We'll Do Anything to Stop Trump—Except This
The essential strategy progressives refuse to use.
Since publishing my last piece, Progressives Have a Hate Problem Too, I've received many responses. But one comment stood out:
"Always up to us to be the bigger guy. We look deep into ourselves and try to talk to the 'fuck your feelings' crowd. I’m exhausted, hyper-aware of my feelings, and TIRED of watching our country become an authoritarian nightmare... I’m exhausted, angry, and ready to fight, physically if need be."
I hear you. I’m angry and tired too.
When democracy is under assault and people you love are at risk, it feels unbearable. With the Trump administration acting not just wrongly, but cruelly, talking with MAGA voters can seem unconscionable.
But here's the part that troubles me: if democracy is worth fighting for, why is talking where we draw the line?
The Real Reason Progressives Avoid Dialogue
Let’s be honest: most progressives aren’t refusing to engage with GOP voters because it’s a bad strategy. We’re refusing because we don’t want to.
We say we’re done because “it’s too hard,” “too toxic,” or “pointless.” But beneath those explanations lies something simpler: gut-level aversion.
Indeed, Democrats’ views of Republicans are more negative than at any point since public opinion polling began. According to a 2022 Pew Research Center study, a majority of Democrats now hold deeply unfavorable personal impressions of Republicans, not just politically, but morally and intellectually. Sixty-three percent see Republicans as more immoral than other Americans, 64% view them as more dishonest, and 83% believe they are more closed-minded. More than half—52%—also consider them less intelligent.
These aren’t policy disagreements. They’re character judgments.
No wonder conversation feels intolerable.
So we cloak our disengagement in moral language. We call it principled. We call it self-care. We call it resistance.
But often, it’s just a rationalization—a way to avoid the very people we most need to reach.
And it’s not about strategy. It’s about comfort.
What Is Freedom Worth?
Many progressives say, “Talking with Trump voters is too much to ask.”
But too much compared to what?
We say we’re ready to fight for democracy. To resist authoritarianism. To sacrifice our freedoms—even our lives—if that’s what it takes.
But a conversation? That’s where we draw the line.
That speaks volumes.
Because real resistance demands sacrifice. Startegic, deliberate, uncomfortable sacrifice.
Martin Luther King Jr. went to jail. Gandhi endured violence and led hunger strikes. Cesar Chavez fasted to spotlight injustice and unify his movement.
They didn’t fight from a place of comfort. They did what was necessary, no matter the cost.
So we must ask ourselves:
What are we really willing to sacrifice for democracy?
A donation? A march? A weekend of volunteering?
Our jobs? Our freedoms? Our lives?
The lives of those we love?
If we say we’re willing to die for democracy, as so many of our forbears did, why won’t we talk?
Compared to authoritarian rule, a conversation seems a modest sacrifice.
If we refuse even that, do we truly value democracy as much as we claim?
Three Ways We Rationalize Rejecting Dialogue
If progressives are committed to peaceful conflict resolution, why do so many of us indulge in violent fantasies when the topic of dialogue comes up?
We say: "It’s too hard." "It’s too toxic." "It’s pointless." Then we talk about the need too prepare for coming battles in the streets.
These discussions can sound a bit like strategy. But if you listen closely, they are emotional pronouncements dressed in the language of reason.
None of these rationalizations justify giving up on dialogue. But they do help us avoid the discomfort of genuine engagement.
1. “It’s Too Hard.”
Yes, dialogue is hard.
Talking with someone who disagrees with you about core values and “the facts” is emotionally exhausting. It takes restraint, clarity, and stamina. You have to stay calm when your buttons are pushed. You have to listen when you'd rather walk away. You have to regulate your emotions when everything in you wants to react.
But here’s the thing: change has always been hard.
The Civil Rights Movement didn’t succeed because people were naturally calm under pressure. It succeeded because they trained to be.
Activists practiced nonviolent resistance the way athletes train for competition. They rehearsed insults, slurs, even physical assaults—so when the real thing happened, they were ready. Not just to endure it, but to use it strategically.
Change doesn’t come from catharsis. It comes from discipline.
We don’t need to be martyrs. But we do need to be resilient. And resilience isn’t something you have or don’t—it’s something you build.
2. “It’s Too Toxic.”
This is a common objection, especially among white progressives: "They’re too racist. It’s too toxic. I can’t handle it."
It sounds like a boundary. But more often, it isn’t.
A real boundary defines the terms of engagement. It allows us to stay involved with integrity.
Disengagement, by contrast, is withdrawal. It says, "I won’t engage because of what you believe."
And too often, what we call a boundary is really disengagement in disguise.
Yes, racism is toxic. It should make us uncomfortable.
But when people with relative privilege say they’re too "traumatized" to talk with their racist family members, we need to ask: is this trauma, or is it discomfort masquerding as trauma?
Because people of color have had these conversations for generations. Not because it was safe or fair. But because silence was never an option.
If you’re a person with privilege, you don’t need to tolerate hate. But you do need to develop the resilience to confront it—strategically, skillfully, and with boundaries that let you stay in the fight.
3. “It’s Pointless.”
I hear this from people who have tried—and from those who haven’t.
Some gave it a real shot and walked away disillusioned. Others are certain it would go badly, so they never begin.
What they often mean is: "How can I possibly talk with someone who doesn’t even share my reality?"
It’s a good question.
But persuasion isn’t about facts. It’s about connection.
We’re taught to present evidence, make a case, win the argument. But when worldviews collide, facts trigger resistance.
That’s why Smart Politics teaches a different approach.
We lead with empathy. We lower defenses by affirming humanity. We listen—not because we agree, but because people open up when they feel understood.
It’s hard. It’s slow. But it works.
If we abandon dialogue, we abandon the only peaceful path to change.
Disengagement Isn’t Neutral
It’s tempting to believe that stepping back from political conversations is a harmless act. That when we disengage, we’re simply preserving our peace.
But as I argued in The Hidden Cost of Ostracizing Trump Voters, disengagement isn’t neutral. It’s a choice with serious consequences.
When we refuse to engage with people who think differently from us, we don’t just protect ourselves—we create a vacuum. And that vacuum gets filled with grievance entrepreneurs, conspiracy theorists, and authoritarian propagandists.
Isolated people seek echo chambers that validate their fears and inflame their anger. Disengagement confirms their worst assumptions about us and deprives them of any chance to see something else. The less we engage, the more likely they will become what we fear. Indeed, research shows that political exclusion doesn’t silence extremism. It fuels it.
When we forfeit the opportunity to challenge narratives that radicalize, we surrender influence to the loudest, most extreme voices.
The Choice Before Us
We are living through a perilous moment. Democratic norms are eroding, and many of us are at the breaking point.
We’re exhausted. Enraged. Scared. And when emotions run this high, it’s natural to seek comfort—to retreat, disconnect, and cling to outrage.
But comfort won’t save us. To preserve democracy, we must protect the conditions that sustain it. That means talking with the people we disagree with most.
Real resistance begins at the edge of our comfort zone—where our convictions are tested, our egos bruised, our emotions stretched.
We don’t have to like them. Or agree. Or continue the conversation if a real boundary is crossed.
But we do have to engage.
Because if we’re not even willing to practice democracy to save democracy, then are we sure we want to save it at all?
This article is part of The Smart Politics Way, a progressive newsletter about defending democracy through persuasive engagement. Dr. Karin Tamerius is a political psychiatrist and the founder of Smart Politics.
If you found this piece valuable, please help us spread the word by sharing it with your progressive network.
Subscribe for free and get a bonus gift!
When you subscribe to The Smart Politics Way, you’ll receive a free copy of my ebook, Keep Calm and Carry On: Saving Democracy the Smart Politics Way—a practical guide to staying calm, focused, and effective in the fight for democracy.
Progressives Have a Hate Problem Too
I was at a party recently when a woman approached me and asked, “Are you still teaching progressives how to talk with Trump voters?”
The Hidden Cost of Ostracizing Trump Voters
We've all been there. Your uncle, an old friend, or maybe even your mom begins posting right-wing propaganda on social media.
10 Steps for Saving Democracy
“Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” —James Baldwin
Panic Benefits Trump
The day after the inauguration, my sister received a text message that read, “January 20, 2025 is the day democracy died in America. They are in control now. There’s nothing we can do.”
Still here? Consider sending a copy of this article to a friend. (It’s totally free!)
I often find that the reasons people give for refusing to engage involve some pretty large assumptions about what those people believe and what they are like, many of which are not necessarily true. Often what is required is that we look at our own prejudices, about people who live in rural areas or people who might be too busy to pay attention to political news. We need to recognize that these people are often just trying to be good people based on the moral codes in which they were raised. We have a lot more in common with them than we realize, and we won't find out until we actually talk to them.
I suspect you're right that some of the same people who are willing (or *say* they're willing) to literally or figuratively go to the barricades, refuse this simple act of conversation. It bothers me that some of the same people who have publicly posted that they're resigned to martial law, cancelation of elections, or outright dictatorship, won't even talk to their opponents, not even about the weather or their favorite sports team or whatever.
Without necessarily holding my church up as some sort of model, I do know of at least two or three or probably more people who, most likely, did not vote as I did. But you know, I'm not even certain about that. I'm going to shun them or end our friendship or connection because they have named a MAGA supporter in some favorable context, or echoed a conservative talking point once or twice? Ours is neither a MAGA stronghold nor a progressive hotbed. Whatever else we do, we don't shun each other (or anyone) over differences of opinion. I hope it stays that way.
On that note, there is a phrase I heard in my more militant days in the late '70s, which I heard only once, but somehow it stuck. It was "middle reach". In today's terms, it means engaging the reasonable, uncommitted, *reachable* folks, independent voters, for instance. I have no proof of this, but I believe middle reach may have saved this country from becoming the absolute dictatorship many of my peers and I feared, even before Reagan was elected.
One final thought: when it comes to moderates, I want to be careful to distinguish between the ones who really are reachable, and the ones Martin Luther King warned about, who "sound" reasonable, but are always saying the timing is wrong, or balking at commitment at the last moment. Admittedly, this is hard. But unless we engage, how will we know which is which? If a wall still won't come down, then yes, draw some boundaries. And, just maybe, let someone else try engaging that same individual.
Not as many people are as totally unreachable as many of us seem to think.