A Retun To Reason

How Tulane's Book Festival Gave Me Hope

A Return to Reason at Tulane’s New Orleans Book Festival

If you want to feel old and get an ego boost at the same time, visit a college campus where young folks recognize you from social media. "Hey, Mister Lemon, I love your TikToks!" Or my personal favorite: "My grandma loves you!" Nothing like a reminder that you’ve been around long enough to be a family tradition. And of course, there were plenty of "Can I get a selfie?" moments—because in this era, if there’s no photo, did it even happen?

I arrived at Tulane not just as a journalist, but as someone carrying the weight of our collective struggle for truth. New Orleans, with its deep history and unbreakable spirit, was the perfect backdrop for this kind of gathering—a space where truth-seekers, storytellers, and changemakers refused to surrender to a world that too often trades facts for convenience.

Some moments hit harder than others. Sitting across from Dr. Francis Collins, the former director of the National Institutes of Health, I felt the weight of his words. He spoke with raw emotion about the relentless attacks on science, the way political agendas have tried to warp reality, and the toll that disbelief takes on those who have spent their lives fighting for truth. And there, in the front row, sat Dr. Anthony Fauci—steady, unwavering, a living reminder of what it means to stand firm in the face of ignorance and resistance.

Then there were the voices that reminded us why we fight in the first place. Bryan Stevenson, founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, and Jeffrey Goldberg, editor-in-chief of The Atlantic, didn’t just take the stage—they threw down a gauntlet. Jeffrey, fresh off breaking the Atlantic’s explosive story on the Signal app scandal, underscored the urgency of responsible journalism in a time when encrypted messages and secrecy shape political maneuvering. Bryan, as always, spoke to the heart of justice, reminding us that fighting for truth is a full-time job, not a part-time passion.

In a quieter, more reflective moment, I sat down with Dean Baquet, former executive editor of The New York Times, to discuss my book, I Once Was Lost: My Search for God in America. We went deep—into loss, into redemption, into the long, winding road of faith and truth in a country that too often struggles with both.

And then there was the Baldwin moment. Sitting with Charles Blow, New York Times opinion columnist, for the James Baldwin Book Project, we didn’t tiptoe around the truth. We confronted it head-on—the scars of our past, the bruises of our present, and the fight that lies ahead. Charles, alongside his friend Darren Walker, president of the Ford Foundation, embodies a relentless advocacy that demands respect. Standing with them in this shared commitment to justice isn’t just an honor—it’s a necessity.

Of course, not every conversation at the festival was one I agreed with. Listening to Karl Rove, former senior advisor to President George W. Bush, speak was a stark reminder of a conservative era that feels both distant and disturbingly familiar. I don’t see the world the way he does, but if we refuse to engage with those who see it differently, we risk never understanding the depth of the divisions we’re trying to heal.

But here’s what I know: Writers, artists, and journalists—those fearless enough to speak truth to power—are the ones who will lead us back. Back to democracy. Back to sanity. Their words, their stories, their unwavering commitment to holding power accountable will be the light that cuts through the fog of disinformation. If history has taught us anything, it’s that truth has never been easy, but it has always been necessary.

Leaving Tulane, I carried with me more than just memories—I carried a renewed resolve. In a time when truth is too often drowned out by the noise of politics, these conversations matter more than ever. The road back to sanity, to reason, to integrity is not an easy one. But it’s a road we have to walk—step by step, conversation by conversation—until we get there.