When I came back to campus after the election, I feared a political minefield. I’ve seen horror stories from other campuses-swastikas drawn on sidewalks, hijabs ripped off the heads of Muslim women, racist chanting in the halls. So when Winter Term began, I was terrified. I wondered how administration might respond if something happened here. I wondered if my classmates and friends would be safe. I wondered if I would be safe. Fortunately, I didn’t see any of that. If anything, campus was quiet after the election. In fact, it was too quiet. I soon realized that people weren’t talking to each other, they were talking to themselves. People with similar beliefs talked to each other, cementing their own beliefs. I’ll admit, I’m just as guilty of anyone else of creating an echo chamber. Liberals accuse conservatives of being xenophobic, and conservatives accuse liberals of being anti-Christian. People feel their morals are at stake. Furthermore, people feel their very identities are threatened. The political gets entangled with the personal. It’s hard not to bury oneself in an echo chamber.

Flashback to the chalking scandal on my campus. In response to offensive chalkings, campus administration created a “free speech zone” for political messages. Some students felt that their freedom of speech was being infringed on by this zone. Others were so hurt by the original chalkings that they didn’t want to see any chalking whatsoever on campus. Amidst all this political tension, many people stressed the need to “create a dialogue”. This seems to be the agreement among people from all political backgrounds. So, what would this dialogue look like?

As of now, there seems to be the general sentiment that emotions and politics should not intermix. Sometimes political outrage is met with confusion and even more outrage: The protesters need to stop whining that they didn’t get their way in the election! Why do people get so worked up over politics? Sometimes, we attempt to diminish people’s fears with more subtlety. We reassure ourselves that our thoughts about the election are “just politics” with statements like, I won’t let politics get in the way of my relationships! If you voted for Trump, I'll still be your friend.

So if emotions and personal experience should be left out of this dialogue, what’s left? Debate? I’ve heard rumors that some kind of formal political debate might happen on campus, and I can’t help but wonder whether this is the right approach to a discussion.

A philosophy professor once said in class that debates are a notoriously bad way of getting people to agree with you. He said that if anything, debating further entrenches you in your own beliefs and makes you even firmer in your beliefs than usual. When I heard this, I was shocked. What do you mean, debates don’t work? My high school classes had drilled argumentation techniques into me since Day One. Point, counterpoint, rebuttal, rebuttal, closing statements. Stay away from slippery slopes, non sequiturs, and circular logic. Back it up with evidence. Have a structured, carefully thought out argument with lots of evidence, and you will successfully prove a point. You might not convince your opponent, but you’ll probably convince someone out there who’s listening to you. This is what my high school taught me. So for this professor-a philosophy professor, no less-to say that debates don’t work? Inconceivable.

As shocking as this statement was at the time, it makes sense the more I think about it. Debate gives you a formal, systematic way to articulate your own points. It gives a logical structure on your own argument. Polishing your own argument makes your own opinions more believable and boosts your confidence. When you have a formal debate, you take two sides, each with their own polished argument, and pin those arguments against each other. When you watch a debate, you come in already biased to one side. No matter which side had the better argument according to rules of formal logic, you’re bound to agree with the side that you already agreed with in the first place. You will always be convinced that your side won. Even when you hear both sides, you still gather material to build the walls of your own echo chamber. When it comes to convincing an audience member-let alone an opponent-debates don’t work.

When we engage in some sort of dialogue, we want someone else to see our side. We don’t necessarily want to fully convince someone and “convert” them to our side (and if we tried, we probably wouldn't succeed), but we want someone to hear our perspective. We want someone to listen to us with an open mind and an open heart. When we engage in dialogue, often we’re looking for empathy, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. We want to feel validated.

It’s time to put the emotions back into politics. I know that seems ridiculous-we’re afraid of emotionally charged discussions. We don’t want to be offended, we don’t want to offend others, and we don’t want to feel invalidated. However, in this political climate, we need to understand that this election has implications that have an impact that is far greater than we could ever imagine. The results of this election affect personal lives in more ways than we could ever imagine. It's not "just politics". This election goes beyond politics, so to confine ourselves to merely political would be counter-productive. We need to come to a common understanding with one another. We need to listen to one another’s hopes, struggles, fears, and concerns. We need to validate one another. We should listen to not to formulate a response, but to just listen. We don’t always have to be right. Formal, logical tactics aren’t always the most successful. Sometimes, the best argument tactics aren’t argument at all. Maybe it’s time to ditch the technicalities of debate and just talk as friends. Have a regular conversation. Only then can we begin to knock down the walls of political partisanship and build up the greater good.