I enjoyed Daniel Cohen's TED talk, "For Argument's Sake." You can view that talk here:
What are our goals when we argue? Cohen notes that we tell several stories to answer this question. Most of us, most of the time, argue in order to win. We make our points in order to defeat our opponents. We triumph in a debate. We achieve supremacy for our ideas and opinions. In this view, argument is combat. It is adversarial, winner-take-all, and completely focused on the self.
We argue to win.
Cohen notes that there is a profound disability connected with this image of argument. If the goal is to win, then learning equals losing. Cohen describes an argument. One party asks questions in order to gain a deeper understanding of the other party's position. Then that party asks more questions...and even more questions. After a time, the questioning party has a full understanding of the other party's position. The questioner concedes at least some points to the other party.
The responding party has, in one sense, "won" the argument. But who really came out ahead on this deal? Certainly, in the long run, it was the person who gained deeper understanding and empathy. But in our short-run, combative, and ego-driven culture, the winner was the one who actually learned precisely...nothing.
What's wrong with that picture?
I sit with two parties in a dispute. At stake are issues of property or child custody or parenting time or where an elder parent is going to live. The parties are focused on winning. They shoot "facts" at one another like missiles. The defenses go higher and higher to fend off the attacks. They know this isn't working. It hasn't ever worked before. But argument is about winning, and they are not going to lose.
What if we simply change the frame? What if argument is really about learning and problem solving? Suddenly the process ceases to be a battle and becomes a project. The combatants can become collaborators. The parties stop lobbing accusations at one another and begin asking questions.
How can this happen? It isn't magic, but it is a sort of emotional alchemy. Generally, people aren't very good at doing this on their own. A third party--neutral, patient, calm and mindful--can begin to ask those learning questions of each participant. One of my best facilitation tools is the simplest. It is the request, "Help me to understand..."
I'm not asking the parties to understand each other at that point. But they are free to listen in as my understanding is broadened and deepened. When each party can tell a mediator or facilitator their story, this creates some healthy distance between the parties. They can step back far enough to hear what is being said without formulating a barbed response halfway through the comment.
Sometimes, they will seek to do just that. But all I have to do is gently say, "I'd like to hear the rest of this comment first, and then you can have your say." There is a polite pause, in most cases, and the conversation continues. And learning often happens.
I was shaken at first by Cohen's observation that we see learning as losing. My number one strength is that of the "Learner." I wondered if that made me a loser in our contentious culture. Then I realized that it makes me and folks like me a resource. Learning is not losing. Learning is key to real living.
Learning requires openness to new ideas. Learning requires humility. Learning puts my perspectives in the service of some larger framework and goal. Learning means that someone else might know something I don't. Learning means that I might actually still have something to learn. Learning means that I might need to consider changing something about me. Paradoxically, learning is an acknowledgement that the world really isn't about me.
So go ahead and argue. And if you are like Daniel Cohen, you'll look forward to losing a lot.
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