It wouldn’t be the first time.
We hear all the time that modern technological advancements have resulted in us being more connected than ever. We would argue that, in some ways, we have somehow more disconnected than ever. Social media is rife with conflict, a sort of digital slot machine where if you swipe just one second more you’ll find the right fight.
“Did you see . . . ? Did you hear . . . ? Can you believe . . . ?” We have to drag these shock-value statements out of the flickering shadows of the blue light and back into the sunlight of the real world.
Our online experience is often nothing more than an echo chamber for our own biases. The more we engage with a particular type of content, the more such content we are served up. Our daily dose of outrage becomes ever more personalized, and more calcified. Without realizing it, we become more vulnerable to the hundreds of thousands of bots deployed by foreign nationals to divide us even more.
These personalized channels are is where the vast majority of Americans consume the news that forms our political and social opinions. And those opinions (influenced heavily by the content others, or algorithms, have picked for us) drive us to elect officials and enact policy of one kind or another.
The nature of the algorithm–to serve up more of the content we already agree with, which keeps us coming back–is closing our minds to challenge. Rather than each of us experiencing a diversity of thought, our country is breaking down into two mobs.
This war between two factions leads to many of us white-knuckling Thanksgiving dinners with the extended family, anticipating the inevitable fight set off by the first off-kilter partisan comment. We are loath to suggest that Thanksgiving could be the dinner party that saves our democracy.
The importance of the dinner party is not a new idea, but one lifted off founding father President Thomas Jefferson. He has, in fact, been credited with saving our democracy with his dinner parties. At one such dinner in 1790, Alexander Hamilton and James Madison reached the “dinner table bargain,” without which we would not have the District of Columbia.
For starters, the Jefferson Dinner calls for one table and one topic of conversation between an intimate group. Now for the specifics:
- The table should be round. It should be laden with good food, and if true to Jefferson’s example, good drink.
- The topic should be of interest to all, known in advance. Side conversations are frowned upon. And god forbid the topic be stuffy.
- The group should be made up of roughly a dozen people of differing viewpoints and backgrounds. Inviting only a safe crowd with homogeneous views misses the point of the party. Note: If you anticipate the conversation will become heated, limit the guest count to four.
The host has responsibilities at a Jefferson dinner that extend beyond etiquette. In addition to providing the table with food and drink, selecting an interesting topic, and inviting the right mix of guests, the host must guide the flow of conversation by asking the right questions.
The conversation should not be a heated debate; rather, guests should share their personal perspectives and challenge others (respectfully). To facilitate this, the host should make sure all have the opportunity to share, and to draw those in who are not engaging.
This structured dinner party was designed by Jefferson for the purpose of strengthening our bonds as countrymen. At a round table, no one sits at the head; all engage as equals. In the days of Hawaiian-shirt Fridays, we might not realize that Jefferson was doing something (appropriately!) revolutionary for his time. A round table would have appalled the English sensibilities of rank.
These dinner parties serve as a catalyst for developing good ideas, when great minds come together to meet great needs. It’s a format that we have seen the benefits of by volunteering with the nonprofit America’s Future (or AF, as its members often refer to it).
By gathering, deliberating, and celebrating, AF has built a movement of engaged, civically-minded youngsters (if Gen Zers consider 20s to 40s old, they can write the article next time).
America’s Future got its start in Washington, D.C., in 1995 as a casual meetup for young Capitol Hill staffers looking to make the most of their time in the nation’s capital. Much like today, the '90s were marked by deep political divisions and a breakdown in civil discourse—something that stifled cross-party friendships and meaningful conversations, and, frankly, ruined a lot of parties.
This movement started as a group of young leaders hell-bent on pushing back against the status quo, probably cassettes of Alanis Morisette and Rage Against the Machine (or whatever iconoclasts folks listened to back then), and a deep-seated conviction that America is better when we can dine together. Over drinks at D.C. bars and meals at local pubs, they launched a tradition of informal gathering that brought together people from all corners of the political "swamp" to tackle big ideas and enjoy each other’s company. What started as a bold experiment in conversation and camaraderie quickly became a movement.
As members left D.C. and returned to their hometowns, they brought this spirit of open dialogue, renewed commitment to civility, and the love of a good party with them. Over the past thirty years, America’s Future chapters across the country have hosted events for young professionals that prioritize discussion, liberty, and civil discourse.
Thousands of young people have been shaped by these gatherings—through roundtables, challenging conversations, respectful debates, and friendships with people who don’t always share their views—all in the welcoming, informal atmosphere of bars and venues nationwide. Today, the organization boasts dozens of events each month and robust fellowship programs that train young people to promote civility and liberty through writing, leadership, communications, and advocacy.
While you may not think of having some friends over for a dinner party or meeting up at a local pub for some good conversation over hot wings as an act of civic restoration and resistance, it may just be what saves America. It wouldn’t be the first time.
