No Place Like a Dinner Table to Talk Politics

Like many people, I have a conservative uncle. Specifically, my uncle is an American Republican and used to be registered as such before the election of President Donald Trump in 2016. He’s very much a libertarian, believing in a small government, lower taxes, and laissez-faire capitalism. As you all have probably ascertained by now, I do not believe in these things and take every opportunity to vehemently disagree with my uncle on these issues. This is especially true at big family gatherings, including the biggest family gathering of all, Thanksgiving (as I type this sentence, I can almost hear the beautiful sound of the British weeping at their lack of the late November holiday). 

I imagine this is a very familiar story to a lot of you. Debating your conservative relatives during the holidays is a time-honoured tradition — but you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone out there who says it’s a good one. Many argue that it would be best to just let this tradition die out. Some even go so far as to make discussion of politics at the dinner table verboten. I understand where this sentiment comes from. Why bother with all of the tiresome arguing? Who says you’ll even be able to persuade your relatives anyway?

But I don’t buy that. I don’t think that political discussion at the table has to be a screaming match, nor do I think that our relatives are totally immovable. These are people who, at least in theory, we should be closest to, and I think if there’s ever an ideal, politically low-stakes environment to have a civil conversation about politics, it’s at a table full of food and surrounded by loved ones. Our uncles and aunts and cousins are not the random, right-wing trolls you find on social media, yet I think the type of political discussion many are accustomed to having with them treats them as such. That, to me, is a missed opportunity.

There is an important caveat to this line of reasoning, though. For some, especially those belonging to the LGBTQ+ community, a political discussion with their conservative relatives can often mean hearing some profoundly nasty things about their identities. These things stray well outside the bounds of any respectful or civil political conversation and have no place either at a dinner table or elsewhere. If every other day of your life is spent justifying your existence, then maybe the holiday dinner should be a reprieve rather than an acute reminder.

For everyone else, however, political conversations with your relatives doesn’t have to be a turkey or tinsel-adjacent tiff. In a time of such vindictive political arguments, wouldn’t it be nice to just talk about important issues without winding up emotionally exhausted? You might even manage to change their minds — a rarity in our current political landscape. But even if you aren’t able to win them over to your side, you may find the experience more intellectually rewarding than you expect it to be. Your arguments will become more honed, your discursive abilities will increase, and your understanding of the talking points of the other side will become fuller — all while you get to enjoy some good food. 

This has at least been my experience in my debates with my uncle. The conversations I’ve had with him, although only ending in minor shifts in either my stances or his, have been some of the most stimulating of my entire life. They’ve enabled me to become a more well-rounded advocate for the causes I believe in, and, to me, that is invaluable. So, for anyone still on the fence about this idea, here’s my recommendation: try it just once. At your next family gathering, try to start an honest dialogue with your relatives. If it fails, the world keeps spinning and you both remain exactly where you were before politically. If you succeed, however, then maybe you’ll see that politics at the dinner table isn’t so bad after all.