Jonathan Rauch and Ben Domenech discuss practical ways to decrease online outrage, increase civility despite the political divide, and restore the disappearing institutions that previously bonded American communities. Rauch is an author, a Brookings senior fellow, and contributing editor at The Atlantic.
A native of Boulder, Colorado, Mia didn’t know many Trump supporters—and she was nervous to engage with them. “I was like, ‘Don’t they hate women? Don’t they hate black people?’” she said. “That was my initial belief because that’s what I had heard about people who voted for Trump.” But she quickly realized she was wrong. During the first Braver Lens session, Mia was able to connect with conservatives in the group and recognize their points of commonality. “When we met, they showed their pictures, and explained their life stories, and I was able to see where our values overlap,” she said.
As a young man, Daniel’s father emerged from a broken, dysfunctional home looking for direction and found it while attending a Billy Graham crusade in Chicago. There, he “walked forward”—committing himself to Jesus Christ and changing the trajectory of his family. Not long after, he married Daniel’s mom, a Christian convert whose grandparents sought refuge in America after escaping pogroms in Europe.
Twenty-three leaders who disagree on many things said yes to the same thing this month. They agreed to stand together, publicly, behind the idea that Americans can hold fast to their convictions while staying genuinely curious about the convictions of people on the other side. That’s it. That’s the commitment. For more than nine years, Braver Angels has reached people in every state in the union. The ones who’ve engaged have experienced something that surprises them every time: the relief of disagreeing without contempt, and the discovery that the person across the table is not who the feed said they were.
