Debate and Dialogue

I’ve felt combative recently whenever a new view or idea that differed from my own was presented to me. I’d catch myself feeling this way but would then be too preoccupied with the residue of my self-frustration to course correct in real time. The result was that I learned and contributed less than I could have had my stance been more open and curious, less debate-y, more dialogic.

Maybe this is a consequence of my brief stint as an academic. In constantly having to defend and justify my research, I learned that it’s easier to break things down than to build them up. Regardless, it’s not the most pleasant or fruitful way of being. It tends to leave you with a bitter taste in your mouth, a sense of what’s wrong and problematic but no clarity as to what could be.

Rhetoric is the rule rather than actual conversation in debates. The motivation is to crush your opponent, ideally in style and wit, to outplay the other in a game of verbal jiujitsu while defending your tightly held views. Learning is secondary to winning, and you tend to become more mired in what you already believe.

Conversely, in dialogue, everyone is on the same team. People build off of each other with the intent of creating something more beautiful, something no one could have done on their own. The conversations can still be heated, but they’re engaged in with the understanding that it’s part of something shared. The winners are those who keep playing through their ongoing participation. It’s a game that never ends.

There’s a place for debate, like, in actual debates. But I’d wager that we’re better off orienting toward dialogues. This might seem too chill for some, but it’s a serious task to be the kind of person who can build and lift others up. The world is already full of people, institutions, and narratives that will try to reduce your soul down to a nub. But if you can keep your light alive and kindle that of others, you’re already ahead of the curve. You can see the exit out of the rat race and want to point others toward it too.

We need more of this, more a sense of vision and possibility, both on a personal and societal level. A lot of people I know are too good at being critical of what we don’t understand, myself included. It’s our defense against against the loneliness and uncertainty, against the creep of collective nihilism and helplessness. Sometimes debating and criticizing is fun and necessary even, but it gets tiring after awhile as a form of engagement with the world. I want to focus on more of what I’d like to see, to integrate criticality as a tool that bolsters optimism, not something that diminishes it, as I stray beyond the walls of academia.