How to have better arguments

Through the high living room windows, I notice the last light of the sun dipping under the trees behind my house. The television plays a country band at the Grand Ole Opry, quietly to avoid waking the children. My parents sit on the couch, exhausted after babysitting my three young kids. I sit cross-legged on the rug, listening as they describe the night's highs and lows.

"Your mom and I saw a movie last night", my dad switches the topic, "about the election."

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Over two thousand years ago, depicted in Plato's Theaetetus, Socrates lounges in a Palaestra, an ancient greek wrestling school. He's chatting with his friend Theodorus, explaining that he needs help understanding a fundamental question of philosophy: What is knowledge?

Eventually, after some discussion, Socrates addresses the idea of another philosopher. His old friend Protagoras claimed, "Man is the measure of all things" and, "What seems to a man, is to him." Meaning knowledge is relative to each person.

Plato, the author of Theaetetus, was fundamentally at odds with this idea. To Plato, there must be a truth independent of any man, by which all other claims can be measured.

However, after convincingly rebutting Protagoras' claim, Socrates begins praising the very person he seeks to discredit:

Doubtless, as he is older, he may be expected to be wiser than we are. And if he could only just get his head out of the world below, he would have overthrown both of us again and again, me for talking nonsense and you for assenting to me

He claims his opponent is wiser and would successfully rebut him, if he was still alive.

This isn't the only time Socrates says something like this. It's something of a pattern, even a strategy, that he employs.

In Plato's Republic as Socrates attempts to define the perfect state, he says:

Shall we take the other side first and begin by arguing against ourselves? In this manner the adversary's position will not be undefended.

He pauses in his argument to give voice to a strong counter-argument of his would-be opponents. But he doesn't stop there, after rebutting that argument, he moves to a more difficult counter-argument, saying:

A greater [rebuttal] is coming; you will not think much of this when you see the next.

He doesn't address only the weak counter arguments, but the best he can think of. Not only that, he builds up the counter-arguments merits instead of trying to discredit them.

The question is, why would he argue against himself? Why would he build the credibility of his opponent?

In Theaetetus, he addresses this question head-on.

After the manner of disputers, we were satisfied with mere verbal consistency

Here he contrasts disputers, also called Eristics, against philosophers. One group is merely attempting to win an argument, to come up with some phrase that no one else can dispute. They aren't interested in the truth, they are interested in winning.

Instead, a philosopher is chasing after the truth, and that's what Socrates is doing.

That's why he argues against himself.

He's not afraid of the truth, he's afraid of being wrong. So he assumes the best of whoever contradics him, he assumes there's a good reason that they disagree, if only he could discover it.

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"So, basically, they were using cellphone location data", he explained, "to show when these democrats were going to ballot dropboxes."

I had asked what the documentary was about. As he spoke, I reminded myself to keep an open mind and a civil tone. I didn't want to be too aggressive, as I tend to be in political arguments.

"They paired that location data with video footage to prove it was democrats putting tens of thousands of votes into dropboxes. It's called ballot stuffing", he said. Meanwhile, my mom nods her head in agreement. My wife and I glance at each other.

He finally added, "the really interesting thing was how they used the same technology to solve a case for the police in Atlanta. That's how you know it's trustworthy."

I took the bait. Unlocking my phone, I ask, "what did you say the company is called?" Searching the internet for the company and Atlanta, I immediately found an NPR article explaining that the company actually provided the data several months after the culprits were found and charged.

They didn't solve the case, they simply provided data for an already-solved case, unprompted. They just wanted to use it for PR, as a way to build false trust in their business.

That's what I told my dad.

You can guess exactly how the rest of that argument went. We attacked the credibility of the other's sources. We ignored their claims, prefering our own.

No one left with changed views, but everyone left a little upset, our relationships strained a bit more.

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I don't argue like Socrates.

Actually, it's possible Socrates didn't argue like Socrates. After all, most of what we know about him comes from Plato's dialogues. There's no telling how closely his depiction resembles the real man.

But, I digress. No, I don't argue like him. Instead, I focus solely on disputing the other argument. Often, I rely on the Straw Man argument to cut down the weakest forms of my opponent's argument.

But, of course, this isn't the only option.

Instead of strawmanning, I could Steel Man. I could argue against my opponent's strongest arguments, instead of the weakest. But why stop there? I could take it even further with the Star Man, choosing both the strongest counter-argument while also building up my opponent.

Actually, I'm suggesting to take it even further. Yes, I should build up my opponent's credibility; yes, I should argue against their strongest arguments; also, I should argue against myself.

That's dangerous, because the moment I begin arguing for the other side, my opponent could claim victory. Even if they don't, I risk convincing listeners of a point I disagree with. This might be trivial at work, negotiating how to implement some software project; it could be consequential, discussing moral issues with friends or family.

It's also difficult. What if I don't think my opponent or their sources are credible? What if they have no convincing arguments? What if I can't think of any counter-arguments? Naturally, if I oppose someone's view, it's likely for a variety of exactly these reasons. So, to see them as credible or convincing, requires a lot of effort. It requires seeing their perspective, understanding what they care about, and identifying which principles guide them.

So, what makes it worth the cost and effort?

When I look to Socrates, I see that it begins with changing my goal.

wonder is the feeling of a philosopher, and philosophy begins in wonder

The argument's goal must shift from winning to wonder, to discovering truth.

First, as I switch goals to finding the truth, I can drop the view that I'm talking to an opponent. Instead, as cheesy as it may sound, I can think of them as a partner in the search for truth. This framing lowers my defenses even when I know my partner doesn't share my goal.

Suddenly, the argument is less tense, because I'm searching for the truth with a partner instead of fighting an opponent.

But it doesn't stop there. I also gain empathy and understanding for my partner's views. Because, in order to argue for another's view, I typically have to express their view.

If you've heard of Cunningham's Law, you know what I mean. Giving the wrong answer is the best way to get the right answer.

As soon I misrepresent their view, they'll call me out. This has happened to me many times (I'm pretty bad at understanding people, it seems). I'll rephrase someone's argument or attempt to build upon it, only to hear emphatically, "no, that's not what I'm saying at all." If I hadn't attempted to rephrase their view, I would have inadvertently argued against a Straw Man. Once I can restate and add upon their view, I also begin to discover shared values and concerns. These quickly become common ground that I build upon.

With that common ground, I also give myself credit in my partner's eyes. To them, I'll also no longer be an opponent, simply trying to dispute their idea. I've become a partner who understands their view and shares their concerns.

With that shared foundation, we can seek the truth together.

Disputers

Unless, of course, you're talking with a disputer.

Let's assume for a moment that you decided not to be one. You are truly arguing, discussing, in good-faith; in search of the truth. But your partner? Not so much. They want to win.

There's no need to fear, because all is not lost.

There's a strategy I refer to as Granting the Premise, which can allow you to have a productive conversation with someone who is otherwise difficult, or working off of very different assumptions than yourself.

Imagine you're at the Thanksgiving dinner table when your uncle claims that the recent election was stolen. Millions of fake votes were cast. There needs to be a recount, even a revote.

What's your immediate reaction?

If you're like me, you'll begin to debate his premise.

No, the election was not stolen. Where is the evidence? And so on.

You might pull up articles, reputable sources of information, and prove without a doubt (at least, you have no doubts) that the election was not in fact stolen.

A good-faith arguer would likely say, "thanks for bringing this to my attention". They would then take into account your new evidence, go back and compare it to what they heard before, and perhaps even seek out more sources so that they can understand the truth.

That happens all the time, right?

No, instead they begin to spew their own facts, and we all begin to attack the credibility of each other's sources. The conversation is altogether unproductive, and no one leaves with their view changed.

Instead, we can grant the premise. As scary as it may sound, you can say something like, "let's assume for a moment that the election was stolen" and begin to try to understand if their conclusion logically follows from their premise.

In our Thanksgiving dinner case, we might ask, why would a do-over help? Won't the election still be vulnerable to tampering? Could it be more vulnerable since there's less time to prepare? What other options do we have, besides redoing the election?

The point is, you are no longer trying dispute their initial claim. This is particularly helpful in cases where the initial claim was never based on hard facts or evidence, but was instead chosen because of feelings. In these situations, no amount of evidence or counterargument is going to help.

However, when you grant their premise, you can find out if their conclusion logically follows their initial claim. This can lead to an actual change in views, by showing that even with their initial claim, their conclusion doesn't make sense.

Or, on the flip side, you may discover that their argument has more merit than you thought.

It could also lead to questions that neither of you thought of before. In the election example, maybe you both begin to wonder why you even need to ask these questions about our elections? How could we create a system with more transparency, one that everyone could trust?

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Extra stuff

Of course, Plato already outlined this form of argument through Socrates.

The disputer may trip up his opponent as often as he likes, and make fun; but the dialectician will be in earnest, and only correct his adversary when necessary,