Every year around Thanksgiving you can find a stream of advice about how to engage with family with different political viewpoints across the dinner table (and the DCI has contributed our fair share). The supply of these missives likely peaks in presidential election years, and the demand for them may be at its highest after our most recent election. Indeed, many Americans feel a deep sense of disconnection from, disillusionment with, and even disgust for those who voted for the candidate they most despise.
These feelings build on a normal and natural desire to step from politics after an election and return to focusing on other important spheres of our lives. Even when elections are not as fraught as they currently are, it is not surprising that we want to escape from the political and re-discover our other passions – whether that be on Netflix, in books, on hikes, or elsewhere.
Whether our candidate won or lost, such escape may be healthy and even critical for us at this point. It can enable us to step back, get perspective, and restore ourselves. It can help us re-focus our energies and return to our interest in politics with a fresh perspective. Because at some point, we must return to it; if we care about our collective life together, if we care about one another and the directions our society follows, then we owe it to ourselves and each other to re-engage in some form or another.
Okay, fine, you say, but do I have to do it at Thanksgiving? Can’t I wait until at least the New Year, or maybe 2026? Perhaps, and everyone must make their own decision on when and how best to re-enter the political conversation. But family gatherings, perhaps ironically, offer a special opportunity for trying out new approaches and different modes of engagement after consequential political events.
How so? By enabling us, first within the space of our closest relations, to re-commit to following the Golden Rule of “loving your neighbor as yourself.” We can ask ourselves, if your candidate had lost (when in fact they won), how would you want those whose candidate had won to treat you at those gatherings? Certainly not by making snide, sarcastic, or acerbically triumphant remarks, but probably also not by just ignoring you or the subject.
Instead, how meaningful would it be to you, if that sister whose candidate won, authentically, earnestly, and sincerely asked you, in a quiet moment after dinner perhaps, “You know, I know we voted differently, and I know how upset you must feel about the outcome. I’m concerned about you – how are you doing?” What if they were truly open to hearing your concerns and just listening – and responding as patiently and respectfully as possible, when asked, “How could you vote for that person?”
And likewise, if your candidate had won (when in fact they lost), how would you like those whose candidate had lost to treat you? Also probably not with biting criticism, doomsday rhetoric, or willful silence. But what if instead, that brother whose candidate lost, said to you, honestly and directly, “You know, I know we voted differently, and I know how happy you must feel about the outcome. But frankly, I’m really struggling with understanding it; maybe you can help me. Why do you think so many people voted the way they did?” What if they were truly open to hearing your analysis and just listening – and asking as respectfully as possible, “And why did you vote for that person?”
There is some asymmetry here – a basic ethic of care and compassion suggests that the victor has a little more moral responsibility to reach out to the vanquished. But the vanquished also have a duty to treat the victor as a human being as well. Humility, generosity, and curiosity are all important virtues – and deliberative dispositions – to cultivate in these moments.
I was recently invited by a group at Davidson College Presbyterian Church to speak about “Civil Discourse after the Election: Pitfalls and Pathways Moving Forward.” In my talk, I referenced some biblical passages that provide some guidance on why and how to adopt these dispositions. To those who have been victorious, Proverbs 24:17 suggests, “Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice.” To those who have been defeated and feel (or fear) persecution, Matthew 5:43-44 encourages, “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”
Similar advice is offered by many different faith and secular traditions, and they all suggest we should avoid the vices of both conceit and contempt – the habit of thinking ourselves better than others and believing those others to be unequivocally worthless. Instead, we should aim to be both humble and courageous – humble enough to recognize we might be wrong and brave enough to discover when others might be right.
Sounds great in theory, perhaps, but how do we enact these principles in practice? The DCI has developed a Guide to One-on-One Conversations, which maps out a process that you can follow before, during, and after a discussion with someone who you disagree with. Establishing expectations, setting the tone, asking good questions, listening actively, sharing respectfully; these are just a few of the suggestions it includes that may be helpful.
But perhaps the most important thing to remember, as you pass the Thanksgiving sides across the table, is the goal. Given the deep pain, frustration, and division that many of us are feeling, our objective at this point should probably not be to win an argument or persuade one another of the rightness of our side. Instead, we should first focus on re-discovering our common humanity, our common joys and concerns, our love for one another. First seek to heal and to understand; as Sara Copic wrote in her Thanksgiving blog post last year, “By approaching our deep disagreements with curiosity first, we may be able to build the trust needed in order to have the hard conversations we would like to have together.”
Have a restful and restorative Thanksgiving that has its share of escape, rediscovery, and perhaps a small bit of empathetic conversation across our family and political divides.
