Metablog

Charity sure doesn’t get a lot of love. Many Unfogged commenters don’t like the idea much. (Though more express support.) It’s so frustrating to combat the cynicism of those who think there’s not any hope for people productive rational debate. Take, for instance, comments from SomeCallMeTim:

Particularly when we’re talking about something that has been widely discussed, like abortion, people lining up on different sides have at least slightly different baseline principles. And those baseline principles are themselves contingent on a certain series of assumption about facts and the way those facts relate to other facts, and so on. You can’t really overcome the tendency because you often aren’t trying to overcome one opinion, but a host of them, the vast majority of which never get brought up in the debate for reasons of time, etc.

I think we disagree about the (a) the existence of common priors, (b) how willing we are to change our common priors, and (c) how deeply rooted and, at the same time, contingent belief in a set of common priors really is. I think you’re looking for a coherence, stability, and factuality to beliefs that simply doesn’t exist, for any of us. Debating or arguing is really much more about finding out the shape of a possible deal, with the understanding that, like any deal, someone may pull out down the line when his perceived interests change.

What can you say to that? Perhaps a study that trains people in debating productively, then pits those people in discussions with ideological separated people and see if their position changes more than a control group? Maybe there’s some easier way to test the issue using existing data? Someone call Steven Levitt.

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RCIACID metastasizes! I basically rewrote the last section, and it turned out to be less “rules concerning implication and charity in debate” and more “how to debate charitably”. I think I might split up the page into two. They basically talk about the same thing, but from opposite perspectives, and thus they don’t actually have much substance in common. Decisions, decisions.

Having participated in a couple of discussions in the past day or two, my experience has really driven home, once again, my belief that most people are really terrible at debating. So I decided to write an article about the biggest problem I saw. (I completely gave up on the discussion at Alas, a Blog. The commenters ginmar and Q Grrl especially were guilty of the faults I describe there. Also, I’m not resentful in particular about these discussions, they just happened to be the most recent ones I’ve had that have led me to think about these issues, and thus, to write this post. Also, I’d like to say that LizardBreath is already a quite good follower of the advice I give in the third section of the article, though of course there’s always room for improvement.)

You should really, really go read it now. It’s also right over there on the sidebar, so if you ever want to link to it, you know where to find it.

I remember reading somewhere (don’t feel like googling) that people who spend time in “enemy” forums, like liberals posting at Red State or whatnot, tend to solidify their prejudices about the other side, and rarely really gain a more naunced and sympathetic understanding of their opponents’ positions. I wonder if the dynamic I describe in the article is at least part of the mechanism behind this.

I’ve never liked IM (instant messaging). I’ve never formed a friendship over it. I’ve never advanced existing friendships over it. Now, I’ve found it pretty useful, sure. It helps me keep in touch with coworkers and existing friends.

But I’ve always been so nervous when using IM. Perhaps not as bad as this, but I always worry so much about missing important cues. Does the person really want to talk to me, or are they responding out of politeness? What does it mean when the person doesn’t initiate conversations? How often is often enough, and how often isn’t? I always end up feeling neglected by the people I chat with, or pushy for talking so much, or like I’m holding up all the effort in the conversation. Now, according to some, this makes me paranoid. But am I, really? Well, probably.

I enjoy writing on this blog. I started it to have an outlet for my many, diverse, half-baked and even sometimes fully-baked ideas. Now, a lot of what I enjoy about it is the idea of people reading and enjoying what I write. So when I write, I aim for a pretty wide audience. When I explain technical things, I try to provide a background. I try to include neat metaphors, and a bit of humor, and a lively and fresh cadence. I try to make my writing fully engage the attention of the reader, and to teach them new things and share with them the excitement that I obtain from my ideas. If I fail in that goal, it’s not for a lack of trying.

I think this blog is, more than anything, a place for me to try to make beautiful things. Good writing, on whatever subject. Good software, to the extent that I get any software finished and polished enough to publish. Good ideas and arguments. Beauty is in quality.

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A quote that is often attributed to Ben Franklin goes something like this: “The definition of insanity is doing something over and over and expecting different results.”

Ben Franklin? Really? It’s kind of awkwardly phrased for a writer like him. The definition of insanity? Wow. Someone call the DSM committee.

And the phrase is pretty current. How sad. How cliche. And how inane.

Insanity can be many things, but expecting different results after doing the same action twice is not one of them. For instance, is it insane to keep asking your partner or roommate to pick up their socks when they forget? (Not if they’re willing to try to remember, and they just need to be reminded.) Is it insane to change an option in a program a second time, when the first time it didn’t seem to take effect? (No, programs are buggy and people make mistakes navigating through menus.)

Usually, people use it to condemn those who seem to be unwilling to pay attention to history and learn from it. There are so many better phrases to use for this. Please, please don’t use this one.

Should the manager of an online community be responsible to its commenters, or to its anonymous readers?

Say I put a blog post out, and someone comments (on my blog? hah!) politely and articulately with a question that I think is utterly trivial and silly. (Let’s assume for the sake of this discussion that my judgement accords with that of most readers, which it normally won’t reliably do.) Now, if I want to engage with the commenter, I have to respond to the comment, and enter into a conversation whose starting point is an inane question. This exchange could have value for the commenter, if they’re open-minded. Otherwise, they’re a troll. Let’s assume they’re openminded.

So, a polite, articulate, openminded, and ignorant or slightly stupid person asks a silly and trivial question. I can give that commenter value by answering it. But how much does reading that inane exchange cost my other readers? Is the total cost more than the value I give to that one commenter? Should I delete the comment, and save my other readers the trouble? What if the question is obvious and trivial, but not quite inane or silly?

It seems like the kind of people that usually go to hostile forums tend to have above average debate skills. Thus, they tend to form a low opinion of the debate skills (and thus general intelligence) of the other people in those forums, since those people will have average skills. Now, people tend to overlook logical fallacies supporting positions they already hold (which they can often justify using better reasoning), so they’ll also tend to overestimate the debate skills of people whose conclusions they share. Now, people who don’t go to hostile forums will tend to pick up a lot of their opinion of “the other side” from the people who do, because they don’t have any direct experience with the other side, but they do have exposure to the contrarians’ opinions of the other side.

Oh, look! Polarization! Insularity! Woah, where did that come from?