Need Everything Be A Debate?

We’re in a political epoch where no principle, institution, or authority is sacred. Everything is questioned, debated, and assessed within an inch of its life. Sometimes, it's unclear if there’s anything we all universally agree upon – if there is anything hallowed, permitted to go unquestioned.

Political change is undoubtedly essential as an agent of progress, but sometimes we broaden debate so much that we lose focus on what matters. I recently spent a lecture entertaining debates on whether we have a right to raise our own children, a question that frankly doesn’t merit awfully intense deliberation, which got me thinking: what else do we spend far too much energy scrutinising?

Critical culture grows increasingly overextended, with a lack of universal or objective truth plaguing what could have been constructive conversations. The desire to question everything, everywhere, all the time, is likely linked to growing distrust in government and the increasing stigma that everyone in a position of authority is a self-serving egoist, which often veers from mere scepticism into damaging cynicism. 

We journalists, editorial writers, and cultural commentators aren’t free of blame either; we pen articles discussing pretty much anything. It’s harder than you might suspect to find something that hasn’t been written about to death, expanding our already over-extended critical culture to the written medium, eroding poignancy in exchange for raw argument for its own sake. Sometimes, it feels like we want to find the nearest wall to shout at.

Weariness from incessant critiques isn’t necessarily an assault on debate, which is obviously healthy for a functioning democracy. That statement itself exemplifies the issue this article attempts to highlight. As support for democracy wanes, people question whether ‘democracy is virtuous’ or even whether it should remain a societal aim at all (though anti-democrats remain a small minority). 

There is a genuine debate to be had about whether democracy is an objective good nowadays, as if describing something as democratic is on the verge of a pejorative shift. One of the most influential forces in human history is the allure of bread and circuses, with a powerful personality claiming they, and only they, have all the answers to society’s blights. While such figures regularly amount to little more than political con artists, there are flashpoints in which their opportunities arise, and the current rise in political violence could well be such a point.

Within a democracy, you would suspect that political violence against those with views different to your own is universally rejected. Yet, even that isn’t a universal principle, proven by the recent assassination of Charlie Kirk. Has politics become so tribal that these long-standing facts can’t transcend the thirst for debate? If we cannot unite against political violence, we fuel polarisation, providing the democratic cracks through which cult-of-personality con artists flourish.

So much of what we discuss, politically or culturally, is rather harmless. Conversation, particularly opinionated conversation, is always fun, especially when views joust in unpredictable, but altogether entertaining ways. It’s why US Presidential debates are so popular; the two candidates for the most powerful position in the world are arguing just like the rest of us do – with subpar manners. 

As aforementioned, the journalist sphere is, on the whole, relatively harmless. A lot of ‘debates’ held within this domain are constructive or comedic and light-hearted, and to produce an argument solely for the purpose of entertainment is as valid a reason as any. A humorous article that comes to mind is the weighing up of the worst benches on the University of Warwick campus, which can hardly be seen as a societal hindrance. The production of opinions and satirisation are distinctly human traits after all. 

So where do we draw the line? Where does a fun discussion become obstructive? Well, it’s obviously not the easiest of questions to answer, but said answer is likely grounded in what a contested conversation is purposed for. Comedy is one thing, but if someone’s actively trying to convince someone to join their side of an argument, it has a more proactive political purpose, which is fine in and of itself. The whole point of political debate centres around the art of persuasion, even if it’s typically more so two echo chambers shouting down the hall at each other. However, this question is important, so we don’t start unironically weighing up whether The Onion is the greatest threat to the modern world (spoiler: it isn’t). 

Since we’re left with what we’ll call the proactively political debates, we then have to consider an argument for and against both sides that you can reasonably imagine someone positing. Continuing with the American politics theme, someone may ask, ‘Should I vote Democrat or Republican?’ It isn’t difficult to conjure up reasoned responses for either. Even for the side of that argument you wouldn’t personally take, you can still make a plausible one-sentence case. Those who are left-leaning would probably emphasise being part of the many, not the few, whereas those who are right-leaning would probably emphasise protecting American values. Hence, one can easily and concisely reflect views not only held by many, but also on reasonable issues that hold significance to the sensible majority of the US electorate. Such a debate is therefore likely to be constructive, or at least has a chance at being so.  

The lecture I recently endured about the right to parent one’s offspring does not pass such a test. It’s not intended for entertainment, and thus passes the first round, but not only can the argument against it not be logically and reasonably briefly be summarised, but the argument in favour will typically end up being as simple as ‘because it is’. This sounds reductionist, like I’m making a straw man of this argument, but walking out of the lecture, that was the consensus that several others and I reached. With all due respect to the intellectuals who spend swathes of their lives debating such topics, it feels as if entering a rigorous debate on such an issue legitimises the discussion in a way that lacks utility in providing a fruitful, and above all, necessary challenge to the political status quo, like constructing a sandcastle as the tide begins to come in.   

Now, my argument here could easily be taken out of context. No, I’m not saying this test is the be-all and end-all of what you should or shouldn’t talk about. Free speech is an objective good (though, befitting this article, it has to be said that’s no longer a universal view), and how you choose to use that right is, well, up to you. It’s just that political discourse is important, and it’s worth not spending all of it debating anything and everything, and instead focusing our efforts on conversations that might truly impact our day-to-day political lives. 

The obvious counterargument here is to insert some notable political change of the past few centuries and suggest it otherwise wouldn’t have happened, which, to be frank, is a load of horseradish. Focused conversation doesn’t prevent change, but channels it. The most significant political changes stemmed from continual discussion and debate over the most critical issues at the time. Thus, within such parameters, any such social upheaval wouldn’t have just occurred, but excelled. 

Regardless, this is an argument being made in the present for the present, not as some form of precedent that ought to have always applied. It’s just that we talk so much at present about non-issues, or what should be considered non-issues, when there are so many debates facing the Western world that we scarcely consider, given their immense importance. 

In this hyper-tribalistic age, it really would serve us all well if there were just a few things we all agreed on. It would make our debates on ideological and geopolitical issues far more productive, and, to be honest, far more pleasant. Democracy is good; political violence is bad; we have a right to parent our own children; there is a spectrum for the civility of cultures; climate change is exacerbated by mankind, so on and so forth. Of course, you could disagree on these things. As a result, we could debate them, in turn making the utility of this article comparable to the very discussions it intended to discourage. 

Irony does sting a little.

Image: Wikimedia Commons/Anselm Feuerbach

Licence: public domain.

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