Fellow Posts

By Bosisso Charles Takougnadi (TBC) ’27

Usually, we see deliberation as a practice based on mutual respect, critical thinking, and open dialogue. Yet how we engage in deliberation and how we view it can differ quite a lot from one generation to the next. As a DCI Fellow, I’ve learned that talking with both younger and older people comes with its own set of challenges and opportunities. When we recognize these differences as aspects of our identities, we can build more inclusive spaces to deliberate. To what extent do generational differences create a gap during discussions involving two or more generations?

To start off, contrasting methods of discussion are one way to achieve an effective deliberation. In my experience this year (which I fully acknowledge is limited and anecdotal), both young and old participants in a deliberation demonstrate two recurring patterns. Young people generally like having a more direct approach that is solution-oriented. This was common during my D Team meetings that I facilitated, as I observed very quick and short points and responses from young people aiming to reach a resolution and action plan. 

The older folks tended to make longer contributions to the conversation, giving, or requesting in the form of questions, a lot of information sometimes less directly relevant to the discussion. They valued taking their time, deep thinking, and a more ordered way of doing things. Not that younger people do not have similar values, but they seemed to exhibit them less often. I noted that while young people might prefer direct responses and be willing to shift the paradigm (although not always), older people often insist on how much past events and ways of doing things matter. 

Neither approach is necessarily better, but these differences can cause friction when people discuss contentious issues. I have seen older people asking younger participants (generally students) to explain their points further when the younger people thought they were clear enough. In a couple of instances, I noticed how older people in my group discussions can be more likely to directly confront other participants about their views. This made some of the younger people uncomfortable and upset. 

Dealing with contentious issues in cross-generational discussions can therefore be particularly challenging. For some young people, being direct and focusing on the present is vital to getting one’s point across in the room. Older people, on the other hand, often preferred a more experience-based analysis of the issue. When people of different ages come together, young folk sometimes feel ignored if others don’t agree with their ideas. Meanwhile, older people might think others don’t value the insights they have gained in their lives enough. 

Our approaches to addressing issues also shape how well we are received during a conversation. Young people often see conversations as a way to push for fast social change. But older people might be more careful thinking about long-term effects and consequences, taking into consideration their own experiences. This difference in how urgent things seem to different groups of people can make it feel like two separate talks are happening instead of one big conversation. 

Nonetheless, discussions between different age groups can be helpful. Older generations bring opinions based on decades of life experience that can be combined with the new ideas and paradigms that are popular with younger generations. One good way to bring generations together is to make sure everyone listens well so each person feels heard and valued.

Along these lines, the DCI Fellows Program taught me that adaptability represents the essential element for effective deliberation. Allowing generational differences to partially shape our discussions is necessary for a good deliberation. It will enhance understanding of one another and enable us to have meaningful dialogues. New ways of thinking emerge from younger generations while older generations provide experiential knowledge and historical depth. The process of deliberation must remain free from exclusive ownership by specific groups or engagement techniques. 

By recognizing generational differences as an aspect of people’s identities, we create opportunities for these differences to become valuable conversational topics. The evolution of future deliberative processes hinges upon our capacity to acquire knowledge from one another across divides, and particularly generational divides. Through patient and respectful dialogue combined with openness to new ideas, we need to develop a deliberative culture that empowers individuals of all ages to participate actively in deliberative democracy.

By Alyssa Henke ’26 (DCI Fellow)

Deliberation is often seen as something that belongs primarily to the social sciences. It involves engaging with ideas, weighing evidence, and reflecting on how different perspectives shape our understanding of the world. However, as someone majoring in both political science and mathematics, I have often found myself wondering: can deliberation also play a meaningful role in STEM?

For a long time, it didn’t seem that way. In my political science courses at Davidson, deliberation was everywhere. We debated complex issues, analyzed competing viewpoints, and explored how identity, policy, and institutions interact. These conversations were relevant, rooted in our experiences and knowledge about the world around us. My voice felt important in political science.

On the other hand, mathematics felt more rigid. My time was spent solving problems, proving theorems, and searching for precise answers. There was little room for personal reflection or discussions about how the subject connects to real-world experiences. It felt like there was no room for deliberation in math.

That perspective shifted when one of my professors introduced me to Living Proof, a book filled with personal stories from mathematicians around the world. These excerpts shared struggles, moments of doubt, and stories of perseverance. They revealed how deeply personal mathematics can be. These individuals brought their identities into their work, challenging stereotypical ideas that math is purely objective and separate from the human experience.

One of the most powerful messages in this book was that mathematics is not just about numbers of symbols; it is about people. Who we are, where we come from, and what we experience all shape how we approach math, why we study it, and how we see ourselves in the field. Social and political forces, access to education, and cultural norms all influence the work being done in STEM.

Deliberation is not limited to academic debate or policy discussions. It also means asking hard questions about inclusion, equity, and purpose in fields like mathematics. Who has access to these spaces? What values are prioritized? Whose stories are told and whose are ignored? At the end of the day, it is these people, shaped by their own individual experiences, who are doing the math.

When we recognize these dynamics, we open the door for STEM fields to grow not only in knowledge but in compassion. Reflection and critical dialogue help create spaces where diverse voices are heard, and where people feel like they belong. This kind of openness fosters collaboration, encouraging people from different backgrounds and experiences to work together and learn from one another. Just as political science encourages us to consider different viewpoints and question systems of power, math can also benefit from thoughtful engagement with the world around it.

Deliberation taught me how to think critically and empathetically in political science. Living Proof reminded me that these same skills belong in mathematics. They belong in every field. When we bring reflection, dialogue, and humanity into STEM, we do not just make better science or math. We build a community and a better world.

By Zak Abdulahi ’27 (DCI Fellow)

This month marks six months from the 2024 elections. Looking back, I can see how as the election dust settled, as the banners began to come down and a collective sigh of relief or anger echoed across the nation, we were tempted to push the whole ordeal to the back of our minds. Irrespective of how we felt about the outcome, most of us did not miss the phone calls from pollsters, constant campaign messages, and barrage of attack ads on TV. 

However, in the wake of the election our emotions, opinions, and beliefs may still be running high, and the euphoria or anxiety stemming from the election outcome is focused on the actions of the current administration and their implications for the next election cycle. But what if instead of sprinting towards the next campaign, we began to utilize this time between elections to engage in something rare but important: small intentional bouts of deliberation? 

Unlike the sweeping national discourse that dominates election season, post-election deliberative “small talk” thrives on localized conversations among friends, neighbors, colleagues and peers. These individuals gather to discuss the outcome and what it means for their communities. These conversations are a vital way to process election results and examine how new policies being implemented are affecting our local community, neighborhoods, and daily lives. In the wake of elections, we can re-engage with each other beyond these sweeping platitudes and campaign rhetoric. 

We can now take time to ask questions like:  What does this outcome mean for my town or city? How might this impact the services we rely on, or issues we care about? These questions are essential in the sense that they can help ground campaign sound bites and platitudes into tangible concrete personal terms. Moreover, smaller, consistent deliberation makes civic engagement sustainable. As opposed to tuning in every 4 years, intentionally creating lower-stakes and regular check-ins with your community will create a collective sense of involvement and shared responsibility.

Though these conversations may not be extremely formal, it is important to adopt and maintain a few key deliberative dispositions during our conversations. We should strive to engage in egalitarian-minded discussions, whether that be at a coffee shop, lunch, or any other social gathering. What matters most is that these conversations ensure everyone has a chance to speak, listen, and be heard. 

Finally, between-election deliberation is critical because it fosters accountability—not just of elected officials to their constituents but also among community members to one another. By coming together to discuss election outcomes and their implications, we build a shared sense of responsibility for staying informed and proactive. These conversations encourage us to reflect on how policies and decisions affect our neighborhoods and daily lives and motivate us to collaborate on solutions to address local issues.

It’s one thing to vote; it’s another to stay informed and invested in the outcomes of those votes on our communities and daily lives. Through small informal bouts of deliberation with our neighbors, colleagues and peers, we remind ourselves that democracy is a constant practice, not a one-time event, and that our engagement doesn’t end on election day.  

The late civil rights activist Kwame Ture once said, “You vote once in four years, and that’s your political responsibility? Politics is every day.” As we live in this time between elections, we must recognize that our democracy neither begins nor ends at the ballot box. By engaging in ongoing deliberation, we can foster lasting, sustainable change and ensure that our communities thrive—not just during election years, but every day.

By Fatima Mukasa ’28 (DCI Fellow)

In a world where public squares are increasingly digital, social media has emerged as an unexpected but powerful arena for deliberative conversations. Whether it’s Twitter threads unpacking Supreme Court rulings, Instagram carousels about healthcare access, or TikTok explainers on climate justice, more and more people are using these platforms not just to post, but to engage. These virtual spaces are becoming hubs of public dialogue, where ideas are shared, arguments are formed, and calls to action are amplified. But this shift invites an important question: can platforms built for speed, entertainment, and algorithms truly foster meaningful deliberation?

To answer that, we must understand what deliberative conversations actually are. At their core, they are thoughtful, inclusive, and respectful exchanges of ideas that aim for collective understanding or decision-making. Historically, such conversations took place in town halls, classrooms, or structured forums, often led by professionals or policymakers. These spaces were formal, exclusive, and frequently inaccessible to those without institutional power or education. The voices that mattered most were typically those deemed authoritative.

Social media, by contrast, is chaotic, informal. Anyone with a smartphone and internet connection can enter the conversation. This has enabled everyday people to express perspectives that might never have made it into traditional deliberative settings. For example, the #BlackLivesMatter movement, which started as a grassroots response to police violence in the United States, gained global momentum largely due to its spread on platforms like Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. Protest footage, personal testimonies, and educational posts helped spark international demonstrations and influenced public policy discussions. Similarly, conversations about mental health, gender identity, and political accountability have flourished on TikTok and YouTube, bringing nuance and urgency to issues that were once silenced.

However, these benefits don’t come without significant challenges. The same openness that allows everyone to speak also allows misinformation to spread unchecked. Non-experts with a community following can often be biased. Moreover, social media is prone to performative activism, where users share opinions or hashtags for attention rather than genuine engagement. This fosters shallow participation, while meaningful conversations are buried beneath outrage and viral trends. Polarization also intensifies as echo chambers form where users are only exposed to opinions that reinforce their existing beliefs.

So, how can social media be harnessed for better deliberation? One solution is to promote platforms that encourage structured dialogue, like Reddit’s r/ChangeMyView, where users are rewarded for changing their perspectives and for offering thoughtful dissent. These communities model what healthy online deliberation can look like, where curiosity beats contempt, and thoughtful reflection is prioritized over combative rebuttal.

Digital literacy must also be emphasized. Users need the tools to recognize misinformation, question sources, and resist the urge to accept everything they see at face value. Just as we teach students how to research and argue in a classroom, we must teach digital citizens how to participate responsibly in online debates.

Above all, intentionality matters. Deliberation isn’t just about talking—it’s about listening, processing, and being willing to be changed by what you hear. Whether you’re commenting on a post or adding your own post, consider: Am I opening space for understanding, or closing it down? The power of social media is undeniable, but whether it becomes a tool for real democratic engagement or just another space of noise depends on how we use it.

So let us use social media to expand our horizons and refuse to let ourselves be caught in echo chambers. In the next conversation you have online, do it with intentionality, really listening and trying to understand where a person is coming from. Some might say this is giving conversations unnecessary weight, but it is important to approach most conversations with a deliberation mindset. Social media can be our modern public square, but only if we treat it as one.

By Izzy Cevallos ’27 (DCI Fellow)

It is February of 2023, at 6:30 on a Friday afternoon and I have just logged off of Zoom. I had just completed my first D Team meeting. Our topic was public education, and the question posed to us was the role of vouchers: when, or should, parents utilize them for their children? As someone who has attended public school my whole life, I had a lot to say about this topic. But even after two hours of discussion, I felt as though I still had another hour’s worth of points to make. I closed my computer, got a drink of water, went to dinner with my friends, and still just felt off- like I hadn’t said enough, or done enough. I was restless. After each D Team meeting that semester I had the same feeling.

So when the opportunity arose to apply to become a DCI Fellow, I jumped at the opportunity, thinking that becoming a Fellow would cure this restlessness and allow me to do more. But at the end of the fall semester, I felt as if only one of these things was true. Yes, I had done more: I had facilitated my own D Team, I had attended a Deliberative Forum and facilitated a discussion at it. I had recruited many of my peers to join DCI the next semester, I had most definitely taken action. But I still felt restless.

A common critique of deliberative institutions like the DCI is that there’s too much talk, not enough action. Why spend all this time arguing about something, when you could be taking action on that very same topic of debate? This is the frustration that I was feeling. I almost felt as if deliberation was not enough.

My dilemma reminded me of an article and a short documentary that the fellows had been tasked with completing at the beginning of the school year. The topic was Ireland’s Citizens Assemblies. Back in 2016, the assembly was established as a way to discuss ways to improve Ireland’s constitution, through the random selection of 100 deliberators. These individuals would discuss a wide variety of topics pertaining to Ireland’s constitution: abortion, term limits, climate change, etc.

But the crucial part about this process is that after the discussions had taken place, the assembly would then make recommendations to members of parliament based on their deliberative conclusions. And these recommendations had significant impacts: results of the 2018 referendum on abortion closely matched the conclusions made by the assembly. Parliament’s climate action plan was also shaped by the assembly’s recommendations.

My point here is that deliberation is only half of the battle: action almost always should follow deliberation. This insight is embedded in the DCI’s “action inclination” deliberative disposition and its Pathways Guides that map out ways participants can follow-up on the topic discussed after each DCI deliberation.

I sat down to write this blog post, fully intending to preach the importance of action post-deliberation and reflect on my own lack thereof, but I realized that I had, in fact, already done so. I was inspired by my own D Team experience to join the DCI. While I didn’t take direct action on public education and the role of vouchers, I took a step towards becoming involved in a community that would give me the opportunity to take action on a multitude of other issues. Just as Ireland’s Citizens Assembly teaches us: deliberation does not exist in a vacuum. It is not always a one-off conversation; it is a first step.

 At the end of my final D Team meeting in the fall, I thanked my participants for their time, and before I could even begin to shamelessly plug more upcoming DCI events, several of my participants asked me how they could continue to stay involved with the DCI. Here was the action I had been waiting for. It may not be an assembly of citizens impacting governmental policy, but it was a step towards something else. Yes, deliberation is just talking about an issue, but it can also function as a precursor to a dozen different actions to take. Essentially, deliberation doesn’t require action, but it is made infinitely more meaningful when it inspires it.