A couple of weeks ago, I joined a dozen or so other volunteers to launch a massive email campaign helping researchers execute their plan to “use research-backed techniques to help Americans communicate across the partisan divide.” As one might expect, most of my emails were ignored. Some were met with guarded interest:

Others with hostility:

In all cases, I replied. Alas, only one out of those 30,000 emails led to a proper back-and-forth. And even that exchange did not come easily, with the initial response to my message falling well short of cordial. In my outgoing email, I had done what the researchers said to do: express curiosity about those across the political aisle and share a story that would illustrate where I was coming from. That story was a brief observation about how the New England waters in and on which I have spent my life have warmed, changing the weather we experience. That, my new pen pal said, was nothing but “media upchuck,” before quoting back to me part of what I had written and then trying to correct me:

I had a physical reaction to that response. My muscles tensed. My heart rate increased. I could literally feel throughout my body my indignation at having someone tell me that my own, first-hand observations were… what? fabricated? the product of media-induced brainwashing? It was hard to stomach this response, and I know that many of my fellow Americans have been in this very spot. We are outraged by something we hear or read or see. Red alarms flash. We know it is not worth going there, so we do not.

Eschewing common sense, though, I leaned into the challenge for which I had volunteered. When I could think clearly (which was several hours later), I did my very best to respond with humility, curiosity, and what I hoped came across as a friendly tone:

This time, my correspondent actually signed her name, with a phone number listed beneath. This seemed like a positive development. She also rewarded me with a link to an animated YouTube video in which one cartoon character disabuses the other of its concern over climate change. The voices were computer generated. The dialogue was highly intellectual; it sounded smart. And yet, there was no author or creator listed, no citation of particular studies that could be searched or verified, no transparency at all. I could see how someone—especially someone predisposed to doubt climate change—could find it convincing. I tried to stay in the conversational game:

I did not get answers to my questions, but I also didn’t lose her:

(pretty sure she meant “elected officials” have failed us, rather than the “electorate” who choose them)

It would turn out that our conversation had pretty much run its course. I responded, leaning into the opportunity to find some common ground, but my message ended up closing our exchange. I didn’t hear back again.

I sent 30,000 emails. Was it worth it?

How I would teach President Trump