Dear [Person-On-The-Other-Side]

Dear [Person-On-The-Other-Side] ,

I hope this finds you well—I really do. I know in the past I have been pretty harsh in my
judgement of you, and I can see now that that is unfair to you. This is one of my great moral
failings: to ascribe negative motives to people who hold opinions I disagree with, which is really just a way to dismiss your arguments without ever having to actually go through them. I don’t really know you—not yet—so it’s not fair to you to summarily dismiss you like that. Not only is it unfair to you, but it is not very productive to any future conversation we hope to have, so it’s doubly bad. So first, I wanted to say that I’m sorry about that. Please know that I am genuinely seeking to repent of this failing, and trying to engage in your actual argument rather than just preemptively ignoring you.

I wanted to write to you to hopefully set up a time for us to meet in person, to have a real
conversation. I know that we do not agree on very much—in fact, we agree on hardly anything. But I still think it is important that we talk. Even though we think we are very sophisticated and modern in the current age, with our internet, iPhones, and robot surgeons, we’re not so distant from our earliest ancestors who did not have all of this technology. Seeing each other face to face, listening to one another instead of reading text on a screen, and physically being able to shake hands remains a powerful pull on the imagination. Humans are social creatures, and no amount of technology could ever change that hardwired part of our brain. Moreover, when we meet in person we might find that there are some things that we actually have in common. A speaker at Citizen University remarked the partisan gulf between ordinary people may be much smaller than the gulf that exists in our elected representatives. Because of structural flaws in our republic, typically it is only the most strident members of both of our respective sides that get elected. Maybe in that respect our representatives aren’t very representative.

One thing that we might have in common is a belief that national politics as a whole is too
separated from the lives of ordinary folks. I do believe that politicians have their own interests that they pursue, as does everyone, and this self-interest can distort public policy. But since we can’t get away from having a government, and a representative government is still better than other forms of government, maybe we should rely less on our representatives to solve our problems for us and instead having more conversations on the local level to fix problems. I liked how one speaker put it: that self-government and democracy is not easy, but actually takes a lot of work.

We are going to have to be willing to speak to one another face to face, to sometimes be
uncomfortable, and really get to know each other and the effect of our policies if we are going to make policy choices that are truly just. This demands that we live and act together as if we are in a community—which is another ingrained human desire.

We can’t go into our conversation expecting to change the other person’s minds—if we do
so then we will not be actually listening to each other but just trying to hear enough words to
fashion a smart counter-argument. Probably afterwards we still won’t agree on things, and this won’t stop either of us from trying to see our particular vision realized. But at the very least we can get a better appreciation for one another, a better understanding of each of our “deep stories”,and a renewed realization that we are more than meets the eye. When we each can see each other as fully human, with our own dreams, hopes, and biases, hopefully that will translate to other people too, and we can see all people as fully human and treat them accordingly. My faith tells me to love my neighbor as myself—all of my neighbors, including you. I am also reminded of the story of Abraham in the Hebrew Bible: despite being the progenitor of three monotheistic faiths (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) he never forcibly converts anyone in the region where he lives, nor prays for their destruction. He instead sought to be a blessing to everyone he met regardless of their faith, while also still being true to his own faith. Perhaps there is a lesson there on how to live in today’s age with many competing faiths, both spiritual and political.

How do we change the toxic political attitude of today? We must begin with ourselves—
where others lie, we will tell the truth; where others demonize, we will seek to understand; where others hate, we will love. I suppose meeting you in person and talking things out will be as good a place to start as any. It won’t change the world, but maybe it could help change us. Besides, as the Talmud says, every person is a universe, so maybe that is not so small as we think.