Ever notice how quickly things fall apart online when people start agreeing with each other? It’s almost as if harmony itself is bad for business. And in many ways—it

In a world fueled by conflict clicks, unity doesn’t sell. But the real cost? It’s paid by the ones who need the most help.

The algorithm doesn’t want us to agree

From social media platforms to prime-time pundits, conflict is currency. Outrage gets attention. Attention drives engagement. Engagement brings revenue.

This machine isn’t broken—it’s functioning perfectly. But it’s not designed to elevate meaningful causes. It’s designed to keep us scrolling, suspicious, and at war with people who, more often than not, have the same concerns we do.

While we fight, real problems fade

Polarization doesn’t just poison discourse—it buries the issues that actually need our attention. Poverty, climate change, healthcare, education—these require cooperation, long-term thinking, and shared sacrifice.

But cooperation isn’t clicky. It doesn’t trend. And while we bicker about who’s “woke” or who’s “ignorant,” urgent needs go unmet. The more we turn on each other, the less capacity we have to turn toward solutions.

When we unite, power panics

Here’s a secret few in politics will say out loud: unity is bad for business.

If people from opposing sides realize they care about the same things—safe neighborhoods, decent schools, affordable groceries—the narrative falls apart. The party lines blur. The boogeyman rhetoric dries up. And suddenly, fear isn’t such a reliable motivator.

When we get along, politicians lose their easiest play: division. They lose the ability to say, “Only we can protect you.” They lose the donations fueled by outrage. They lose the leverage that comes from keeping us afraid of each other.

But wait—don’t we need debate?

Of course we do. Democracy demands dissent. Progress is born from discomfort. But what we’re living in now isn’t debate—it’s digital gladiator combat.

There’s a difference between challenging ideas and treating people as enemies. One moves us forward. The other leaves us stuck in a loop of noise and neglect.

The hungry don’t care who you voted for

The people who suffer most when we stay divided? They’re not watching cable news. They’re not doomscrolling threads about pronouns or political gaffes.

They’re the ones waiting for food stamps to be approved.
They’re the single mom navigating a broken healthcare system while working two jobs and skipping her own prescriptions to afford her child’s.
They’re the unhoused veteran trying to get through another night without being harassed, fined, or forgotten.
They’re the teacher dipping into their own paycheck—again—to buy supplies for students no one seems to prioritize.

These folks aren’t wondering if you’re red or blue. They’re wondering if anyone is going to show up with solutions instead of slogans.

They need stable policy, sustained attention, and cross-party cooperation. They need us to care more about outcomes than outbursts. And yet, every time the narrative resets to outrage, they get pushed further to the margins.

They don’t need us to agree on everything. But they desperately need us to stop treating each other like enemies long enough to focus on the real ones: inequality, inaction, and indifference.

Rebellion looks like reaching across

So who wins when we don’t get along?
Big tech. Big media. Big politics.

And who loses?
Anyone without power. Anyone who depends on shared humanity to survive.

What if our greatest act of resistance was refusing to hate the person across the aisle? What if getting along—imperfectly, awkwardly—was the most radical thing we could do?

Because when we stop fighting each other, we can finally fight for something.