If we only tell stories about how bad soldiers or priests or businesspeople are without telling the stories of the good that people do, we are not only missing out on positive ideals but we are recasting America in a way that only shows the skewed images in a fun-house mirror.
A student is writing a story in my class about police. Her view is very one-sided, an obvious caricature of the constant noise of “police are racist” or “police are evil” (her phrases). I offered that the kind of piece she is writing will only be read by one group of people. My suggestion was that she might want to have a more balanced view. I asked her if she had ever talked with a police officer, if she had ever gone on a ride-along. My points are shared in the form of questions. I want students to consider all points of view. 
One young man was writing a pro-life perspective on abortion. I emphasize in class that students should be considerate of their language, how they might attract others to their viewpoint. He was using the term “leftist” throughout his piece. In a personal conversation I asked him why he used that term. He told me that the word was used in his home. So I asked him if he wanted to have people with whom he disagreed read his paper with an open mind, and would they, if their current perspective was cast with a word that is pejorative or combative. “If,” I began to close my discussion with him, “We cast people in an adversarial role how do you think they will respond?”
Another young person, who is from an immigrant family, wanted to talk about how ‘bad’ our country is. She and I talked the other day. After listening to her story, I asked questions as I usually do. “Why did your mom and dad want to come to this country? If they thought you and your siblings would have a better life here, why would you suggest that the very reason your folks brought you here is now suddenly ‘bad’?” She had not ever thought about these ideas. When I asked her why she wanted to write the paper as a jeremiad against America she said, “That’s all I ever hear.” 
We spoke for a bit longer. I hope her perspective becomes a bit more measured. I hope that the ideas I suggest in classes, ancient Hebraic wisdom such as “hear the other side of story before believing the first thing you hear” (without chapter and verse, Proverbs 18.17) finds fertile soil in her mind.
A few examples suffice to say that if you only hear one-thing, you will come to believe that thing as truth. The question I am constantly, constantly telling my students to ask is, “What am I not hearing?” If you want to be fair, generous, empathetic, and kind (all attributes to which students give credence) then the way you portray people, groups, institutions, and countries needs to reflect these character traits.
I love my students and I want them to have a broader view of the world than the one they come from, than the one they hear about all the time on the ‘net, in film, during streamers, or at the university. I believe in nothing more strongly than viewpoint diversity.
AFTERWORD I work very hard in one of the major papers of the semester to help students move away from bias toward attracting people to a point of view. There is too much class instruction and practice for an overview here. Suffice it to say, the students are often half successful (as my three stories point out). But in my comments to them, that is where more traction can be gained. And then, late the semester, they have a chance to revise their writing for a final portfolio. I have always questioned rather than proselytized. There is no compromise of principle; there is a desire to pull up a metaphysical chair next to someone and ask, “Can you explain why you went in that direction?” And then, “Might there be a more nuanced way to explain yourself to your reader?” Education, for me, is relationship. To put a point on it, the young immigrant in the third story I tell here came to me and asked if I could recommend some books for her to read.
Our classroom was somber and quiet. A young Venezuelan student had just opened her speech with a beautiful picture of her best friend. The power point clicker was pressed, and the next slide appeared, her friend laying in a pool of blood. There was an audible gasp. Her words were some of the most memorable I’ve ever heard in a speech. “She wanted a piece of bread,” the young voice quivered. She didn’t preach. She just shared. Her friend was shot with three others who protested to get food during the shortage. The classroom was full of questions that day. We rarely had time to stop and discuss content in our schedule but that day we did.