olivia: Precisely. That first move, gravitating toward people like us, is Sorting. It’s a natural human instinct. We want to feel comfortable. But Guzmán argues that over the last few decades, we’ve sorted ourselves so intensely—by politics, by geography, by lifestyle—that we’ve created these vast, homogeneous clusters. We live in different worlds. Jackson: Okay, but is that really a problem? Finding your tribe, surrounding yourself with people who get you… that sounds like community. It sounds healthy. Olivia: In small doses, it is. But when an entire society does it, it becomes a huge problem. We stop encountering people who think differently by accident. Our view of "the other side" becomes a caricature, because we have no real-life examples to contradict it. The sorting creates the perfect breeding ground for the second step: Othering. Jackson: And ‘Othering’ is when that tribe mentality escalates, right? It’s not just ‘they’re different from us,’ it’s ‘they are the problem.’ They are the enemy. Olivia: Exactly. It’s the ‘us vs. them’ dynamic. And the stories in the book are heartbreaking. Guzmán tells the story of a man in rural Kentucky named Eddie, who feels so demonized by the media that he says, "They don't consider us human beings." That’s the endpoint of othering: dehumanization. Jackson: Wow. That reminds me of the story of Sophia from Boston. She switched from supporting Clinton to Trump and lost deep, long-term friendships over it. Her friends couldn't see her as the same person anymore. She was now an ‘other.’ And she ends up saying something so bleak, something like she thinks a "peaceful divorce" between a Conservative America and a Liberal America might be the only way. Olivia: That quote is chilling because it shows how final othering can feel. And once you’ve sorted yourself away from the ‘others,’ you end up in the final stage of the distress signal: Siloing. Jackson: Let me guess. That’s the echo chamber? Olivia: It’s the echo chamber on steroids. Siloing is when our sorted groups become so insulated that our beliefs are constantly reinforced and never challenged. Social media algorithms are the ultimate siloing machines. They feed us what we already believe, confirming our biases and making the ‘other side’ seem even more insane and monstrous. Jackson: So it’s a vicious cycle. We sort ourselves, which makes it easier to other people, and then we get trapped in silos that tell us our sorting and othering were completely justified. Olivia: You’ve got it. It’s an invisible architecture of division that we’ve all helped build, mostly unconsciously. We think we’re just choosing friends or a neighborhood or a news source, but we’re actually building walls. Jackson: Okay, so we're sorted, othered, and siloed. We're in a mess. It feels pretty hopeless. What on earth is the way out of this fortress we’ve built around ourselves?

Olivia: Well, this is where Guzmán’s work becomes so radical and, I think, so hopeful. The way out isn't to build better weapons to attack the other fortress. It’s not about finding the perfect fact that will finally make them see the light. The way out is to find a key, unlock a door in your own wall, and walk through it with genuine curiosity. Jackson: Curiosity. It sounds so… soft. Compared to the problem, it feels like bringing a feather to a sword fight. Olivia: That’s what’s so counter-intuitive about it! We think the answer has to be as aggressive as the problem. But Guzmán argues the only thing that can break this cycle is a fundamental shift in our goal. The goal is not to win. The goal is not to persuade. The goal is to understand. And the master key to understanding is one simple question: "What am I missing?" Jackson: "What am I missing?" That’s a vulnerable question. It requires you to admit your picture of the world might be incomplete. Olivia: It’s incredibly vulnerable. It’s an act of intellectual humility. And it’s the central theme of the entire book. To show how it works in practice, she tells this incredibly powerful story about her own family. It’s Election Day 2020. Mónica, a liberal journalist from Seattle, drives to her parents' house. They’re Mexican immigrants, and they are passionate Trump supporters. Jackson: I can feel the tension already. That car ride must have been filled with dread. Olivia: Completely. She’s wondering if she should even be doing this. They get together to watch the results, and as you can imagine, it gets heated. They have shouting matches about immigration and race. It’s the classic divided-family-at-the-holidays nightmare scenario. Jackson: Been there. Maybe not that exact scenario, but I know that feeling. Olivia: But then, something shifts. In a quiet moment, her father turns to her and says something that just stops her in her tracks. He says, "You know, Mónica, I’ve heard that some people who don’t share their parents’ politics… they stop letting them see their grandkids. And I’ve wondered if that’ll ever happen to us." Jackson: Whoa. That’s… heartbreaking. He’s not talking about policy anymore. He’s talking about his deepest fear—losing his family. Olivia: Exactly. In that moment, she saw what she was missing. The argument wasn't just about politics. Underneath all the anger and the talking points was his fear of being othered and cut off by his own daughter. By seeing his fear, she could connect with his humanity, even though they would never agree on the politics. Their relationship was the bridge. Jackson: That's a beautiful story, and it works because it's family. There's a foundation of love there. But what about strangers online? Or people who are genuinely spreading harmful misinformation? Some critics of the book say this approach is a bit naive, that it assumes good faith where there often isn't any. Is curiosity really enough to handle that? Olivia: That is the million-dollar question, and Guzmán addresses it head-on. She has this incredible quote that reframes the entire problem of misinformation. She says: "Misinformation isn’t the product of a culture that doesn’t value truth. It’s the product of a culture in which we’ve grown too afraid to turn to each other and hear it." Jackson: Huh. So the problem isn't just the bad information. The problem is the broken social fabric that allows it to spread. We don't trust each other enough to even have the conversation. Olivia: Precisely. Her point is that you can’t fact-check your way out of a trust crisis. You have to rebuild the trust first, and the only way to do that is through genuine, curious conversation where people feel seen and heard, not judged. It’s about asking how someone came to believe something, not just yelling about what they believe.

Jackson: So if you put it all together, the S.O.S. framework is the diagnosis of these invisible walls we build, and this fearless curiosity is the key to actually walking through them. Olivia: That’s the perfect synthesis. The goal isn't to tear down the other side's house. It's to understand why they built it the way they did. It's about being curious enough to get invited in, even if you never want to live there. The strength of the bridge, as she says, is in the people, not the ideas. Jackson: I like that. It shifts the focus from a battle to a connection. So, for anyone listening who feels that frustration and division in their own life, the takeaway here isn't to go out and arm yourself with more facts for your next debate. Olivia: Absolutely not. The takeaway is to find one person you disagree with—a family member, a coworker, a friend—and make a different choice. Instead of trying to prove them wrong, just try to understand their story. Jackson: Ask them about their experiences. Ask them what concerns them. Ask them how they came to see the world the way they do. And then just… listen. Olivia: It’s a simple shift, but it’s a profound one. And it leads to Guzmán's ultimate challenge for her readers, which I think is a perfect way to end. She challenges everyone to try and have one "I never thought of it that way" moment, every single day. Jackson: Wow. One INTOIT moment a day. That would require you to constantly be seeking out things you don't understand. Olivia: It would. But just imagine what would change if we all actually tried to do that. What if we valued being curious more than we valued being right? Jackson: That’s a world I’d like to live in. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.