In the wake of the 2024 U.S. presidential election, Erika Weissinger, Ph.D.’13, noticed a growing reluctance among her students to engage in dialogue across differences. Many of them, she observed, felt “bewildered, angry, overwhelmed, and confused.” But she was not surprised. As an assistant professor of practice at UC Berkeley’s Goldman School of Public Policy (GSPP), she has a front-row seat to these shifts. Her new course, Constructive Dialogue in Public Policy, serves as a kind of laboratory where students explore new ways to approach difficult conversations.
The class is part of the Constructive Dialogue Initiative (CDI), which Weissinger launched this year. CDI also includes GSPP-wide events, an online course, and the integration of constructive dialogue concepts into the school’s core curriculum. She is not alone in these efforts; CDI is part of a broader movement across campus, with initiatives like the Campus Bridging Project at the Othering and Belonging Institute and the Bridging Differences Program at the Greater Good Science Center, all aiming to make UC Berkeley a hub for constructive dialogue.
Still, Weissinger walks a tightrope. The ambitious goal of helping students communicate across divides is a delicate balancing act between the need for safe spaces and the call for meaningful dialogue—a fine line between fostering free speech and falling prey to the pitfalls of cancel culture and hate speech.
In the post-election climate, these tensions are especially pronounced. As many of her students prepare for Thanksgiving, “the thought of gathering with family—especially those who may have voted differently—can bring up feelings of dread,” she wrote in an email to her students days after the election. Deciding whether dialogue across differences is safe or possible, she reminded them, “is a deeply personal decision that will vary depending on place and context.”
Of course, it’s a decision that looms not just for students but for the whole nation. As we collectively process the election and begin to look ahead, Weissinger’s work raises questions about the ways we engage, challenge, and ultimately connect with those who inhabit a seemingly unbridgeable political divide. Can better communication help close the chasms that separate us? To find out, California sat down with her.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Can you tell us what constructive dialogue means and what is it useful for?
Constructive dialogue is a form of conversation where people with different viewpoints work to understand each other—without giving up their own beliefs—in order to work together more effectively. While changing someone’s mind isn’t the main goal of constructive dialogue, it can create the kind of mutual respect and trust that makes real change possible. Research shows that when people ask questions, listen to one another’s stories, and suspend judgment, they’re often more successful in opening others to new perspectives than they would through arguing, name-calling, or staying isolated within their own silos.
Was there a specific experience or personal moment that sparked your interest in this work?
There is a particular student who I hold close to my heart. It was early in my teaching career, during a summer program designed to bring students to policy schools who come from backgrounds that have been excluded from the policy making process. This was right after Trump’s election in 2016 and intense protests at UC Berkeley, so the atmosphere was charged. Some outspoken students in the class were expressing strident points of view.
At the end of our first class, a student approached me—she was from a reservation in Arizona, and she and her family had supported Trump. She came to me in tears, saying, “I knew UC Berkeley would be liberal, and I came with an open mind, willing to question my views. But right now, I feel that the safest strategy for me is to stay silent, be alone, and not share my perspective because I’m afraid of how people will treat me.” That summer, she ended up making one friend but she almost never spoke in class. I carry her words with me to every class I teach, and I always wonder, “Do I have that student in my class this semester?” because I see how sometimes students feel that same tension and just go quiet.
But constructive dialogue isn’t always the right tool for every situation. It’s less effective when one or both parties aren’t acting in good faith or when there’s a significant power imbalance.
Can you give an example?
Have you ever seen the movie Knives Out? There’s a scene where Marta, a nurse whose mother fears deportation, is pulled into a conversation about immigration by the wealthy family she works for. Then they turn to her and ask, ‘Marta, you’re from Ecuador, right? What do you think?’ It’s one of those situations where she really can’t—and shouldn’t—engage. The power imbalance is huge, and it’s clear they’re not genuinely interested in her perspective. They’re just using her presence to validate their own views.
Even when there isn’t a power imbalance, if a topic is destabilizing for you, it’s worth asking: is this a conversation I’m comfortable having others listening in on? Another question to consider is timing—does this feel like the right moment? If the person you’re talking with is distracted by kids, pets, cooking, or TV, will you both be able to engage meaningfully enough to allow space for misunderstandings?
And speaking of timing, Thanksgiving is around the corner. Any tips for those who will engage in conversations with family members who think very differently from them?
It’s helpful to understand your personal “why.” If you are approaching the conversation because you know from the outset you want to convince someone they’re wrong, the conversation isn’t likely to move them.
I recently attended a family reunion with a side of my family I hadn’t seen in 20 years. We hold vastly different political views. Since we hadn’t seen each other in so long, it was enough just to be able to recognize each other as family and to talk about things we could agree upon. Sometimes all we can do is to show up, and talk about shared memories and non-controversial things. And non-controversial doesn’t have to mean trivial. There are a lot of meaningful things we can talk about that won’t end in family members shutting down or becoming enraged. I recently read David Brooks’ book How to Know a Person, and he has so many great ideas for meaningful conversation starters like: “What crossroads are you at? What would you do if you weren’t afraid? If we meet a year from now, what will we be celebrating?”
I wanted to pick your brain on some practical tips on handling difficult situations. For example, what advice would you give for responding to strategies like “whataboutism” [when criticism is deflected by pointing to another, often unrelated, issue] or “straw man” tactics? [When someone misrepresents or oversimplifies another’s argument.]
If it feels safe, I’d encourage leading with curiosity. For example, if someone deflects by asking, “What about all the immigrants at the border?” take a moment to genuinely wonder, What question could I ask here to understand them better? You can hold firm in your own beliefs without dehumanizing or boxing them in. You might try responding with an open-ended question like, “When you bring up immigration at the border, could you share more about what concerns you?” or “I’m curious—what’s the underlying issue that’s on your mind here?”
If someone says something like, “So, you’re saying we should just throw out the entire justice system?” when you’re discussing reform, try responding with curiosity to bring them back to the original point. Like: “Could you tell me more about how you see the justice system working now? I’d like to understand where our views overlap and differ.”
Sometimes asking questions can get people to rethink their own beliefs.
Yes, and a lot of times when we ask those curious questions, if it’s a reasonably healthy dynamic or reasonably healthy relationship, they are likely to ask you questions too. You could then ask them: “What’s a story from your childhood, your parents, or someone you love that makes this value so important to you?” And then, really listening to a point of view that isn’t yours.
Not everybody has the social graces to recognize that you’re asking them questions, though. In that case you could try to reflect back what you’ve heard, maybe telling them the values that you’re hearing behind what they’ve said. For example, “you really care about the safety of your family, and I can tell you’re worried about making ends meet,” uplifting the values that you’re hearing articulated. And a possible way to transition it into your point of view could be to ask, “I share a lot of those values and I think I prioritize a different value. Would you be open to hearing my thoughts on this issue?”
That’s really the challenge. It’s so easy to jump into “argument mode” and focus on convincing the other person they’re wrong. But if we’re honest, we often don’t even fully understand what they’re saying yet.
Exactly, and sometimes when people keep saying the same thing in different ways, it’s because they don’t think you’ve heard them. In that situation try to keep reflecting back what they’re saying until they’re bored. “I hear you saying X,Y, Z. Is there more you want to share?”
You can have a really logically sound argument, but that doesn’t mean people are persuaded, right? Let them make the argument, but then try to move from something abstract into something personal. Ask for a specific example: “Is there anything from your personal experience that would help me understand that? I want to know what you think based on your personal experiences. Can you tell me more about how you came to that point of view?”
But in an ideologically polarized world, it seems challenging to believe others are genuinely invested in listening to what we have to share.
If people aren’t having the conversation in good faith, you’re not going to change their mind and they’re not going to change yours. If it’s entertaining, then keep having the conversation. But if you’re feeling your heart pounding and you’re getting emotionally flooded, then I’d recommend bringing the conversation to a close.
This is a good segue to talk about some of the different reactions to constructive dialogue. You’ve mentioned there’s been pushback from some students.
When some of my students first learn about constructive dialogue, they immediately think of the most polarizing issues—like Trump versus Harris, Israel and Palestine, abortion access, or mass deportations. They worry they’re being asked to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t recognize their right—or the rights of those they care about—to exist or be valued.
Sometimes pushback is based on a perception that constructive dialogue is being touted as the one and only way to communicate about ideological differences in ideas. And I think in general, “civil discourse” is easier for people whose identities are not at stake. But even in like-minded groups that seek the same objectives, we don’t always agree about the best way to get to our goals. It’s in these times that the tools offered by constructive dialogue can help us reach our shared goals.
And maybe even uncover some surprising shared goals.
It’s hard to extrapolate from the Berkeley situation, because Berkeley is so unique. I’m teaching a class right now with 86 undergraduates, and even when we discuss controversial topics, we sometimes don’t have contrasting opinions expressed. Early this semester I did an exercise in class called a values spectrum where students arrange themselves around the room based on the extent to which they agree or disagree about a controversial topic. In this case, the topic was increasing the minimum wage. All the students clustered on the same side of the room in agreement that wages should be increased nationally to $15 per hour. We ended up having to role play and channel the views of authors we’d read in order to bring different perspectives into the discussion.
My students in this class are so respectful and kind. In this particular class, there’s a lot of agreement. But I also find myself wondering, is there someone here who’s holding back their true thoughts? And if so, why? What perspectives are missing from this conversation?
It seems that being surrounded with only like-minded perspectives may weaken our ability to handle disagreement.
Yes, and on the other end of the spectrum, in classes or forums where there’s disagreement, students sometimes dehumanize others so quickly that it blocks any chance of understanding. When labels like “crazies” or “racist” are thrown around there’s no room left for a real conversation. That’s a loss. We’re either talking only with people we already agree with, staying in our silos, or we’re shutting down connection by dehumanizing each other. In both cases, we miss the opportunity to get to the heart of the matter or find what’s shared.
This seems like an important reminder today, presidential election day…
Yes, it does feel as important as ever.
Any advice for navigating the uncomfortable political conversations we’re all likely to have, even with loved ones?
Your two superpowers in these conversations are curiosity and storytelling—the ability to invite others to share their stories and the openness to share your own. When someone expresses a view that differs from yours, try asking yourself: What am I missing here? What more could this person share to help me understand their perspective? What values do we both agree upon? Mónica Guzmán’s book I Never Thought of It That Way is an excellent resource for ideas.
These conversations carry the risk of misunderstandings, yet they also offer a precious chance for connection. As I’ve gotten deeper into this work, I’ve come to see the profound yearning to reconnect—even when we disagree.
Right now, many people are talking about finding hope in dark times, and I keep returning to Mariame Kaba’s idea that “Hope is a discipline.” For me, the hope and the discipline are rooted in nurturing the strength of our families and communities. Preserving these connections takes tremendous patience and intentionality right now. There are countless ways our loved ones can get swept up in misinformation, and so many ways that disagreements—even small ones—can feel insurmountable. But staying in relationships despite these challenges requires real discipline.
Coming together and engaging in dialogue gives us a powerful chance to clarify, bridge gaps, and connect—free from the layers of misinterpretation so common in digital spaces. In times like these, nurturing bonds may be one of our most profound acts of hope.
***
Nathalia Alcantara is the online editor of California. She hopes not to lose it this Thanksgiving.
