In the late 1990's, the country music industry was in a slump. Revenues, which had quadrupled over the previous decade, were anemic. Vicious competition between the record companies was rife, poisoning the atmosphere throughout the industry and dampening the enthusiasm of music fans. During this period, a colleague of mine was asked to organize a weekend meeting of country music executives to address the problems of the industry. These executives were bitter enemies, many of whom had not spoken in years, except for the public broadsides launched across a bitter divide.
After the initial challenge of getting everyone in a room together, my colleague faced the enormous obstacle of engaging the executives in some form of civil discourse. Rather than announcing an agenda or going right to the contentious issues plaguing the industry, he decided to dispense with an agenda and simply begin a conversation. He asked the executives to talk about themselves -- their backgrounds, their families and their interests outside of work. As the conversation became increasingly personal, the bitter animosity began to slowly melt and the executives exchanged stories about their lives.
What emerged was not an action agenda for their business, but rather a realization that virtually everyone in the room had a shared common interest -- their love of country music. Rather than bickering over industry standards or haggling over deal points, the executives were swapping memories of great performers they had known and the songs they loved. And rather than being divided by their own narrow self-interests, they were united in a higher, common purpose -- the future of country music. While this meeting may have played only a role, country music sales grew by more than twelve percent over the next decade, while overall music industry sales declined by twenty percent.
Today, America itself faces a similar dilemma. Our leaders are bitterly divided and are barely on speaking terms. While Democrats and Republicans meet weekly in their caucuses, they virtually never cross party lines for joint meetings, even to chat and socialize with their colleagues. Sen. Evan Bayh (D-Ind.) has written in The New York Times that there were only two occasions where he met with all of his Senate colleagues at other than purely ceremonial events. Once was after the 9/11 attacks. "There were no Republicans or Democrats in the room that day, just Americans," writes Bayh. "The spirit of patriotism and togetherness was palpable. That atmosphere prevailed for only two or three weeks before politics once again intervened. "
Imagine a company or an organization that is dedicated to a common goal and, at the same time, is divided into two warring groups who barely communicate with each other except in public diatribes? Not only would the organization accomplish very little, but it would not be a very pleasant place to work. It may not be possible to wave a magic wand to dissolve all the substantive differences between the parties -- as President Obama discovered in his recent televised health care summit. However, it is possible to restore some civil discourse to Congress -- and hopefully to the country -- by improving the quality of the conversation.
Michel de Montaigne, the sixteenth-century French essayist wrote: "The most fruitful and natural exercise of our mind is conversation." What he had in mind was not a conference or a committee meeting, but a fundamental exchange of thoughts and feelings between human beings, beyond the narrow concerns of their daily lives. For more than a decade, I have worked with civic, business and religious leaders to organize a series of day-long "Intentional Conversations" that focus on the genuine exchange of ideas and personal experiences rather than simply on debate or a set of policy goals. These Conversations have brought together people of different political perspectives, religious faiths, genders, races and ages for a few hours of focused conversation, away from the distractions of modern life, and have often had a profound impact on the lives of the participants.
While the Conversations are structured around a larger discussion theme, their most memorable aspects are the small, personal moments that the participants share. Men and women who barely know one another -- and often only on a professional basis -- end up sharing some of their most personal experiences, as well as their hopes and dreams. In the course of a few hours, the broad chasms of gender, race, age, religious faith -- and, yes, even political belief -- are bridged through the process of genuine conversation. While few minds are changed, most participants emerge from the day with a greater understanding and empathy for the differences that divide us.
The eminent historian of religion, Martin Marty, has said: "Argument begins with an answer, but conversation begins with a question." Human beings are by nature curious -- and our curiosity about our fellow humans is a powerful engine for understanding and appreciating our differences. The leaders of our country can take the first step toward healing the great partisan divide by engaging in a real conversation with their colleagues.
Why not a few hours of genuine, "intentional" conversation each month for all members of Congress? These should not be media events, and they certainly shouldn't be expected to dissolve the partisan rancor quickly. But they might offer the faint beginnings of a more civil dialogue in our country, along with the hope that, like the leaders of the country music industry, our leaders will be guided by not by narrow political interests, but by their shared love of America.
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