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Edited on Wed Nov-22-06 04:55 PM by Writer
Today I got into an online spat with another poster about a particular topic. I won't get into details, but it took the typical turns of arguments on threads: a back and forth exchange involving passionate opinion and the periodic personal jab. It was all quite ridiculous, because the topic itself doesn't even fall into my "Top 100 Things I Really Give a Damn About" list, but the nature of the exchange sucked me in, and I am extremely human.
But I'm writing this because I experienced something rather odd: if you had asked me a few days ago about this topic I likely would have thrown my hands in the air and have said, "Who cares?" But the passion my co-argumentee displayed on the topic kept pushing the envelope. I felt myself grow more and more extreme on the topic, until something I really don't give much thought to (and really still don't) ended up defining me in a way that wasn't genuine. It was the argument, and not the topic, that encouraged my opinion.
A couple of years ago I performed a little focus group research on Moore's film "Fahrenheit 9/11." The question I asked was if the movie actually influenced voting behavior in the 2004 Presidential election. I did a pre-survey, showed the movie, then distributed a post-viewing survey. I then followed their opinions, controlling for media exposure, until Election Day. I discovered that not only did "F 9/11" not influence votes, but that a couple of people were actually turned off from caring about the election altogether because of the tone/nature of the documentary. Also, I had a couple of individuals not want to participate in the survey at all because they were Republican, so I was stuck with mainly Democrats and independents. That should say something right there.
Moore's film is an argument, which if one could sum it up, it would be "Here's all the shit Bush has done up until now, so why should we continue supporting this guy?" But that argument used the language of individuals already supporting his opinions in order to push his perspective. It was, indeed, an anti-Bush polemic that questioned the status quo of the time.
My friend the co-argumentee also wishes to challenge the status quo, but the more she pushed, the more resistant I became to her opinion. I think there is a lesson here about how one challenges the status quo. Is it effective to argue in a manner that eviscerates any alternative? That fails to see any shades of grey or of compromise? That sees fault only in other actions, but not in one's own? Strong argumentation, like that which we've witnessed over the last several years on talk radio and opinion television, does little to further democracy. It also exposes democracy to our natural irrationality.
So next time you argue, and this will include me, think about what you and the person with whom you're arguing have IN COMMON, instead of where you differ. You'll never be able to change the other person's minds, but you just might learn something.
The End.
On edit: Grammar whoring
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