How to lead a conversation between people who disagree Eve Pearlman
Transcriber: Leslie Gauthier
Reviewer: Joanna Pietrulewicz
So in the run-up to the 2016 election,
I was, like most of us,
watching the rise in discord and vitriol
and nastiness in our public spaces.
It was this crazy uptick in polarization.
It was both disheartening and distressing.
And so I started thinking,
with a fellow journalist, Jeremy Hay,
about how we might practice
our craft differently.
How we might go to the heart of divides,
to places of conflict,
like journalists always have,
but then, once there,
do something really different.
We knew we wanted to take
the core tools of our craft –
careful vetting of information,
diligent research, curiosity,
a commitment to serving the public good –
to serving our democracy –
and do something new.
And so we mapped out this process,
what we call dialogue journalism,
for going to the heart
of social and political divides,
and then, once there, building
journalism-supported conversations
between people on opposite sides
of polarizing issues.
But how actually to do this
in a world that’s so divided,
so deeply divided –
when we live in a world
in which cousins and aunts and uncles
can’t talk to one another,
when we often live in separate
and distinct news ecosystems,
and when we reflexively
and habitually malign and dismiss
those with whom we disagree?
But we wanted to try.
And so right after the 2016 election,
in that time between the election
and the inauguration,
we partnered with the Alabama Media Group
to do something really different.
We brought 25 Trump supporters
from Alabama together
in conversation with
25 Clinton supporters from California.
And we brought them together
in a closed, moderated Facebook group
that we kept open for a month.
What we wanted to do
was to give them a place to engage
with genuine curiosity and openness.
And we wanted to support them
in building relationships,
not just with each other
but with us as journalists.
And then we wanted to supply
facts and information –
facts and information that they could
actually receive and process
and use to undergird their conversations.
And so as a prelude to this conversation,
the first step in what we call
dialogue journalism,
we asked what they thought
the other side thought of them.
So when we asked
the Trump supporters from Alabama
what they thought the Clinton supporters
in California thought of them,
this is some of what they said.
“They think we are religious
Bible thumpers.”
“That we’re backwards
and hickish, and stupid.”
“They think that we all have
Confederate flags in our yards,
that we’re racist
and sexist and uneducated.”
“They think we’re barefoot and pregnant,
with dirt driveways.”
“And they think we’re all prissy butts
and that we walk around in hoop skirts
with cotton fields in the background.”
And then we asked that same question
of the Californians:
“What do you think
the Alabamians think about you?”
And they said this:
“That we’re crazy, liberal Californians.”
“That we’re not patriotic.”
“We’re snobby and we’re elitist.”
“We’re godless and we’re permissive
with our children.”
“And that we’re focused
on our careers, not our family.”
“That we’re elitist,
pie-in-the-sky intellectuals,
rich people, Whole Foods-eating,
very out of touch.”
So by asking questions like this
at the start of every conversation
and by identifying
and sharing stereotypes,
we find that people –
people on all sides –
begin to see the simplistic and often
mean-spirited caricatures they carry.
And in that –
after that, we can move
into a process of genuine conversation.
So in the two years since that launch –
California/Alabama Project –
we’ve gone on to host
dialogues and partnerships
with media organizations
across the country.
And they’ve been about
some of our most contentious issues:
guns, immigration, race, education.
And what we found,
remarkably,
is that real dialogue is in fact possible.
And that when given a chance
and structure around doing so,
many, not all,
but many of our fellow citizens
are eager to engage with the other.
Too often journalists
have sharpened divides
in the name of drama or readership
or in service to our own views.
And too often we’ve gone to each side
quoting a partisan voice on one side
and a partisan voice on the other
with a telling anecdotal lead
and a pithy final quote,
all of which readers
are keen to mine for bias.
But our dialogue-based process
has a slower pace and a different center.
And our work is guided by the principle
that dialogue across difference
is essential to a functioning democracy,
and that journalism and journalists
have a multifaceted role to play
in supporting that.
So how do we work?
At every stage,
we’re as transparent as possible
about our methods and our motives.
At every stage, we take time
to answer people’s questions –
explain why we’re doing what we’re doing.
We tell people that it’s not a trap:
no one’s there to tell you you’re stupid,
no one’s there to tell you
your experience doesn’t matter.
And we always ask
for a really different sort of behavior,
a repatterning away
from the reflexive name-calling,
so entrenched in our discourse
that most of us, on all sides,
don’t even notice it anymore.
So people often come
into our conversations a bit angrily.
They say things like,
“How can you believe X?”
and “How can you read Y?”
and “Can you believe that this happened?”
But generally, in this miracle
that delights us every time,
people begin to introduce themselves.
And they begin to explain
who they are and where they come from,
and they begin to ask
questions of one another.
And slowly, over time, people circle back
again and again to difficult topics,
each time with a little more empathy,
a little more nuance,
a little more curiosity.
And our journalists and moderators
work really hard to support this
because it’s not a debate,
it’s not a battle,
it’s not a Sunday morning talk show.
It’s not the flinging of talking points.
It’s not the stacking of memes and gifs
or articles with headlines
that prove a point.
And it’s not about scoring
political victories with question traps.
So what we’ve learned is that our state
of discord is bad for everyone.
It is a deeply unhappy state of being.
And people tell us this again and again.
They say they appreciate the chance
to engage respectfully,
with curiosity and with openness,
and that they’re glad and relieved
for a chance to put down their arms.
And so we do our work in direct challenge
to the political climate
in our country right now,
and we do it knowing
that it is difficult, challenging work
to hold and support people
in opposing backgrounds in conversation.
And we do it knowing
democracy depends on our ability
to address our shared problems together.
And we do this work by putting community
at the heart of our journalistic process,
by putting our egos to the side
to listen first, to listen deeply,
to listen around
and through our own biases,
our own habits of thought,
and to support others in doing the same.
And we do this work
knowing that journalism
as an institution is struggling,
and that it has always had a role to play
and will continue to have a role to play
in supporting the exchange
of ideas and views.
For many of the participants
in our groups,
there are lasting reverberations.
Many people have become Facebook friends
and in-real-life friends too,
across political lines.
After we closed that first
Trump/Clinton project,
about two-thirds of the women went on
to form their own Facebook group
and they chose a moderator from each state
and they continue to talk
about difficult and challenging issues.
People tell us again and again
that they’re grateful for the opportunity
to be a part of this work,
grateful to know that people
on the other side aren’t crazy,
grateful that they’ve had a chance
to connect with people
they wouldn’t have otherwise talked to.
A lot of what we’ve seen and learned,
despite the fact that we call
ourselves Spaceship Media,
is not at all rocket science.
If you call people names,
if you label them, if you insult them,
they are not inclined to listen to you.
Snark doesn’t help, shame doesn’t help,
condescension doesn’t help.
Genuine communication
takes practice and effort
and restraint and self-awareness.
There isn’t an algorithm
to solve where we are.
Because real human connection
is in fact real human connection.
So lead with curiosity,
emphasize discussion not debate,
get out of your silo,
because real connection
across difference …
this is a salve
that our democracy sorely needs.
Thank you.
(Applause)