reHUMANIZE
2-12-25 SESSION
Rehumanization is not about giving something back, nor is it about constructing something new—it is about seeing what has always been there, often overlooked. The process is not linear or simple; it is shaped by paradox, tension, and the quiet, often unnoticed moments when perception shifts. It happens in a doctor’s office when a routine exchange turns into an act of recognition. It exists in the discomfort of realizing that dehumanization is not just something others do, but something we participate in when we fail to see beyond a label, a role, or a projection.
Across discussions of politics, media, personal identity, and human connection, the complexities of rehumanization revealed themselves. Some questioned whether it requires unity or if it can exist in the space between differences. Others explored the ways systems actively dehumanize, whether through governance, rhetoric, or the structures we create to define belonging. But again and again, the same themes resurfaced: to be humanized is to be seen, and to see another is to recognize something of ourselves.
The questions remain open-ended: Can rehumanization happen at scale, or does it exist only in small, individual moments? Is it an act of restoration or an invitation to expand our understanding of what it means to be human? This is not a process with clear answers. It is an ongoing practice—one that asks us, again and again, to reconsider who we see, what we assume, and what we might be willing to unlearn.
Key Themes:
Certain ideas surfaced again and again, revealing the fundamental tensions at play in rehumanization. These themes explore the balance between individuality and connection, listening and speaking, recognition and transformation—offering a deeper understanding of how humanity is acknowledged, valued, and restored.
The Power of Being Seen
One of the strongest threads running through the conversation was the fundamental need to be seen, truly and fully. Being recognized—not just in passing, but with deep understanding—was described as one of the most humanizing experiences. Whether in a doctor’s office, through the words of a loved one, or in a fleeting but meaningful moment of connection, the act of being acknowledged was powerful. The absence of this recognition, however, was just as striking. Many reflected on moments where they felt invisible, dismissed, or reduced to a role rather than a person. This contrast highlighted a critical question: Is rehumanization about restoring what was lost, or simply offering what was never fully given?
Listening as an Act of Rehumanization
Beyond words and policies, beyond even action, listening emerged as one of the most powerful ways to rehumanize. Not listening to respond, debate, or convince, but listening to understand. Many expressed how rare it is to be truly heard—how often conversations are transactional rather than transformative. This raised questions about political and social structures that prioritize performance over presence. What would happen if those in power were forced to listen without speaking? What if public discourse shifted from statements to questions? The conversation repeatedly returned to the idea that deep listening is not passive; it is an intentional, radical act that can shift relationships, communities, and even institutions.
The Tension Between Unity and Individuality
The idea of rehumanization often conjures images of unity, of finding common ground and bridging divides. Yet, some questioned whether unity is the goal at all. Does rehumanization require agreement, or is it about making space for difference without diminishing one another? Some feared that the term itself could be misinterpreted as a call to sameness rather than a recognition of complexity. The conversation wrestled with this contradiction—how to honor individuality without fracturing connection, and how to create a shared sense of humanity without erasing the very differences that make it rich.
The Systems That Dehumanize
While much of the discussion focused on personal interactions, there was an underlying acknowledgment that dehumanization is often structural. Politics, healthcare, education, and media all shape the way people are seen or erased. Some questioned whether rehumanization is possible within systems designed to divide and categorize. Others pointed to small but meaningful ways that institutions could shift—through active listening, inclusive storytelling, and reframing leadership as service rather than control. The discussion left open the question: Can these structures be rehumanized, or must new ones be built in their place?
As you explore these visual symbols of the conversation, where do you recognize your own thoughts or those of others within its narrative?
What symbols within the artwork speak to you, and what stories do you think they're trying to tell?
In what ways does the art challenge or expand your current perspectives on belonging?
How do the contradictions and paradoxes illustrated in the art resonate with your understanding or experience with belonging?
A CLOSER LOOK AT SYMBOLOGY
Belief Windows
Our belief windows shape how we see the world—what comes into focus, what remains obscured, and, at times, whether we see anything at all. The fogged glass in this image represents the filters of experience, assumption, and ideology that distort our perception of others. We assume we are seeing clearly, but often, we are only seeing the residue of our own perspective.
The single hand reaching to wipe the condensation is an act of intentional clarity—a willingness to challenge what we think we know. The conversation explored how rehumanization does not require agreement, but it does require curiosity. To see another person as they are, rather than as we have imagined them, we must first recognize the window through which we are looking. The question is not whether the fog exists, but whether we are willing to clear a space in it.
The Illusion of Difference
It is human nature to see others as different, to act as if we do not occupy the same planet. In This Is Water, David Foster Wallace challenges us to recognize the unseen forces shaping our perceptions—the default settings that lead us to believe our reality is the only one. This image reflects that illusion. The figures in the foreground watch as others drift away, dissolving into abstraction, as if they exist in a separate reality. But they don’t. The observers and the observed are not distinct—they share the same space, moving through the same unseen currents.
The flowing white forms are not barriers but reminders that separation is often imagined. We mistake proximity for belonging, distance for difference, and forget that, despite circumstances, we all navigate the same world. Rehumanization begins when we recognize that we are not detached spectators but fellow travelers. The moment we see through the illusion of separation is the moment we understand—we share one planet.
The Canopies of Belief
It is human nature to seek safety under canopies of belief—whether cultural, educational, religious, ideological, or personal. These structures shape how we see ourselves and others, often reinforcing the idea that we stand apart. But despite our perceived separations, we remain part of a larger, interwoven human experience—one that is not uniform, but deeply entangled. The realities we live in are not the same. Some navigate abundance, while others endure scarcity. Some feel heard, while others go unseen. Yet, when we fail to acknowledge both the distinctions and the connections between us, we risk mistaking separation for truth.
From a broader perspective, these canopies are not rigid or isolated; they shift, blend, and overlap in ways we may not always recognize. Rehumanization is not about dissolving differences but about understanding them—about seeing people as they are, not just as they exist within our own frame of reference. Much of today’s unrest, anger, and contempt may stem from the failure to see the bigger picture. We focus on our immediate view, mistaking our perspective for the whole, reinforcing division rather than questioning it. But what if the divisions themselves are not the problem? What if the real issue is our inability—or unwillingness—to see past them?
The Mirror’s Invitation
A recurring theme in our Dialogue Reflection System™ is the appearance of mirrors—almost as if AI itself is asking us to look inward at the same time we look outward. This raises an essential question: What if rehumanization begins not just with how we see others, but with how we see ourselves? When something repulses us, when we are tempted to dehumanize another, we might look in the mirror and ask: How is this exactly me? This question is not about blame, but about recognition—the understanding that what we reject in others often reflects something unresolved within ourselves.
This invitation goes deeper than self-awareness; it requires self-compassion. If we find it easy to dismiss, judge, or diminish another, could it be that we have, at times, struggled to see our own worth? True rehumanization may not start with offering dignity to others, but with extending it inward first. If we are willing to see ourselves fully—our flaws, our contradictions, our struggles—perhaps we will be more capable of seeing others as whole, too. The mirror does not demand perfection. It simply asks us to look.
The Heart of reHUMANIZATION
A recurring theme in the conversation was the tension between individuality and connection—whether rehumanization is about bridging divides or simply recognizing that we were never truly separate to begin with. This image reflects that tension. The figures stand distinct, each carrying their own experiences, yet they all reach toward the same source. The heart at the center is not pulling them into sameness but illuminating the connections that already exist. Some see rehumanization as a personal act of recognition, while others believe it must happen through systemic change. But what if it is both? What if seeing each other fully—without the distortions of ideology, bias, or assumption—is the first step toward shifting the structures that shape us?
Throughout the discussion, participants reflected on what it means to be truly seen. A nurse pausing to ask, "How can I help you?" A doctor breaking routine to meet a patient’s eyes. Parents who understood their child’s essence, beyond words. These moments of recognition were described as profoundly humanizing, revealing that rehumanization does not require radical transformation—it requires presence. The figures in the image do not reach for something beyond themselves; they reach toward each other, toward understanding, toward the invisible but ever-present ties that bind us.
Rehumanization, then, is not an act of construction but of realization. It is not about building connection, but remembering that it was always there. The moment we recognize it, we begin to see beyond division—not erasing differences, but understanding that they exist within something shared.
The Engineered Divide
This image captures a central tension from the conversation: Is division real, or is it something we’ve been conditioned to accept? The chasm separating these figures mirrors the discussion on political dehumanization, polarization, and the struggle to rehumanize within systems designed to keep people apart. The two central figures reach toward one another, as if drawn by something deeper than their opposition, yet the hands above suggest an unseen force maintaining the divide—reinforcing the idea that polarization is not just a product of disagreement, but a structure that benefits from keeping people in conflict.
In the conversation, some questioned whether rehumanization is possible in political systems that thrive on division, while others suggested that true change could only happen if those in power were forced to listen. The glowing energy between the figures hints at the potential for connection, but the surrounding darkness reminds us that forces larger than the individuals involved often shape these interactions. The bridge in the background—distant, yet still present—raises the unsettling question: Is the divide unbridgeable, or have we simply forgotten how to cross it?
This image challenges us to rethink how we see conflict. Are we reaching for each other, or just reenacting a struggle that was never truly ours to begin with? If rehumanization is the goal, then perhaps the first step is recognizing that the distance between us is not as vast as we’ve been led to believe.
The First Recognition
This image embodies one of the most deeply human moments discussed in the conversation—the experience of being fully seen, fully known, and fully held in the embrace of another. The tenderness in the mother’s gaze is not just love; it is recognition. The child, new to the world, has no words, no identity beyond presence, and yet they are already known in a way that requires no explanation. This reflects a central theme from the discussion: rehumanization is not something that is given but something that is remembered.
Participants spoke about what it means to be seen, about how recognition—whether in the eyes of a doctor, a parent, or a stranger—can rehumanize in an instant. But what if the first act of rehumanization happens at birth? The first time we are held, the first time we are looked at not for what we produce, how we think, or what we believe, but simply because we are. Before we were anything else, we were seen. If dehumanization happens when we strip away that sense of innate worth, then perhaps rehumanization is not about restoring dignity, but about reminding ourselves that it was always there.
The Risk of Rehumanization
Rehumanization is not passive. It is an offering, a choice to extend something of ourselves beyond the safety of our own perspectives. This image reflects that tension—the woman stands at the threshold, holding something fragile yet powerful, uncertain whether to keep it close or release it into the unknown. The heart she holds is small, personal, intimate. The one outside is larger, untethered, already in flight. This is the paradox of human connection: to offer understanding, we must risk losing control over how it is received.
Throughout the conversation, participants spoke of seeing and being seen, listening instead of speaking, and the difficulty of holding space for another without expectation. To rehumanize is not simply to give; it is to relinquish certainty, to allow understanding to exist beyond ourselves. The birds in the distance suggest motion, transition—perhaps this offering will find a home, or perhaps it will drift beyond reach. But the act of releasing it, of extending something of ourselves despite the unknown, may be what rehumanization requires most.
To See Is To Heal, & Be Healed
One of the more poignant insights from the conversation was the transformative power of recognizing the humanity of another. It is easy to overlook the person in the car ahead of us as an annoyance rather than a human being with their own struggles and worries. In our work, our politics, and our daily frustrations, we reduce people to obstacles, adversaries, or something worse. Dehumanization is often unintentional, an automatic response to inconvenience or disagreement. But every time we do this, we reinforce a narrative that allows us to look past people rather than at them. Rehumanization is the opposite—it is the choice to stop, to see, and to acknowledge that the person in front of us, however fleeting the interaction, is as complex and fallible as we are.
One participant shared an experience of visiting a doctor who, after addressing the medical concerns, simply stopped and asked, “How are you?” It was a small moment, yet profoundly humanizing. In a space defined by efficiency, the act of being seen became its own kind of healing. This image reflects that moment of recognition—the shift from function to presence, from process to care. It suggests that rehumanization is not always about restoring what has been lost, but about remembering what has always been there: the simple, undeniable dignity of being seen. And in that paradox, something else emerges—when we pause to truly see another, we do not just heal them. We heal ourselves.
Sometimes We Mistake the Shadow for the Person
It is tempting to judge people not by who they are, but by the projections cast upon them—assumptions, biases, and roles that distort their true nature. We see their opinions, their actions, their place in society, and assume that is all they are. But a shadow is not the person; it is a flattened, exaggerated version shaped by light, perception, and distance. In the conversation on rehumanization, this theme emerged repeatedly: how often do we reduce someone to a projection of our own expectations, fears, or experiences, rather than seeing them as a whole person?
Anaïs Nin observed, "We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are." This invites us to look inward—to consider the fears and narratives that shape our perceptions of others. What we assume to be another’s defining feature—their flaws, their beliefs, their mistakes—may be nothing more than a reflection of our own insecurities and biases. Rehumanization is not just about seeing others clearly; it is about recognizing the distortions in our own vision. The question is not only who do we fail to see? but what within ourselves keeps us from seeing clearly?
Surprising Discoveries:
Rehumanization is not as straightforward as restoring what has been lost—it challenges the way we see, listen, and engage with others. These discoveries emerged as moments of recognition, shifting assumptions about what it truly means to humanize and be humanized.
Rehumanization is Not About Agreement
At the start of the conversation, many assumed that rehumanization required unity—a sense of shared purpose or mutual understanding. However, as the discussion evolved, it became clear that rehumanization does not demand agreement. It is possible to acknowledge another’s humanity without aligning with their views, choices, or experiences. This shifted the focus from finding common ground to recognizing individuality. Instead of trying to erase differences, rehumanization became about holding space for them, allowing for both connection and contradiction to exist simultaneously.
Politics and Power May Resist Rehumanization
One of the most striking realizations was how deeply dehumanization is embedded in political systems. Some had hoped that rehumanization could be woven into governance, but others questioned whether power structures, by their nature, resist it. The idea that politicians might be required to listen rather than speak sparked an unexpected discussion about whether the political arena even allows for humanization. Is it possible to rehumanize a system built on division and competition, or does the system itself need to be restructured? This question remained unresolved, but it reframed the challenge from simply reforming politics to rethinking how leadership and representation function.
Rehumanization is Often Unexpected
Many of the most profound moments of rehumanization were described as happening in unplanned, fleeting encounters. A doctor breaking protocol to ask, “How are you?” A stranger’s simple act of kindness. A moment of vulnerability that was met with care rather than dismissal. This led to the realization that rehumanization is often not the result of large, organized efforts, but of small, individual choices. Institutions and systems may play a role, but the most deeply felt moments of being humanized came from personal interactions that were unscripted, unstructured, and genuine.
Listening is a More Radical Act Than Speaking
Early in the conversation, many referenced the importance of dialogue in rehumanization. But as the discussion unfolded, listening—not speaking—emerged as the most powerful force. This was not about passive silence but about active presence: listening without preparing a response, without filtering through bias, without reducing someone to a concept or a category. The idea surfaced that true listening requires a temporary surrender of one’s own narrative to fully hold space for another. In a world where so much is built around output, assertion, and argument, the notion that listening could be the most radical act of rehumanization was both unexpected and profound.
THE MULTARITIES OF
reHUMANIZE
The conversation on reHUMANIZE revealed a series of tensions—forces that seem to oppose each other yet are inherently connected. Rather than a single, unified perspective, participants explored contradictions that define the process of rehumanization. Is it about unity or preserving individuality? Does it happen through personal moments of connection, or does it require large-scale systemic change? Is it about listening or speaking? Should we focus on recognizing humanity as it exists, or actively transforming systems and behaviors?
Throughout the discussion, idealism clashed with pragmatism, and hope was tempered by the reality of deeply ingrained dehumanization. These multarities are not obstacles to understanding rehumanization—they are the essence of it. Holding these tensions, rather than resolving them in a singular way, may be the most human thing of all.
Unity vs. Individuality
Rehumanization was often described as a way to bridge divides and create connection. Yet, some questioned whether unity should even be the goal. Is rehumanization about finding shared values, or is it about making space for differences without forcing people into a single framework? True humanity may not come from agreement, but from the ability to coexist in tension—allowing people to remain distinct while still being seen and valued.
Personal Acts vs. Systemic Change
Participants reflected on deeply personal moments—instances where they were truly seen, heard, or acknowledged. These small acts of humanization stood in stark contrast to systems that devalue individuals at scale. This raised a difficult question: Can personal choices ripple outward to transform society, or do we need to dismantle and rebuild the systems that reinforce dehumanization? If institutions are built to divide, can they ever be rehumanized from within?
Listening vs. Speaking
Many entered the conversation believing that rehumanization happens through dialogue—through sharing perspectives, exchanging stories, and using one’s voice. But as the discussion unfolded, listening emerged as the more radical act. To truly rehumanize, people must listen without preparing a response, without filtering through bias, without reducing others to categories or concepts. This created an unexpected contradiction: Is rehumanization about having a voice, or about making space for others? And can both happen at once?
Recognition vs. Transformation
Some saw rehumanization as a process of recognizing the humanity that has always been there, rather than something that needs to be rebuilt. Others argued that rehumanization requires transformation—changes in behavior, policies, and social climate. If humanity is not lost but simply unacknowledged, does rehumanization require restoring what has been ignored? Or does it challenge us to actively reshape the way we see, treat, and organize ourselves?
Hope vs. Disillusionment
The conversation carried an underlying tension between hope and frustration. Some saw proof that rehumanization is possible, pointing to moments of empathy, connection, and change. Others saw structural and cultural forces that make dehumanization the norm. This raised a fundamental question: Can rehumanization happen at scale, or is it only possible in small, personal interactions? And how do we balance the belief that change is possible with the reality of how difficult it is?
Idealism vs. Pragmatism
Early in the conversation, many participants spoke about rehumanization with inspiration and optimism. As the discussion deepened, some found their perspective shifting toward a more pragmatic view—realizing that rehumanization is not just about good intentions, but about effort, persistence, and confronting resistance. This shift did not erase optimism, but it grounded it in reality. The conversation left an open-ended question: Is rehumanization an inevitable step forward, or does it require relentless, intentional work?
OVERFLOW
As you explore these additional images, consider the conversations that may have shaped them. What moments, insights, or tensions do you recognize? Where do you find traces of yourself and your own story within them?
