It is no secret that I enjoy a healthy debate. I enjoy pitting arguments against one another and finding out which is better. I enjoy discovering some truth that I heretofore did not know or was otherwise mistaken about.
One of the most common criticisms that I see about religion is that there are too many disagreements and that disagreements are counterproductive. One party disagrees with another party, and so the skeptic throws up his hands and concludes “there is no way I can know what is right and what is wrong.” This, ironically, often leads to “I need an authority to tell me what to do” which doesn’t actually solve the problem.
I have long been sceptical about the benefits of arguing; because the result of any significant argument is settled in advance by fundamental (metaphysical) assumptions concerning the nature of that reality under discussions.
Unless the metaphysical assumptions can first be acknowledged, then the argument will necessarily be futile or counter-productive – at least in the short-term.
(Sometimes an argument may have a delayed beneficial effect – that can happen.)
It is usually less productive to argue with someone who is very different from you than someone whose beliefs are closer to your own. This may seem unintuitive, but it is true. Christians are better off correcting other similar Christians because non-Christians simply have too divergent worldviews.
There are exceptions to this, of course, such as atheists who are seekers of truth or True Believers who wouldn’t adjust their view even if their views were deductively proven incorrect by sound, iron-clad arguments. But, all else equal, the more people share similar metaphysical views, the more likely that argument and debate will change someone’s mind.
This is easily demonstrated in the realm of politics. While local, state, or federal politicians may bicker and fight just as intensely on both scales, the local politicians (e.g. school boards) are much more likely to come to amicable and non-partisan solutions. That’s because the local community tends to share similar metaphysical assumptions about reality. In the end, it is the result, not the nature of the debate, that matters.
The same is true in the Church. The New Testament teachings of Jesus and Paul focus almost entirely on conflict resolution among members of the Church. In general, the New Testament teaches that conflicts should be actively addressed within the Church but avoided outside of the Church.
Conflict avoidance—the Cult of Nice—among those who are metaphysically aligned can be quite harmful. This is how errors are introduced, incorporated, and compounded. It becomes nearly impossible to resolve such errors.
I recently got involved in a discussion where my interlocutor complained that I was concerned with metaphysical assumptions:
But what you’re really doing is setting up an infinite regression of premise and a premise for that and any premise for that and a premise for that. You’re not really interacting with what I’m saying you’re having a Meta argument about hermeneutics.
It’s not clear that you have a foundation at which premises end. You’re calling my foundation, which is scripture, arbitrary or circular.
I was, indeed, explicitly requesting my interlocutor to explain his metaphysical assumptions. He declined to do so. I responded by ending the debate:
What you call “epistemological circularity” pertains to fundamental assumptions (or axioms) which underlying all arguments. I’m concerned with the possibility of circular reasoning in your stated argument, which as nothing to do with your epistemology (as such).
If you can’t (hypothetically) structure your arguments (whether inductive or deductive) in a logically valid form without assuming the conclusion of your argument, then nothing more can be said. The conversation is over.
I needed to know whether his claim was an assumption (a premise, axiom, or metaphysical belief) or the reasoned conclusion of his argument. In other words, was his argument starting or ending with what he wanted me to believe? Without knowing this, there was no point in continuing further.
When I argue I am looking for someone who has compatible metaphysical assumptions to my own. I often say that I write first and foremost for myself. It is a way to collect my thoughts with someone who shares a 100% metaphysical alignment. After that, if what I write helps others in the short- or long-term, that’s great.
My discussion with Joseph Ray illustrates how debate is supposed to happen. The presence of debate should be a indication of ideological similarity. We should be able to see conflict and go “these two are similar” and look at a lack of conflict and say “these two are very different.” Or, to put it another way:
We don’t negotiate with terrorists.
It’s not an “own goal” to debate those who are similar to you. It’s not an “own goal” to focus your logic and reason on those who are on your own side. Don’t buy the lie that conflict among like-minded individuals is inherently wrong.
It is, however, a mistake to try to convince (by way of argument) those on any side who are not listening and have no intention of doing so. If you have to engage in such debate, do so for the audience (i.e. the long term impact). But, at least consider bowing out entirely.