Reader request: After just two more columns, this series will end. Do you see value in converting the series to a small booklet available on Amazon? Please give me your reasons both pro and con. I am struggling with that decision. Is it worth investing time in, or is the topic too time sensitive, and would I be wise to move on to a different column topic instead of investing my time in getting it to print/ebook? What kind of marketability do you see for that potential book? Would you be a potential buyer? For yourself? For others? etc. etc. Any feedback is helpful. Post as a comment to start discussion or send me a private email. Thanks! CVK

As I start researching how moderates can talk with extremists, I have little hope I will find many helpful answers. I turn to Perplexity AI, widely used as a research tool. (I don’t use AI to write or information. I use it to find original sources.)

Today, I ask AI three questions:

• Can extremists shift positions?

• Which medium works best for communicating with them: social media, writing, or in-person conversation?

• Can they change in both the long term and the short term?

Can Extremists Change?

Perplexity’s first sentence encourages me: “Even seemingly unreachable extremists can moderate over time.” My hope rises, and I dig into the related articles.

A 2023 article in “Communication Psychology” says, to my surprise, that yes, extremists do shift toward moderation over time. Another article, in “Knowledge at INSEAD,” reports on a 13-year study of long-term opinion changes in the United States and the Netherlands. It also confirms that extremists can change. In paragraph three, the article says, “Contrary to popular belief, we found that those with extreme political attitudes were more likely to change their views over time compared to moderates, and the direction of that change was in fact toward the center.” My eyes widen in surprise.

The “Knowledge at INSEAD” study adds the caveat that it limits its research on extremists to issue positions, not opinions about outgroups. The study notes, “People seem to increasingly dislike those who disagree with them.”

“Aha!” I think. Apparently, extremists do change, and it’s important in our communication to focus on issues, not the opposition. It will require patience, though.

Which Medium Works Best?
Perplexity tells me, “In-person, one-to-one conversation is widely recommended as one of the most effective ways to reach people with extremist or highly polarized views, though the evidence base is still developing.” I check original sources. Three studies agree that, in general, one-on-one conversation works better than group conversation, writing or social media. One includes a caveat that in-person conversation may not be best in all situations.

In addition to one-on-one conversations, small groups can work for communication among those who differ but perhaps only for moderate differences. Our Sunday school class has now concluded its discussion of “One Anothering” from Colossian Forum, and members told me they benefited from the conversations. None of the class members took extremist positions.

I conclude that if each of my column readers talks to one person with whom they differ, your combined influence may exceed that of this column. I hope you feel empowered to hold those conversations by what you have learned in this series.

What About Long- vs. Short-Term Change?
Perplexity tells me that extremists are capable of moderating in both the short term and the long term. I decide to focus on short-term evidence.

To my surprise, every one of the five articles I click discusses a process called “deep canvassing.” I dive into deep canvassing and find enough to finish this column.

Exploring Deep Canvassing
Deep canvassing is used by a broad range of political, advocacy and community organizations, generally wherever people want sustained, person-to-person conversations about issues. Here’s a generic definition: a structured, one-to-one conversation method that uses open, empathetic dialogue about people’s real experiences and feelings in order to explore and sometimes shift their views on issues.

GetThru, which says it serves “education, nonprofits and campaigns,” offers the following description of deep canvassing on its website:

• Asking the voter how they feel about a certain issue

• Talking about both sides of the issue and seeing how the voter reacts to the counterargument (for example, sharing a video of a political ad created by the opposition)

• Asking the voter to share an experience from their own life that connects with the issue

• Sharing a personal experience from the canvasser’s own life that connects with the issue

• Circling back to ask how the voter feels about the issue now, or how confident they are in that position

Multiple organizations describe the same five steps, each using slightly different wording. Its disadvantage for organizations is that it requires more time and training than other campaign methods. However, it has been shown to be effective in shifting voter positions. A Yale Program on Climate Change Communication blog in 2022 reports on a campaign in a British Columbia community that did intensive research and training, followed by deep canvassing: “They achieved an impressive 40% overall movement/persuasion rate and overcame community skepticism to win a significant victory.”

I’m not campaigning, and you probably aren’t either, but that victory impresses me. Could we use the same techniques in our personal conversations? It would require research, but you could certainly use those techniques as an individual. The above five steps make good sense for one-on-one conversations about specific issues. For more details about those steps, you can search online.

PS: Please remember to answer my reader request. Thx!

Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

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Reader request: After just three more columns, this series will end. Do you see value in converting the series to a small booklet available on Amazon? Please give me your reasons both pro and con. I am struggling with that decision. Is it worth investing time in, or is the topic too time sensitive, and would I be wise to move on to a different column topic instead of investing my time in getting it to print/ebook? What kind of marketability do you see for that potential book? Would you be a potential buyer? For yourself? For others? etc. etc. Any feedback is helpful. Post as a comment to start discussion or send me a private email. Thanks! CVK

As I sit down at the keyboard, I’m still wondering why I cannot understand James’ viewpoint. Balancing the budget remains his bottom line, yet he continues to support Trump despite a war costing billions and a skyrocketing national debt. How is that possible?

I decided to dig deeper into the way the two of us think. Do we think and speak differently? James leans a little more to the right than I do, so I started to research the cognitive and communicative differences between left‑ and right‑leaning people.

As I dug in, I learned that, although the difference is not black‑and‑white dramatic, the two sides do tend to think differently. And those thinking differences shape our communication.

We think differently about social order. My reading suggests that right‑leaning people are more comfortable with clear rules, firm categories and fixed social arrangements. Left‑leaning people are more likely to be comfortable with ambiguity, complexity and changing rules. This difference has been observed repeatedly in psychological and social science studies from the late 1960s to the present.

I considered my recent differences with James. We grew up in the same area, at the same time, in the rural Midwest — essentially in the same culture. In recent decades, though, I have questioned the clear, simple standards of my childhood. I have indeed moved from clarity toward complexity and ambiguity. I no longer observe some of the rules of my childhood. Has James has experienced a similar shift? Perhaps not.

I also found that right‑ and left‑leaning people tend to differ in their instinctive responses to news. Research shows right‑leaning individuals show stronger sensitivity to potential threats and social disorder; they are more likely to feel viscerally alarmed by news about campus unrest, rising crime or the potential for immigrant violence. Left‑leaning individuals, on average, show a lower visceral threat response. They are more likely to be intrigued that recent protests challenge traditional social norms and that the status of marginalized people is changing. Do I by nature feel less threatened by Iran’s potential nuclear power than James?

I also learned these differences are averages. They do not apply to every person who leans right or left. In addition, these mild differences disappear at the extremes. At both ends of the political spectrum, rigidity and dogmatism tend to dominate: people on the far right and far left often show similar levels of cognitive inflexibility. I suspect they probably hate this similarity to the opposite side, if they are aware of it.

In a 2019 study, political psychologist Leor Zmigrod and colleagues found that individuals who are extremely attached to the Democratic Party or to the Republican Party display greater mental rigidity on cognitive tests than those who are only moderately or weakly attached. In an online essay titled “The Partisan Brain,” Zmigrod concluded:

“While the conservatism or liberalism of our beliefs may at times divide us, our capacity to think about the world flexibly and adaptively can unite us. Extremity in either direction can lead us to see the world in black and white and forget to appreciate those crucial shades of gray in between.

“Yet it is often within these intermediate grays that we can find creative, constructive solutions to societal troubles and remember to place our common humanity above abstract ideals. Is it time for an age of plasticity to replace the age of partisanship?”

Zmigrod wrote those paragraphs several years ago, and I think an age of plasticity is now more crucial than ever, no matter what direction we lean. We moderates also need to find ways to communicate not only with other moderates but with extremists. Some observers judge that communication impossible. I hope they are wrong. If we can’t convince them, we should at least find ways to limit the damage they can do. Listening, learning and working together are crucial for the functioning of democracy.

I’m curious whether readers agree with Zmigrod and why or why not. I value civil and thoughtful emailed responses. Meanwhile, I’ll do a little research on listening, learning and working together, as well as whether there are any proven ways to communicate with extremists.

PS: Please respond to my opening reader request!

Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

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Reader request: After just four more columns, this series will end. Do you see value in converting the series to a small booklet available on Amazon? Please give me your reasons both pro and con. I am struggling with that decision. Is it worth investing time in, or is the topic too time sensitive, and would I be wise to move on to a different column topic instead of investing my time in getting it to print/ebook? What kind of marketability do you see for that potential book? Would you be a potential buyer? For yourself? For others? etc. etc. Any feedback is helpful. Post as a comment to start discussion or send me a private email. Thanks! CVK

In the previous column, I documented strengths and weaknesses in Donald Trump as a president using the first four of presidential scholar Fred Greenstein’s principles for assessing leadership. At that point in my research, I saw both strengths and weaknesses. The picture changed when I turned to cognitive style and emotional intelligence, the inner‑life dimensions that mattered most to Greenstein.

Neutral and critical profiles converge on a portrait of Trump’s cognitive style as impulsive, dominance‑oriented and weak on structured analysis. Aubrey Immelman’s at‑a‑distance personality study of Trump on the Personality and Leadership website describes his executive style as “bold, competitive and self‑assured,” but also “impulsive and undisciplined,” “tradition‑defying” and prone to shading the truth and flouting rules.

Trump is not a good fit with Greenstein’s ideal of a president who systematically sifts, weighs and integrates complex, sometimes unwelcome information. Other analyses of Trump’s decision‑making describe a personal governing style that does not operate from a stable, institutionalized decision‑making framework, but relies on instinct and on whoever was “the last person in the room” with him. As a result, he frequently reverses himself and shifts rationales on major issues. When I combine these flaws with evidence of apparent cognitive decline, I worry.

Greenstein calls emotional intelligence the “sleeping giant” of presidential leadership. He warns, “Beware the presidential contender who lacks emotional intelligence. In its absence all else may turn to ashes.” Assessments of Donald Trump on this score trouble me. Studies that score leaders on drive, self‑awareness, self‑regulation and empathy tend to rate Trump very high on drive and assertiveness, but lower than average on self‑awareness and self‑regulation, and much lower on empathy. The studies note repeated patterns of miscommunication, offhand insults that damage relationships and rambling or incoherent statements. Political scientist Joseph Nye argued as early as 2016 that Trump is “deficient in emotional intelligence” — lacking the self‑mastery, discipline and empathic capacity that allow leaders to channel their passions and attract others rather than drive them away. Analysts of emotional intelligence and leadership, such as Carolyn Stern and other EQ coaches, have assessed him as bullying, low in empathy and poor at impulse control.

Even among assessments avoiding partisan language, a consistent picture emerges: Trump has strong drive and a willingness to express emotion, but limited emotional self‑control and low empathy — precisely the capacities Greenstein believes are central to emotional intelligence.

When I lay that pattern alongside his mixed record on the other four traits, I reach a conclusion not tied to Trump’s politics but to his person. Measured against Greenstein’s six qualities, Trump does not meet the standard for an effective president — something both right‑leaning and left‑leaning citizens need, regardless of their policy preferences.

Before sending this column off, I checked back with James, for whom national debt has been the bottom line in politics. I asked James whether the costs of the attack on Iran and the rising federal deficit have swayed him. He answered: “I do continue to support Donald Trump and his efforts to stop any future threats from Iran. I continue to support a balanced budget, and there is plenty of room for budget cuts elsewhere. I think what we are doing in Iran is much more important for our future than a current balanced budget, although I think we could do both if we chose.”

At the moment I can’t fathom James’ most recent response. But I continue to enjoy our conversations and respect him.

PS: Remember I’m asking for your opinion on a booklet option.

Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

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In recent weeks one question has loomed large for me. How can moderate U.S. citizens continue to support our current president? I had asked myself that question before. I had promised readers a nonpartisan viewpoint and an effort to build political bridges, not bomb them.

My disapproval of Donald Trump, however, is not because of my political leanings. Politically, I agree with some parts of the Democratic platform and some parts of the Republican platform. My struggle is with Donald Trump’s personal qualities more than with his policies.

Does he have the human qualities to effectively govern? I’ve heard both right‑leaning and left‑leaning voters lament Donald J. Trump’s character. Already in 2016, some acquaintances told me they voted for him while “holding their noses.” (Some who voted for Hillary Clinton voiced similar sentiments.)

Some voters told me they disliked Donald Trump as a person but voted for him because they opposed abortion or wanted the border closed to illegal crossings. James, my conservative political discussion partner, put it more bluntly when I questioned him about Trump’s personal qualities: “Oh, I think he’s a horrible person,” he said. “But reducing our national debt is more important than Trump’s character.” James is a businessman and predicts catastrophe on our current deficit path. So do I.

In researching this column, I dug into the effect of personal qualities on presidential effectiveness, separate from presidents’ policies or parties. In doing so, I discovered the work of political scholar Fred Greenstein, who spent decades studying exactly this question. Fred Greenstein was one of the most respected scholars of the American presidency, particularly on how personal qualities shape performance in office. A professor of politics at Princeton University, he wrote or edited eight major books on presidents and political leadership. His central book, “The Presidential Difference: Leadership Style from FDR to Barack Obama,” was published long before Trump appeared on the political scene; his evaluations only run through the early 2000s. That distance matters: Greenstein praises and criticizes both Democratic and Republican presidents, and he does so with a consistent framework. For example, Greenstein rated Democrat Lyndon Johnson high and Democrat Jimmy Carter low. Republican Dwight Eisenhower fared well, and Republican George H.W. Bush fared poorly. Greenstein died in 2018 at age 88.

Greenstein identifies six qualities that affect presidential effectiveness:

Public communication: skill as a public communicator.

Organizational capacity: how presidents structure and manage the White House and broader executive branch.

Political skill: bargaining, coalition‑building and navigating institutions.

Policy vision: clarity and consistency of long‑term goals.

Cognitive style: how they process information and make sense of it.

Emotional intelligence: self‑control, managing emotions, “taming of the soul.”

Greenstein repeatedly calls emotional intelligence the “sleeping giant” of presidential leadership. In his words, without it “all else may turn to ashes”: intellect, political skill and vision can be turned to destructive ends if presidents cannot master their own impulses and resentments.

Using that framework, I asked Perplexity, an AI assistant, how Trump fares on each trait. I read across sources and tried, as much as possible, to focus on party‑neutral analyses rather than partisan cheerleading.

On public communication, a typical neutral summary describes Trump’s rhetoric as populist, nationalistic and confrontational, with simple language, heavy repetition, threat narratives and absolutist framing. His supporters find this refreshing and “authentic”; detractors see it as divisive and norm‑breaking. In Greenstein’s framework, this amounts to a high capacity to mobilize and energize a particular base, and a low capacity to speak as a unifying national figure.

On organizational capacity, presidency scholars and good‑government analysts see trade‑offs rather than straightforward competence. Scholars of the presidency describe Trump’s style as heavily leader‑centered. He reorients the administration around himself and his preferences, centralizes power and enforces loyalty. That makes the system very responsive to his short‑term wishes, but it also produces frequent turnover, reliance on loyalty over expertise, and a questionable ability to sustain a competent, professional executive branch capable of implementing complex policies over time.

On political skill, neutral scholarship gives Trump credit for reshaping and dominating the Republican Party and for mobilizing a durable coalition around grievance, nationalism and cultural conflict. At the same time, scholars find little evidence of building cross‑party cooperation or legislative bargaining. Much of his impact has come through executive action and pressure on allies rather than through the kind of negotiation and compromise Greenstein associates with high political skill.

On policy vision, Trump clearly does have one. Analysts describe Trump’s viewpoint as a distinct brand of right‑wing populist nationalism — “America First” economics, strong borders and cultural traditionalism, along with skepticism toward international organizations. He projects a sharp and memorable vision, strongly supported by his base, but it is also narrow and reactive. Trump focuses more on restoring what he sees as our country’s lost greatness and on punishing enemies than on laying out detailed, forward‑looking plans for a just society.

Four points into assessing Donald Trump using Greenstein’s standards, I saw both strengths and weaknesses. The weaknesses troubled me, but not as dramatically as I expected. When I turned to cognitive style and emotional intelligence, the assessment darkened.

We’ll cover those two items in the next column.

Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

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Beside my computer sit the 41 pages of Perplexity AI answers about moderation that left me paralyzed for three days. I produced only the last column’s “interruption to normal programming.” Today I’m honoring my commitment to lay down sentences, no matter what, and see what happens.

The answer to my first question, confirms my fears: Extremists listen less than moderates. Why? Overconfidence blinds them to nuance; moderates embrace uncertainty. I sigh. Extremists just might be be unreachable.

Left and right extremists share traits: black-and-white thinking, threat sensitivity, identity-driven beliefs — all blocking moderate voices. Still, some of them shift over time if new info fits their moral frame. Then a new fact deepens my gloom: Parties reward hard-liners; as extremes drift apart (right drifting farther from center than left), even same-party moderates appear tainted to extremists.

Brain studies confirm their shared thinking style. I smile, as I imagine confronting Representatives Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Matt Gaetz with news of their similarities.

Then I wonder if we ordinary citizens see ourselves clearly. Do extremists recognize their locations? Am I really as near the center as I think? Perplexity suggests I take online tests. It recommends a half-dozen options but ranks two at the top: Pew Political Typology Quiz and The Political Compass. Both give readers a structured placement rather than just a partisan label.

Pew sorts you into one of nine groups developed from surveys of 10,000 adults — not just a pure left-right rank. It’s U.S.-based. The Political Compass (online since 2001) plots users on two axes, horizontally on economic beliefs and vertically on social opinions. Perplexity adds, “This is one of the best-known internet tests for readers who want a classic left-right placement with extra nuance.” It is used for Western democracies, not just for the U.S.

First, I take the Pew test. It ranks me as “Outsider Left.” When I view that category on the chart, I am in the leaning-left category closest to center. About 10% of U.S. adults are in this group. Pew tells me most Outsider Left citizens are dissatisfied with both parties and are young. It’s half-right about me: I am dissatisfied with both parties, but I retired years ago. Then I scroll down, fascinated by the percent of fellow Outsider Left members and the percent of the whole adult population who agree with me on each question I answered.

I decide to take the Political Compass test as well, with its ranking for both my economic and my human rights opinions. I discover that economically I lean just slightly left, but on human rights I lean slightly libertarian. On a single scale, my average might be dead center!

I suspect few column readers will find yourselves ranking at the extremes. When I asked AI about who joins moderating organizations such as Braver Angels (BA) or Living Room Conversations (LRC), Perplexity answered, “There is some evidence that formal bridge-building programs tend to attract people who lean more moderate or liberal, and that strong partisans and ideological extremists are under-represented.” It added that these organizations explicitly aim to include more hard-line voices and sometimes succeed in bringing them in. The same moderate viewpoint is true of the eight members of my Sunday morning class studying the book “One Anothering,” which shares the goals of BA and LRC.

I also suspect column readers might want to take these tests and would benefit from taking them. If you’re reading this on paper, do an online search for “Pew Political Typology Quiz” and for “The Political Compass Test.” The tests should pop up on your screen. At least they popped up for me. If you’d like to take the test, here are the URLs:

https://www.pewresearch.org/politics/quiz/political-typology/

https://www.politicalcompass.org/test

If you take the tests, I’d appreciate a quick note telling me what you discovered at info@carolvanklompenburg.com. If you don’t want me to quote you, just ask to be anonymous.

I look at the word counter and am surprised that I have created a new column, based just on AI’s first answer. I might be able to find the next column somewhere in the following 40 pages. I guess the column series isn’t ending after all.

I look forward to hearing about those test results.

…

Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

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Two days ago I asked Perplexity AI question after question about how political moderates can be heard. I asked multiple follow-up questions. Minutes became hours. With each AI answer, I became more discouraged.

I sighed and printed the 41 pages of answers and footnotes. I reread them, highlighting and underlining.

At this point of column development I normally use the highlighted material, go to the footnoted articles and begin drafting. However, my designated writing time had been devoured by research.

Yesterday, when my alarm rang, I put on my robe and slipper socks and went straight to my desk to read the AI notes and begin a draft. I dozed off three times without producing a note. I stumbled toward the living room, set my phone timer for 30 minutes, and collapsed onto the couch.

When the alarm buzzed, I shut it off, slumped up to sitting and dozed off again in tired discouragement. Eventually Marlo touched my shoulder and asked if I was still sick from a cold I caught on a recent trip.

“Not really,” I said, “I’m tired, sad and mad.” I hastily reassured him, “Not at you, though. I really don’t know why.” Perhaps the black dog (Winston Churchill’s metaphor for his depression), a dog I normally keep at bay with medication, was approaching in the shadows.

As I answered Marlo, my brain roused to remember an upcoming morning meeting in our home. I surveyed suitcases and other trip debris littering the floor between the entry and meeting room. Adrenaline kicked in, and the black dog retreated as I showered, dressed for guests and cleared the clutter.

Throughout the afternoon he kept his distance as I trimmed houseplants for a friend, carried home those trimmings and potted them. When they have rooted, I will donate them to a local thrift store to help fund services for Central Iowans in need.

For decades, working with plants has supplemented my antidepressants. So has writing. Today, however, whenever I consider working on a column, the black dog creeps closer. I don’t write a word.

By day’s end, the black dog has almost disappeared, but I haven’t written a single word. He has growled at me only when I try to return to my desk

Then he’s growled, “You’re not REALLY a writer. You are just a Wounded Child, aching to be visible. The Wounded Child pleads, ‘See me, Mommy, please.’

I acknowledge his truth. “Yes, in childhood I was too young to understand my need for nurture. I didn’t know my mother’s wounds blinded her to all hurts but her own.”

As I’ve learned over the decades, I challenge him with facts. “Yes, my wounded child lives on. She sits around the campfire with my other selves. However, I am no longer that child. ‘Competent writer’ is also one my inner selves”

The dog shifts his growling to a different pitch. “You are no expert on politics. In this series, you only write what you learn through research. Others have far more expertise on political bridges than you. What makes you think you have anything worth saying? Why would anyone listen to you? They won’t. Remember, the number of email responses has plummeted.”

I try to challenge him again. “Yes, this politics topic is the hardest writing I have ever done. Yes, it requires research. And yes the email downturn and recent research discouraging, but …”

I fall silent, and then I offer him a bone. “I am willing to quit writing this column if I sit down at this computer for two days and no words flow, not even a ‘shitty first draft.’” (I borrow the phrase from writer Anne Lamott.)

I remind him I have forgiven my mother many times, and will do so each time my wounded child appears. I wonder if his growling is not my lack of neurotransmitters but a normal response to a temporary writing roadblock. After all, Competent Writer is still part of the campfire circle.

Tomorrow morning, energized by a latte, I will prime the writing pump with freewriting as author Katherine Paterson suggests. I will keystroke one word after another laying down sentences wherever those 41 pages about moderate voices lead me. If no words flow, I’ll start again the next day. If, then too, the wall remains, I will end the column.

But I will not stop writing. My Competent Writer is stronger than my wounded child. The writer grows. The Wounded Child shrinks.

I leave my desk for the day. The black dog leaves the house.

You ask, “Will the next Journey in Search of Bridges column be the last?”

I do not know.

Stay tuned, and we’ll find out together.

…

Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

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In recent columns, we’ve seen how news media and social media both create pictures of a wide divide, lacking moderate voices. But what about the voices we hear from the U.S. Congress? Congressional speeches, as we hear them on TV and social media, frequently repeat that media-amplified picture of unrelenting war. On television or YouTube, we hear fiery speeches, created not to inform or persuade, but to rally a base. I sometimes feel hopeless listening to streams of accusations, moral outrage, and inflexible demands. They drown out nuance, and a possible middle ground.

In a Nature Human Behaviour study published in April 2025 analyzing 145 years of House and Senate speeches, researchers found a growing reliance on intuition-based language over evidence-based reasoning, This rise correlates with rising polarization as politicians craft performances for media use.

Yet public spectacle masks a quieter reality. Congress routinely passes bipartisan legislation, especially on less ideologically charged issues. In the 117th Congress (2021-23), about 59% of enacted bills had bipartisan co-sponsors. These drew substantial cross-aisle support despite fiery debates. The Lugar Center’s Bipartisan Index identifies dozens of members who exceed historical averages in cross-party collaboration. Rhetoric rages, but legislation often grinds forward on technical or urgent fixes.

Citizens help fuel this polarization. Primary voters — who decide 80-90% of House races in safe districts (whose turnout is under 20%) — skew toward the extremes and reward orthodoxy over compromise. Low primary participation means extremists hold outsized sway, pressuring incumbents toward base-pleasing speeches to prevent a challenger in primaries.

Donors amplify congressional need to toe the party line. Studies show major donors favor party-loyal candidates over bipartisans or extremists. As we have seen in previous columns, social media echo chambers harden these pressures, with platforms boosting outrage to increase engagement.

Party disagreement is indeed part of our political process, but Anne E. Wilson and coauthors wrote in ScienceDirect that polarization and animosity based on misconceptions of the other side threaten to misdiagnose problems, leading people to battle imagined enemies. This war distracts from opportunities for transformative reform.

Could amplifying moderate, nuanced voices moderate congressional tones? The evidence suggests it might. Reforms like open primaries could dilute base dominance, empowering broader electorates. Donor leverage works: after the Jan. 6 Capitol riot, firms like Citigroup, American Express, Walmart and Dow indefinitely halted support for the 147 lawmakers who had voted to object to the 2020 election results, They signaled that partisanship risks losing funding. Anecdotes abound of individual donors pulling back. Consider a recent message from one major contributor to his congresswoman: “I’m halting my substantial support for your future campaigns until you demonstrate you can work across the aisle.” Such pressures, scaled up, could shift incentives.

As we search for bridges, the divide may seem infinite on screen, but Congress’ bipartisan output hints at pragmatism beneath the bluster. Polarized citizens and donors drive the rhetoric, yet moderates voicing their opinion — or closing their wallets — might coax politicians toward the center.

Voting for moderates could also reduce division. The bipartisan organization Unite America has found that last year’s Congress had only a 15% approval rating, yet 95% of its members were re-elected. If enough of us speak reasonably and vote accordingly (including in primaries), we could quiet the TV circus and rebuild a democracy of deliberation.

The data show it’s possible; the question is whether we will make moderation heard.

Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

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Weary from working and reworking Column 11, “How to Survive Social Media and Silos,” I flopped onto a couch to unwind and rest before beginning research on how national politicians contribute to our polarization. However, a book that had been languishing on the coffee table beckoned: “Breaking the Social Media Prism” by Chris Bail, a professor of sociology at Duke University.

When I opened it, the title of Chapter 1 startled me: “The Legend of the Echo Chamber.”

“A legend? That can’t be true!” I thought. The ready-to-submit column I had just finished argued that online echo chambers were real and powerful. I had decided to start reading opposing social media viewpoints instead.

Transfixed, I read on … and on. I learned that reading opposing viewpoints on social media does not moderate viewpoints. It actually drives readers to further extremism. Chris Bail cited what happened during the Duke University Polarization Lab experiment when he and fellow social scientists regularly exposed Twitter-user volunteers who were moderate Republicans and moderate Democrats to posts from the opposite side. No volunteers from either party moved toward the center; in fact, both sides moved to more extreme positions.

At first, Bail’s team didn’t understand. As they dug deeper, they learned that our in-person relationships have weakened and our identities are becoming more fragile. They discovered social media posts are not a discussion of ideas so much as a way to define our identities, seek status and signal our membership in a group. Political Twitter posters, for example, are extremists who interpret the words of the other party in the most uncharitable way possible.

Bail’s Polarization Lab discovered that Twitter posts have two prism-like effects on readers: 1) They increase extremism. 2) They mute moderates. In doing that, they bend and distort our perception of our divisions.

Bail and his research team discovered that just 6% of Twitter users contribute 70% of that platform’s political posts, and those views are extreme. Their research also revealed that online extremists often have not done well in their offline lives, where they lack status and experience marginalization. Online, they communicate far more aggressively than they do in person.

Despite holding views that rank among the 5% to 10% most extreme in their respective parties, they vehemently deny their extremist label. They viciously attack moderate views, even those in their own party. They overstate the power and numbers of their supporters and of their extremist opponents in the other party. They create a false reality: an image of two opposing armies with a small number of cowards (moderates) in the middle. They present their own views as mainstream.

As a result, social media mutes the majority views of roughly 80% to 90% of voters. Extremists gain status and belonging online, and moderates, who have more to lose offline, resist making online statements that will jeopardize their careers or relationships.

Since social media drives extremism and mutes moderates, Bail sees social media as a distorting prism that makes viewers overestimate the difference between themselves and members of the other party. He maintains that statistically, the number of moderates is not shrinking, even though we think we are becoming more polarized.

Bail suggests a new platform that rewards civil discussion. I would welcome it, but other experts maintain building such a platform would be very hard, and social media is likely here to stay.

What can ordinary citizens do? Unless new programs arise, we ordinary citizens have just two options: give up social media or find ways to limit its distortion of reality.

Even though I’m tempted to try abandoning social media, I’m not ready to give up the extensive contact with friends and acquaintances. However, I have decided I will no longer doomscroll through extremist posts.

As I complete reading Bail’s book, I discover he recommends exactly that — along with other behaviors.

In Chapter 7, he recommends three wise choices: See the prism, see yourself through the prism and break the prism.

First, Bail and his research team discovered that simply being aware of the distorting prism of social media has a strong depolarizing effect. Our perceptions of national polarization are not accurate. The right overestimates the percent of Democrats who are Black, atheist, union members, gay, lesbian or bisexual. The left overestimates the percent of Republicans who are evangelical Christians, 65 or older, live in the South or earn more than $250,000 per year. In surveys, respondents on both sides overestimate actual partisans in each of these categories by an average of about 300% to 350%.

Subsequently, people who saw those actual statistics reported they had more favorable attitudes toward the opposing party than those who did not see those statistics. Facts do change minds.

Second, if we see ourselves through the prism, we can recognize that when we think we are simply posting facts, others will see us as posting opinions. Are we seeking an identity or looking to exchange ideas? Are we able to be reasonable and moderate? Bail pleads passionately for moderates to speak up. He prescribes testing the waters online with baby steps. Give up on extremists, be moderate and look for other moderates.

Finally, Bail provides guidelines for breaking that prism that ring true for me and also apparently rang true for the conservative Christian pastor Tim Keller. In Keller’s Gospel Coalition review of Bail’s book, he listed five recommendations he considered biblical: 1) Listen long and hard. 2) Use the other’s own vocabulary and authorities. 3) Agree to something inside another person’s worldview as you critique them. 4) Be willing to be self-critical. 5) Loosen the links between your ideas and your identity. Keller also cited the Bible verses on which he based each of his conclusions. His review can be found here. : thegospelcoalition.org/reviews/breaking-social-media-prism.

As I type this conclusion, I have become passionate about the need for moderate voices to be raised and heard, especially online. I’d love to hear your thoughts (no shouting, please).

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Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

My trust in the truth of Facebook posts is low. Often in past years when I doubted a post, I checked Snopes.com and most often learned the post was an urban myth, a lie or a distortion. When I found the facts, I posted a comment with that information and suggested the person who posted might want to delete the post.

I do that much less often these days. I lost a few Facebook friends that way. Now, on the occasions I do comment, I edit my comment until it sounds gentle, friendly and noncombative. I have tried this with a few posts, and the jury is still out. Can we have friendly conversations on Facebook? Mónica Guzmán calls Facebook and other social media “silos,” the third part of her SOS acronym for our political divide. I think “quicksand” might be even more apt because on social media each click pulls us deeper, and we start to sink into a hole of algorithms, opinions and group dynamics.

Algorithms in social media play matchmaker. They keep records of what we like, linger over and or argue about, and then serve us similar items. They are like a librarian who keeps records of what books we check out and then chooses the books we read. Personally, I don’t want my librarians choosing all my checkouts.

Algorithms on social media are not designed to educate us. They are used to keep us scrolling. The longer we scroll, the more money a social media platform earns from our clicks on paid posts. When we click on items we agree with, the algorithm serves us more of the same. When we linger over angry comments we agree with, we receive even more similar posts.

According to multiple academic studies, misleading, inflammatory and sensationalized posts that are factually weak spread two to three times faster than neutral ones. Conflict gets amplified. A 2025 article in Frontiers in Communication also says that false news has been shown to spread six times faster than accurate information on social media. The quicksand of social media algorithms sucks us into polarized groupthink faster than in-person communication.

When we use social media, group dynamics also kick in; group members confirm each other’s biases, catch each other’s strong emotions and feel social pressure to continue in the same vein. Last week I had doubts about a meme I saw on Facebook. I traced it back to its source in a social media group where it had 21,000 likes and 2,800 comments. The comments I skimmed agreed with the post and were often angry. Yet when I checked if the 12 items that meme listed as confirmed facts, AI told me 10 of them had been proved untrue and two were misleading. I doubt, though, that I could convince members of that group of my research results.

Recently I have started using AI for checking facts instead of Snopes. I find it easier to ask questions of AI and then follow up with additional questions. Sometimes I check facts on several AI engines to see if each provides similar assessments.

Given social media’s shortcomings, what are our options? One of my sons, a computer programmer, has canceled his Facebook account. He no longer wants his personal information analyzed on cyberspace. He now sends me emails instead, and I find I like those personal messages better.

Some of us follow up on our skepticism and check the facts. Others choose to balance what they read on social media with more reliable news sources. Some people even listen to media that lean both ways. And still others choose to stay in their silos and believe information that may not be reliable.

If you are interested in finding and building bridges, try following one voice from “the other side.” Pause before sharing outrage. Remind yourself your social media feed is manipulating you to keep you scrolling. Then stop. These are small steps, but they keep us from suffocating in quicksand. They poke holes in silo walls.

Well-informed voters who listen to multiple viewpoints and make their own decisions function better as citizens. As I discovered in an earlier column, our country’s Constitution needs well-informed citizens who are willing to compromise.

I hope we keep that in mind as we choose what we read, see, hear — and believe.

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Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

“If we could just find a place where something is reported objectively and not from a left or right perspective, we could then dialogue better.” I nodded as I read the latest email from James, one of my political conversation partners.

I nodded even though I had learned when I was a reporter that I could never be 100% objective. However, I should be fair, accurate and transparent. I should use neutral and specific language, not loaded or inflammatory terms. I should check facts and verify them. As a journalist, I worked to live up to those standards. I wanted to be trusted.

When I asked him, James agreed that these standards made a news writer trustworthy.

I checked if readers still trust reporters to live by these standards. I discovered that trust in news media has plummeted in the past five decades. In the 1970s, about 70% of U.S. citizens said they had a great deal of or fair amount of trust in news media. By 1994 only 44% of us had that much trust. In 2025 we hit a new low of 28%.

Then I investigated if this plummeting trust was justified. I learned the nature of news reporting has shifted dramatically during those same five decades. In the evenings during the 1970s, 90% of the nation tuned in to 20-30 minutes of straight news with one of the big-three networks (ABC, CBS and NBC). Well-known anchors presented fact-driven news that met the standards I had learned.

Until it was repealed, the U.S. Fairness Doctrine required balanced reporting and limited statements of opinion. In 1987 the Federal Communications Commission concluded the growing diversity of news sources made this fairness law unnecessary. Cable news networks such as CNN had dramatically increased their market share. They upstaged the traditional big-three stations with round-the-clock news that favored speed over in-depth reporting.

Then in 1996 Fox News cable network, immediately available in 17 million homes, targeted right-leaning voters. It blended news with strongly opinionated commentary, especially in prime time, favored Republican positions and framed Democrats negatively.

Opinion and debate formats surged rapidly on all major news outlets. Competition for scoops led to more speculation and less fact checking. Pundits, forums and belligerent debates mushroomed. Infotainment flourished and became increasingly confused with news.

As news outlets multiplied, profitability shrank. Newspapers with online outlets began to measure their online feedback with algorithms that allowed them to produce more of the items read most often. What attracted viewers? Conflict and division. Factual information shrank, and news sources portrayed our country as a battleground. Viewers adopted the media viewpoint. With Fox favoring the Republican Party, other stations shifted more to the left.

Democrats and Republicans now trust primarily sources that lean the same direction they do. According to a 2025 study by Pew Research, 56% of Republicans say they generally trust Fox News, but only 19 percent of Democrats say the same. What about trust in the traditional big three TV outlets and CNN cable? Roughly 60% of Democrats generally trust these outlets, but only about 25% of Republicans do.

Members of both parties now consistently watch mostly news they trust. The same number of Republicans who say they trust Fox News regularly watch it: 56%. The rest of them get their news mostly from other conservative outlets: Joe Rogan’s podcast, Newsmax, The Daily Wire and Tucker Carlson Network. Nearly half of Democrats get their news from ABC, NBC or CNN. Democrats also get news from MSNBC, NPR, The Associated Press, BBC and The New York Times.

A few months ago, I watched Fox News and a big-three channel Democrats prefer (I forget which) on the same day. When I turned off the television, I could hardly believe that they were reporting the same events on the same day in the same country. It’s no wonder my political conversation partners and I have such differing views!

What are we to do? I’m not sure, but right now I am searching for news outlets that are trustworthy and don’t lean too far in one direction or the other for James and me to use. We both want to discern if what we watch is news or commentary. We may end up with two sources — one leaning slightly left and one leaning slightly right.

How can we learn about news biases? A good starting point is Ad Fontes Media, an online service that evaluates both the trustworthiness of a news outlet’s facts and how far each leans left or right. Ad Fontes Media can be found here. Check it out and feel free to email me with comments or questions.

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Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

Across the Midwest, the farm silos that once stood like giant exclamation points against the horizon are slowly vanishing. Photographers now document them as symbols of a vanishing era.

However, in our political landscape, our silos are increasing. After the political sorting and othering we examined in the last two columns, we now turn to political silos, the third of the initials Mónica Guzmán uses for our political situation: SOS. (Those two columns can be found here and here.)

In these silos, walls block us from hearing viewpoints different from ours. We end up in narrow social and information bubbles that reinforce our current beliefs and tune out information that weakens them. Some people call these silos “echo chambers,” a term that emphasizes the repetition of what we hear and learn.

I collided with a silo wall when I began holding across-the-aisle conversations with “James” (not his real name), a long-term acquaintance who now lives in another state. After reading some of my columns in previous years, he suggested we begin video conversations with a group of four people. I saw James as bright, witty, reasonable and congenial. I agreed to the conversations, but said I felt much more comfortable beginning with just the two of us. Sometimes, in our early meetings when I mentioned a political event, I was astounded he had never heard of it. Sometimes I surprised him with similar ignorance. We each lived in a silo.

We have met via Zoom for more than a year. Neither of us has made a dramatic political shift, but we have found common ground, and we understand the values on which the other person makes their choices. We both value a combination of compassion and justice. Maybe I’m too optimistic, but I suspect the two of us could draft an immigration policy we would agree on.

We are both grateful for our meetings. We agree that our relationship is now stronger. Although neither of us has dramatically changed options, each of us is better informed. Without information, robust discussion is impossible. And without bridges to people with different viewpoints, toxic polarization sets in.

Several readers have emailed me saying they are unable to discuss politics with some friends and acquaintances, and I understand. I respect their choice to value those relationships more than political discussions.

Texan Frederik Kalsbeek, who gave me permission to use his name, wrote, “One friend refuses to eat Heinz ketchup because John Kerry is married to the owner. He insists the waitress bring him a different brand, or changes his order. … Another friend wants Texas to secede from the Union. … We are way too far apart to bridge the political gap with dialog.” Both people remain his good friends.

A retired Iowa librarian grieved in a long email. Here is a shortened version: “I wish, I so wish it [talk across the aisle] could happen. … But after this latest execution in Minnesota I no longer think that is possible. … I am finding it very difficult to discuss truth with folks who are filled with hate.”

That kind of discouragement happens across the political spectrum. The killing of conservative activist Charlie Kirk produced similar discouragement in a woman who leans a little further right. She emailed me at that time: “There have been folks in my contacts who joyfully say he brought this on himself and died doing what he loved. Teachers and college professors (in Iowa) have been full of joy in his death publicly. That is hateful. … Right now I am not able to discuss differences in the two parties. They are too far apart and too full of pain.”

Although I respect those individual decisions, I increasingly believe such conversations are crucial when they are possible without ruining relationships. Why? Because they are the foundation for a government of the people, by the people and for the people.

Our more-than-200-year-old constitution was the product of differing viewpoints, robust discussion and eventual compromise. James Madison, from Virginia, arrived at the 1787 Constitutional Convention supporting the Virginia Plan, which called for a two-house national legislature with representation in both houses based on state population.

Delegates from smaller states wanted a one-house legislature in which each state had equal representation and supported what became known as the New Jersey Plan, in which each state had equal representation.

If they consented to the New Jersey Plan, large states feared their greater population and contributions would not be reflected in national decisions. If small states agreed to the Virginia Plan based only on population, they feared their voices would have no impact.

Discussion grew heated. At points, both sides threatened to leave the union. They settled on what we now call the Great Compromise or Connecticut Compromise: two houses, one with equal membership from each state and another with proportional representation.

The U.S. was launched by discussion and compromise. It is built into our nation’s DNA. We appear to be losing both of these crucial skills. We live in silos.

What happened? What is different now from 1787? At least three contemporary features contribute to our current soundproof silo walls: news media, social media and the current rhetoric of politicians. We’ll look at these in future columns.

Meanwhile I’m encouraged by some additional words from that retired librarian: “I intend to still try [to talk across the aisle] when I feel up to it, and I do not want to discourage anyone from reaching out to me.”

Recommended action step: Would you consider finding just one person you know and discussing politics with them?

Here are some ideas to make it less threatening: Choose someone whose opinions differ from yours, but who is not a million miles away. Choose an acquaintance, not a family member or good friend. Choose a person of goodwill, not someone with anger management problems. Ask about their interest. If they consent to such a discussion, begin your first conversation by telling each other how you arrived at your political stances. You might begin by discussing what you see as appropriate roles for the government as compared to individuals or non-government groups. You could also begin by discussing your goals and vision for your community, state or nation, before moving to specifics. Set a time limit. Finally, and importantly, listen to understand their viewpoint, not to change it.

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Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

On October 18, 2025, 175 residents of Pella, Iowa, rallied in our Central Park for Pella’s first-ever No Kings rally. They chatted and chanted as they walked around the town square. Across the street, a handful of people stood staring and frowning. A reporter for the online periodical Slate, who stood among them, overheard words like “disgusting” and “disrespectful,” along with some unprintable terms. I suspect some of those bystanders had taken a step beyond mere sorting; they were othering, the second letter in SOS. (The previous column on sorting can be found here.)

Some of us move beyond our geographical and cultural sorting to a tribal mentality and begin othering. Our respect for our own tribe grows, and our respect for those outside our tribe shrinks. We begin to consider them less worthy and to view them with dislike or hatred. We may even begin to view them as fundamentally different or less than fully human. This othering happens among both Republicans and Democrats.

As people become more tribal, they begin to see political opponents as all the same — identical extremists. They consider the other side to be lying, misinformed and a threat to our country.

That’s a dismal description, I know, but it’s backed by data. Pew Research data indicate that in 1964 only 30% of respondents reported cold feelings toward the other party. In a 2019 survey, those cold feelings in both parties had risen to about 80%.

Many of us experience growing political tensions in our family relationships, and I am among them. Traditionally, members of my extended family are avid debaters, but for the past five years or so, we have agreed that any discussion about politics is off-limits. If one of us strays in that direction, we clear our throats or furrow our brows and say, “We don’t go there.” The line-crossing ends. I suspect bridges with family members may be the most difficult to build.

In sorted neighborhoods or groups, sometimes without even thinking about it, the majority group begins to voice their negative feelings about the other tribe or a member of the other tribe — either triggering a heated discussion or causing someone else to fall silent. People with minority opinions often listen quietly to these othering members of the majority. One such minority member confided to me recently, “I value my relationships more than stating my opinion. So I choose to be quiet.”

Silence is wise in some cases, but not always. Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, a non-partisan global think tank, finds that tribal othering is not good for our country. When we can disagree without endangering a relationship, we are helping to reduce our othering.

My research has taught me there are gentle ways to differ. Two of many examples I’ve discovered are: 1) If possible, begin by stating agreement with a part of what you just heard. If you can’t do that, use a tiny transition statement such as “I hear you” or “I understand what you say.” Then make an I-statement about your personal viewpoint such as “Personally, I also consider the fact that…” or “I think it’s possible to see that a bit differently. I…” 2) If the person is emotional, and you’re not comfortable challenging an issue, you can try a question about the feeling: “I can hear how [frustrated/angry/bothered/let-down] you are. Could you tell me what’s causing you to feel that way?”

Braver Angels’ website urges us to reduce tribalism and othering even when when talking with like-minded people. Its pages identify fear, ridiculing, contempt and stereotyping as the “four horsemen of polarization.” If you are discussing politics with one or more like-minded people, and a member expresses disdain for the other side, you can help shrink polarization through your response.

I have found helpful response models like these: 1) “I know we care about this a lot. Could we just talk about this in a way that doesn’t write off everyone on the other side?” 2) “What would our conversation sound like if we assumed most people on both sides are acting in good faith, even if they’re wrong?”

What do our broad-brush stereotypes of people who lean the other direction include? Stereotypes of right-leaning people include being racists, Christian nationalists, greed-driven corporate capitalists, dangerous authoritarians and globe-endangering climate change deniers. Oversimplifications of left-leaning people include being elitist socialists, radicals pushing “woke” agendas, reckless spendthrifts and unpatriotic globalists who prioritize foreign agendas. Watching some of Braver Angels’ e-courses helped me to recognize my stereotyping of people whose views differ from mine.

Most American citizens are far more moderate than these stereotypes. In a 2024 Gallup poll, only 24% of Republicans identified themselves as very conservative. Only 13% of Democrats identified themselves as very liberal. And only 55% of U.S. adults are registered members of a party! If we respect each other and talk with each other, we may discover we are less divided than we think.

So far, I have found three other avenues for conversation when I eventually felt ready, and those conversations have been comfortable and informative. My congregation has launched an adult Sunday school class using the book “One Anothering” from the Colossian Forum. The book provides an excellent framework for considerate and honest sharing. I’ve also attended a Braver Angels online meeting with strangers, and and subsequently attended a Braver Angels South Central Iowa Alliance meeting. Both meetings were cordial and informative.

I’ve begun one-on-one conversations with two acquaintances whom I respect and who are people of goodwill. I suggested to each we begin meeting for political conversations. We chose a topic, read up on it, talked for an hour and then agreed to meet monthly. Sometimes we have been surprised by our level of agreement. One caution: in our one-on-one conversations, my partners and I started with too much focus on differences.

I discovered that the three organizations I’ve used — Braver Angels, Colossian Forum and Living Room Conversations —suggest that early on we look for common ground. Although we gradually discovered common ground, I wish my conversation partners and I had begun with that focus.

In my brief journey so far, I have discovered more agreement than I expected. Perhaps many U.S. citizens are less polarized than we believe we are.

Coming up in the next column is the third letter in SOS: siloing.

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Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

After looking at inner qualities of curiosity and respect to help individuals bridge divides in personal conversation, I realized that to begin building political bridges, I needed to understand U.S. history and what causes our divides. I remembered the political discussions of my childhood and adolescence as much less toxic. Did the same polarization exist, or was I unaware of it when younger? If our divide is growing, what is the cause?

As I read, I discovered that once upon a time, just 75 years ago, there lived a faction of Democrats more conservative than some Republicans. That’s no fairy tale! In the U.S. during the 1950s, Southern Democrats were more conservative than Rockefeller Republicans, many of whom lived in northeastern cities. Southern Democrats championed states’ rights (and the protection of segregation that came with them). Rockefeller Republicans, however, advocated for stronger federal legislation for civil rights. They also supported President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal with its robust federal government, social insurance and welfare programs.

In Congress, Southern Democrats often joined Republicans to oppose liberal priorities such as pro‑labor or urban initiatives. Together, they formed the conservative coalition.

Several decades later, the coalition was swept away by a huge cultural shift. Journalist Bill Bishop named this shift “The Big Sort” in the title of his landmark 2008 book tracing how Americans have realigned themselves politically, socially and geographically since the 1970s.

Bishop discovered this quiet sorting had been underway for decades. In the 1950s, Americans were loyal to broad, locally active institutions such as the AFL‑CIO, the Freemasons, the American Legion and the Farm Bureau. Groups like these united people across class, occupation and even political affiliation. In the late 1960s, membership in those groups plummeted.

According to Bishop, the mid‑1960s marked a cultural turning point. The civil rights movement, the Vietnam War, the rise of militant feminism and the sprawling counterculture fractured the consensus. In their place grew new organizations — narrower in focus, tightly controlled and agenda‑driven.

Left-leaning Common Cause, which began in 1970, sought to curb big money’s influence in politics and strengthen government accountability. The Children’s Defense Fund, founded in 1973 by progressives, advocates for a healthy and fair start for U.S. children. That same year, conservatives created the American Legislative Exchange Council (ALEC), which brings together corporate leaders and state legislators to draft model bills. Each organization remains active today, along with a growing number of other advocacy networks on both sides of the aisle.

The overlap between the two major parties has steadily shrunk. Journalist Mónica Guzmán notes that between 1972 and 2000, Republican identification with conservatism rose by 35%, while Democratic identification with liberalism rose by 24%. Racial and religious sorting increased as well. Today, online algorithms for both social and news media record our clicks and then feed each of us information tailored to our existing beliefs.

A 2021 Harvard study analyzing location data for 180 million voters found that 98% to 99% of Americans live in areas where Democrats and Republicans rarely interact — whether in cities, suburbs or rural towns. We’ve sorted ourselves all the way down to the neighborhood level, where sometimes 90% of residents belong to the same political party.

The urban‑rural divide has deepened since the 1980s. Highly educated workers have flocked to thriving cities while rural areas have often lagged in education and income. Urban centers have tilted more Democratic; rural and small‑town America leaned more Republican. Today, in our churches, neighborhoods and organizations, we most often rub shoulders with people who look and think like us. U.S. citizens have become extremely sorted.

Religious life has also changed. Trust in religious institutions declined sharply during and after the 1970s. Back then, religious differences tracked loosely with party identity— Catholics leaning Democratic, Protestants leaning Republican. I remember my own mother worried aloud when John F. Kennedy, a Catholic, ran for president. After he won, her fears quickly faded, and she mourned his assassination with deep sadness. Today there is a different “God gap.” In 2024 64% of regular worshipers, both Catholics and Protestants voted Republican, and 56% percent of those who said they rarely attended worship voted Democratic.

Sociologists tell us our tendency to sort ourselves into social categories is normal. Indeed, birds of a feather flock together. We drift toward groups of people who feel familiar — those who think, believe and live in ways similar to our own. We find connection and comfort in these groups. We think of them as our people; we help each other make sense of the world.

According to Mónica Guzmán, after we sort ourselves we go two steps further. In “I Never Thought of It That Way,” she assigns the acronym SOS to our process: sorting, othering and siloing. It is, appropriately, the same signal used globally for a distress call. Our othering and siloing endanger the way our political system works.

In the next two columns, we will spend time on our othering and then our siloing, which Guzmán says deepen, widen and harden our divisions.

Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

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“Is it safe to assume all of us are wrong about something right now?” Philosopher David Smith sometimes opens his presentations with this question.When the audience nods or answers yes, he points out a problem — we don’t know what we’re wrong about.

Then comes his second question: “Which do you value more, the truth or your own beliefs?” If we value our own beliefs more, he says, we will defend them to the death. To listen respectfully and truly hear another person, we must prize truth more than our opinions.

When we see our beliefs as temporary snapshots and we remain open to change, we practice humility — and humility opens the door to respectful dialog. Humility, which we examined in the previous column, leads to respect for the humanity of other people. Respecting the truth more than our current opinion leads to respect in conversation.

Here are a few practices that can help us:

— Look for points of agreement and for good observations made by the other person. When we find them, we can acknowledge those by nodding or by saying, “Good point” or “I agree.”
— We can reflect what we hear. Repeating someone’s thoughts back — “Do you mean to say that…?” checks our understanding and helps the other person feel seen and heard. We all want to be seen and heard, and when that happens, respect grows.
— Wait before responding. Conversations about differences often tempt us to jump in too soon. Let the other person finish. Then begin with an affirmation such as “I hear you” or “That’s a good point. I’d like to add…”
— Ask questions in gentler ways. “Why do you believe that?” can sound confrontational. A softer phrasing, recommended by David Brooks in “How to Know a Person,” would be, “How did you come to believe that?” This question often draws out a personal story and fosters mutual understanding.
— Admit our uncertainty. Be honest about what you know and don’t know. Use words that signal your uncertainty instead of being a know-it-all. Begin opinions with “I believe,” “I think” or “In my view.” These phrases invite dialogue rather than declare certainty.
— Reframe our goal. Am I in a conversation to win or to understand? When our purpose is exploration rather than debate, our conversations change. That’s a hard shift for those of us who grew up in debate-loving families as I did. My small shift — making the kinder choice during a Crokinole game — told me I was making progress.

Looking back over recent columns, we can see that curiosity (about both topics and people), humility (as an attitude and as a practice), and mutual respect are all important for productive bridging conversations. Ideally, each of these is practiced by all participants.

Occasionally we may be involved in a conversation with someone who doesn’t demonstrate these qualities. We are not responsible for another person’s choices, but we can protect our own peace. If we find ourselves in such a conversation, it helps to have a few ready sentences:

— “That’s interesting; I never thought of it that way. Let’s change the subject.
— “I value our friendship too much to let this divide us. Let’s move on to something else.”
— “I’m starting to feel stressed; maybe we could revisit this later.”

Still, don’t give up just because of one heated exchange. Opinions form gradually, and bridges are built one step at a time. I’ve been having a monthly political conversation with someone for more than a year. We continue to have different viewpoints, but our mutual respect and understanding keep growing as well.

Researching respect has convinced me — at least for the moment — that it is a crucial skill. In “How Contempt Destroys Democracy,” author Zachary Elwood warns that contempt, the opposite of respect, doesn’t just harm relationships; it erodes democracy itself. His thesis: If democracy is to survive, we must see political opponents as full human beings and interact with them respectfully.

For me, that’s a convincing reason to be respectful.

Activity option: I used the following sources to write this column and highly recommend them for further reading:

— Brooks, David. “How to Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen.”
— Guzmán, Mónica. “I Never Thought of It That Way: How to Have Fearlessly Curious Conversations in Dangerously Divided Times.” Guzman’s book and articles were the source for some of my concepts, including the information about David Smith.
—Elwood, Zachary. “How Contempt Destroys Democracy: The Dangerous Effects of Political Contempt and How to Help Counter It.”

Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

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First, her writing about paper cranes echoes exactly how I feel about searching for political bridges. It is slow, painstaking research and writing. But it is work that is important to me. Her article encourages me to continue.

Second, my personal background on the polarizing issue of abortion is similar to hers. Her writing motivates me to examine that topic in more detail. I might not publish those findings, but I hope to learn by reading some of her previous articles about it.

In addition, I was still feeling sad not posting and emailing a column on schedule two days ago. (I had accidentally posted this week’s column on Substack two weeks early.) Now I have something to post!

Thanks for your permission to share this, Christy.

CVK

I was cleaning under my writing desk this week when my hand brushed against a forgotten box tucked against the wall. Dusty. Square. Light.

I slid it out and opened the flaps.

Inside were a thousand paper cranes. Or rather, a thousand unfinished paper cranes. Their wings still waiting to be folded into shape. Tucked among them was a letter written in lovely looping handwriting.

I had forgotten about the cranes. But finding them now felt less like remembering and more like a timely interruption.

Back in 2022, I was featured in a story in the Los Angeles Times. The story was about abortion. My views on the issue are complicated in a way that rarely survives our current political vocabulary, so I usually don’t even bother trying to talk about it unless I’m in circles of serious dialogue. In a nutshell, I’m a Christian who votes for Democrats because I believe being “pro-life” must be comprehensive. And because the only way any country has ever meaningfully reduced the rate of abortion is by comprehensively caring for all of life- by taking communal responsibility to ensure equal access to things like education, affordable health care, child care, and living wages, just to name a few.

Democratic policies turn out to be more pro-life - even on the issue of abortion - than Republican policies are (despite the rhetoric of both sides). But abortion is not the point of what I’m writing about today. So… back to the paper cranes.

The LA Times article traveled farther than I expected. Local papers picked it up over the weeks that followed. Messages of response came in waves as the article circulated around the country, and in some cases, the world. Emails, handwritten letters, postcards, essays from strangers sharing deeply personal and painful stories were arriving on my doorstep- particularly many stories of the callously heartless rhetoric that is so often recklessly shot from the mouths of Christians. Hundreds. Maybe a thousand letters. For months, both my email inbox and my old fashioned mailbox were heavy with both gratitude and grief. I set out to answer every letter with attentive care and love. Surprisingly (miraculously maybe) in all that mail, only two were the sort that declared me hell-bound (in ALL CAPS, obviously).

About six months after the article ran, this box showed up. It was from an elderly couple of Japanese descent, who live in California. In my busyness I somehow forgot about the box. Inside were a thousand paper cranes and a letter expressing the hope they felt reading the LA Times story. They said it reminded them that moral seriousness doesn’t belong to a party or even a religion. That conscience is not determined by a state being red or blue. And human reality cannot be reduced to trite narratives.

Folding a thousand origami cranes (senbazuru) is a Japanese tradition that symbolizes hope, healing, and longevity. It became known around the world through the story of Sadako Sasaki, a young girl who folded cranes while dying from radiation after Hiroshima bombing. Her cranes became a quiet global language of peace and resilience.

The letter explained to me the importance that I finish folding the cranes that they had spent several weeks getting started on.

They wrote that they believed what our country needed was cranes. Not slogans. Not purity tests. Not loyalty to partisan or religious teams that ask us to stop thinking.

Cranes.

Carefully folded acts of hope. Patient work done one crease at a time before taking flight. The kind of work that refuses easy answers but also refuses despair.

Peace, resilience and a refusal to despair. “We sure do need that now,” I thought as I read their words, again

Because the truth is, many of our hardest questions don’t have neat answers that belong to Republicans or Democrats. They belong to conscience. They belong to people willing to sit with complexity, to admit uncertainty, to care about outcomes more than tribal applause. The answers arise when the common good is lifted up.

Sometimes doing the right thing means disappointing your allies. Sometimes it means saying yes to part of what your opponents believe. Sometimes it means refusing to pretend that reality fits into tidy talking points.

And sometimes it means sitting at your kitchen table, folding delicate paper wings, trusting that small acts of hope can accumulate into something strong enough to hold a vision for the world and take flight.

After rediscovering that box, I reread her instructions for completing the cranes and began folding. “To achieve the final effect, pull down the wings until you feel resistance, then fold the wings at that spot. Position the wings so that they are parallel to the floor, then gently pull the wings in opposite directions until the middle of the crane expands.”

One at a time. Slow, imperfect folds. Feeling the resistance. I have no idea how long it will take to get through them all. But when I’m finished I’ll string up all these beautiful birds on a mobile and hang it from my living room ceiling. A thousand colorful reminders that peace is made by patient steady hands continuing to do the work one small bit at a time.

I’m so glad I came across them because I need reminders of hope and peace right now. I need reminders of courage and resilience.

A thousand cranes. A thousand hopes. And the quiet work of bringing them to flight.

All images and videos @2026 Christy Berghoef. Any copying, usage or reproduction requires owner consent.

Dr. Christy Berghoef is an author, speaker, contemplative photographer, civil discourse consultant, gardener, nature enthusiast, dreamer, wonderer, wanderer.

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I once heard author and speaker Tony Campolo describe how he would function as a psychotherapist. My husband Marlo and I could both identify with his story. We have retold it multiple times over the years.

Our version of what Campolo said goes like this: “I would make a terrible therapist. After listening to a client for a while, I would leap from my seat, reach across my desk, grab them by the collar and shake them while shouting, ‘Just get over it!’”

Campolo’s expertise included sociology, theology, social justice and Christian ministry. He was both knowledgeable and curious. He likely had both types of curiosity featured in last week’s column — interest and deprivation curiosity. They are two faces of a hunger for information. Scholars group these together as epistemic curiosity.

When Campolo told us this story, however, he acknowledged he was low in a different kind of curiosity: a desire to understand someone’s experiences, thoughts and feelings. Scholars label this “empathic curiosity.” It leads us to listen to someone with an open heart, aiming to connect with them without assuming or judging. We want to hear their stories and to experience those stories alongside them.

Epistemic curiosity focuses on information (ideas, facts and systems). It drives intellectual learning. Empathic curiosity focuses on people (emotions and experiences). It drives emotional and social understanding.

In Psychology Today, Jeffrey Davis wrote that when we hone our empathic curiosity we can “genuinely understand other people’s thoughts and feelings (and the reasons behind them).” Empathic listening does not quickly interpret, try to correct someone or speak to win. It listens to learn.

He added, “In a time when most of us exist within political and ideological echo chambers, empathic curiosity can be the bold leap we need to connect diverse groups of people.” If people feel heard and understood, they relax and become more open to considering the merits of other opinions.

When I discovered empathic curiosity, I felt like Edison when he tried his 6000th filament — the one that finally lasted. In my experiments with building bridges, I had thought of bridges as exchanges of information, exercising my curiosity for information much more than my curiosity about the other person.

As I read Davis’ article, I realized that my epistemic curiosity currently outweighs my empathic curiosity. I have resolved to work on shifting that balance. It might just be a first step to building some bridges with people whose political views differ from mine.

Davis offered some suggestions for growing empathic curiosity:

• Bring back your childhood habit of asking questions.

• Listen with your whole self. Make eye contact. Nod. Say m-hm.

• Approach new conversations by resisting assumptions and asking yourself what you genuinely want to know about someone. Then follow your curiosity. Try this even with people you already know.

• Read fiction. Studies reveal reading fiction raises our empathy levels. (I, for one, like this recommendation. I enjoy fiction but have drifted toward nonfiction in recent decades.)

In his final paragraph, Davis said, “By honing empathic curiosity, we can learn more about our fellow humans and form meaningful relationships that heal divides.”

That’s exactly what I am looking for. How about you?

Next week, we’ll take up a new personal quality for building bridges: humility. (I’m not sure yet, but I might need to include a closely related quality: respect.)

• Activity suggestion: Go to the link in the footnote below. Read more details about empathic curiosity. Experiment with practicing it in a few non-political conversations.

• Response request: Let me know about your empathic curiosity experiments by emailing me at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

*https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/tracking-wonder/202303/empathic-curiosity-wheres-your-attention

Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. Learn more about her at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Her email address is: info@carolvanklompenburg.com

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After two columns about curiosity, we turn now to humility. While researching this topic, I remembered a recent Crokinole game with my son Chad and his two children, an afternoon when I tried to help my grandson Kai learn a bit more humility. (Crokinole is a dexterity board game in which players flick discs to score points.)

After one of Kai’s shots, Chad said Kai’s disc had ricocheted from the board’s vertical boundary and started to remove it from the board. Kai protested. He hadn’t seen the disc bounce back, and he was sure it had stayed inbounds.

As Kai’s game partner, I had seen what Kai did. And Chad’s partner Elise had seen what Chad saw.

Aware of how eyewitnesses often disagree — and how easily we “see” what we expect — I realized there was no easy way to reach agreement on the facts. Each of us was certain of what we had seen.

I suggested to Kai that we defer to our opponents and consider the disc out of bounds.

Kai, 12, was instantly distraught by what he felt was unfairness. He was so sure. To calm him, I said, “Kai, when people get to my age, we have learned a tolerance for ambiguity.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“It’s not being totally and absolutely sure we are right,” I said slowly and gently.

“But I AM sure,” he retorted.

His dad grinned and waited. Apparently, they’d had this conversation before.

I tried again. “Let’s look at it this way. It’s impossible for all four of us to be right. Let’s choose to be kind instead of arguing.”

After a pause, Kai agreed, and we continued the game.

Remembering that moment, with four honest people unable to agree on a simple observation, reinforces for me how much we need humility when we explore complex public issues and governmental decisions. Those decisions are far more complicated than the one-second path of a Crokinole disc.

Humility matters for bridge-building. It is essential for civil political conversations. In “Love Your Enemies,” Arthur Brooks calls humility a heavenly virtue that is deeply satisfying. Humility allows us to recognize our own fallibility. Its opposite — pride, the need to feel superior, to be right, to win — feeds contempt and widens divides.

One visible expression of humility is the willingness to be persuaded, to say, “Good point. Maybe I should rethink that.” Brooks distinguishes humility from meekness or surrender, arguing that humility makes us both happier and more persuasive. He says, “If you want to fail at persuading somebody, then just look down your nose at them. … If you want to succeed at persuading them ... you actually need to love them.”

Research confirms his insight: Humility directly reduces political hostility. How does humility accomplish this?

— It increases the warmth and competence we perceive in others.
— It improves our expectations about the quality of the discussion.
— It invites the other person to soften, listen and reciprocate.

Humility does not mean silencing convictions. It means holding convictions with open hands rather than clenched fists.

How do we practice humility?

— We recognize our own fallibility.
We can ask ourselves, “Am I sure I’m right about every single one of my opinions, political and otherwise?” Very few can honestly say yes. Everyone is wrong sometimes. We know this because we have all changed our minds before. I’d like to think I made a bit of progress on this during that family Crokinole game.
Psychologist Daryl R. Van Tongeren, known for his work on the science of humility, puts it this way: “Most of us are completely wrong about a few things, and a little bit wrong about almost everything else. None of us knows perfectly.” That awareness softens our certainty and opens space for real dialogue.
— We separate our opinions from our identity.
We all hate to be wrong, but our opinions do not define us. Our identity includes our personality, profession, interests, relationships and communities. When we detach ego from opinion, disagreements feel less like personal attacks and more like problem-solving.
If we hold our opinions gently, we won’t confuse passion for our principles with infallibility. We may even welcome thoughtful challenges, recognizing they can strengthen our views or refine them.
In “On Liberty,” 19th-century philosopher John Stuart Mill maintained that an opinion should be “vigorously and earnestly contested.” If it is not contested, he warned, we hold it “as a prejudice, with little comprehension or feeling of its rational grounds.
— We withhold our judgment and resist instant certainty.
When we hear a story or read of injustice, mistreatment or crime, we can resist leaping to judgment. Not everything we read or hear is true, and online content especially is prone to manipulation. Are we hearing the entire story or just one side?
Before reaching a conclusion, search for additional information and sources that see the issue differently. More than once, a post on Facebook has left me incensed, with further research revealing that the story was fictional, misleading or missing key facts.
It is intellectually healthy to search for and find the limits of our opinions. We may find situations where our preferred solution does not fit or where competing values also deserve respect.

Humility is a bridge. To be humble is appropriate, humane and effective. Humility does not erase differences, but it makes those differences bearable — and sometimes fruitful. It also leads us toward respect, which will be our focus in the next column.

As I researched this topic, it often felt as if I were drinking from a fire hose. As you read, perhaps you feel the same. If you have follow-up questions, please ask them by emailing me.

Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. Readers can email her at info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

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After I introduced bridge-building organizations in the last column, I switched to learning about specific practices for reaching across political differences. One surprised me: Start with inner work.

I dug deeper. Inner work seemed a safer starting place than work involving others. It also felt right to me because try to live by the biblical maxim, “”First take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”*

Many people have interest-type curiosity. People with lots of this type graze lots of information pastures. Exploring on the Internet, we have so many tabs open we forget their first question Less curious people graze fewer pastures, but visit these same pastures often. Regardless of how many pastures we graze, people with interest curiosity enjoy first our interested wondering and then our search for answers.

However, some people also experience deprivation-type curiosity, which rises from an ache to fill a gap in our knowledge and a need to be sure. This kind of curiosity drives us in search of an actor’s name we can’t quite recall. However, deprivation curiosity begins with anxiety, not pleasure. It invades our brains when our current knowledge and information leave an unexplained mystery. Because we dislike that uncertainty, we may also feel anxious as we search. After we close the gap, our anxiety changes to pleasure. We feel a dopamine hit.

Deprivation curiosity can produce results. When Thomas Edison tried 6,000 different lightbulb filament before finding one that lasted more than a few hours, he might have been demonstrating deprivation curiosity. But not all people have Edison’s patience. A strong dislike of knowledge gaps and a compulsive need to fill those gaps can lead us to leap to a false conclusion.

Our need for certainty can lead to intellectual arrogance. We overlook flaws in our thinking about complex and nuanced topics. We ignore additional available information. We become unwilling to consider or even listen to a different viewpoint.

For all curiosity there is one plus: we feel good finding information. Our dopamine levels rise. That rise can be greater for deprivation curiosity. Interest curiosity feels good, but deprivation curiosity begins in anxiety and continues anxious until we find certainty.

How do these two types of curiosity relate to political policy discussions? If we simply experience interest curiosity, we may be more ready and willing to listen to information and ideas that are different from our own. We are willing to learn through conversation.

Deprivation curiosity might cause us difficulties. In our high need for certainty, we may have leaped to an answer based on inaccurate or incomplete information. And our certainty may disable our capacity to listen and hear. We are not willing to question our certainty. We don’t want to hear ideas that challenge our current beliefs. Listening to them may make us anxious. We cling to certainty despite hearing facts that contradict our beliefs. Clinging to certainty might make us arrogant and unwilling to listen to other ideas that are good ones.**

Wiser people than me have investigated political issues. Perhaps I can learn from them. My interest curiosity in this arena has awakened. Will I close my knowledge gap totally and become certain of all my opinions? I suspect not. The issues are huge and complex. But I am willing to take the journey toward listening and learning.

I may not become certain, but I will develop opinions that are more informed.

How? With more curiosity and less certainty. By sometimes using the words, “I don’t know.” Perhaps I’ll be able to travel partway to admitting ignorance by saying, “I’m not sure.” Both admissions are difficult because we love certainty and confidence we are right.

When I suppress these admissions during a conversation, I hope I can at least swallow my pride and say, “Tell me more.” I hope I can be curious.

Inner work challenge: Examine your own curiosity. Do you have both kinds of curiosity? Might deprivation curiosity be increasing your need for certainty or making you leap to conclusions?

Response challenge: Next week we’ll look at a different way to categorize curiosity. What is it? Feel free to be curious, research it, get a dopamine hit and email me. I’m curious if your discovery will match mine or add to my information. (Email: info@carolvanklompenburg.com).

*Matthew 7:5

**If you are curious for more information deprivation curiosity and false certainty, you may enjoy online research of the terms “provoked confabulation” and “NFCC” (Need For Cognitive Closure).

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Carol Van Klompenburg is a columnist, author and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her work is at www.carolvanklompenburg.com

Despite a few months of studying maps and routes for this writing journey, I’m unsure of the first stop. After my initial forays, I already suspect my trip will be lifelong. My own first stops were books, probably because I’m an avid book reader. I realize not all people are book lovers.

I also experimented with a few one-on-one conversations. But my reading led me to recognize mistakes I had made during those conversations. I’d like to learn more before suggesting bridging conversations to column readers. I’d like to help you avoid some potholes I stumbled over.

So . . . I think we’ll stop first at three nationwide organizations whose purpose is building political bridges. Some readers may already know of them, but they were surprising discoveries for me. Their purpose is to promote exactly what I long for: peaceful and productive conversations among US citizens with varying political viewpoints. For readers eager to discover action options, these organizations provide great travel stops, at whatever pace you choose. (If you discover additional national organizations like these, please let me know.)

Braver Angels

The website describes the organization in these words: “Braver Angels is a movement bringing Americans together to preserve what makes our nation strong. We work in communities, institutions and around kitchen tables, rooted in the belief that respect and courage can heal our divides. Whatever your values, background or schedule, there’s a place here for you. Join us in restoring civic trust.”

Its offerings include five free e-courses, a podcast, in-person workshops and debates, one-on-one conversations, speakers and local alliances. Membership fees are as low as $12 per year.

As I write this column, I have taken two of the Braver Angels e-courses. The first helped me better understand left-leaning and right-leaning people, and the second helped me recognize my inner polarization. I also contacted the local alliance closest to me (a 2-hour drive) and was added to its email list. I learned that my local alliance offers Zoom attendance for most meetings, and I plan to attend some of those.

Living Room Conversations (LRC)

According to its website, “Living Room Conversations began in 2010 with the idea that a structured, intimate conversation format could empower everyday citizens to discuss important issues with friends of differing backgrounds and political affiliations.” In large print, its home page says, “Building empathy, one conversation at a time.” Then it adds, “Let’s shift our cultural norms toward respect, understanding and connection.”

It does not have a membership fee and offers dozens of free, downloadable conversations for individual use on topics ranging from Abortion to Zero Tolerance. It does request donations. For organizations it offers licensed guides and training, and it charges fees for those.

In November 2025, I attended an online conversation sponsored by AllSides* and Newsweek, in which we used a conversation guide from LRC. People who registered were assigned to discussion groups of 3-6 members and discussed political violence for 90 minutes, following onscreen instructions.

We concluded that discussion with each member speaking about one thing that had been valuable about the discussion. Each member of my assigned group commented that we were pleased with how smooth and agreeable the conversation had been.

Colossian Forum

The Colossian Forum describes itself as “a leader in Christian Conflict Transformation. Our methodologies help people develop healthy patterns and create connection. We work with individuals, organizations and institutions to create lasting and profound change.”

The forum’s resources include workshops, training and a small-group discussion guide, “One Anothering” ($18.99). The guide includes links to online videos created by Colossian Forum.

The website also says, “Conflict can be an opportunity to build deeper relationships with God and each other. There is a way to harness the energy of conflict — for love. The Colossian Forum works with people to cultivate connection across difference. We teach leaders how to proactively identify and lean into potential areas of conflict and how to better care for people when conflict arises.”

When I discovered Colossian Forum, I sent a link to our church’s adult education coordinator. The material piqued her interest, and she ordered the “One Anothering” group discussion guide. It was chosen as my congregation’s adult Sunday school topic, beginning this month (January).

And now you have a choice:

• If you are eager to explore resources speedily and in more depth, you can dive into one or more of the above three websites. If you choose this option, I’d love to your thoughts and questions as you learn. Please use this email address: info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

• If you are not eager to move ahead on your own, just stay tuned for upcoming columns. For our journey together, I plan to use both online and print resources in coming weeks. I’d love to receive specific requests for topics would like covered.

Next week, I plan to begin taking stock of internal mindsets and attitudes that promote division or lead to bridges.

…

*Allsides is a media solutions company and public benefit corporation that exposes people to information and ideas from all sides of the political spectrum to combat bias, misinformation, and filter bubbles.

Carol Van Klompenburg is an author, columnist, and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her is available at www.carolvanklompenburg.com.

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Despite a few months of studying maps and routes for this writing journey, I’m unsure of the first stop. After my initial forays, I already suspect my trip will be lifelong. My own first stops were books, probably because I’m an avid book reader. I realize not all people are book lovers.

I also experimented with a few one-on-one conversations. But my reading led me to recognize mistakes I had made during those conversations. I’d like to learn more before suggesting bridging conversations to column readers. I’d like to help you avoid some potholes I stumbled over.

So . . . I think we’ll stop first at three nationwide organizations whose purpose is building political bridges. Some readers may already know of them, but they were surprising discoveries for me. Their purpose is to promote exactly what I long for: peaceful and productive conversations among US citizens with varying political viewpoints. For readers eager to discover action options, these organizations provide great travel stops, at whatever pace you choose. (If you discover additional national organizations like these, please let me know.)

Braver Angels https://braverangels.org/

The website describes the organization in these words: “Braver Angels is a movement bringing Americans together to preserve what makes our nation strong. We work in communities, institutions and around kitchen tables, rooted in the belief that respect and courage can heal our divides. Whatever your values, background or schedule, there’s a place here for you. Join us in restoring civic trust.”

Its offerings include five free e-courses, a podcast, in-person workshops and debates, one-on-one conversations, speakers and local alliances. Membership fees are as low as $12 per year.

As I write this column, I have taken two of the Braver Angels e-courses. The first helped me better understand left-leaning and right-leaning people, and the second helped me recognize my inner polarization. I also contacted the local alliance closest to me (a 2-hour drive) and was added to its email list. I learned that my local alliance offers Zoom attendance for most meetings, and I plan to attend some of those.

Living Room Conversations (LRC) https://livingroomconversations.org/

According to its website, “Living Room Conversations began in 2010 with the idea that a structured, intimate conversation format could empower everyday citizens to discuss important issues with friends of differing backgrounds and political affiliations.” In large print, its home page says, “Building empathy, one conversation at a time.” Then it adds, “Let’s shift our cultural norms toward respect, understanding and connection.”

It does not have a membership fee and offers dozens of free, downloadable conversations for individual use on topics ranging from Abortion to Zero Tolerance. It does request donations. For organizations it offers licensed guides and training, and it charges fees for those.

In November 2025, I attended an online conversation sponsored by AllSides* and Newsweek, in which we used a conversation guide from LRC. People who registered were assigned to discussion groups of 3-6 members and discussed political violence for 90 minutes, following onscreen instructions.

We concluded that discussion with each member speaking about one thing that had been valuable about the discussion. Each member of my assigned group commented that we were pleased with how smooth and agreeable the conversation had been.

Colossian Forum https://colossianforum.org/

The Colossian Forum describes itself as “a leader in Christian Conflict Transformation. Our methodologies help people develop healthy patterns and create connection. We work with individuals, organizations and institutions to create lasting and profound change.”

The forum’s resources include workshops, training and a small-group discussion guide, “One Anothering” ($18.99). The guide includes links to online videos created by Colossian Forum.

The website also says, “Conflict can be an opportunity to build deeper relationships with God and each other. There is a way to harness the energy of conflict — for love. The Colossian Forum works with people to cultivate connection across difference. We teach leaders how to proactively identify and lean into potential areas of conflict and how to better care for people when conflict arises.”

When I discovered Colossian Forum, I sent a link to our church’s adult education coordinator. The material piqued her interest, and she ordered the “One Anothering” group discussion guide. It was chosen as my congregation’s adult Sunday school topic, beginning this month (January).

And now you have a choice:

If you are eager to explore resources speedily and in more depth, you can dive into one or more of the above three websites. If you choose this option, I’d love to your thoughts and questions as you learn. Please use this email address: info@carolvanklompenburg.com.

If you are not eager to move ahead on your own, just stay tuned for upcoming columns. For our journey together, I plan to use both online and print resources in coming weeks. I’d love to receive specific requests for topics would like covered.

Next week, I plan to begin taking stock of internal mindsets and attitudes that promote division or lead to bridges.

*Allsides is a media solutions company and public benefit corporation that exposes people to information and ideas from all sides of the political spectrum to combat bias, misinformation, and filter bubbles.

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Carol Van Klompenburg is an author, columnist, and speaker from Pella, Iowa. More information about her is available at www.carolvanklompenburg.com.