Dear Friends,

Hosting Derate the Hate and working with Braver Angels has taught me something simple but not easy: the conversations we least want to have are often the ones that matter most. I’ve had my fair share of those, and I’ve learned that courage doesn’t have to be loud—sometimes it’s quiet. It’s listening when it’s hard, showing up when it’s uncomfortable, and staying in the room when it would be easier to walk away.

>>> Join me in Philly on Sept. 5th for Where COVID Policy Went Wrong (And Right!)

That’s exactly the spirit I brought into one of the most unlikely experiences of my life—meeting Dr. Francis Collins in early 2022, just a few short months after he stepped down as Director of the NIH. I had the unexpected opportunity to work with him on a Braver Angels initiative we called Truth & Trust. I never imagined teaming up with someone of his stature, but there we were—trying to bring people with deep disagreements about the COVID-19 pandemic into honest, respectful conversation. The goal was simple to say, tough to do: talk instead of shout, seek understanding instead of victory.

When Francis and I first met, we were strangers—two people from very different worlds. But over time, through shared purpose and honest conversation, we’ve built a friendship that’s both beautiful and deeply personal. We’ve also become collaborators in something far bigger than either of us: a movement grounded in dignity, truth, and the power of courageous connection.

Resulting from our work together, I’ve had the privilege of engaging with some of the most thoughtful and principled minds in public health—people who may disagree fiercely, but who share a deep commitment to human flourishing. Among them is the current Director of NIH, Dr. Jay Bhattacharya, whose clarity and courage in speaking hard truths have inspired me and countless others to lean in when it’s easier to lean out.

These relationships have only deepened my conviction that Braver Angels isn’t just about dialogue. We’re in the business of fostering courageous connections. We create space for people to speak honestly, listen bravely, and stay in the room when it matters most. Because when we’re talking—with open ears, open hearts, and open minds—we’re not fighting.

That’s why the news out of Atlanta just days ago hit me so hard. A gunman opened fire near the CDC’s Roybal Campus, killing a police officer and injuring others. The shooter, reportedly fixated on the COVID vaccine and driven by personal anguish, shattered windows, lives, and the fragile sense of safety that public health workers rely on to do their jobs. More than 180 rounds were fired into CDC buildings. Over 90 children sheltered in place at a daycare on campus.

When I read the news, I had to sit with it for a while. It shook me. Not just because of the violence, but because of what it says about where we are as a country. We may never know the full story behind this tragedy, but we cannot ignore the context. Trust in our public institutions—particularly public health—is at a dangerous low. Distrust breeds anger, and anger without an outlet for understanding can turn explosive.

Friends, if we face another pandemic tomorrow, I fear we’d be in worse shape than when we were heading into the last one. Not because of the virus, but because of the divisions that have only deepened since. We’ve learned that science without trust cannot persuade, policy without empathy cannot heal, and leadership without listening cannot unite.

The stakes are even higher now as changes unfold in the public health establishment under HHS Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. Whether you agree with these changes or not, you probably know someone who is anxious—maybe even afraid—about what they mean. These moments of uncertainty are when we most need to ensure all voices are heard, not just the loudest or most aligned with our own.

This means approaching each conversation with empathy, yes, but also with a curious heart. It means resisting the urge to simply “debate” and instead asking the kinds of questions that invite honesty and complexity. The work is not easy. But if we can keep people talking, we keep them from turning away from one another—or worse, turning on one another.

So where do we go from here?

Think: Get curious. Ask questions. Learn what shaped someone’s views.

Feel: Build emotional connection through empathy and shared humanity.

Do: Take a step. Reach out. Keep the conversation going.

This is the rhythm of change. This is how we move forward together. Not by avoiding the hard topics, but by leaning into them with courage, compassion, and clarity.

That’s why, on Friday, September 5th at Temple University in Philadelphia, I’ll be hosting a conversation we all need right now—one that brings together acclaimed investigative journalist David Zweig and renowned epidemiologist Dr. Maciej Boni for a moderated discussion on the harms caused and the effectiveness of non-pharmaceutical interventions (NPIs) like masking, lockdowns, and school closures during the pandemic.

We won’t agree on everything that night—and that’s the point. We will model what it looks like to talk across lines of disagreement without tearing one another apart. We will keep the conversation going, because the alternative is silence and suspicion—the dry kindling on which distrust becomes destruction.

My friends, the work ahead of us is not optional. The courage to connect, to listen, to learn, and to keep showing up—even when the wounds are still fresh—is what will decide whether we meet the next crisis as strangers or as neighbors.

If you can make it to Philly on September 5th, I’d love to see you there. Shake your hand. Hear your story. And if you can’t, that’s okay, we’ll livestream it on our YouTube channel.

Wherever you are, just promise me you’ll keep the conversation alive. Because when we’re talking, we’re not fighting. And right now, that’s the kind of work that heals.

With gratitude,

— Wilk Wilkinson, Host of Derate the Hate podcast and Director of Media Systems & Operations for Braver Angels

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