I don’t know why Rep. Jared Golden came to Colby College last Wednesday. I was happy to moderate a conversation with him and about 200 students, faculty and staff on behalf of the Goldfarb Center’s weekly student discussion series. But, we are not in his district; only a handful of students are his constituents. He had nothing to gain politically from the visit, and perhaps something to lose. But he came anyway — and what happened in that room is exactly what our politics needs more of.

Over the course of an hour, Golden answered every question posed to him — on immigration, voting reform, gun control and more — with candor, care and a refreshing refusal to spin. Students asked him hard questions and pressed him to follow up on his statements. He didn’t dodge hard topics. He didn’t lean on talking points. For many of the students in the room, it was the first time they had seen a politician do that. It might have been the first time for me, too.

Not long after the event, a reporter published a story suggesting that in coming to Colby, Golden ducked his constituents. The irony is thick. In an article criticizing him for not engaging the people he represents, all but one of those quoted live outside of Golden’s district, and the same day that the Trump administration targeted Harvard, our local anti-Trump activists went after Colby for inviting an elected official to engage in open dialogue with students.

Precisely to encourage free exchange, press were not in the room; it tends to encourage platitudes. And so, understandably, the reporter leaned on sources who were enthusiastic to make their own point rather than say what actually happened.

So let me be clear about what I saw. The vast majority of students who came to hear from Rep. Golden did not agree with him. Still, they were attentive, thoughtful and genuinely curious. They didn’t come to heckle or posture; they came to engage. Only two students openly protested and only at the end of a gracious applause, and just as Golden offered to stay behind and talk one-on-one with anyone who wanted to continue the conversation. But protocol required him to leave as a result; you have probably read that many elected officials’ safety is no longer a guarantee. And in doing so, self-serving protest cut short exactly the kind of dialogue we say we want.

I understand that some will say that Golden should be holding more traditional town halls. I don’t dismiss these concerns. There is something deeply democratic about the image of a representative standing before their constituents, answering questions face to face. Our speaker series does not serve that purpose, nor do I think it took away opportunity from others. But I also think Golden’s explanation, which he offered directly and without defensiveness, deserves to be heard as well; it supports how many scholars are thinking about polarization today.

A growing body of research shows that the Americans most likely to attend political events and engage with members of Congress are highly unrepresentative of the electorate as a whole. These “deeply engaged” citizens are more likely to have strong ideological commitments and to care about different sets of issues than the average voter.

Among Democrats and liberals, the deeply engaged are less likely to care about health care costs or the rising cost of living, for example. Golden made the point plainly: he hears from his constituents all the time, just not usually in big public forums. And when he does, their concerns look very different from the debates dominating national headlines and roadside protests.

For many students in the room, it might have been the first time they had to confront the wide range of perspectives and stories Golden shared from his constituents — people who have suffered the brunt of free trade agreements, hospital closures and the slow collapse of local infrastructure due to government neglect.

One story he told made this tension clear. A few weeks ago, Golden was the only Democrat in the House to vote for the continuing resolution that kept the federal government open. He knew the vote would spark criticism from the left. But his reasoning cut against the usual headlines: in a shutdown, federal workers are furloughed while political appointees — and in this event, Elon Musk — would get to decide who is essential and who is not. In other words, a shutdown would give the richest man in the world and President Donald Trump even more discretion over the public sector, all while civil servants go unpaid. Isn’t that exactly what the protesters at the Tesla charging stations are trying to stop?

But more to the point, in sharing that perspective with students, Golden didn’t just explain a vote, he modeled what it means to reason through a complex political tradeoff. He took a moment that could have been reduced to a headline and turned it into a conversation about the mechanics of governance, the vulnerability of federal workers and the quiet ways power consolidates when institutions break down. It was the kind of explanation you rarely hear in public, let alone from a sitting member of Congress.

That moment stuck with me — and with many students. It cut through the performance of politics and went straight to its substance. You don’t have to agree with every one of Golden’s votes (I certainly don’t) to appreciate the kind of political thinking he models: reflective, independent, rooted in facts and actual consequences.

For many, knee-jerk resistance feels like the only way to meet the moment. Maybe they’re right and I’ll be proven wrong. For the moment, I disagree. And I left my conversation more convinced that there’s another path.

When democracy is in crisis, we can double down on outrage, or we can try to rebuild the norms that sustain it: honesty, humility and a willingness to listen, even when we disagree. That’s what Rep. Golden offered last week. And that is what my students saw.