James Stuber is a prospective history and government double major at Bowdoin College.
On many college campuses, including my own at Bowdoin, political discourse has become a contact sport played at a distance.
We add fuel to the fire that is political discourse while rarely leaning into its discomfort. We trade headlines, repost infographics, fire off confident takes in classrooms and bash outspoken students through the anonymity offered by Yik Yak, a social media platform that allows users to anonymously post about events at their college.
People focus on gotcha moments or attempts at changing someone else’s opinion. But rarely do we sit across from someone with whom we fundamentally disagree and ask them: Why do you think that?
The left too easily dismisses the right as hateful, and the right too easily dismisses the left
as naive or too sensitive. Through all of this, space for true dialogue, not simply defending
positions, disappears.
Building Bridges at Bowdoin, a dialogue program, gathers 12 students with distinct backgrounds and widespread political opinions around a table every week to talk about issues in American politics. Abortion, foreign policy, capitalism, immigration and affirmative action were some of the topics discussed when I attended.
The expectation was never to go in and change someone’s mind, rather to go in with an open mind and learn how someone else thinks. And somewhere in the rhythm of these weekly sessions, I realized how much we are all missing when we give up on leaning into the discomfort of talking about hard things face to face.
What struck me the most about this process was how disarming conversation can be. There is something almost inconveniently humanizing about sitting across from someone who the news echo chambers and social media algorithms train us to ignore.
Before we even got to our talking points, I learned that the people sitting across from me had the same coffee order, watched the same TV show and came from similar backgrounds. Suddenly, the debate was no longer between left and right, right or wrong, or Democrat vs. Republican; instead, it was simply a conversation between people.
Our exchanges on abortion, arguably one of the most taboo topics in American society, made this especially clear. One of the students in the group expressed how he believed abortion should be illegal with no caveats. While I vehemently disagreed with his opinion, listening to his reasoning shed light on the thought processes of the people with whom I disagreed.
In reality, the opinions of people on the other side of the political spectrum come from the same place as we do: personal experiences, a set of values and logic. Online, an opinion like this one would have triggered an ad hominem attack or complete dismissal, but in person, you are forced to hear out the other side.
Political discourse, especially the type that is seen online and in traditional media, comes with people prepared with a barrage of facts and statistics, alienating many, including myself, from entering the discussion. People came into these discussions not with facts and statistics, but with stories and principles that shaped their viewpoints.
I do not believe that face-to-face dialogue is going to magically resolve America’s political divides. But I do believe it will help us confront the gap between the image we paint of our political “foes” and the full, complicated people that they really are.
It is possible to share deep values with someone whose policy positions we may find troubling, and also to respect someone without endorsing all of their political views.
At a moment when American politics seems to be defined by distance, we need more spaces where talking face to face is the norm. So, grab a coffee with an acquaintance and talk face-to-face.
