Why is that a problem? Because every human being comes with her own upbringing, experiences, values, and opinions. Try as they might, then—and I sincerely believe they try their hardest—journalists can never attain perfect objectivity. Of course there’s bias; it can’t be any other way.  

As a result, no one media outlet can provide the diversity of perspective that reasoned dialogue requires. To prepare ourselves for dialogue, then, we need a “balanced media diet”: a healthful blend of newspapers, magazines, websites, blogs, TV news, and other sources that provide a cross-section of viewpoints. I took a look at this in my last post. 

Now, what does a balanced media diet look like? 

Part of it is pretty evident: we strive to absorb views across the political spectrum, as President Obama mentioned in his recent commencement address. Conservatives who love The Wall Street Journal or the National Review could try reading Mother Jones. Liberals who get their news from the Huffington Post could tune in to FOX News now and then. (Stop cringing. This hurts me worse than it hurts you.) 

Straightforward, right? Except diversity comes in more than one flavor. For instance: 

• Ethnicity. If Anglos like me tapped into Latino news sources, how much more would we learn about the immigration debate?
• Gender. GQ readers, when is the last time you picked up Ms. Magazine? And vice versa?
• Faith. If atheists subscribed to God’s Politics, how much common ground might they find?
• Reporting vs. analysis. Reporters by definition are held to a higher standard of balance and objectivity. Getting all one’s news from analysis and op-eds makes it too easy to absorb predigested opinion, however, thoughtful, as fact.

 There’s another way to balance your media diet too: perusing media that themselves present a diversity of opinions. I think of these as the “mutual funds” of news. Just as each mutual fund contains a diverse array of investments, so these diverse media present us with more breadth of perspective per hour spent ingesting the news.

I personally gravitate toward these “mutual funds.” From the PBS NewsHour I get in-depth investigations of a few issues each evening, usually with a well-struck balance of insight and opinion. Our local newspaper carries a diverse blend of conservatives, liberals, and everyone in between. In the pages of Tikkun I read social and spiritual insights from across the spectrum of faith traditions. Because of its thoughtful insights and analysis, The Economist also makes my list; it gives me a bias toward the free market while reporting on some of the world’s least reported stories.

What happens when we take in a diverse media mix? Inevitably, we come across the same story from different angles—and begin to see the legitimacy of each point of view. The complexity of the situation and the lack of easy answers become clear. We grow instinctively skeptical of easy answers for any issue. We start to take political and social heroes with several grains of salt, knowing how fallible humans are and how quickly we fall. Overall, we gain wisdom, empathy, and an ability to live with ambiguity.

Of course, we can’t read or watch everything we can put our hands on. But to the extent we broaden our media mix, we broaden our perspective. And to the extent we broaden our perspective, we prepare ourselves more deeply for dialogue.

Perhaps that’s my loss.

To explore that statement, let’s start with President Obama’s commencement address at the University of Michigan. (If you haven’t read it yet, do yourself a favor and visit the site. Many aspects of dialogue that we’ve discussed here appear there as well. Only he’s way more eloquent.) During the speech, Obama gave this advice:

If you’re somebody who only reads the editorial page of The New York Times, try glancing at the page of The Wall Street Journal once in a while.  If you’re a fan of Glenn Beck or Rush Limbaugh, try reading a few columns on the Huffington Post website.  It may make your blood boil; your mind may not be changed.  But the practice of listening to opposing views is essential for effective citizenship. 

Several good things happen when we “listen to opposing views.” When we hear conservatives articulate conservative stances, or liberals speak from their experience as liberals, we get a firsthand, unfiltered view of that perspective—unfiltered, that is, by their adversaries’ use of terms like wingnut or socialist to inflame passions and thus obscure the details. Even if we don’t agree, we can at least see where they’re coming from. More often than not, we can see that their argument has some logical thought behind it, that they’re trying to grapple with the same issues we are, even that one or two of their insights might make sense.

Then, when we actually engage the “other side” in dialogue, we’re not thinking of them as wingnuts or socialists. Our perspective has moderated. Perhaps our anger has abated. That paves the way for deeper, more effective dialogue.

On another front, a “balanced media diet” doesn’t just facilitate dialogue; it is dialogue. As we absorb our adversaries’ insights, we naturally stimulate our own thinking—whether we’re marshaling counterarguments or just trying to draw out the opposing insight to its logical conclusion. The dialogue is happening in our heads. That in itself prepares us to be more curious and more civil when we have the dialogue with others.  

So how do we balance our media diet? It’s not all that hard, but there’s a bit more to it than meets the eye—even a bit more than Obama articulated in his address. Let’s look at that next week.

Which makes the latest CBS News/New York Times poll quite interesting.

The poll’s myriad questions and deft distinctions (for instance, separating Tea Party activists from Tea Party members) yielded an in-depth look at the movement. Overall, the data confirm the popular image of Tea Partiers. Solid majorities are white, male, and conservative. They are angry about a variety of issues and really dislike the president.

But before you buy all the popular images of Tea Partiers, check this out: 

• 37 percent have college degrees, substantially more than the national average (25 percent).
• 56 percent make more than $50,000 in annual household income, again higher than the national average.
• While they like Sarah Palin, a plurality—47 percent—do not think she’d make an effective president.

I don’t want to make too much of these findings; they don’t make the Tea Party exactly a bastion of liberalism. But they remind me, yet again, how often I construct a simplistic image of a certain group (or absorb the simplistic media image) and generalize it to all members. I’ve done it with born-again Christians; now, it appears, I’ve done it with Tea Partiers.

The problem with these images, or stereotypes, is that they prevent dialogue. For one thing, why talk with Tea Partiers if they’re all angry and misapply buzzwords like “socialism” at every opportunity? For another, why talk with Tea Partiers when I know all about them already—or so the stereotype has deluded me into believing?

Polls like these make me stand up and take notice. Suddenly I realize that there’s more to these people than my stereotypes indicate. That stokes my curiosity, which in turn drives me to seek dialogue with members of the group.

Just like that, we’re reaching across the divide.

Too optimistic? I might agree with you if it weren’t actually happening. Recently the Transpartisan Alliance brought together a Tea Party leader with, of all people, a senior representative of MoveOn.org, a liberal activist group if there ever was one. Remarkably, both parties expressed an honest desire to talk—and keep talking. Check out the link to the video on the homepage.*

It’s not what you’d expect from either group, based on the stereotypes. And that’s exactly the problem with stereotypes: they prevent us from starting the dialogue that could move us toward deeper understanding—and, ultimately, the healing of our bitter divides. Let’s let go of them and approach each person for what she is: unique.

*The Transpartisan site may be down right now; I haven’t been able to connect to it for a couple of days. If you can’t either, keep trying; the video is worth the effort.

• A born-again Christian telling me she has no problem with evolution
• The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff supporting a repeal of “don’t ask, don’t tell”
• George W. Bush proposing a moderate immigration policy
• The head of a regional hospital advocating single-payer healthcare
• Leaders from the Tea Party movement and MoveOn.org saying how much they crave dialogue
• Catholic leaders advocating for the poor (a “liberal position”) and against abortion (a “conservative position”)

You see the common thread here? All these statements strike a dissonant chord. They make us think, “How can those people take that position when they also believe this?”

I find these voices terribly important.

To understand why, first consider the voices we usually hear. Spend any time with the news media, and you’ll find yourself hearing, on any given issue, the same things from the same people—over and over and over. If a news segment covers abortion, for instance, it will most likely feature a pro-choice advocate touting a “woman’s right to choose” and a pro-lifer promoting “the rights of the unborn.”

Now the positions behind those sound bites may have merit. But the endless repetition of the same catchphrases by the same people obscures whatever nuance these positions may have. “Of course he’d say that,” we think. “He’s a [insert political party or special interest group here].”

But then someone zags when we expect her to zig. Or she holds two positions that we’ve been led to believe are contradictory. There’s your dissonant voice.

These are important, I think, for two reasons. First, when people express a belief contrary to their historical position or perceived self-interest, it implies that they find the belief itself compelling. I don’t think it’s a slam-dunk that a hospital CEO would support a single-payer system. So when James Barba of Albany Medical Center does, it’s an opportunity for us to see single-payer differently. If he’s for it, the thinking goes, maybe it’s worth another look.

Second, these dissonant voices can explode our stereotypes. Over the years, I’ve been guilty of painting the born-again Christian community with too broad a brush. Like many people, I could see them as uniformly literalist, creationist, and overly focused on abortion and gay marriage. So when a priest’s wife touts the beauty of evolution as the means of God’s creation, or I see born-agains advocating for the environment and social justice, it forces me to rethink my image. More accurately, it forces me to discard the image—and listen to each unique person with his own unique voice.

Dissonant voices can point out areas of truth. Dissonant voices can help us see our “opponents” more clearly—and thus treat them more respectfully. See how many of these voices you can hear in the public square.

Then I read this op-ed piece, and I realized my own error.

The article, by Peter Garrison—a pilot and contributing editor to Flying—provides a glimpse into the cockpit on a long-distance flight. Apparently it is a mind-numbing experience. Computer systems do the bulk of the flying, with no need for human input. The cockpit itself is tiny and doesn’t allow for much movement. The pilot’s job, for long stretches of the flight, is to monitor the instruments, hour after hour after hour.

Now, does that excuse the pilots of Northwest flight 188? You can still make a case that their lapse was inexcusable; indeed, the FAA has done so—and taken action. 

So what did I do wrong? 

I rushed to judgment. I assessed the situation and decided on the right and wrong of it without hearing from the other side. Garrison’s op-ed helped me to understand the situation from the pilot’s perspective. While I still might think the mistake was egregious, I now get what these folks are dealing with—and my compassion for them grows. 

Now imagine what could happen if I were in a policymaking position. Without Garrison’s perspective, I might write this off as the unique problem of two wayward pilots. Having read Garrison, I have to consider whether we need systemic change—more regular hours and sleep schedules, say, or different protocols—to support pilots more effectively. Overlooking the need for such systemic change, if that is indeed the underlying cause behind the incident, could have catastrophic results. 

This sort of thing is what makes dialogue so vital. Dialogue brings us face to face with the perspectives of the other. We cannot help but hear the context behind the decision, error, or insight that horrifies us. Even if we don’t agree—even if we still have to revoke licenses—we can have more understanding. Policymakers, by dialoguing in this way, can get the fullest possible picture and thus make the most effective changes, not just the measures clamored for in the heat of the moment. 

Perhaps this begins to answer last week’s post. Perhaps, when people ask why dialogue is important, we talk about the pilots of Northwest flight 188 as just one example.

My point here is that we all say insanely stupid things now and then. So I am not here to pile on Joe Wilson. Instead, I want to explore what his outburst during the president’s health care speech—and the aftermath thereof—can tell us about dialogue.

Many commentators have already covered the obvious: that “you lie!” is emblematic of the remarkable incivility that has pervaded recent headlines and town hall meetings. But where does this incivility come from? The language gives us a clue: it’s the kind of speech used by those who (a) have deeply held beliefs or vested interests and (b) perceive them to be under dire threat. Threats induce our fight-or-flight response, so Joe Wilson spoke fighting words.

The problem is, we can’t dialogue like that—so we can’t resolve anything that way.

Dialogue, by our working definition, requires a clear mind and a listening heart—an openness to the other—so we can think together toward the truth of the matter. We need this “thinking together” because no one has a corner on the truth. But we cannot cultivate the required openness if we cling to our beliefs as the only way to perceive the issue.

The health care debate is a great example. There are many good ideas on the table. But how can we think together about them if we do not open our minds and hearts? Rejecting openness just leaves us with the same vested interests and tired phrases that obscure the dialogue: “you lie,” “death panels,” etc.

Then there are the strange mechanics of apology in our current age. Whenever someone says or does something inappropriate on the public stage, he quickly apologizes. Pundits just as quickly parse the wording of the apology and conclude that it’s not enough (or it’s not sincere). The offender may apologize again, and that’s not enough. Ad nauseam.

This raises two lessons for dialogue—one based on truth, the other on grace. First, dialogue cannot proceed unless the participants share a commitment to honesty. So apologize only if you’re sorry; to craft a faux apology leads to mistrust and distracts from the dialogue at hand. Second, if you receive a sincere apology, forgive and move on.

How do these lessons promote dialogue? Consider that dialogue often involves discussions of sensitive issues among people who disagree. Discussions get heated, and yes, people can say intemperate things. That requires a mechanism for honest apologies and ready forgiveness. The participants can’t be expected to maintain their openness and trust—and thus advance the dialogue further—if “offenders” issue insincere apologies and “offendees” let their resentment linger. 

If we’re going to move forward on social issues, we need dialogue. That, in turn, requires us to open our minds and hearts and keep them open, even when the discussion boils over. 

But how do we get to this openness in the first place? This, I believe, is where the Divine can play such a powerful role. Good topic for next week.

The setting: a moderator in Interfaith Forums, a wide-ranging discussion board on all things spiritual, started a thread on proselytization. As with most threads, it generated a lively discussion among an eye-opening cross-section of posters: an atheist, a born-again Christian, a Baha’i, a pagan, a Hindu, and others.

Put all these perspectives, voiced by all these intelligent, strong-willed people, into a room—actual or virtual—and sharp words usually follow. This was no exception. Before long, the discussion had evolved (devolved?) into an exchange of verbal volleys, with a helping of attacks and sarcasm thrown in.

Now if this had happened at a dinner party, or a mixer, or any other live event, the discussion could have fallen apart quickly. You know the pattern: two or three people with passionate opinions and loud voices go at one another vociferously, sending the content of the discussion to the extremes. If you have a more nuanced opinion, you can’t get a word in edgewise.

But this was different. The beauty of online, of course, is that you can read—and respond to—anyone’s comments at any time. That’s what happened here: someone posted a “quieter” comment, someone else responded in kind, and before you knew it, there was a dialogue within the thread.

Many thinkers worry about the web as a medium that gives everyone with a strong opinion her say at full throttle, with no filtering mechanism (such as the editor in traditional media) to help ferret out the truth. I worry about that too. And yet this downside of the web is also its upside: it gives moderate perspectives more of a voice than ever.

Now take this observation to a macro level. Our culture at large acts very much like our dinner party example: the people with passionate opinions and loud voices grab the media attention, promoting the extremes and eliminating the middle. (Think of the abortion debate.) The very nature of traditional media is primarily one-way, so when the extremes capture media share, there are few ways for nuanced voices to make themselves heard, let alone start a dialogue.

The web, by contrast, gives everyone a voice and is by nature two-way (or, more precisely, all-way).  In addition, it draws together people of similar concerns and different opinions from all over the world. As a result, we have more opportunities for dialogue than ever before. Our job is to take advantage of them.

Does the web facilitate dialogue? Oh my, yes. Is the web good for dialogue? Only as good as we make it.