Talking with Trump Voters Seems Hopeless—But It's Not
Here’s what the research—and history—actually show.
In my last article, Why Debating Republicans (Almost) Never Works—And What to Do Instead, I explained why trying to persuade Republicans with facts and logic usually fails. It’s not because Republicans are irrational—it’s because they’re human. Like all of us, they resist ideas that threaten their autonomy, self-worth, and social identity. When political beliefs are challenged directly, people rarely reconsider. They resist.
That’s why I argued that successful persuasion doesn’t start with better arguments. It starts with trust.
After reading that piece, one skeptical reader replied:
“I’d love to see some evidence that conversations like these can create change fast enough to stop Trump—or save the planet. I think at this point it’s delusional to believe this.”
I understand the doubt. The crises we face—rising authoritarianism, climate catastrophe, profound inequality—are massive and urgent. In that context, personal conversations can seem like a waste of time.
But here’s the surprising truth: they’re not. Trust-based conversations have the power to create rapid, measurable shifts in beliefs and behavior. And they always have.
This article makes the case that far from being a distraction, these conversations are the foundation of large-scale change. If we want to move public opinion, build a powerful movement, and stop Trump, we have to start where our influence is strongest—with the people in our own lives.
A History of Rapid Opinion Change in America
Contrary to popular belief, public opinion doesn’t always move slowly. History shows it can pivot dramatically in just a few years.
There are moments when social attitudes don’t just drift—they lurch. Issues that were once deeply polarizing suddenly become consensus. Beliefs that seemed immovable collapse in a matter of years. And policies once deemed unthinkable become law.
In modern American history, there have been many striking periods when public opinion shifted rapidly in a progressive direction:
School Desegregation: In the early 1950s, most white Americans opposed integrating schools. But after the Supreme Court’s Brown v. Board of Education decision in 1954, support began to climb. Between 1963 and 1965 alone, white support for integrated schools jumped from 27% to 49%—a 22-point swing in just two years.
Interracial Marriage: Support for marriage between Black and White Americans jumped dramatically from 48% in 1995 to 64% in 1997—a 16-point rise in just two years, one of the most rapid shifts in public opinion on record.
Vietnam War: In 1965, a majority of Americans supported the war. But by 1971, 60% said it was a mistake, as televised violence and rising casualties changed public perception.
Marriage Equality: Support for same-sex marriage hovered around 40% in the late 2000s. But between 2009 and 2011, opinion shifted dramatically—rising 13 points to reach a majority for the first time. By 2015, support had climbed to over 60%.
Trans Rights: Between 2015 and 2021, support for transgender rights surged. The percentage of Americans saying society should be more accepting of trans people jumped from 37% to 64%—a 27-point increase in just six years.
Abortion Rights: Following Roe in 1973, support for legal abortion rose sharply—approval across various scenarios jumped nearly 7 points in a year, with backing for abortion when a woman’s health was at risk reaching 91% by 1974. After Dobbs overturned Roe in 2022, support surged again: Gallup found “pro-choice” identification climbed from 49% in 2021 to 54% in 2024.
But just as progress can come swiftly, so too can backlash. In recent years, for example, support for LGBTQ+ rights—once considered a cultural breakthrough—has begun to erode, particularly among Republicans.
According to Gallup, support for same-sex marriage among Republicans dropped from a peak of 55% in 2021 to just 41% in 2025. Support for key aspects of trans rights has also fallen sharply. In 2021, 43% of Republicans supported allowing openly transgender men and women to serve in the U.S. military. That number has now dropped to 23%.
This history is both a source of hope and a caution: public opinion is dynamic, capable of stunning advances—and equally stunning retreats.
How Political Movements Shift Public Opinion
If public opinion can shift so dramatically, so quickly—how does that happen?
One answer comes from the world of social movements: change doesn’t require wide-scale conversion. It requires shifting just enough people, just far enough, to alter the balance of power.
That’s the insight behind the Spectrum of Allies, a framework developed by nonviolent activist and scholar George Lakey. Instead of viewing the world in binary terms—supporters vs. opponents—the Spectrum maps people along a continuum: active opposition, passive opposition, neutral, passive support, and active support.
The aim of a movement isn’t to catapult people from one end of the spectrum to the other. It’s to help them move a little bit at a time. From passive opposition to neutrality. From neutrality to quiet support. From quiet support to active engagement. Even nudging an active opponent into a more passive stance can reduce resistance and create space for progress.
These shifts may seem small. But they’re not. When they happen across a population, especially among those with social, cultural, or political influence, they reshape what’s thinkable, sayable, and doable. They alter the stories people tell, the questions they’re willing to entertain, and the changes they’re ready to consider.
This is how movements succeed: not by conquering the opposition, but by redistributing belief and behavior until the weight of opinion change tips the system.
And this is why trust-based conversations are so powerful. They don’t have to transform someone’s worldview to have a profound effect. A single conversation that softens resistance or builds quiet support can loosen gridlock, shift norms, and create momentum.
How Shifts in Individual Attitudes Ripple Outward
Change doesn't stop with the person you influence—it spreads outward like ripples in a pond. The moment someone shifts their stance along the Spectrum of Allies—from passive opposition to neutrality, or from passive support to active engagement—they create a ripple effect that can influence others in their social network.
The Spectrum of Allies is a tool for understanding where people currently stand in relation to a cause, but it's more than a static map—it's a dynamic model of movement. Every shift along the spectrum isn’t just a personal transformation; it’s the start of a ripple. That movement sends subtle signals to others nearby: “This issue matters,” “It’s safe to care about this,” “Change is possible.”
We often imagine influence as something that flows top-down, from politicians or pundits. But in practice, it's the people around us—family, friends, coworkers, neighbors—who most shape what we believe. When someone we care about changes their mind or behavior, it prompts us to reconsider our own positions, even if we don't immediately recognize it.
There are at least two ways these ripples move through society—one passive and one active.
The passive model is what Nicholas Christakis and James Fowler documented in their groundbreaking research on social networks. They found that beliefs and behaviors don’t just affect the people we know directly—they ripple out three degrees through a social network. That means your choices can influence your friends, your friends’ friends, and even your friends’ friends’ friends. Statistically, that ripple effect can reach as many as 8,000 people from a single node of change. Its influence via proximity, often unconscious and unintentional, like a current that shifts the temperature of the water over time.
But ripples don't just passively drift; they can also be propelled. Progressive political communication strategist
reminds us that successful messaging isn’t just about what campaigns send out, but how those messages travel. “[A] message is like a baton that needs to be passed from person to person to person,” she says. If it doesn’t move through people, it doesn’t move minds.This is active transmission: when a message resonates so deeply that someone repeats it, endorses it, or shares it with others. It’s what turns a political narrative into a movement.
These twin dynamics—passive diffusion and active propagation—explain how even the smallest act can ripple outward to shape what’s normal, what’s discussable, what’s safe to question. In highly polarized environments, these personal ripples may be the only way new ideas gain traction. Trust travels in concentric circles. And often, the messenger matters more than the message.
In this way, relational ripples—not viral social media content or elite opinion—become the real tide of change.
How Contact with “The Other” Shifts Attitudes
So what initiates a ripple in the first place?
It’s rarely a slick ad campaign or a perfectly crafted argument. More often, it’s something profoundly human: a heartfelt conversation over coffee, a moment of unexpected vulnerability, a story that resonates. These moments don’t just feel good—they matter. They stir empathy, spark curiosity, and sometimes even lead to transformation. And when people begin to shift—even slightly—they can influence others in their social networks, creating new ripples where the water had long been still.
This isn’t just a hunch; it’s backed by research. The “contact hypothesis,” introduced in the 1950s, posits that under the right conditions, personal interaction between members of opposing groups reduces prejudice and hostility. Originally focused on race, the theory has since been validated across many lines of difference, including religion, nationality, and—crucially—politics.
A striking real-world example is the shift in American attitudes toward marriage equality. In the early 2000s, support for same-sex marriage was limited and polarizing. But as more LGBTQ+ individuals came out to friends, family, and coworkers, the issue became personal. A 2012 Gallup poll found that among people who had changed their minds about same-sex marriage, nearly one in ten cited knowing someone who was gay or lesbian as a major reason. Academic studies confirmed this trend: sustained, meaningful contact—especially with close family—was one of the strongest predictors of support. This wasn’t just a shift in opinion. It was a cultural transformation sparked by relationship.
This same principle underlies the growing field of bridge-building work in the U.S. Organizations like Braver Angels, Living Room Conversations, and the Listen First Project are intentionally creating space for dialogue across divides. Their goal isn’t to win arguments—it’s to foster understanding. And it works. Independent evaluations of Braver Angels workshops show they reduce negative stereotypes and increase empathy among participants, even in short sessions.
The power of humanizing contact extends beyond politics. In cities like New York, Baltimore, and Philadelphia, the Cure Violence program applies these principles to gang intervention. Trained community members—many of whom were once involved in street violence themselves—engage directly with those at risk. Evaluations show the program has cut shootings and killings by as much as 63%, depending on location and implementation.
Even in contexts of deep, entrenched conflict, relationship can change hearts. In the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, programs like Seeds of Peace and Parents Circle bring people from both sides together for sustained, emotionally honest conversations. Research shows these encounters can reduce dehumanization and even shift views on core political issues.
What unites all these examples is not rational argument or debate, but emotional connection. When people feel seen and heard—when they are treated as fully human rather than as threats—their psychological defenses begin to lower. Only then does true persuasion become possible.
This is why engaging with Republicans isn’t just worthwhile—it’s essential. If we want to create lasting change, we have to go where empathy has room to grow.
Proof Conversations Can Facilitate Opinion Change
Once people are in contact with one another and their emotional defenses come down, the door to transformation opens. But can a single conversation—especially on a polarizing topic—really change someone's mind?
Surprisingly, yes. And not just in theory.
Research on “deep canvassing”—a technique developed by LGBTQ+ organizers, led by
, and studied by political scientists David Broockman and —shows that human connection can change attitudes in ways facts and logic alone often can’t.Unlike conventional persuasion efforts that rely on data, arguments, or moral pressure, deep canvassing uses emotionally intelligent dialogue. Canvassers share personal stories, ask open-ended questions, and invite gentle self-reflection. The goal isn’t to win an argument. It’s to build understanding and trust in the hope of gently encouraging others to rethink their perspective.
And it works. In one of the most influential studies to date, Broockman and Kalla found that a single ten-minute conversation with a trained canvasser could significantly reduce prejudice toward transgender people, with effects that lasted at least three months. That’s extraordinary for any form of persuasion, especially on a topic as contentious as trans rights.
Similar results have been found in electoral contexts. During the 2020 election, People’s Action used deep canvassing to increase support for Joe Biden among persuadable voters by more than three percentage points—a swing large enough to tip close races.
And the method isn’t limited to LGBTQ+ rights or elections. In a 2022 study in Arizona, deep canvassing conversations about abortion led to a nearly seven percentage point increase in support for abortion access among persuadable voters. The intervention had the greatest impact on individuals who were initially conflicted. Once again, facts alone didn’t move the needle. Connection did.
These results are especially compelling because they come from conversations between strangers. That’s remarkable. Imagine what’s possible when the person you’re talking to already knows you, trusts you, and sees you as part of their world. When a relationship already exists, you don’t have to spend as much energy building basic trust. You’re starting ahead.
That’s important. Deep canvassing is the closest model to what we’re advocating in Smart Politics, but we believe its power multiplies in the context of existing relationships. You don’t need to be a stranger with a clipboard. You can be a friend, a sister, or a colleague. And that makes all the difference.
Conversations with MAGA Die-Hards Can Work Too
Even after seeing the evidence, it’s easy to think: Sure, some people can be moved. But not them. Not the MAGA faithful. Not the ones who’ve embraced election lies, demonized the press, and cheered on insurrection. They’re too far gone—lost in a cult.
While that assumption is understandable, it’s also wrong.
People entrenched in extreme beliefs can change. They do all the time. And what moves them isn’t shame, facts, or force. It’s their relationships—and conversations—with people who disagree with them.
Take
, once a rising star in the Westboro Baptist Church, known for its hateful protests and extremist theology. What changed her mind? Not confrontation, but conversation—mostly on Twitter. Over time, respectful questions from strangers prompted her to reflect on her beliefs and ultimately led her to leave the church, despite the enormous personal cost.This wasn’t an isolated case. Consider Derek Black (now Adrianne Black), a former white nationalist who was being groomed to lead the movement founded by their father. What pulled Black out wasn’t a political campaign or a viral exposé. It was a group of college classmates, mostly Jewish, who invited them to regular dinners, built trust, and engaged them in ongoing dialogue. Slowly, Black began to question the ideology they’d inherited.
And Black’s not alone. Christian Picciolini, a former neo-Nazi skinhead, who created an organization to help others leave hate groups. His turning point came through conversations with people he once vilified—interactions that humanized the “other side” and forced him to confront the contradictions in his worldview.
Perhaps the most remarkable example is Daryl Davis, a Black musician who has persuaded more than 200 members of the Ku Klux Klan to leave the organization, not through protest, but through friendship. He approaches Klansmen not with anger, but with curiosity. In return, many come to see him as a person, not an enemy, and ultimately walk away from hate.
And what about MAGA voters? Take Rich Logis, a Florida voter who once called himself a “MAGA-American” and hosted a pro-Trump podcast. What changed his mind wasn’t confrontation or shame, but stepping outside the MAGA echo chamber. As he began listening to different perspectives and reflecting on his own, he realized Trump had been lying “about pretty much everything.” That realization, coupled with ongoing conversations with people who treated him with respect, led him to leave the movement—and urge others to do the same.
These aren’t isolated miracles. They reflect a pattern.
, a former cult member turned expert on authoritarian influence, has spent decades helping people leave extremist groups. In his book The Cult of Trump, he argues that many MAGA loyalists show the same psychological patterns as cult members—deep identity fusion, fear-based loyalty, and a closed information bubble.But he’s also clear: people can break free. And when they do, it’s almost never because someone argued them out. It’s because someone built a trusting relationship that allowed them to think their way out.
Hassan’s Strategic Interactive Approach is grounded in respectful, sustained engagement—asking open-ended questions, showing curiosity, and reinforcing the person’s sense of agency. It’s not about winning arguments. It’s about creating space for people to reflect and choose a different path.
That’s exactly what Smart Politics teaches.
So yes, it can feel hopeless. But the evidence is clear: people do change, even when change seems impossible. And more often than not, what makes the difference isn’t facts. It’s a person in their life who didn’t give up on them.
The question isn’t whether MAGA die-hards can shift their opinions. The question is: are we willing to be the kind of people who help them do it?
The Consequences of Writing Off GOP Voters
There’s a common assumption that if someone is a die-hard Trump supporter, walking away is harmless. That declining to engage is simply a matter of personal boundaries—with no broader fallout. After all, these conversations are draining. They demand time, patience, and emotional resilience. If we opt out, what’s the real harm?
More than we think.
When people lose connection with thoughtful, compassionate dissenters—especially ones they know and trust—they don’t stay where they are. They slide deeper into the gravitational pull of their ideological group. Without opposing viewpoints to challenge their assumptions, group polarization kicks in: their beliefs don’t just solidify—they intensify. Surrounded by ideological reinforcement, they also fall prey to the false consensus effect, assuming everyone around them shares their views. Extremism starts to feel like common sense.
When we disengage, we remove ourselves as an essential counterweight—one of the few remaining influences in their lives capable of disrupting the rightward slide of their worldview. Our silence doesn’t freeze them in place. It gives extremism freer rein to grow.
We’ve seen this happen before. After the 2016 election, many progressives understandably recoiled, distancing themselves from friends, family, and communities that had supported Trump. But that withdrawal, however self-protective it felt at the time, may have had long-term adverse consequences.
Without dissenting voices in their lives, many of those voters doubled down. Their identities fused more tightly with the MAGA movement. Their beliefs became more entrenched. It’s impossible to know how things might have unfolded differently, but if more of us had stayed engaged, it’s possible the radicalization wouldn’t have deepened so severely.
And the effects don’t stop with one person. As more of us retreat, the social space narrows. Moderation fades into the background. Misinformation fills the vacuum. The fringe gains ground—not by force, but by default. Not because it's right, but because it’s unopposed.
Avoidance might feel like self-protection. But in reality, it’s a kind of social surrender. It isolates the very people most in need of connection, and it makes all of us more vulnerable to the authoritarian playbook of divide and conquer.
The Path Forward
If you think it’s naive to believe that conversation can drive systemic change, you’re not alone.
We’re psychologically wired to expect big problems to have big, structural solutions. So it’s easy to scoff at the idea that talking with your uncle or old high school friend could help save democracy. But history—and science—say otherwise.
Change doesn't start at the top. It begins at the bottom with the people closest to us. With someone shifting slightly, quietly, just enough to move the people around them. Again and again. Until suddenly, the culture shifts.
We've seen how quickly public opinion can swing—sometimes in just a few years. But those swings aren't magical. They're social. They happen when enough people are gently encouraged to rethink their beliefs.
Every time you engage someone without judgment, you make rethinking possible. Every time you nudge someone closer to neutrality, support, or reflection, you create a ripple. And those ripples move outward through families, neighborhoods, congregations, and workplaces. Through the passive diffusion of norms and the active spread of new stories. One shift can echo through a network and influence thousands.
You don’t need a platform. You have one. It’s your life. Your relationships. Your earned trust.
Imagine what could happen if a million of us had just one emotionally grounded conversation with someone we disagree with each month. That’s twelve million moments of contact each year—twelve million chances for connection to disrupt extremism, for doubt to slip through certainty, for hope to re-enter the frame.
That’s how movements change the world. Not by overpowering the opposition. But by redistributing belief and behavior until society shifts.
And you don’t have to do it alone.
Smart Politics is here to help—with tools, training, and a community that treats emotional trust as a political strategy. Together, we’re not just resisting authoritarianism. We’re rewiring the social networks that sustain it.
So begin the conversation. Send the ripple. Let your influence flow forward. Together we will turn the tide.
This article is part of The Smart Politics Way, a progressive newsletter about defending democracy through persuasive engagement. Dr. Karin Tamerius is a political psychiatrist and the founder of Smart Politics.
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I've certainly been inclined not to engage people who are very different from me because they are not persuadable. It seemed like a poor investment in time, but your post has me reconsidering, especially considering the potential for keeping people from becoming even more extreme. The situation I more often encounter is the extreme progressive who attacks me for not being as extreme as they are. I know they alienate some liberals and moderates, but I've not been affected that way. On the other hand, I no longer want to be affiliated with extremely progressive organizations. I've become a quiet liberal. Maybe I need to re-engage these folks and help them lighten up. I'm actually on their side.
Are you sure about this?
"Research on "deep canvassing" -- a technique developed by LGBTQ+ organizers, led by Dave Fleischer , and studied by political scientists David Broockman and Josh Kalla
-- shows that human connection can change attitudes in ways facts and logic alone often can't."
I recall that was disproven, https://retractionwatch.com/2015/05/20/author-retracts-study-of-changing-minds-on-same-sex-marriage-after-colleague-admits-data-were-faked/
"Author retracts study of changing minds on same-sex marriage after colleague admits data were faked"