Debate and disagreement are good
Free thinkers who enjoy debate and discussion are what dogmatists fear most
Having a heterodox perspective on life, society and business means you’ll never be fully aligned with everyone. Or you’ll occasionally say things that rub people the wrong way, sometimes unintentionally. I suffer from the repercussions of this all the time, probably compounded by the fact that I’m fairly on the spectrum. But I’ve not lost a friend yet, and honestly I’d be surprised if I did. That’s because I’ve always been weird, outspoken and interested in a variety of subjects. So my friends are also weird, wonderful and all over any political and ideological map. The commonality is they are kind and intellectually open-minded. And I feel like more people should be this way, able to maintain relationships with those of differing perspectives and recognize each other’s humanity and imperfections, even as they disagree, perhaps even fiercely, about how the world should be run.
I honestly think we’re all capable of doing this, if we choose to. The world would be so much better if everyone decided to tomorrow. It is often said that the best scientific discoveries happen between disciplines, not within. The same could be said about other arenas. Everything is improved if we simply talk to each other.
Somewhere along the way, disagreement became synonymous with danger (the data shows this actually started in University as we talked about the other week). Many of these same people later learned to curate their feeds, prune their circles, and filter their experiences until they reflected only the echo of their own opinions (or worse, misled to believe things which aren’t even real). Anyone is susceptible to this. But adulthood, in the truest sense, is realizing the world doesn’t bend to your preferences, and honestly, that’s part of what makes it interesting. No one you admire thinks everything should be precisely to their whim, that’s how children process the world. And anyway, who wants to live like that, it sounds terribly boring.
Philosopher John Stuart Mill once wrote: “he who knows only his own side of the case knows little of that.” It’s a reminder we don’t really understand our own ideas until they’ve been tested, debated, even regularly challenged by others. When everyone in the room agrees, thinking stops. When someone pushes back, thinking begins. Ideas must hold up to scrutiny, or how good could they be? And anyway, can someone who isn’t friends with people of differing political ideas, religious beliefs, even creative aesthetics really be all that interesting, let alone considered much of a student of life? To me this sounds closer to a cult member.
Great men of history did not live like this. Consider Abraham Lincoln, who famously filled his cabinet with adversaries: men who had opposed him, doubted him, and in some cases despised him. Doris Kearns Goodwin’s book on this, Team of Rivals, paints a portrait of a leader who understood progress isn’t made by surrounding yourself with flatterers. It’s made by engaging those sharp enough to find holes in your reasoning. Lincoln’s brilliance was his ability to learn from those he disagreed with and still invite them to dinner.
There’s something deeply mature about that gesture, breaking bread as an act of civility, even communion. It says: we may not see the world the same way, but we do both live in it. Let’s start there.
If you’re open to discussion with people you don’t agree with, congrats, you are actually in the majority of Americans. Even the New York Times noted in a recent story:
Candidates closer to the political center, from both parties, continue to fare better in most elections than those farther to the right or left. This pattern may be the strongest one in electoral politics today, but it is one that many partisans try to obscure and many voters do not fully grasp.
If you have trouble discussing and debating, maybe a helpful reframe is to see disagreement as friction instead of conflict. Friction is how movement happens, it’s precisely how you get stronger at the gym. Without it, ideas stagnate, cultures calcify, and we retreat into smaller and smaller tribes until the only conversations left are the same ones we’ve already had, playing out precisely the same. The fact that the forum wars are back illustrates we can’t live like this very long. Being afraid of new or even just differing ideas is antithetical to Western civilization, and currently people on both sides of the political spectrum suffer from this.
To be an adult is to resist this regression. It’s to have the ability to see the same world that frustrates you also surprises you, that the same person who irritates you might teach you something essential, even if you still disagree. You don’t have to convert them, or be converted. You only have to be curious. The scientific method is built on this, and we update our views when new information is presented all the time. The best scientists don’t stop asking questions, are okay with admitting they’re wrong or even that they don’t know. The best people don’t live sequestered in a monoculture. The commonality is a pursuit of truth, and likely a bit of patience if things aren’t going the way they know in their heart is right (and not just because the crowd thinks a certain way).
The next time someone says something that makes you bristle, ask yourself: what would happen if I stayed at the table? Maybe nothing changes. Or maybe, just maybe, something grows: a relationship, an insight, a bit of mutual understanding. Any of that is way more valuable than merely trying to maintain ideological purity.
We’re not meant to live in echo chambers. The world turns because of different ideas and perspectives, although of course we also have basic shared morals by all, like not threatening violence (and if you don’t follow them, there are indeed consequences, most people know better). But normal ideas are debated, with some clashing, some harmonizing, and we find a workable point and move forward together. That’s civilization, friends.
In an enlightened society, or if you’re a mentally healthy person, the person who disagrees with you is not seen merely as an opponent, but a teacher. You can learn something from them without agreeing. Isn’t that valuable in and of itself? And sometimes, you might even change your mind (like I did on why we actually do need religion). But almost no one is actually your enemy, and words alone can’t harm you. If you can’t let philosophical or political stuff go simply because you disagree, maybe see a therapist, or just go to the gym.
But don’t storm away or kick them out of your life. Pour another glass of wine or Diet Coke. Ask another question.
Be an adult who can break bread with the world.
Charlie Munger said it well: "I never allow myself to hold an opinion on anything that I don't know the other side's argument better than they do." In a world choking with short form video, Very few people have the attention span, let alone the will, to do the work required to have a worthwhile opinion.
I think this explains why Charlie Kirk's murder affected me so very deeply. As I wrote (https://www.whitenoise.email/p/blood-on-the-quad-the-assassination): "This is not about liking or loathing Charlie Kirk. If anything, he was the least threatening version of a conservative public figure: an enjoyer of debates and microphone time; happy to sit beneath a tent and take questions from rooms that bristle at him; a young husband and father with two small children who expected Dad home for dinner.
Kirk’s entire project was Socratic confrontation—show up, take questions, defend your claims, let the crowd push back. And still he was shot dead.
That’s the public square muscle atrophying in America. When you try to exercise it and take a bullet, it tells us something terrifying about the body politic.
Strip the jersey off to see the stakes: the medium (i.e. standing in the open and answering anyone) is what’s under fire. A society that shoots at that is flirting with suicide."
Many are threatened by open debate and discussion. And with good reason. Questions are dangerous. Asking too many can undermine the authority of leaders and institutions, particularly when they do 'questionable' things. This is why I prefer to always communicate in the most ironic and satirical way I can. It gives me an escape hatch to say nearly anything I want. And if, by mistake, I offend or anger those who adhere to some set of beliefs, no matter how absurd I think they are, I can say, "Just kidding." And we are all still friends.