Useful disagreement

people arguing
From the cover of Wayne Booth’s _Modern Dogma-

As y’all know, I intermittently pay attention to what pro-GOP sources are saying about events. And it’s really worrisome. I’m so far left that I’m not in favor of any flavor of authoritarianism; that is, an anti-deliberative approach to policy questions. An anti-deliberative approach is always a politics of the obvious: the correct answer is obvious to all good people, and anyone who disagrees with this very specific policy is obvious not a good person.

I’m not saying this because I’m about to advocate some incoherent and irrational both sides are bad (all versions of BSAB are incoherent and irrational), or the hobgoblin of relativism (all ideologies are equally valid—a position I don’t think anyone has actually held). But I will say that I think conservatism is a legitimate political position, and should be included in the conversation, as should be lots of other positions with which I disagree (libertarianism, for instance). I believe in useful disagreement.

By useful disagreement, I don’t mean one in which people are nice to each other, or stay calm, or end up persuading one another, finding common ground. Useful disagreement can be vehement and frustrating.

The problem with pro-GOP media, and many media that are opposed to the GOP and its current turn toward authoritarianism is that they don’t believe in useful disagreement. There was a time when there were shows where people with different political identities shouted at each other, but that wasn’t useful disagreement because they just shouted slogans at each other, without actually responding to what the other was saying. It was like a staged fight in a not very good movie–what one is doing has nothing to do with what the other is doing.

As I’ve said many times, my area of scholarship is how communities wreck the train on which they (we) all live, and they (we) do so by refusing to acknowledge that disagreement is useful. If you define demagoguery as rhetoric that causes communities to wreck the train on which we live, then the first and most important characteristic is that demagoguery is anti-deliberative. It says that the correct course of action is obvious, and there is no reason to engage anyone who disagrees with Us about that correct course of action. It says disagreement is never useful.

Demagoguery says disagreement isn’t about people who have different ways of thinking, perspectives, values, experiences, goals, but a fight between people who are right and everyone else (people who are wrong). Demagoguery says that, for every and situation or problem, there is a perfect solution that all reasonable people recognize as the correct solution. And, therefore, politics is not about understanding why people disagree, but about persuading, coercing, or excluding everyone who disagrees.

Again, I’m not saying that all positions are equally valid, or even that all positions are valid. I’m saying that reasonable and inclusive disagreements hold all participants to the same standards of reason, proof, evidence, ethics. And I really wish people understood enthymemes, and major premises.

For instance, imagine that we’re disagreeing about whether policing is systemically racist, and that people of color are more likely to be pulled over or treated worse than white people.

One personal experience might be: a person of color getting seriously harassed by a police officer for a minor parking violation. The logic of that argument is: people of color are treated differently by the police because Terry (a person of color) was seriously harassed for a minor parking violation. The assumption is that Terry getting seriously harassed for a parking violation is a sign of police harassment for people like Terry.

That’s taking a single instance of a sign of a larger problem and, as even Aristotle said, that isn’t necessarily proof of the grander claim, but it is evidence. It is a datapoint. So the way to engage that argument, for someone who believed that policing is not racist, would be to argue about whether that datapoint is representative—whether, on the whole, police interactions with people of color are strikingly different from interactions with white people.

But, instead, at least as far as my drifting around in various spaces suggests, the most likely counter-argument is: I am a white person, and I have no trouble with the police because I am polite to them, and therefore the police are not racist.

That is missing the point of the disagreement entirely. That a polite white person has never had a bad interaction with the police is not proof that policing is not racist.

Here is my crank theory: people think it’s proof because they can’t imagine that other people have different experiences. They imagine that they are fully in control of what happens—their behavior, not their identity, caused the police officer’s reaction—and so they assume everyone has that level of control. To think otherwise would threaten their perception of a just world. I once had a bizarre conversation with someone who said that the government should not impose any controls about environmental policy. I asked if she would be okay if someone put a smelting plant next to her house, and she said then the neighbors should band together and buy out the smelting plant. I asked what should happen if the neighbors were poor, and she said, and I’m not kidding, they should stop being poor. She thought that was obvious—it’s a politics of the obvious combined with the (unjust) just world theory.

Rejecting a politics of the obvious means acknowledging that disagreement is useful. That doesn’t mean that people disagreeing have to be nice, or shouldn’t be emotional, or should always soft-pedal their arguments and avoid direct contradiction. It doesn’t mean every point of view is equally valid, or that every disagreement can or should be talked through. But it does mean advocating pluralism (not sloppy relativism). It means disagreeing by responding to the argument someone has actually made, holding all parties to the same standards (e.g., of tone, evidence, rationality), and trying to be internally consistent. It means disagreeing usefully.









What should Dems do? Read Asymmetric Politics

train wreck

I urge anyone who has strong opinions about what the Dems should do to read Asymmetric Politics.

I hate to put my thesis first, but here I will. I’m seeing a lot of centrists arguing that the DNC should support centrist candidates, and self-identified leftists saying it should be leftists. And there are people who are saying that the DNC should have a coherent message, or various other narratives that assume the DNC is at the wheel. The DNC cannot guarantee that opponents of authoritarianism can win the midterms by only putting forward candidates with one ideology and one policy agenda. What will work is cracking holes in the dyke of support for Trump, and that means NOT sharing posts from irresponsible anti-Trump sites. Sharing information that it’s easy for Trump supporters to dismiss as false or misleading confirms their support for him, and their sense of a binary of unbiased and objective people (Trump supporters) and biased liars (his critics and opponents).

Here’s the longer version. Whenever there is a really complicated and nasty political situation, there is a tendency for some people to assert that it’s actually really straightforward, and there is a simple solution. That response is emotionally satisfying, since it’s what people really, really want to hear when things are getting twitchy, but, as a scholar of train wrecks, I can say it’s never true.[1]

There is always a tendency for people to think about policy questions from our own perspective. We unintentionally assume that what we want is what everyone wants (or should want). I always think of this as the Rousseau problem. Rousseau assumed some univocal identity of “the people” who had all the same needs and interests.

Drifting around the digitally-connected world, I’ve learned that there’s an interesting variation on the notion that all real people really have the same needs and interests, and it’s one that troubles anti-authoritarians particularly: the tendency to assume that everyone reasons as we do. There is a tendency among people who oppose Trump to assume that the Dems could win if they just used different rhetoric and/or had a different policy agenda. And it’s always the rhetoric or policy agenda that person endorses. So, it’s an argument that, were the people making decisions in the DNC to behave more like the GOP (one policy agenda, one rhetoric) and find the right policy agenda and rhetoric, then the Dems could win. That isn’t how Dems and potential Dems approach politics.

GOP voters will vote for a dead person rather than a Dem. People likely to vote Dem don’t have that kind of party loyalty. (Which, I think, is good on the whole, but it’s a problem when we’re no longer in a pluralist system.) Dem and potential voters are about policies. So, all that the GOP has to do to win is to persuade potential Dem voters not to vote Dem. That’s how the math works. So, what does that mean about what voters who will not vote GOP, but are unhappy about Dem policies and candidates, should do? And I should say that I really hate the DNC. For all the reasons.

But here’s where I’ve landed.

The current GOP, which is not conservative, has a base that is about ideology and ingroup loyalty (as the conservative Haidt long ago showed). It is reactionary (a topic on which Mark Lilla has written beautifully). And the ideology is strategically vague, but functionally mostly negative (as Paul Johnson has shown): supporting the GOP means [slogans not reasonably attached to GOP policies] and actions that are simply about feeling victimized by the hobgoblin of “libruls.” That approach to politics works because self-identified “conservatives” commitment to loyalty means that they are loyal to their sources of information.

People likely to vote Dem are not motivated by ideology. They (we) care about policies. It’s a coalition. I have to say Asymmetric Politics surprised me—I thought the GOP was a coalition, in that it has people who actually wildly disagree with each other on all sorts of policies, yet they work together. That seemed like a coalition. But a coalition is a group of people with disparate interests who agree to work together.

What I’ve come to believe from drifting into pro-GOP sites and conversations is that supporters of the GOP don’t know they disagree—they just agree on hating on the hobgoblin. Fox is not as extreme as some pro-GOP media sites, and that’s the only one I intermittently check, and they never mention anything that might undermine support for Trump—ranging from his falling asleep, rambling incoherently, openly lying, how many of his policies are oriented toward his family’s pockets, or the irresponsibility and internal incoherence of his policies.

Here’s my point: What matters most about people who currently support the GOP is that their sense of loyalty means that they have no clue what the GOP is actually currently doing.

Showing that progressives won in very pro-Dem areas is not evidence that that particular agenda and rhetoric will work in other areas (although I really, really wish it did.) That advice falsely assumes that Dems are like the GOP—that there is one ideology and one set of policies will work for all potential Dems. There isn’t. There shouldn’t be. That would make the Dems just a mirror image of the GOP; that is, anti-democratic and anti-pluralist.


[1] The book I’ve never written is about toxic self-help rhetoric, and how toxic self-help rhetoric promises “this one weird trick” or “you just have to”. (The adjective is restrictive.) Not all self-help rhetoric is toxic. I’ve got a site that has a lot of advice about scholarly writing—in other words, self-help rhetoric. And it cites a lot of advice and sources that are self-help rhetoric.)