Let's You And Me Fight

I love to argue. I’m sure I’ve written that many times before and likely even published it somewhere, but it’s been true for a long time and remains true. It is definitely cultural and probably genetic, and I am trying to change: I’m trying to get better at it. So what does “better” arguing mean?

I went to a small school and had the same two teachers for 7th and 8th grade. Mr. Dilworth taught Math and Science and Mrs. Fludman taught History and English. They were both very committed teachers, as you have to be working in a small private school, where you are typically not paid very well, but Dilworth was much more easygoing. I don’t remember Fludman being mean, but she was a bit strident about things—quite German, like her accent.

One day in class, as was (is) my wont, I was speaking up when I heard something that I didn’t understand. In all years of school, and maybe the reason I didn’t enjoy the dozen basic college courses I took, I would raise my hand to start a conversation with the teacher about the topic at hand. Some would entertain it, happy that anyone was engaged, but sometimes it was the wrong time, and they would insist that we move on. Some times (and still today) I just can’t move on. If something sounds off or I can’t wrap my head around it, I can’t let it go. It attaches itself to my neurons and just keeps tugging on them.^[1]

I was likely continuing an argument she didn’t want to have and she declared, firmly if not loudly but completely exasperated, “You’re probably going to be a lawyer someday!” This was not a compliment. It was to make it clear that our conversation was over and she was moving on. Lawyers don’t have a good reputation now, but this was about the time (’86ish) I heard the first lawyer joke I can remember (Q: What do you call 10,000 lawyers at the bottom of the ocean?^[2]) so I knew what she meant.

I have been arguing like this for a long, long time. Corner me or surprise me with an argument and I revert to the early life mission: win at any cost. I really want to argue better.

For a long time I thought arguing fairly meant not lying. Eventually I had to admit that just obfuscating was unfair. Then I had to try to eliminate straw men and other rhetorical tricks. Then I learned that helping them make their argument stronger would build their ego, then use the leverage to judo flip them back to disadvantage. So, while I was still fighting “fairly” I was still arguing with a goal of winning, and my record was pretty good for an uneducated mug.

Then I heard this: You may be right, but you’re still a dick.^[3]

With no large epiphanies, just dozens of small illuminations, I realized what I really wanted to was to be right and to be kind and to win hearts and then win minds. Arguing is a terrible way to achieve that and being right is a fool's errand.

We humans create divisions and taxonomies and labels and none of them really mean anything, they are constructs we use to help secure our egos and feel confident. Without confidence we use all manner and method to destroy ourselves.

This was also around the time I had kids. Before I was a parent, I was much less empathetic. Being responsible for a little human that needs you creates a transformation of ego. It’s not always a good transformation, as parents do terrible things, but it does change you, and I think it helped make me kinder and more loving and less interested in winning anything at all. It made me much more interested in understanding people. Wanting to understand your kids and knowing you’re not able to always cover the gap helps you contemplate how poorly you understand others.

Like the cliche goes, the more I learn, the less I know.

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I’ve seen people I love change and become much more vocally political in the last ten years. I’d say most people I know have become more political in the last ten years. I could argue (ha!) that this is good or bad, but in certain instances it has made people that I mostly agree with much more likely to engage in an argument with me. My contrarianism has pushed me to counter the arguments with less argument. Being contrarian has helped me seek more unity.

The only way I know to minimize an argument, tends to help me argue better if I choose to engage. If someone I agree with wants to argue with me, I start asking more questions. If they ask, “isn’t it frustrating that X did Y?” I can ask, “sure, but what do you find most frustrating about it?” Then ask a follow-up, then another. Eventually I may get to something I have to speak up about, but often I can reach the point where we agree to disagree without them even knowing I disagree. Reasonable people can disagree.

I’m proud of convincing my mom to watch less news. I don’t watch tv news, and in the last ten years I’ve seen maybe a few hours worth, mostly on election night and in other people’s homes, and in the previous twenty, saw less.^[4]

My mom was watching CNN and MSNBC non-stop and I was experiencing what many have described with their Fox News-watching parents. She was deranged and angry every day about things that either hadn’t happened the way she thought they did, or worse, about things that hadn’t even happened yet.

I have tried (and often fail) to follow a rule about news: find out about what has already happened and draw your conclusions based on careful consideration. Don’t worry about what people think is going to happen, because they are more often wrong than right, because even when they are mostly right, they get some things wrong.

I know a guy who is about my age and kind and sweet and loving and supports his family the best he can. I think he’s a bit put-upon and let’s himself get steamrolled and could stick up for himself more, but he’s trying his best and genuinely means well. I’m from California, so he’s convinced I’m a typical leftie liberal, and he’s not wrong that I overlap with that description. He’s Catholic and conservative and a tried and true Trnmper. I avoid criticizing politics that I don’t agree with around him, not because I don’t find things to criticize, but because I don’t want to convince anyone by arguing. I wish I could talk to him more about politics because I really wish I could understand why he feels the way he does and why he thinks that choosing a position then putting his head in the sand (as I’ve seen him do with other people) is a good idea.

I put my head in the sand about politics, but not because I’ve already picked a position. I don’t want to learn enough to pick a position on some things. I had a friend and we were arguing (from the same side) about what to do about our political situation, and I fully agreed when he said that silence is complicity. I think that is correct, but I also think that silence is appropriate if no one is listening anyway. Silence is complicity if you have a chance to be heard, but anyone who doesn’t agree with me is unlikely to ever read this, so who am I trying to convince and of what am I trying to convince them?^[5]

I hate violent war in all forms, so I resent that there is military action in Iran (I started this essay on March 2nd, 2026). I don’t care if anyone could convince me that the reasons are justified and I don’t care if it, as we can never know, prevented greater harm than it will cause. I object to military action.

But you could change my mind. Under duress or stress I will argue unfairly, and I do this way more often than I’d like. The ego has to protect itself, after all. But I really try to be open and fair and empathetic.

When I argue now, I try to take part of my technique—bolster the opposite argument—and just stay in the pocket. If I support your position until I can’t any longer, I want to agree to disagree and really mean it. I want to disagree with the best position I can come up with, not one that I’ve pummeled into submission. I want to steel-man the position, even if I think it needs to be taken down. We have enough straw men.

If you think that military action is justified, we may never agree on that, but I guarantee we can find a situation where I don’t have a better answer. I may oppose military action, but I think it was reasonable that America joined their allies in WWII, and I understand why we chose military action after Pearl Harbor. I could also start an argument about some reasons to doubt it was the best option.

You and I can get to a point where we agree to disagree on a number of topics. Bring them up and I’ll happily make my case for an oddball position—drug use, prostitution, prison reform, defunding all kinds of institutions and funding others. My obsession with logic takes me to some dark places. The key to agreeing to disagree is making sure it is done with love for the other person. I love my kids, but they make choices I wouldn’t. It never diminishes my love and acceptance to disagree with their choices. We can agree to disagree.

I haven’t yet wrapped my head around friends that break up with friends only because they disagree. I will stop talking to someone if they are being a dick, and especially for ignoring boundaries, but not for their beliefs, no matter how deeply wrong I might think they are. One of my unpopular opinions is that I will keep in touch with a friend no matter what they’ve done^[6]

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I find that the best way to bolster someone else’s argument is to ask questions, and because I still love to argue, I tend to revert to asking questions that highlight the contradictions. I like taking the argument internally and arguing with myself to defend their position. When I come up against a point I think settles the issue, I ask the other person about it. There is power in embracing “I don’t know” and letting someone else teach you something. You don’t have to accept it, but a fresh perspective never hurts.

When someone decries socialism, I like to ask which of these institutions they would disband: Fire Departments, public schools, Social Security, Medicare/Medicaid, the Postal Service, National Weather Service, the Federal Reserve, the U.S. military, or public libraries.^[7] I know many conservatives that want to do away with several of these, but no one wants to do away with the Fire Department, and only weirdos like me want to reduce the Armed Forces by 85%. The interesting part about this question is that it usually leads to a natural follow-up. What makes something socialist? When you answer that question, some of the disagreements fall away, no matter which side you prefer.

Ultimately, I try to make sure that even when I argue, I’m still kind and open. Being kind and open tends to extend conversations, even arguments, and I enjoy them much more than the contentious kind, which I still fall into very easily. Old habits die hard.

My goal now is to argue better than I ever have before. To argue so that it’s not a zero sum discussion. All parties can gain understanding, all parties can feel respected and maybe even loved, and all parties can learn something, even if they just agree to disagree.

Need to argue? Comments open below…