Dinner With the Conservatives

Have you ever wished that you could just sit down with someone from the other side and have a real conversation about why they vote the way they do? Over the last several months, Ron and I have been doing just that—meeting with a conservative couple to talk about our differing political views.

It started on a whim. After Governor Walker was elected last November, Ron and I were talking about how we didn’t understand why people would vote for him, and how we didn’t know any conservatives here in Wisconsin. I had the bright idea of just emailing the Republican Party of Dane County to find some. In my email, I wrote:

We’d like to meet with someone conservative in a respectful setting, where we can challenge each others’ beliefs in a friendly way. We of course don’t expect to convert or be converted; instead, what we’d like is to understand each other better.

I was surprised at the positive reception I got from the Republicans. The party leadership wrote back:

Many of us are very impressed with your request. We have had quite a few of our members step up and volunteer to meet with you folks. I will pass on your information to them and they will contact you directly.

That’s how we found Scott and Carol, another young couple who live near Madison. We now have monthly meetings with them, each time over a new topic, such as unions, Wisconsin’s budget, or the environment. We meet at local restaurants over dinner.

They are a little bit older than us, and married with two children. Scott is a sturdy, sandy-haired, quiet man who tends to be serious but now and then cracks a slightly mischievous smile. I feel that of the four of us, he’s the most articulate and poised, prone to pausing thoughtfully before he speaks, often pointing out facts Ron and I weren’t aware of, rarely letting emotions get in the way of communicating.

Carol is a small, vibrant, Latina woman, the firecracker of the bunch. While Scott is measured, Carol is vivacious and outgoing, often smiling and laughing, chatty, the one to break the ice. Born in Guatemala, she has a slight accent, and maintains ties to her birth community through helping build a school there. She’s also proudly American, with a firsthand perspective on immigration that gives her some authority on that subject. Carol is fierce and likable at the same time.

We’ve met with Scott and Carol about six times now. It was a little awkward at first, as we all tried to figure out how to approach politics with people we’d never met, and how to keep it friendly. We started by giving background on ourselves: where we were from, our jobs, what formed our political views. From there, we began to talk about different topics, deciding to pick one topic for each session.

To my surprise, I discovered that in some ways it was easier to talk to them than to my family about touchy political issues. Of course, I have no problem speaking with family members who agree with me—agreement creates a safe, comfortable world where you can relax into smug rightness and stop thinking very much.

But if I have a disagreement with a family member, it can be painful. Because we’re family, I’m invested; I want them to agree with and support me. Also, aggravations that are completely unrelated to politics arise and add to the tension (“He never listens to what I have to say!”). Mere acquaintances, on the other hand, come conveniently without emotional baggage.

This lack of baggage, and the fact that we’re all nice people reaching out to each other, has naturally created an atmosphere of respectful discourse…most of the time. But even for us, it still takes work.

At least once at each meeting, we find the discussion spiraling into a heated debate, our blood rising, our tones tense. This has been our biggest challenge. In the moment, even with the best intentions, it turns out being respectful is easier said than done!

A few times, as we’ve arrived for dinner, Ron and I have coached each other: “Okay, let’s remember that the goal isn’t to win; it’s to learn. So if things are getting heated, let’s bite our tongues and keep that in mind.”

This mantra sticks for 30 to 40 minutes, until eventually one of the four of us says something (usually inadvertently) that offends someone else in the group. The offended party then feels compelled to respond, which elicits another response, and suddenly the conversation has become clipped and irritated. With four people, this is almost impossible to control.

For example, in our last meeting we were talking about the recall effort, and I asked if they’d read my blog post about it. They had. To my surprise, both of them were put off at the whole idea of recall.

“That’s what elections are for,” said Scott, pointing out that if we start recalling politicians who we disagree with, then it could just turn into a tit-for-tat where each side continually recalls the other and things are never settled.

“When [Democratic Governor] Doyle did things we didn’t like, did we recall him? No!” said Carol. She’s also extremely offended that we want to recall senators such as Olsen, who we know very little about, just because they support Governor Walker on one initiative.

“As a Christian, I couldn’t do it,” she said. “To punish a good man for the wrongs of someone else? I couldn’t sleep at night!”

We explained our side: Under less extreme circumstances, we wouldn’t go to the trouble of a recall. But it feels like the only recourse we have, since Governor Walker refuses to negotiate on union-busting and Republicans control all three branches of Wisconsin government. (Scott shook his head curtly in disagreement at “It’s the only recourse we have left!”) Even more importantly, we feel that a recall is the best way for us to send a national message to counter the message that Walker has sent. Since so many other states are looking at Wisconsin as a test case for anti-union legislation, it’s vital to send a clear message that this legislation has negative consequences for Walker’s party. Finally, although Olsen may have done a good job up till now, to vote for a bill that was so ardently opposed by so many Wisconsinites looks to us like a cowardly, partisan vote—a recall-worthy action.

All of our arguments, of course, made no headway with Scott and Carol, nor did the two of them sway us at all to their side. Instead, we eventually steered away from the topic and simmered down, a little rattled by how quickly the conversation had turned edgy.

Such moments of tension have become harder for me the more I’ve come to genuinely like and respect the two of them. Like with family, I now feel disappointed and defeated when we can’t see eye-to-eye. It’s confusing to jump from laughter and amiability to anger, and back again. It’s much harder to be friends with adversaries than with allies—it’s a rocky realm, difficult to traverse. That’s why most people avoid it.

But despite the challenges, the four of us have chosen not to avoid each other, and I’m proud of that. Actually, we all agree that these conversations have been a great success.

After the tension dissipates, we remain at the table together and continue talking in calmer tones—most of the time, it’s not heated.  Through reaching out to each other across the chasm that divides us, we’ve gained each other’s respect and have become friends.

At the beginning and end of the last session, Carol initiated warm hugs all around, for which I was very grateful. We often spend ten or fifteen minutes just catching up on life at the beginning of the meal. When we’re talking about politics, we tell personal stories: Carol’s stories on immigration, Scott’s on the private sector, ours about working in the public sector at the Department of Natural Resources. This all helps to give “the other side” a context and a face.

At times, we even act as ambassadors for each other. My friends ask me what Scott and Carol think about this or that, and I explain as best I can. I sense that my explanations sometimes help to cool things down; I often see my friends’ faces relax as I speak.

At our last meeting, we were talking with Scott and Carol about Sarah Palin’s Tax Day visit to Madison and the Tea Party rally that was all but drowned out by liberal protesters at the Capitol. Carol said, “My friends were saying ‘How can those liberals use such vulgar language? I can’t believe what comes out of their mouths!’ and I said, ‘But we know this liberal couple, and they’re not vulgar; they’re really nice.’”

I’ve come to see these meetings as not only a political undertaking but as a spiritual one. At each meal with Scott and Carol, I’m forced to depart from black-and-white thinking, reminded that there are good arguments and good people on both sides of politics. It feels deep-down good, to know that by doing this I’m facing adversaries even more challenging and important than Scott Walker: 1) the paralyzing rift in our country, and 2) my own ego.

In short, these meetings have confirmed for me that face-to-face dialogue is what the country needs right now. As I mentioned in a post last month, when Ron and I described the meetings to Eileen Bruskewitz, the conservative candidate for County Executive, she said, “Then you are doing God’s work.” Now that’s one thing we can agree on.