We need to talk: Building truly connected communities in Wellington

May 15 | The Post

OPINION: In a city renowned for its progressive bubble we turn a blind eye to Wellington's greatest hypocrisy: we congratulate ourselves on inclusivity while practising ruthless exclusion of divergent viewpoints.

When was the last time you genuinely engaged with someone whose political opinions fundamentally clash with yours?

As someone who straddles two worlds – running a public relations business and the Wellington Writers Studio – I've experienced this first-hand. In business settings, I'm assumed to be commercially-minded and right-leaning. In creative spaces, people automatically presume I share the typically left-leaning views of the creative community.

When people discover I spent my 20s working in the Beehive under John Key's government, the reaction is often thinly-veiled suspicion: “What’s someone like you doing in the arts?” The unspoken accusation being that one cannot genuinely value both commerce and creativity, or hold complex political views that don't fit neatly into prescribed boxes.

This ideological segregation isn't just annoying – it's destructive to our civic life. In Denmark, “dialogue dinners” bringing together political opposites have reduced negative stereotyping by 21% after just one meal. A left-leaning friend and I are launching a Wellington version precisely because we desperately need this intervention.

These assumptions aren’t harmless, they fracture our community and prevent authentic connection. Through creating several Wellington communities – the Writers Studio for isolated creatives, Heft for independent consultants, and Folly Journal as an alternative literary platform – I’ve discovered three essential ingredients for building genuinely connected communities.

First, you need a place – not just any location, but what sociologists call a “third place”. Not home, not work, but somewhere that serves as a modern secular altar where meaningful interaction happens. The Writers Studio has become exactly this: a space where right-wing journalists and left-wing poets work side by side, seeing each other as fellow writers first, not political opponents.

In our digitally connected yet physically isolated world, these tangible gathering spots are essential. Without them, community remains an abstract concept rather than lived experience.

Second, you need shared purpose that transcends political identity. When we launched Folly, Wellington's literary gatekeepers were outraged: “Who are these interlopers?” Yet our focus on creating something that bridged “high art and good fun stories” attracted contributors and readers across the political spectrum, making us the fastest-selling literary journal in New Zealand.

Our contributors span from award-winning authors to first-time writers, united by the shared purpose of creating something both artistically valuable and genuinely enjoyable to read. Political labels become irrelevant when people collaborate toward something meaningful.

Third, and most crucially, we need permission for genuine diversity of thought. Wellington has become intellectually stagnant precisely because expressing unorthodox opinions carries too high a social cost. We've created an environment where people self-censor rather than risk confrontation with the prevailing orthodoxy.

The irony is painful: our “creative capital” has become creatively constrained by ideological conformity. True creativity requires intellectual friction – the collision of disparate ideas that generates something new. Instead, we're trapped in an echo chamber disguised as an inclusive community.

The formula is simple but powerful: Place + Purpose + Permission = Connected Community.

A genuine community isn't built on ideological uniformity, but on the willingness to work together despite differences. Wellington could become a national model not just for creativity but for constructive dialogue across divides.

Next time you encounter someone whose politics make you uncomfortable, resist the urge to retreat to your ideological corner. Instead, engage them with genuine curiosity. You don't need to abandon your convictions to understand theirs.

Wellington could be a genuine model for bridging New Zealand's deepening divides – not through enforced agreement but through cultivated disagreement. The question is whether we have the courage to embrace the discomfort of real diversity, not just the kind we already approve of.

After all, what’s the point of being a “progressive” city if we're not progressing the difficult art of democratic conversation?