Old friends, different views, one powerful conversation

Judge Myers and Professor Marshall Lead Conversation on Civil Discourse Across Political Divides 

Judge Richard Myers ’98 and Professor Bill Marshall spent years as colleagues at Carolina Law, their offices kitty-corner from each other. They’d debate politics from opposite ends of the spectrum, emerge to commiserate about “those people” who didn’t understand the issues, then head to lunch together and realize they agreed on more than they thought. On Monday, when they reunited for the UNC Law Community Conversation: Bridging the Gap, the seating arrangement said it all. Myers took the chair on the right. Marshall took the chair on the left. 

Moderating the discussion about civil discourse across political differences was former Carolina Law Professor Mary-Rose Papandrea, now at George Washington University School of Law, whose surprise return to campus made the afternoon feel like a reunion of what one attendee called “the dream team.” 

Myers, who taught at Carolina Law for 15 years before his 2019 confirmation to the federal bench, opened with a blunt observation about how tribalism now defines legal discourse. “We’ve reached the point in the law where when somebody begins to describe me, they say, ‘Richard Myers, Trump appointee,’ and then they have whatever else they have to say,” he told the packed room. “Tribalism feels good. Being angry on behalf of your tribe is deeply satisfying and hardwired into the human condition.” 

But that instinct, he warned, is precisely what lawyers must learn to overcome. 

Marshall, who served as Deputy Counsel to the President during the Clinton Administration, picked up the thread. The First Amendment gives people strong rights to say nearly anything, he noted, but that doesn’t make them good people for saying it. “The First Amendment is not a moral license,” he said. More importantly, outrage doesn’t persuade anyone. “If you want to win politically, you need something other than outrage, because you need to be able to persuade. And being able to persuade means you need to know how to listen.” 

Both speakers repeatedly returned to a central point: the best lawyers know the opposing side’s arguments as well as their own. “The worst lawyers I have ever faced when I was a litigator were the ones who completely believed they were right,” Marshall said. “I won cases I never should have won because people on the other side were so convinced that they knew.” 

Myers described his daily work on the federal bench as a master class in listening. His job requires him to repeat back to people the best argument for their side, ensure they feel heard and understood, and then make a decision where one of them loses. “That’s my job every day,” he said. “It’s not an easy job. It’s not always a fun job, but it is important.” 

The conversation touched on the unique challenges of the current moment. Social media has accelerated everything, Myers said, creating iterations so fast that the time to stop and think gets bypassed. Marshall acknowledged that the marketplace of ideas, that ideal where truth eventually wins out over falsehood, isn’t working particularly well right now. But censorship isn’t the answer either, both agreed, because deciding who gets to be the censor creates more problems than it solves. 

Students pressed them with hard questions. What about people who aren’t interested in civil discourse? How do you engage with truly odious beliefs? Should some issues be off limits for debate? 

Myers was direct: practicing these skills takes courage, but law school is the place to find “allies in courage.” Students should be willing to slow down, ask clarifying questions, and risk the personal capital it takes not to join in collective anger. It’s easier said than done, he acknowledged, but the stakes are too high to give up. “Your job as lawyers is going to be to help decide who keeps their house, their car, their job, their family, their freedom, their liberty,” he said. “The veneer of civilization is thin, very, very thin.” 

Marshall added a practical angle: “We are a nation that’s divided pretty much down the center. If you’re going to win the next election, you’ve got to win people on the other side. You don’t get people to vote for your side by telling them how miserable they are as human beings.” 

When a student asked whether human rights issues should be taken off the table for debate, Myers pushed back. Everything is debatable, he said, but if someone really cares about a problem, that’s exactly why they need to engage. “A lot of us have very strong feelings about things we know nothing about,” he said. “That’s not a great way to go through life.” 

Near the end, a student asked Myers about a recent opinion that enabled Justice Riggs to take her seat on the state Supreme Court, a decision that might have surprised those who see judges only through partisan labels. His answer was simple: “My job as a judge is to figure out what the law is and follow it.” 

Then came the line that seemed to sum up the entire afternoon: “If your principles never conflict with your preferences, you have no principles, only preferences.” 

As students filed out, Myers left students with parting words. “You are civilization. You matter. You carry a torch that goes back thousands of years,” and for one afternoon, two old friends from opposite ends of the political spectrum showed them how.