Fellow Posts

By Rosie Arnaudova ’28 (DCI Fellow)

If we imagine debate as a duel, then we could think of deliberation as a roundtable, where everybody contributes to the conversation without competing. Since there are no ‘winners’ in deliberation, participants are given the freedom to agree, disagree and change their opinions when wrong and provided with better reasoning. They should leave behind their pride and welcome the opportunity to learn something new during discussions. For this purpose participants should also cast aside their prejudice when hearing opinions different from their own and listen with open minds. This, of course, does not imply that one should not have a strong position, but it is rather a reminder that often people struggle to accept that their logic might be flawed.

Last spring was my first experience with the DCI, when I joined as a participant in a D Team. My group was carefully selected and incredibly diverse when it came to both political opinions and people – with students from the US and abroad, and adults from the Davidson community with far more experience than us that gave us some professional perspectives on the issues we discussed. Our deliberation was an incredible learning experience for me because my teammates always gave their opinions accompanied with a story from their life, a reason that made them think the way they do. This made disagreeing hard because how can you disagree with somebody’s experience? Whatever prejudice I had towards certain statements was swiftly defeated by the personal insight provided for them. I thought, “I can’t judge a person for thinking this if this is what they have experienced.” and thus my learning journey began.

I would say that an important lesson for me then was to leave my pride behind. I was able to admit to myself that what I think is a product of my environment and since we were such a diverse group, people who grew up differently and in a different country often thought otherwise. I started viewing the concept of right and wrong answers differently, as there never was an absolutely correct answer – as a group we would discuss until we reached a consensus that one answer is simply more right than others. In this way I was able to see the bias in my own beliefs and open up to new perspectives. For instance, we were discussing the Covid-19 epidemic and whether we support full-lockdown. Everybody in the group was against it apart from a person who had lost a close relative. It was clear then that we all took it as an end goal to reduce suffering, despite having a different approach.

In conclusion, finding common ground through empathy and understanding benefits all. When you let go of your prejudice towards different ideas and forget your pride, you will be able to admit that you are wrong or have more clarity about the other person’s reasoning. This is what makes deliberation such a productive and educational experience that can give you a grasp on the full picture when trying to solve a problem.

By Saeran Dewar ’28 (DCI Fellow) & Katie Jung ’28 (DCI Fellow)

This October, we (Saeran Dewar ‘28 and Katie Jung ‘28) had the opportunity to attend the SNF Ithaca National Student Dialogue as representatives of the Deliberative Citizenship Initiative and Davidson College. SNF Ithaca, an initiative of the University of Delaware’s Biden School of Public Policy & Administration, is an organization that promotes students to engage in civil discourse and deliberation – and to bring these same skills back to their respective campuses.

Every year, the Dialogue convenes students from nearly 60 colleges and universities across the country. The diversity of student backgrounds and experiences greatly enriched the experience; we got to hear the unique problems faced by Harvard, Bolling Green State, Pomona, the University of Arizona, and Howard, to name a few.

This year’s theme was third spaces on college campuses. Third spaces refer to social areas that are separate from the home and the workplace, such as cafes, parks, libraries, and clubs. These are spaces where we would bump into friends, interact with strangers, and percolate ideas. Unfortunately, these spaces have seen a marked decline, along with civic engagement.

We noticed that while certain schools have these problems more severely (typically of larger size and student populations), Davidson doesn’t seem to suffer in the same way. In fact, it is uniquely positioned for cross-partisan dialogue. Davidson’s small size makes it nearly impossible to leave your room without at least saying a few words to someone. For example, the layout of Union with Davis Cafe surrounded by tables, running into acquaintances on the way to class, Nummit, the library (and its substitutes), Eating Houses, and fraternities provide a robust array of third spaces for students to be in community with one another.

On the other hand, other students described feeling isolated on their college campuses. One student from a large state university, for example, shared that they rarely engaged with their classmates – going to class, returning straight back to their dorm, and having no meaningful conversations in between. Problematically, this experience illustrates how severely lacking third spaces for community have become on many college campuses across the country.

Moreover, students at larger schools reported avoiding political conversations with those who might possibly have differing opinions, particularly men and women avoiding the topic. As we know, this avoidance to engage with diverse viewpoints, especially when polarized by gender, is dangerous. Additionally, Davidson’s small size aids in the task of amplifying DCI; much of our student body is bound to take a class with a deliberative pedagogy, participate in a D Team, have a friend that is involved, or take a class with a professor that is involved. In a tight-knit community like ours, DCI is able to have a wider reach with its programming.

Through reflecting on this experience, we realized what makes Davidson Davidson: It’s not just the small campus size that fosters connection, but the college’s unique mission to bring together diverse perspectives and experiences. It is palpable among students the sense of care that we have on campus, for our intellectual growth, and for each other. We believe this same sentiment should be spread beyond Davidson’s campus – serving as a model for how other institutions can cultivate genuine community and conversation.

By Mary Molloy Blackstock ’26 (DCI Fellow)

We live in an age where the majority of communication no longer happens face to face. When we relegate important conversations to online platforms, eliminating all elements of nonverbal communication, something essential is lost. Without tone, body language, or eye contact, our words quickly become harsher, our empathy minimized.

Earlier this semester, I served as a facilitator for a DCI D Team centered on immigration policy. I was nervous, anticipating the deliberation would mirror the unproductive, unyielding, and sometimes cruel discourse I had seen online. Instead, I was struck by how easily the participants found common ground.

During the reflection portion, one of the participants raised the question of online vs in-person political conversation. Another brought up Yik Yak, an anonymous posting platform used on Davidson’s campus. While often discussed, it’s hard to grasp just how polarizing interactions become when you strip away names, or even just faces.

Would these same D Team participants, who come from different backgrounds and lived realities, have found commonalities if the same deliberation had taken place on Yik Yak? Instagram? Facebook? If you’ve ever looked at a comment section on any of these platforms, you’ll come to the conclusion that it’s very unlikely.

In deliberation, disagreement still arises. Oftentimes, though, it only comes after a foundation of shared understanding has been laid, whether that’s through a mutual interest in Marie Antoinette (true story) or something deeper, like a shared concern for the future of your community. That order of common ground first, disagreement second makes all the difference. When we begin by recognizing what brings us together, we’re able to approach what divides us in a much more graceful and constructive manner.

We all hold opinions that depart from the mainstream, but we also all hold others that conform to it. Remembering that balance can be a powerful place to start.

Ultimately, deliberation is important because it reminds us of our shared humanity. At the beginning of each D Team session, we review the DCI’s ten key deliberative dispositions: values like empathy, respect, and open-mindedness, to name just a few. Each serves as a reminder of what makes genuine, productive deliberation possible. Online, disagreement and cruelty often come naturally. But when you’re looking into someone’s eyes as you speak, empathy and open-mindedness come far more easily.

Participating in intentional, structured deliberation reveals that in person, it’s often much harder to find points of conflict than it is to find shared ground.

In a time when public discourse so often feels fractured and impossible, deliberation serves as a much-needed model for how things could be different. Deliberation reveals that when people are given a space to listen and be listened to, the divides that seem insurmountable online can still be bridged.

When you’re staring at a screen, it’s easy to forget that there’s a person just like you on the other side. Across a table, it’s impossible to ignore.

By Nehal Bhatia ’29 (DCI Fellow)

When I think about deliberation, I picture a circle of people earnestly trying to understand one another and learn from each other’s opinions and life experiences. Yet, one group that often sits quietly in such discussions are young people. The silence can be striking, but I’ve learned it usually stems from uncertainty and not disinterest.

In my experience, this hesitation often comes from self-doubt. Young people wonder if their ideas are obvious, repetitive, or not “smart enough.” Usually, they say things like, “It’s probably already been said…” or “Maybe this doesn’t make any sense…” before cutting themselves off. This kind of self doubt may be difficult to notice in group conversations but it shapes who speaks up in a deliberation and how valuable the deliberation ends up being.

But their perspective is essential. In deliberation, every voice adds something unique, and the voices of young people bring fresh perspectives and honesty, which is what deliberation is meant to be about in the first place. Young people often see problems from angles older adults do not, they question assumptions that older participants may hold only because of conformity or Echo-chamber thinking. Because they have not yet fallen into the usual patterns of thinking that older adults sometimes do, they often approach issues with curiosity rather than certainty. This helps them be better listeners and also brings a new perspective that sometimes challenges the status quo.

I remember feeling the same way during my own training in our mock D Team deliberations as a freshman DCI Fellow, surrounded by upperclassmen who spoke confidently and seemed to know exactly what to say. I was nervous to share my perspective; I kept thinking, “what if I misunderstood the question? Or what if this sounds obvious?” It took me a few meetings to finally speak up, after being encouraged by facilitators. But once I did, I realized my perspective added something valuable and was welcomed. 

As a facilitator for a D Tam with a mix of college students and older adults, I noticed this issue again. However, I felt that trying to encourage them to speak by directly calling on them, and remaining engaged when they did speak up, helped them feel more comfortable. I noticed the college students were apprehensive about speaking, but once I called on them their options were unique and brought a new perspective to the deliberation. Additionally, thanking them for their input and smiling or nodding while they spoke also helped them stay engaged and continue to share throughout the deliberation.

In the D Team discussions I have been a part of, the older adults always mention in our reflection sections how much they valued hearing from the younger members. They often say they wish even more college students would join and share their perspectives. I have heard them express appreciation that younger people are willing to engage with difficult issues and that the next generation is interested in deliberations at all.

What I’ve learned is that creating space for young voices is about egalitarianism. Everyone deserves to feel their perspectives matter, no matter their age or experience. Taking the time to engage and ask questions is something we should all do in our daily life. This can make our conversations honest and make society feel connected.

By Ezra Minard ’28 (DCI Fellow)

It is in our nature to be social creatures. From the forums of ancient Greece to the protest movements of the modern era, we have always sought spaces to gather and deliberate about the systems that govern us. It’s no surprise, then, that political discourse and deliberation has transcended physical spaces and moved into the digital realm.

Today, the social media ecosystem is arguably the most influential platform in which social and political discourse occurs in America. For younger generations, platforms like TikTok, X, and Instagram are where politics happens. For older generations, the public forum includes the neighborhood Facebook page. The internet is a new commons, but like the Wild West, the rules that govern it have yet to catch up. The effects of this innovative yet unpredictable space cannot be overstated. One key convention is the erosion of trust of major media institutions.

Given these developments, we must consider what meaningful deliberation looks like in this new, digital public square. We must learn the skills necessary to foster the best possible relationship with social media, particularly in this moment of political upheaval.

At its best, the internet offers a powerful democratic tool as a space where people can challenge each other and share ideas across thousands of miles. People can form social and political groups without ever meeting each other in-person. The barriers to entry for public speech have never been lower. But this access is complicated by the complex ecosystem that online platforms have created.

These platforms reward engagement above all else because, unlike the prototypical public square, the platforms themselves are a business. Nuance, reason, and context do not drive profits in this space, unlike virally appealing memes. This landscape allows fringe groups, conspiracy theories, and ideological cosplay to be promoted disproportionately. The internet economy is one of outrage and confrontation.

Consider the growing fetishization of niche, obscure, or extreme political beliefs dressed as ‘edgy’ memes. These interactions teach viewers a politics that is insincere, opportunistic, and often hateful. These are the politics that one is unlikely to share with their grandmother, or their book club, or their congregation. An optimist may assert these beliefs are manufactured by the internet attention economy itself, rather than organically growing through society. A pessimist might suggest that the internet is just amplifying what is already spreading among us.

In these online spaces, political expression appears more like cosplay than grounded ideology; influencers may be pretending to be extreme rather than actually believing in the views they share. The internet uplifts these voices even if they hold little practical value in real-world politics. More concretely, we need to be mindful of a generation that receives news and information not from those they know but from a person behind a screen who does not know them but wants their money, or at least, their attention.

A 2022 Pew Research survey found that 64% of Americans believe social media is a “bad” thing for democracy,^[1] while 79% of Americans believe social media has made people’s political opinions more divided.^[2] Why? For one thing, the internet makes us appear more combative than collaborative. It also enables extreme forms of personalization that creates a digital experience that is curated to each individual’s tastes and biases. The result is a social media landscape of echo chambers. While convenient, personalization leaves users more alone and less connected to real people;imagine our town hall meetings consisting of a multitude of self-selected smaller meetings, all disconnected from one another.

Recently, prominent journalist Ezra Klein has described a “ricochet effect” of polarization, in which high engagement movements rise and are met by equally high engagement counter-reactions from their opposition—resulting in a climate of exponential polarization.[3]

Still, the internet is not irredeemable. Whether or not we see it as a net positive, we live in the internet age. The work ahead is not to retreat from the internet but to learn how to foster a positive relationship with it. As a major force in society, citizens have the obligation to engage in this work. So what are the solutions? Government crackdowns on hate-speech? Or state-verified social media profiles?

No. Rather, imagine a social contract for the digital age in which we create and uphold norms of civility, integrity, and pluralism for the greater good. The government, for its part, ought to set legal regulations that prevent abuse by either users or platforms. It should initiate an open process for us all to deliberate about how we define such abuse and what we should do about it. More importantly, we all have an obligation  to use this gift of interconnectedness with great care. In their book, Why We Argue, American philosophers Aikin and Talisse state, “In order to have the humanizing effect we all need, our relations of mutual interdependence must be in some sense reciprocal.” Reciprocity is the core of my argument for a better media landscape.

Reasonable pluralism states that we can live together peacefully while disagreeing. Maintaining restraint and assuming good faith are two positive steps. What about disinformation, we might ask. With the prominence of AI art and Large Language Models (LLMs), it is becoming increasingly difficult to differentiate between the human-made and not, between reality and fiction. As such, media literacy has never been more important. We can’t necessarily control what’s on the internet but we can control how we respond to it.

Clearly, the ways in which we deliberate in person trickle into the online sphere, and vice versa. Therefore, we would mutually benefit from greater mindfulness about how we engage in online discourse. The internet has changed communication, but it has not changed the fact that we must communicate. We ought to approach digital communication with the same energy and care we bring to a town hall or a dinner table.

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^[1] Richard Wike et al. 2022. Social Media Seen as Mostly Good for Democracy Across Many Nations, But U.S. is a Major Outlier. Pew Research Center.

^[2] Richard Wike et al. 2022. Social Media Seen as Mostly Good for Democracy Across Many Nations, But U.S. is a Major Outlier. Pew Research Center.

[3] Ezra Klein. 2025. A Theory of Media That Explains 15 Years of Politics. New York Times.