We live in an age of polycrisis. Political instability, climate stress, economic fragility, pandemics, wars, disinformation – the challenges facing humanity no longer unfold in isolation. Instead, they compound and feed off one another, creating waves of uncertainty and fear. The Institute for Economics and Peace’s Global Peace Index 2025 paints a sobering picture: global peacefulness is in decline for the ninth consecutive year, driven by armed conflict, authoritarianism, and worsening polarisation.
And yet, as the world fractures, our ability to talk to one another – the very mechanism through which societies heal and chart a path forward – seems to be breaking down. Are we witnessing not only the decay of community, but the death of discourse itself?
In American culture, the primacy of the individual has long been celebrated. The rhetoric of “my rights, my freedoms” pervades political debate, education, and daily life. Even small cultural markers, like the absence of school uniforms, subtly reinforce the idea that self-expression outweighs collective identity.
Individualism has its virtues: creativity, entrepreneurship, resilience. But when untethered from community, it curdles into entitlement and suspicion. Rights become weapons wielded against the common good. Freedoms become excuses to shirk responsibility. And when crisis strikes – as it now does in overlapping waves – the social fabric, already threadbare, begins to tear.
The opposite of this is not conformity or blind obedience. It is unity: the recognition that our fates are intertwined, that my freedom and your wellbeing are not mutually exclusive, but mutually dependent. The great advances of humanity – from civil rights to public health to space exploration – were not the triumph of the individual alone, but of communities united in purpose.
This erosion of community coincides with the hardening of ideological tribes. The right moves further right, emboldened by populist leaders and billionaires who find profit in division. The left, instead of offering a broad tent, often fragments into smaller, self-policing enclaves, more eager to signal virtue than to build consensus.
Both sides fall prey to confirmation bias – seeking only information that affirms what they already believe. Social media algorithms weaponise this tendency, locking us into echo chambers, feeding us outrage, pushing us further apart.
Instead of dialogue, we get vilification. Instead of persuasion, we get performance. The left shouts “fascist,” the right shouts “traitor,” and across the canyon of mutual contempt, the possibility of common ground disappears.
The consequences are deadly serious. In the wake of Charlie Kirk’s assassination, the left and right rushed not to grieve, but to weaponise. Each side hoped the killer belonged to the other, as though murder could validate an argument.
The tragedy was not only the loss of a life, but the revelation of what we have become: a society where disagreement is met not with debate, but with dehumanisation. Where violence is normalised, even celebrated. Where leaders refuse to lower the temperature, preferring instead to fan the flames.
This is not confined to America. Across Europe, far-right movements mobilise with funding, organisation, and cultural cover. Across democracies, free speech is narrowed, books are banned, and opinions are policed. The result is the same: discourse dies, and community decays.
Yet imagine if we turned in the other direction. Imagine if we resisted the pull of tribalism and leaned instead into community. When people come together, the extraordinary becomes possible. The great challenges of our age – pandemics, climate change, inequality, conflict – are not problems that individuals can solve in isolation. They demand collective will, shared sacrifice, and above all, the recognition that our futures are intertwined.
Steve Killelea, founder of the Institute for Economics and Peace, speaks often of Positive Peace – the attitudes, institutions, and structures that create and sustain peaceful societies. Positive Peace is not simply the absence of conflict; it is the presence of conditions that allow humans to realise their potential. Societies with high levels of positive peace are not only less prone to violence, but they also achieve stronger economic outcomes, higher levels of wellbeing, greater resilience in times of crisis, and environments where creativity and innovation can thrive.
Unity, then, is not an abstract moral good – it is the practical foundation of human flourishing. When a society invests in community trust, equitable resource distribution, free information flow, and strong institutions, it builds the scaffolding for resilience. Epidemics can be contained not by individuals hoarding masks, but by societies committing to protect one another. Climate change can be slowed not through scattered acts of virtue, but through nations working together on shared goals. Even long-standing conflicts can be resolved when adversaries choose to recognise their shared humanity and common interests.
A divided society may limp along, fragile and fearful. But a united one can withstand crisis, adapt with agility, and even flourish amidst uncertainty. Positive Peace shows us that the path to prosperity and resilience is not through endless competition or individual triumph, but through cooperation, empathy, and a deep commitment to the communities we belong to. In unity, humanity finds not only its survival, but its greatness.
If the polycrisis teaches us anything, it is that our survival depends on cooperation. No nation, no ideology, no tribe can navigate these storms alone. Positive Peace provides a blueprint for what must change.
First, we must restore the primacy of community. Rights matter, but responsibilities bind us together. Freedom is strongest when exercised with regard for the whole. This is why societies that invest in equitable resource distribution and inclusive governance are more peaceful and more resilient.
Second, we must rediscover the discipline of empathy. Disagreement does not make someone evil. If progress is our goal, then listening – even to those we dislike – must be part of the path. The principle of charity – seeking the best version of an opposing argument rather than the worst – is not weakness; it is the foundation of dialogue.
Third, we must demand the courage of leadership. Leaders must lower the temperature, not raise it. History’s darkest chapters have always been written when demagogues exploit division instead of healing it. By contrast, leaders who invest in transparency, accountability, and free information flows strengthen the Positive Peace that makes societies thrive.
The United Nations, for all its flaws, was born from this insight. After the bloodshed of two world wars, nations recognised that dialogue, however messy, is the only alternative to destruction. Today, that truth must be reclaimed – not only in institutions, but in our own lives.
We are not powerless. Every conversation that resists outrage, every community rebuilt on trust, every act of humility in the face of difference pushes back against decay.
Discourse is not dead – yet. But it is dying. And if we wish to preserve both peace and community, we must be willing to fight not with guns, not with rage, but with the harder, slower work of talking, listening, and finding common cause.
Because in the end, it is not our divisions but our shared humanity that will decide whether civilisation survives the age of polycrisis – or succumbs to it.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Vision of Humanity.