I am no stranger to political discourse. My mom and grandfather can attest that I started attempting to read the New York Times and The New Yorker copies I found lying around the house when I was 9. By sixth grade, I found myself actually reading those New York-based serials and The Economist at my dad’s recommendation. Starting in fourth grade, my younger brother and I started our day every morning watching the politically neutral CNN10 with the always joyous Carl Azuz. It may not have been until I was in my later years of middle school that I could actually comprehend what I was reading and watching, but I always tried my best. 

I can remember visiting the Obama-Biden office in the Charlottesville, Virginia, downtown mall and grabbing three small “FORWARD” pins in red, white and blue. A day later, I begged my parents to take me to the Romney-Ryan field office. I will admit it was to get a campaign button, not some wiser-than-my-years aspiration to hear both sides that I wish I could claim. 

That said, I feel I have always been open to hearing out the other side. Even though I, a 7 year old, was adamant that I would vote for Barack Obama and Joe Biden, I would attempt to have discussions with my conservative friends on the playground. Sure, we had inherited our political views from our parents at that age, but it felt possible to have a level-headed conversation about the peaks and pitfalls of “Obama’s Care.”

Many things have changed about me since 2012. I pay taxes, know what an insurance group number is and have spent too many hours on hold with my bank. I can certainly tell you more about child tax credits than the cars, Harry Potter books and a great-great-great aunt’s passed-down typewriter that I used to be able to discuss. One thing that hasn’t changed: nothing excites me more than a conversation starting with “hear me out.” 

In what felt like a natural transition, I became an organizer — a job where every conversation starts with “hear me out.” I was always under the impression that, by actively listening to voters’ concerns, I could make a difference when they went to the ballot box. There’s truth to that hypothesis, according to studies by a notable progressive think tank. However, just listening to their opinion will not make a difference, as claimed by a recent study co-authored by Yale Professor Josh Kalla.

Kalla, alongside colleagues from UC Berkeley, Columbia Business School and Hebrew University of Jerusalem, set out to study the relationship between listening and persuasion. The project employed a team of highly-trained canvassers who would have a ten minute “persuasive narrative about an undocumented immigrant and whether they practiced high-quality non-judgmental listening to participants’ opinions.” Existing dialogue suggests that listening and persuasion are the most advisable manners to convince and persuade, yet Kalla’s study concludes that active listening alone will have no notable influence on coercion. 

So, why even listen? Sure, there certainly may be a difference between having a volunteer canvasser and a member of the political elite listening. A one-on-one with a Clinton or an Obama may well be enough to sway a party-line voter, but campaign organizers cannot bank on building a ground-game around JFK’s ghost. Thus come targeted doors with focus group-tested talking points, proposed policies outlined on campaign literature and unnatural scripts. 

It’s time to get past these sterile bullet points. This might pain my fellow organizers past and present, but go off script. Listen, of course, but engage and spend time getting to know the people who you are canvassing. Kalla’s study suggests that active listening alone may not change anyone’s mind, but a genuine interaction has the potential to make a change for your candidate.

I think back to my last canvassing trip before the 2024 election with Yale Dems. I had a respectful conversation with a voter in northeastern Pennsylvania who, from the start, told me she was voting for the slate of candidates which were not mine. Although, she would still take my literature. I continued down the street only to run into her again, this time while she was getting into her car and away from neighbors. She beckoned me over to quietly explain that, after talking with me and looking over the state candidates’ literature, she would give them a consideration. 

There is no way that I can know how she ended up voting, nor whether or not my conversation made a difference on Election Day. Canvassing and organizing is exhausting, and it is impossible to know the direct impact one canvasser will have on any given voter. Despite this, an excerpt from a speech by former Senator Ted Kennedy in 1969 well encapsulates my desire to continue: “the more our feelings diverge, the more deeply felt they are, the greater is our obligation to grant the sincerity and essential decency of our fellow citizens on the other side.”

I have found myself more and more focused on persuasion and winning votes over the past five years. While research suggests my familiar methods of political persuasion are less effective, I still think of my early political debates on the playground. Back then, the focus was on hearing out my friends on the other side. While it was a simpler political time — and perhaps we didn’t quite understand the actual issues at hand — sharing political views was possible. Given our current divisive political climate, persuasion no longer feels like a priority. 

If I learned anything between the turf and red Virginia clay field, it’s that I’ll keep listening. 

JACK L. DOZIER is a sophomore in Saybrook College studying political science. He is an experienced campaign staffer and writes about civic engagement, community organizing and political trends in his column, Connection vs. Conviction. He can be reached at jack.dozier@yale.edu.