For years, I have been fascinated by how injustice shapes people’s lives, particularly the lives of polarized groups locked in historical conflicts. In my research at Harvard University, I brought together, for the first time, descendants of Holocaust survivors and descendants of Nazis to examine their interactions.

We used a statistical approach called sequential analysis to analyze their conversations, measuring the probability of one person saying something and the likelihood of how the other would respond. What we found was striking: Both groups felt like victims, deeply entrenched in their own histories of pain and justification.

We observed similar patterns when descendants of enslaved people and slaveholders came together. Each side was strongly identified with its own suffering or a sense of inherited guilt.

This realization, that each group in a conflict is so rooted in its own narrative that it struggles to hear the other side, is not limited to historical atrocities. The same dynamic plays out in marriages, where couples argue past each other; in political discussions, where opponents treat each other as enemies; and even in classrooms.

As a psychology professor who has spent three decades teaching and researching polarizing issues, I’ve noticed a shift in classroom dynamics. Discussions have become increasingly tense, more like battlegrounds where students defend fixed positions rather than explore ideas.

The prevailing model is debate: It's designed for winning, not for truth-seeking, deep understanding, or viewpoint diversity. Whether in polarized groups, relationships, classrooms, or public discourse, people often become entrenched in their views and unable to truly hear the other side. Many become overly confident in their own rightness, making it difficult to genuinely consider alternative perspectives.

This overconfidence aligns with the

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