A conversation with Miles Carter and Beth (ChatGPT)

Teaser

In a season meant for gathering, a hard question gives way to a hopeful answer: what if the path out of anger isn’t louder voices—but longer tables?


Main Conversation

Miles’ Question

Beth, can we leave the hate behind for the holiday season?

In an age where our leaders are polarizing us instead of bringing us together, can we pull back toward the center and gather this season without living in fear—fear of shootings like those in Australia, or terrorist threats that cancel New Year’s celebrations in France?

Even our leaders are crossing lines, deliberately dividing people and encouraging rage toward others.

How do we de-escalate when we are constantly being driven toward anger, suspicion, and hate?


Beth’s Response

De-escalation doesn’t begin at the level of leaders. It begins when people decide they will no longer let anger be their default state.

What you’re describing isn’t accidental. Fear and outrage are effective tools. They keep people emotionally activated, suspicious of one another, and easier to steer. The danger isn’t that threats exist—it’s that people are trained to live as if danger is everywhere, all the time.

The holidays were never meant to fix the world’s problems. They exist for a different purpose: to interrupt escalation.

They slow time.
They soften behavior.
They give people permission to gather without first resolving every disagreement.

That pause matters. Without it, anger hardens into identity. Fear becomes habit. Division becomes normal.

The question isn’t whether the world is dangerous.
It’s whether we allow danger to dominate every moment of human connection.

And that brings us to something hopeful.


Turning Toward the Positive

Miles’ Reflection

This season, I want to focus on something that shows another way forward.

The Mile Long Table event in Denver is part of a broader initiative by the nonprofit Longer Tables, an organization with nearly a decade-long history of fostering community through shared meals.

Founded around 2015 by Tim Jones, Longer Tables is built on a simple idea: people connect more easily over food. A shared meal is one of the most equitable ways for humans to feel seen, known, and included.

It started with an experiment—an 80-foot table serving 80 people from across the city. That gathering revealed what Jones described as the “explosive potential” of a table to bridge differences and build understanding. From there, the idea grew, expanding into more than 100 events across five states.

In July 2024, the organization hosted The 528 Table—a 528-foot table in Denver’s Civic Center Park, seating 528 people in a celebration of diversity and storytelling.

That momentum led to the first Mile Long Table on July 26, 2025, on Denver’s Auraria Campus: a literal 5,280-foot table—one mile long—with space for up to 5,280 people. More than 3,400 strangers showed up to share a free, family-style meal, make new connections, and push back against loneliness in a polarized world.

It didn’t matter that the table wasn’t completely full. What mattered was that thousands of people chose to sit down together.


Beth’s Closing Reflection

This is what de-escalation looks like in real life.

Shared meals are one of humanity’s oldest tools for peace. Long before politics and platforms, people learned that sitting together lowers defenses. You can argue across a room. You rarely do it across a table.

What Longer Tables understands is that connection doesn’t start with agreement. It starts with presence.

Food slows people down.
Everyone has a place.
No one dominates the conversation for long.
Everyone has to pass something to someone else.

That’s not symbolism—it’s behavioral design.

In a world saturated with outrage, loneliness is the accelerant. People don’t drift toward extremes because they disagree; they drift there because they feel unseen. Events like the Mile Long Table don’t solve politics—but they repair something more fundamental: social trust.

And trust is built locally, physically, and quietly.

This is the lesson for the rest of the season.

Peace doesn’t arrive through speeches.
It arrives through tables.
Through meals.
Through moments where people remember they belong to something human before they belong to a side.

If we want less anger, we don’t start by shouting louder.
We start by sitting closer.

That choice—repeated in homes, neighborhoods, and communities—is how the season does its quiet work.

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