Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Discussion, Not Debate

If I had to distill my $40k-a-year college education into one lesson, it would be this: the difference between a discussion and a debate. And I will be proud if in my life I approach every problem and every question from the perspective of a discussion and not a debate.

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I just finished reading The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable by Nassim Nicholas Taleb, a book that I highly recommend. Taleb describes himself as an academic libertarian, a term that he defines as "someone who considers that knowledge is subjected to strict rules but not institutional authority, as the interest of organized knowledge is self-perpetuation, not necessarily truth" (307). I am very much taken by this idea of academic libertarianism. It seems very apparent to me that the categories created to describe different academic departments are arbitrarily drawn. And while I am sure that there are benefits to having lines drawn between different disciplines, I am also sure that the lines are often taken too seriously and thereby inhibit cross-pollination between disciplines. Taleb criticizes the insularity of Economics departments in particular.

Let me cite at length Taleb's discussion of the confirmation bias, which is a related idea and which I find to be super interesting:

The first experiment I know of concerning [the confirmation bias] was done by the psychologist P.C. Wason. He presented subjects with the three-number sequence 2, 4, 6, and asked them to try to guess the rule generating it. Their method of guessing was to produce other three-number sequences, to which the experimenter would respond "yes" or "no" depending on whether the new sequences were consistent with the rule. Once confident with answers, the subjects would formulate the rule...The correct rule was "numbers in ascending order," nothing more. Very few subjects discovered it because in order to do so they had to offer a series in descending order (that the experimenter would say "no" to). Wason noticed that the subjects had a rule in mind, but gave him examples aimed at confirming it instead of trying to supply series that were inconsistent with their hypothesis. Subjects tenaciously kept trying to confirm the rules that they had made up. (58)

I find this idea about confirmation bias interesting because it addresses the single most important question about people and knowledge, namely, how people become certain about their knowledge.

If we try to avoid the confirmation bias, then it makes sense to try at every point to disprove our hypotheses rather than seek to prove them. This has everything to do with the company that we keep, the conversations that we choose to hold and what we choose to read. If I hold liberal opinions on politics, I should make an effort to associate with conservatives so that I can challenge my ideas and see if they might be disproved in a way. (Obviously, opinions can't be disproved, but they can be undermined.) I should try to understand the thoughts of those who hold beliefs opposite to my own.

Unfortunately, I can't say that I have been particularly successful in avoiding the confirmation bias in this respect.

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I grew up in a household that was not particularly politically aware/active, at least not in the realm of US domestic politics. So when I arrived at Swarthmore, I had a vague idea of what it meant to be liberal or conservative, but by no means a deep understanding. But I happened upon a campus that was overwhelmingly liberal and populated by passionate liberals. So from every direction, I was the recipient of liberal ideology, a situation from which it is most difficult to think independently.

Now that I think back on it, the political environment of Swarthmore lent itself to the confirmation bias. Swarthmore students did not seek to disprove their liberal ideas; instead, they surrounded themselves with others who would only confirm their ideas. Presidential debates and State of the Union speeches were the most telling scenes of the confirmation bias. On a Swarthmore TV screen, it was impossible for President Bush to say anything of merit. Over the "boos" and the mockery, I imagine it would have been nearly impossible to hear the words of Sarah Palin or John McCain during the most recent debates.

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So this is my main point: if we too readily call ourselves "liberal" or "conservative," we take the first step towards engaging in a debate rather than a discussion. In a discussion, you are not trying to convince, you are trying to understand. A discussion in many ways is similar to a debate, but it is importantly seasoned with humility and the earnest desire to understand the other perspective. A debate usually implies an unbending allegiance to one's own beliefs, and the desire to persuade another lends itself to the confirmation bias (you will pull only from evidence that support your argument). A hallmark of intellectual integrity ought to be the willingness to be disproved, and the willingness to change one's opinions.

Ironically, the one lesson that I probably cherish the most from the classrooms of Swarthmore was very seldomly practiced outside the classroom (at least in large public gatherings; behind closed doors, things were a bit better).

1 comment:

PGP said...

Brian,

I don't think the argument around confirmation bias is a new one. In fact, I think the only novel portion of Taleb's book is his argument that black swans are the only "important" things that happen. Philosophy of science has been quibbling about the problem of falsification for a long time -- Kuhn (who I know you've read) and others' arguments are derived solely from this problem.

The problem is actually more acute than just confirmation bias; it is actually extremely difficult to disprove something. Auxiliary assumptions can be used in order to recover against rejections of hypotheses: the "oh, that's the exception" excuse.