The last presidential election in Chile left a telling image: the country went to the second round with two candidates located at the ends of the political spectrum who, more worryingly, presented speeches that divided us as a society. Hostility seems to be the order of the day during this election season, and the speeches show dichotomous views between groups, fragmenting us as a society.
But things are never that simple. Social psychology teaches us that people tend to seek certainty when we face uncertainty, threat, or frustration, which often leads us to make mistakes and bias our reasoning. Additionally, it has been found that when we adhere to ideological labels (like the left-right divide), we are more likely to view people of the opposite party negatively. Polarization is no longer just ideological: it is emotional, daily, intimate. The data says it, the streets show it and families live it. In contexts of emotional polarization, it seems that we put our identity at stake more than our arguments.
In these scenarios, extreme narratives are more appealing because they simplify a complex world, offer clear explanations, and promise rapid change, even at the cost of dividing us by putting our already weak social cohesion at risk. Politics, which traditionally sought agreements, has transformed into a space where emotions prevail over arguments. Today we see anger channeled as identity, distrust transformed into belonging, and fear interpreted as electoral orientation.
Recent studies – such as that of the Laboratory of Surveys and Social Analysis of the Adolfo Ibáñez University – show that citizens feel more distant from the center, more suspicious of others and more willing to interpret politics as confrontational. We don’t just vote for programs: we also vote out of a sense of threat, out of emotional belonging and out of a narrative in which the adversary is no longer legitimate. This combination opens the door to candidates with more radical proposals which, at the cost of offering certainties and few nuances, deepen social tensions in our deeply unequal country.
But there is a less visible effect; Perhaps more worrying: how this polarization affects childhood and youth. In the aftermath of the elections, many classrooms were filled with conversations about “good and evil,” “those who want to destroy Chile,” or “those who want to save it.” Children and young people of eight or ten years old repeating speeches that they do not understand well, but that they hear at the family table or in the conversations of adults who speak with emotion, annoyance or fear.
Children observe, imitate and reinterpret; They are relational sponges. When politics is experienced as a moral battle, they internalize this logic. They learn that the other is not someone to talk to, but someone to protect themselves from. The risk is that they naturalize hostility as part of democratic debate and grow up without having seen models of respectful disagreement or healthy political coexistence.
The responsibility does not lie solely with parties or candidates. It is primarily intended for adults. Democracy is not transmitted through speeches, but through behavior: how we speak at home, how we react to differences and how we teach that politics is a space of projects and not of enemies.
If we want to reduce polarization, we must start by teaching children – and remembering – that a democratic society needs bridges more than trenches. And that the political future of Chile is not only played out in elections, but also in every classroom, in every family dining room and in every conversation where we choose between adding or separating.
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