Imagine a world where even the deepest disagreements are approached with respect and genuine curiosity—that's exactly what the friendship between two seemingly different scholars demonstrates. Their story challenges the common notion that opposing viewpoints inevitably lead to conflict. And here’s where it gets controversial… what if embracing disagreement truly is a pathway to deeper understanding and personal growth?
Princeton University professor Robert P. George and Union Theological Seminary professor Cornel West are often seen sharing hearty laughs and warm embraces, giving the impression of close friendship. But beneath their visible camaraderie lies a profound partnership rooted in a shared quest for truth, despite holding contrasting political and philosophical beliefs—George as a conservative and West as a progressive.
West describes his relationship with George as one defined by love and respect, even amid disagreements. He has expressed that his affection for George extends both when they see eye to eye and when they differ, emphasizing that true friendship involves appreciating each other’s flaws and strengths alike. During a lecture held at BYU’s Wheatley Institute, they recounted how their friendship began—starting from a simple, yet unexpectedly lengthy conversation that grew into a partnership of mutual learning and collaboration.
Originally, their relationship started as a casual faculty interaction, but a single, extended dialogue over four hours changed everything. What was meant to be a quick interview at Princeton turned into a foundation for ongoing mentorship and friendship, eventually leading to co-teaching a seminar and co-authoring a book called “Truth Matters: A Dialogue on Fruitful Disagreement in an Age of Division.”
George shares that even when he disagreed with West’s answers—often considering them incorrect—what stood out was West’s ability to ask the right questions. West, in turn, admired George’s sincerity and intellectual independence—his honesty and openness to different perspectives. Both men have maintained a deep respect for each other over decades, a testament to their core principle: their goal isn't to persuade or to win. Instead, they focus on pursuing true understanding.
As George puts it, their friendship exemplifies what he calls a “dialectical partnership”—a collaborative effort where both seek truth through honest challenge and critique. This mindset isn’t superficial; it’s rooted in humility and a recognition that human fallibility extends to the most profound questions about human nature, dignity, and destiny. The process of exchanging falsehoods for truths requires being open to honest critique, offering their own ideas for scrutiny and accepting correction.
Cornel West adds a personal touch when discussing “soulcraft,” a term he uses to describe the character development exemplified by members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS). He highlights figures like President Russell M. Nelson and Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, emphasizing qualities such as inner joy, service, and the ability to maintain a creative tension between eternity and the temporal—the idea that true character involves a deep sense of joy and a genuine smile that reflects inner peace.
Building on this, West offers three vital principles that BYU faculty can help instill in students: remembrance, reverence, and resistance. Remembering past struggles and perseverance fosters reverence—an attitude of humility and empathy that counters pride. Resistance, then, encourages students to go against the grain—challenging complacency and reevaluating assumptions in pursuit of integrity.
George complements this by distinguishing between a job and a vocation. Teaching is a calling to serve—to guide students not merely in their careers but in becoming truth-seekers and courageous speakers of truth. He emphasizes the importance of modeling these traits in daily actions because students learn more by example than through words alone, especially when it involves openness to critique.
One of the most provocative ideas they share is that students attend educational institutions to “learn how to die.” This phrase, which often surprises listeners, suggests that college life is about mastering critical thinking and personal integrity—learning to let go of superficial beliefs and confront difficult truths. It’s about preparing students for real life, with all its challenges and transformations, and discovering their divine calling.
George reminds students that no one can do this transformative work for them. Personal integrity and courage are individual pursuits, cultivated through effort and self-awareness. Faculty can support this process by exemplifying honesty, humility, and resilience.
Before concluding, BYU’s President C. Shane Reese shares a timely reminder from an influential church leader—that society needs models of respectful disagreement. Referring to a conversation with President Dallin H. Oaks, Reese emphasizes that students and faculty alike benefit from seeing how to engage with differing opinions gracefully, fostering a culture where complex discussions can happen without division.
The impact of this dialogue on students is evident. Wheatley Scholar Kailene Talbot reflects that love, as demonstrated by West and George’s example, is a guiding principle that influences her to seek understanding and kindness. Student Kayson Marler hopes to emulate their friendship regardless of disagreements, applying these lessons in his personal relationships. His wife, Madeline, further notes that the idea of “learning how to die” is about embracing growth—preparing oneself to become better, more courageous, and more truthful human beings.
This story invites us to ask: Are we truly working toward understanding across our differences, or are we clinging to division? Can we, like George and West, embrace respectful disagreement as a vital part of personal and collective growth? The choice is ours—what do you think?
