Directness and Debate

I love to ponder, theorize, and discuss. Mostly in the realms of science and philosophy. But reigning supreme over my pondering, theorizing, and discussing is their most effective cousin: debate. 

I find that it is through argument that my views are most changed. Whether I am faltering in my defense of a long-held opinion against a quick-witted opponent, or trying out new perspectives by taking up the mantle of fighting for an opinion I’ve only briefly considered, conflict seems to chip away falsehoods until something resembling truth remains. 

It goes without saying that some forms of debate are more conducive to honest truth-seeking than others. I’ve had my fair share of debates where myself or my opponent are too emotionally invested in the topic or the debate to see clearly. I’ve had my share of debates with opponents who don’t seem to be arguing in good faith. I’ve had my share of debates where my own stubbornness gets in the way. Not all debates change my mind. But almost every time my mind has been changed, there has been some form of debate involved. I admit that it is rarely a climactic one-time event in which we fire argument after argument until one party concedes (though when that does happen it is beyond satisfying). Usually, I have a few moments of disagreement over several weeks, perhaps with multiple people until I think back on their arguments and realize I’ve slowly retreated from my initial position. At that point, I reevaluate, often ceding more ground or taking new approaches until I arrive at my new opinion. 

My opinions which have withstood the most debate, especially if they were forged by debate as well, are the beliefs I consider most likely to be true. I measure truth by the validity of my reasoning to get there, and if someone else believes my reasoning to be invalid, then theoretically I ought to be convinced as soon as they show me a flaw. Natural complexity and stubbornness make this non-trivial, but we all do our best. 

While disagreement is inherent in critiquing each other's reasoning, I’m not sure that disagreement alone constitutes debate. The distinction between discussion and debate is a fuzzy one, and some of it likely has to do with tone and other social factors. But the line that I want to draw is about seeking truth. A discussion is a conversation which may contain multiple contradictory perspectives, but does not seek to ascertain which, if any, are correct. As a consequence, discussions often do not pit these ideas against each other and need not fully acknowledge their mutual exclusivity. A debate, however, may contain those same contradictory perspectives, but has the explicit goal of convincing all participants of the falsehood of one or more of those perspectives. If beliefs are mutually exclusive, at most one of those beliefs can be true. A debate acknowledges this and aims to discover that truth by critically examining all relevant arguments. 

A close friend of mine is quite conflict avoidant, and she exclusively expresses disagreement in discussion rather than debate. Instead of “I disagree. Here’s where I think you’re wrong,” she would say “I’m not sure I understand your reasoning. Here’s another perspective.” In debate, I feel conversations are concluded either by changing minds or by all parties agreeing to disagree or to ponder the question further– perhaps with more research. However this friend of mine who discusses rather than debates will often conclude her conversations by veering into the psychology of all parties, analyzing where their beliefs come from rather than the validity of the belief. Not because she immediately trivializes someone's perspective as soon as she can psychoanalyze it, but because that is an end to her. The end of discussion is not truth. It is often social, like in this case where the goal is to better understand another person.

The end of debate, on the other hand, is always truth. Sure, psychoanalysis might aid in convincing an opponent that their belief is founded on emotion rather than sound reasoning, but it serves a purpose only by forming an argument. 

Both forms of interaction are valuable and have roles in healthy intellectual life. Discussion is socially valuable and it encourages more openness than debate. While debate might encourage stubbornness, discussion can help us get to know foreign perspectives and reasoning while suspending judgment. That in itself can change one’s mind. 

Nevertheless, I personally find my mind changed far more often by debate than discussion. That is the purpose, after all. On top of that, I find debate way more fun. Discussion is polite, and therefore skirts around the heart of issues. If you and I have mutually exclusive beliefs, one of us must be wrong. I’d love to know who, and discussion falls flat when it comes to that goal. 

None of this is particularly groundbreaking, and much of it is preference. But I’ve been rethinking this approach lately because I’ve noticed a problem. Or, more precisely, a guest at one of my salons noticed a problem.

Given my love of debate, I seek out friends who enjoy similar topics and similar approaches. Ideally I look for people who disagree with me enough for us to actually have things to debate about, but I do prefer people who share my methods. I run the risk of accidentally upsetting or offending people who don’t like debate if I overtly state disagreement and then start making arguments in the middle of polite conversation. Unless someone enjoys that sort of thing, it’s generally considered rude. I want to be able to do that, so I tend to find friends who feel the same way. 

Every few months, I host a “salon” in which I invite many such friends to all engage in lively debate surrounding a few set topics. After one such salon, a guest half-jokingly complained about my gender ratio. She was right: she and I were among a small handful of women present compared to three times as many men. 

It’s no secret that women are often socialized to be more polite and agreeable than men. And a quick google search reveals a plethora of studies pointing out various gendered personality differences, often focusing on higher prosocial behaviors in women and higher confidence or assertiveness in men. I won’t link any particular one here just because there are so many, all of which focus on slightly different components of this, many of which disagree with each other in mild ways or make claims that aren’t my focus. But it’s a fact that men tend to have stronger inclinations towards the traits of debate than women: ease with conflict, confidence, less social focus. 

To briefly usher a herd of elephants out of this room: I don’t think it’s particularly relevant for me to decide where these differences come from. There may be some biological factors. It may be purely socialized. Unfortunately, since nobody can be raised in a vacuum, it is impossible to truly disentangle these theories. (Yes, I know people try, but the impossibility of a cultural control is a fundamental limit on any conclusions.) Perhaps some of this effect is merely in the perceiver: we are conditioned or have evolved to see women as more nurturing and social. Perhaps any of the thousand other explanations play a significant role. This is a nuanced phenomenon, and I’m not sure that identifying which dozen things have the most significant causal roles in gender differences adds anything to this conversation. The fact of the matter is that when I intentionally seek out people who enjoy debate, I end up finding a lot more men than women. I am trying to address what, if anything, I should do differently. 

I’d love to achieve a genderless utopia where gender is irrelevant to any platonic interaction, but unfortunately that progress is slow. Practically, I’m instead considering which of my methods of interaction might be worth changing to balance out the gender ratios at my salons. 

I love debate, and personally find it fulfilling. But perhaps I am missing out on having my mind changed by clever discussions. Moreover, as I’ve already stated, the distinction between discussion and debate can blur at times. Some debates appear to be mere discussions at first glance if the participants are extremely polite. I’ve encountered conversations which I initially believed to be centering around socialization only to realize that they are in fact about truth, just with every argument sugar coated or framed as a question. We’ve all done forms of this before: you might not tell someone in a position of authority over you “I think your claim X is wrong.” You might instead opt for the polite and professional alternative of “I don’t quite understand your reasoning for X,” and hope they get the message and figure their shit out. Both approaches prompt for an explanation of X. 

It might not be debate itself that pushes certain demographics away, but a culture of bluntness. I do value bluntness, but I’d rather a euphemistic polite world where I don’t miss out on good arguments than one where I sacrifice everything else in order to be direct all the time. 

I’ve noticed a tendency in rationalist circles to dismiss politeness as inefficient, labeling it in a dismissive and disgusted tone as “signaling.” While I admit my instinct is to nod along and enjoy the blunt and logical (and overwhelmingly male) social circles offered there, I’m beginning to doubt the benefit of this view. 

Politeness and paralinguistic cues in language add new dimensions of communication. By merely modulating my tone, I can read the same sentence and convey both the literal meaning and my opinion or feelings about the information conveyed. Paralinguistic cues add entropy to speech, making communication potentially more efficient. And I’m not convinced that a wannabe Spock rationalist alternative is usually capable of conveying the same thing. 

If I suggest pizza for dinner, and you say “I guess” with a sigh, that communicates that you’d begrudgingly agree, but don’t like the idea. It communicates mild annoyance or displeasure. But it also does so without demanding conflict resolution. Saying “I don’t like the idea, but I’ll go along with it if you really want,” communicates the same idea more literally, but does demand direct response. Communicating the feelings indirectly leaves room for the other person to choose to alter their choice, directly address the disagreement, or simply ignore the implied complaint. There are plenty of interpersonal problems and miscommunication that can arise with indirectness, but it’s hard to argue that it makes less sense or is somehow less rational. It’s more difficult, but it also packs more information into discussion. Not to mention that it can allow for unnoticed subtextual communication amongst a subset of people in a larger group, which can be very useful. You might notice subtle signals from your partner asking you to initiate leaving a party while other partygoers remain oblivious. Even without agreeing on a signal, familiarity with each others’ cues and mannerisms is often sufficient for this communication. 

We’ve evolved and been raised in a world where communication is not limited to direct words. Not only is it nearly impossible for us to separate the meaning of someone’s words from their politeness, mannerisms, and paralinguistic cues, it is intentionally failing to use an additional source of entropy in which information can be encoded. 

It seems quite possible that many people who shy away from direct debate are not sugarcoating out of anxiety or habit, but to convey additional information about their feelings. They are saying “I disagree with you, but I like you and respect your approach.” While the delivery may make it more confusing or ambiguous– their hesitation and politeness might equally be deference due to respect or due to uncertainty in their argument– it does at least attempt to communicate more information than the direct alternative. 

I will not argue for changing standards of arguments in debate themselves. Truth is truth, and since truth is my end, I won’t compromise on looking for conversational partners who are primarily truth-seeking via logical methods. That means debate itself isn’t something I’d be willing to throw away. But I do acknowledge that directness and aggressive style are preferences which, if the end is truth, ought to be compromised sometimes. 

I am still finding the correct balance. I find heavily indirect conversations where bluntness is considered rude to be tedious most of the time. But it has a few times led to surprisingly good arguments, even within polite and inoffensive debates. I will say that I’ve found almost all good arguments to come from people who are eventually willing to drop some of the niceties and home in on conflict, even if they do so with constant reassurances of respect and peaceful intent. 

At least a little compromise on directness seems necessary to not systematically miss out on good arguments. Though it is mildly distasteful, some of that sacrifice seems worth it in the name of truth.