Deliberative Citizenship Initiative

Building Democracy One Conversation at a Time

Fellow Posts

Why DCI?

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Stickers scattered with an "I Voted" design on each of them.

Declan O’Donoghue ’26 (DCI Fellow)

When I contemplate the question Why DCI? I like to consider the personal motivations for my interest in politics. When I was younger, I was always upset that I could not vote. My high school civics teacher, who inspired me to study political science at Davidson, gave our class the opportunity to write a proposal for an amendment of any element of the US Constitution. I quickly chose to focus on the 26th amendment and the larger concept of voting age. I was frustrated with all of the adults who cared so little about what was on the ballot. Many of which had the opportunity to vote and still failed to practice their constitutional right.

Now, only after a few years of waiting, I have the opportunity to vote and directly participate in our political institutions. While I am grateful to have this privilege, I cannot imagine how it feels for people who are denied their right to vote due to social, financial, or legal barriers.

Throughout all political systems, even the most equitable democracies, we see some level of systemic inequality. In the United States and elsewhere, large subsets of the population have a limited ability to directly participate in politics. People under 18, felons, and non-citizens have all been politically restricted. Historically, pluralities of democratic nations have lacked the vote, like the United states before women won the right through the 19th amendment to the US Constitution.

There are several ways to respond to political wrongdoings but many of them are inaccessible to the people that need them most. Protests and strikes can be dangerous, illegal, financially burdensome, and sometimes unsustainable. Sometimes topics might not be consequential enough to be valuable to a protestor or the protested group. Other forms of participation like debates can be increasingly zero-sum in our current political landscape. Most Americans would find it hard to walk away with a new perspective or a sense of growth after a thanksgiving dinner argument, let alone a presidential debate.

Deliberation can be used to approach problems of political equity from a new direction when traditional methods have been worn out. Consider classical Athens, for example; although such a small subset in the population (free-born male citizens) had almost all the political power and by modern standards would hardly be called a democracy, the city-state has continued to be used as a political ideal today. I believe Athenian democracy was regarded so highly, not because a subset of people had the power to vote, but because they deliberated about their political ideologies and actions so extensively.

The Athenian free-born male citizens did not lock themselves in an upper and lower chamber and emerge with a new decision void of any public input. They met in the Agora and publicly deliberated about the topics they chose were most important. Although limited in their ability to participate in official political discussions, the non-voting groups could still bring their input forward due to the inherent openness of deliberation. Scholarly analysis has found that non-voting groups found places to deliberate, or at least have political discussions, in courts, assemblies, councils, local assemblies, and even in the street.[1]

Beyond large government, other systems can be even more difficult or abstracted to directly participate in. Take a school board, for example; for a school district with thousands of students, a small group of people, who can be shockingly disconnected from the student body to begin with, can make drastic and unpopular decisions with little consequence (consider this article for context: Locally Elected School Boards Are Failing.)

School boards across the country have been plagued with toxic and ill prepared forms of deliberation that might be causing more harm than good. While school boards are just once means of political participation available to local communities, they provide a unique environment where deliberation with elected officials is more accessible than at the national level. Research on methods to improve the efficacy and equity of school board outcomes suggests that “expanding community advocacy” through greater opportunities for formal participation outside of elections, like deliberations, is essential.[2]

Like Athens, our modern democratic systems are far from perfect. While I joined DCI without understanding very much about what deliberation actually means, I can remember the frustration I felt when I lacked a formal political voice. From ancient Athens all the way to our local school boards, it is clear that political leadership could benefit from deliberation, even in its most casual form. If deliberation is not only useful to the deliberators’ understanding of important issues, but also in giving a political and social platform to those who have been restricted in their rights, then it should be vigorously pursued.  

[1] Cammack, Daniela. “Deliberation and Discussion in Classical Athens.” Journal of Political Philosophy, vol. 29, Apr. 2020, https://doi.org/10.1111/jopp.12215. Accessed 12 Dec. 2020.

[2] Sampson, Carrie. “In School Boards We Trust? The Potential for Educational Equity in Public Education | Equity Alliance.” Equityalliance.stanford.edu, 8 May 2020, equityalliance.stanford.edu/content/school-boards-we-trust-potential-educational-equity-public-education.

Accessibility As a Priority: A Perspective From the DCI  

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Inclusive colorful image of human silhouettes

Zoe Moseley ’26

At a Deliberative Citizenship Fellows meeting in November, we discussed an article published by Colorado State University’s Center for Public Deliberation titled, “Inclusion Around the Cycle.” This reading aligned well with what I was doing at Davidson that week, helping the Davidson Disability Alliance lead a conversation about event accessibility with student organizations. The argument the reading was trying to refute was that all deliberations are necessarily and equally exclusionary. Power dynamics and certain people speaking more, or more freely than others, are two examples of ways deliberations may not be completely inclusive.

“Inclusion Around the Cycle” started by discussing two types of exclusion, external and internal. External exclusion was described as the fact that some voices will not be present for the event.  Internal exclusion, however, is the idea that non-dominant voices may be overlooked during the event. The article emphasizes that strategies to reach sufficient inclusion are entirely possible, especially when implemented before, during, and after events.

I would say the idea that not every voice at a deliberation could be present or heard felt very disappointing throughout working with the DCI. However, I did not know how to fix it. As someone who works towards access and inclusion on campus, I was confused about why I could not think of feasible ways to bring this perspective to the DCI. I was therefore excited to read, “Deliberative practitioners should not allow the perfect to be the enemy of the good in public processes” (Maldonado, 6).

The article opened my eyes to the opportunity that deliberation presents us with on the subject of inclusivity, which is improving every time. I was surprised I had not viewed it this way before, as this was advice I gave to student organization leaders regarding accessibility. To me, accessibility, making resources available to all people, is the key to inclusion. During the meeting, we stressed that full accessibility is almost impossible since disability and need vary drastically. The article said the same thing about inclusion: “It is important to note that there is no way to ensure complete inclusivity” (Maldonado, 6).

The article touched on inclusivity efforts I realized the DCI was already making, such as offering almost all events via Zoom, training facilitators to make sure every voice gets a chance to speak, and asking for constant feedback. I tried to emphasize more minor things within my D Team when it came to inclusion, such as continuously asking if everyone could hear me, ensuring that when participants arrived, the heavy door was propped open, and zooming one participant in when they were ill. By making it clear that we care about access, I hope participants feel more comfortable to show ways we can improve. After reading this article, I have ideas for more efforts I can make next semester, taking to heart the idea of improving each time. For example, I’d like to ask participants throughout the semester if there are aspects of our meeting that may improve inclusivity and incorporate their ideas on the matter.

I am curious to see what those who argue that deliberations are not inclusive would say to Maldonado’s argument that while it is impossible to create a “perfectly inclusive forum,” we should nonetheless strive for sufficient inclusion. I appreciate the optimism of the Center for Public Deliberation on this front and hope other deliberative organizations put inclusion at the forefront of their discussion. I believe that the values of deliberation align well with the idea of inclusivity: respecting every voice, discussing differences, and assuming the best intentions.

How We Can Use Arguments to Learn From One Another

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People discussing at a round table

Stephen Walker ’26 (DCI Fellow)

Arguments are difficult. Whether stemming from our own personal attachments to ideas or a fear of criticism and negative social outcomes, people often tend to stigmatize arguments as impolite, irrational drains on our emotional well-being that only serve to produce tension and animosity between the parties involved. In my own experience, I have faced such feelings of hopelessness, of innately distressing conversations bound to go nowhere. Contentious arguments can give one the feeling they are fighting for the sake of fighting and nothing more. But this does not have to be so. Argument can be one of the most meaningful forms of positive interaction individuals can engage in with one another.

The DCI’s deliberative framework and the constructive norms our Fellows cohort has been exposed to have reconfigured my entire perception of how one ought to engage in argument and what they should hope to get out of it. One of our required readings for the program, Why We Argue (And How We Should) by Scott Aikin and Robert Talisse, details two sweeping norms for augment that I have relied on through my work to improve my relational and facilitator abilities: argumentative earnestness and argumentative responsibility.

Argumentative earnestness and responsibility have allowed me and other practitioners who utilize them to guide arguments away from zero sum competitions aimed at forcing one person to concede entirely to the other side through manipulation and distractions toward a positive, holistic exploration of issues at large and an informative pursuit of truth.

Aikin and Talisse describe argumentative earnestness as our duties to pay close attention to evaluating the reasons placed before us to justify a position or a view. By blocking out the noise–pressures to win, manipulative rhetoric, bias, and distractions–and evaluating arguments based on the reasons and logic behind them, the merit of a point can be more clearly established and progress can be made in what would otherwise be a contentious, stagnant process.

Argumentative earnestness takes what Aikin and Talisse label “intellectual courage,” or the courage to not just focus on the truth when others try to pressure you away from it but to also realize you may be biased and misleading others. It takes intellectual courage to admit that, much like the other side, you too can use flawed arguments in pursuit of winning rather than the truth. Going beyond holding the other side in arguments to such scrutiny by holding yourself to equally high, if not higher standards, can ensure you are constantly improving the quality of the arguments you produce.

Argumentative earnestness on its own is not enough to ensure a successful argument. Looking at the variety of reasons that may go into one side or another regarding a particular topic will round out your arguments to a fuller extent. Looking beyond what may be the widely preferred or most obvious reasons for holding a belief, we find out that there can be many reasons for taking a specific stance on a specific issue.

When we try to empathize with those who might take these different positions, regardless of whether we agree with them or not, it allows us to engage with the other side to the fullest extent possible. When we engage with the full, honest perception we have of the other side’s stance we can either learn and change our own perspectives on an issue or develop more robust responses than we would otherwise be capable of when engaging with simplified reasons. In this way, argumentative responsibility inspires learning and is essential to productive argument.

In my work as a deliberation facilitator, I am sometimes tasked with playing devil’s advocate by taking on the role of the other side when everyone in a deliberation agrees on an issue and the conversation reaches a stand-still. Without engaging in argumentative earnestness and responsibility, it could be very hard to be the sole advocate for another perspective that one sometimes may not even agree with themselves. Embodying these principles in my attempts at being a better devil’s advocate has allowed me to focus on the reasons behind competing stances, encouraging people to examine their views in ways that would not be possible without such a focus on reason over confrontation.

Playing devil’s advocate to urge members of my deliberation groups to consider opposing arguments has been a truly fruitful exercise to watch play out. People not only willingly consider the full scope of reasons behind views they may have otherwise immediately rejected, but they learn how to better respond to such reasons and enhance their reasoning processes. This can allow deliberators to examine their views, thus enhancing their ability to reason through and properly weigh the merit of counterarguments they may face for the stances they take on various issues. It also allows them to build up the courage to admit when they may be wrong or faced with superior reasoning.

In my experience, when we try to exercise argumentative earnestness and responsibility in our efforts to deliberate, we tend to learn more, have better arguments, and have a better chance of unlocking the truth. This allows us to not only be aware of the flaws in the stances we take but to make clear to others in a constructive, rather than hostile way, the problems in the reasoning that they present. Better arguments make better-informed citizens and by leaning into not just argumentation but constructive norms, we learn and grow in ways that would not otherwise be possible. We learn and grow as a community of citizens unified by our pursuit of truth.

Emotion in Deliberation: A Necessity Rather Than an Impediment

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Brain and Heart

Atyantika Mookherjee ’27 (DCI Fellow)

It is common to consider emotion as the antithesis of reason and logic. After all, emotions are seen as spontaneous, subjective, and sometimes even irrational, while reason and logic is associated with objectivity and rationality. In public discourse, the interplay of these elements is of prime importance, influencing the course of an argument. Playing into an emotion/reason binary, it is often considered that debate should be centered on facts, leaving no room for the informal fallacy of appealing to emotion. Before joining the DCI as a Fellow, I, too, believed that emotion was a dispensable part of facilitating a productive conversation. However, in learning more about deliberation, I’ve come to recognize the importance of emotion, how it can be effectively communicated through storytelling, and why we should not just “set our feelings aside” when deliberating about public issues.

In his article, “Impassioned Democracy: The Roles of Emotion in Deliberative Theory,” Michael Neblo explores this intersection between emotion and deliberative theory, making the case that despite what many people think, the two are not mutually exclusive. He goes on to outline twelve distinct roles that emotion plays in the process of deliberation. These include contributing to the motivation to deliberate, providing inputs through experiences that harden into critical propositions, and ensuring a reciprocal and empathetic backdrop for the deliberation to occur.

In practice, I see how emotions contribute to better deliberations and agree with many aspects of Neblo’s argument. During the deliberation sessions I hosted as a DCI fellow for Davidson students, alums, and community members, I noted many individuals falling back on personal experiences and how they felt about them in formulating their arguments. Many of their responses to each other were rooted in shared events and outlooks. In retrospect, even my motivation to be part of the DCI comes from my travels to Pakistan as a young Indian girl, seeking to clarify misconceptions both countries have about each other’s communities as I saw them. In this manner, I now understand the role of emotion in deliberation to be critical and be expressed through a medium one would also not commonly associate with deliberation: storytelling.

Stories aim to inspire empathy and provide a deeper, more vibrant understanding of contexts the way facts fail to. Through the use of the Perspectives platform that seeks to encourage individuals to participate in constructive dialogue, I was able to glean more of an understanding of the role of storytelling in deliberation. Stories that are honest, important, and effective play a crucial role in setting the tone for peoples’ opinions and allow deliberators to connect, making for a more fruitful discussion. Naturally, the cornerstone for all such stories is emotion. People remember how an experience made them feel and use this to formulate the values they eventually contemplate during deliberations. They listen to other peoples’ emotions and compare them to their own in reaching their conclusions.

This is not to say that the influence of emotion in deliberation is always straightforward. In certain instances, emotions might sway deliberations towards options that align with immediate gratification or deeply ingrained beliefs, bypassing logical reasoning. Nonetheless, acknowledging and understanding emotions in deliberation can lead to more informed and balanced decision-making. From my own experiences, I’ve realized that successful deliberation often involves integrating emotional intelligence with rationality. This integration allows for a more comprehensive evaluation of choices, considering both the logical implications and the emotional resonance of decisions. In collaborative deliberative processes, recognizing and respecting diverse emotional responses among participants can lead to more inclusive and nuanced outcomes.

You Are the Only Person You Will Ever Totally Agree With

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Two people shaking hands

Charlotte Spears ’24 (DCI Fellow)

Long before I knew the difference between the Senate and the House of Representatives or what referendum meant, I helped my mother canvas for a state politician in Georgia. The politician was a young woman looking to represent a district in Atlanta. I could not tell you a single one of her policies, but something she said to me before we walked around her neighborhood and asked for votes has stuck with me. She said, “The only politician you will ever completely agree with is yourself.”

Many years later, I make a point to recite this quote to friends, classmates, and participants in the Deliberative Citizenship Initiative. I find it particularly helpful for a few reasons. The first reason was likely her intended message: it’s important to acknowledge that when voting, we can’t expect a politician to check every single box we demand of them. We may agree on eighty percent of pressing issues, but not all. This is an uncomfortable truth, but it aided her campaign by showing voters they did not need to completely agree with her in order to have a compelling reason to vote for her. (She did end up winning).

But the second reason is ultimately what has led this quote to stick with me. If the only politician you will ever completely agree with is yourself, then you are also probably the only person that you will ever totally agree with. There is no one on Earth that will ever side with you 100 percent of the time. So, when you step into a debate in a classroom or over drinks, be careful when grouping your peers into supporters and dissenters or into friends and foes. Because likely, you can agree with all of them on one thing and disagree with all of them on something else.

This mindset has changed how I participate in group conversations. Instead of ganging up on one person who thinks differently than the rest of the group, I try to find out what he and I have in common that will put us on the same side. From personal experience, it’s easy for someone else to do the same after it has been modeled. Eventually, conversations are no longer blue versus red, or male versus female, but a fluid mix of opinions and agreements. A healthy dose of humility in personal beliefs makes us realize that they aren’t necessarily widely held.

I have also seen this play out in the D Team deliberations that I facilitate. Some people can agree on their opinions regarding abortion but disagree on what type of speech should be regulated. Or, some people agree that abortion is morally bad, but disagree on whether or not the government should regulate it. There is very little hostility, if any at all, in these D Teams. And I believe it is due to the fact that people are free to agree and disagree with everyone. The more often these types of conversations are held, the more we realize the uniqueness of our own opinions, the less we group our opponents into a single box, and the less we commit ourselves to always and fully agreeing with a politician or an entire political party.