How Debating Leads to Despair

Debating seldom achieves a productive resolution without the intervention of a third-party authority, such as the judiciary. This is aptly captured by the old adage, “A man convinced against his will is of the same opinion still.” The futility of debates can lead to cynicism, apathy, and disengagement from civic life; after all, if nothing ever seems to change, why bother? But is debating truly pointless? I suspect that such disillusionment stems from an Aristotelian expectation of conflict resolution, one that mirrors the judicial system’s structure.

In the Aristotelian model, a person perceives injustice, takes a strong position, and enters the debate to prove their stance correct. The goal is to win by either persuading or overpowering the opposition. Logic is the tool, contradictions the enemy, and victory is marked by the proverbial gavel strike that declares a winner. This approach expects an external authority to serve as the arbiter of truth, whether it’s the New York Times, Webster’s Dictionary, or Wikipedia—entities called upon to validate facts, resolve disputes, and ultimately declare one side victorious.

But there is another, less familiar model—Hegelian dialectics—where no third-party referee exists, and contradictions aren’t to be eliminated but embraced. In the Hegelian view, contradictions are not roadblocks but the fuel of progress. The goal of a Hegelian debate is evolution, not resolution.

The divergence between these two modes of thought is fundamental. When one party approaches a debate with Aristotelian expectations and the other with Hegelian ones, frustration inevitably ensues because the goals are incompatible. And, in the world we inhabit, Hegelian debaters are rare.

Take, for example, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. A Hegelian might approach the debate not with the aim of proving one side right and the other wrong, but with the hope that each side would evolve its stance. The contradictions between them, rather than being ironed out or dismissed, would be seen as necessary for each side’s growth. Instead of entering the conversation with a rigid belief in the correctness of one’s position, a Hegelian expects their views to be reshaped and refined in the process. I believe it is for this reason that Slavoj Žižek, a self-proclaimed Hegelian, decried that his opinions got him in trouble with all sides in the Israeli-Palestinian debate.

Personally, I tend to approach debates with Hegelian expectations. As a result, I don’t strongly identify with either Democrats or Republicans. Even when engaging with extreme viewpoints, such as those held by white supremacists, I see potential in the contradictions to evolve my understanding of the world.

This distinction between Aristotelian and Hegelian expectations redefines what it means to have a “productive” debate. For the Aristotelian, productivity is akin to a court ruling: one side is proven wrong and thus forced to change. Without this outcome, the debate is considered fruitless. In contrast, for a Hegelian, the critical question is: did the debate cause the participants’ positions to evolve? If it did, even without a clear-cut victory, the discussion was worthwhile.

This may sound nebulous, but it doesn’t imply that logic is less important. On the contrary, Hegelians, like their Aristotelian counterparts, rely on logic—but for different reasons. Since contradictions are central to Hegelian thought, rigorous reasoning is crucial for articulating and evolving them. It’s not a matter of employing “fuzzy logic,” but rather being precise in understanding and navigating the complexities inherent in contradiction.

Yet, to an Aristotelian, this flexibility can seem like slipperiness. Hegelians, often unwilling to stake out firm positions, may appear evasive, even cowardly. The Aristotelian, intent on cornering their opponent with logical traps, feels as though they’re trying to grasp a shifting target—like catching an eel barehanded. Philosophers such as Jacques Lacan and Ludwig Wittgenstein exemplified this approach, continually revising their philosophies throughout their lives.

This dynamic was vividly illustrated in the much-publicized debate between Jordan Peterson and Slavoj Žižek. Peterson, armed with an Aristotelian critique of Marxism, came prepared for a judicial showdown. But Žižek, true to form, didn’t engage in a conventional Aristotelian argument, leaving Peterson perplexed. “You’re kind of a mystery to me,” Peterson admitted, unable to decipher Žižek’s dialectical maneuvers. Days later, Žižek quipped that Peterson was no mystery to him—a comment that cuts to the heart of the disconnect. We are so accustomed to the Aristotelian mode of debate, institutionalized by our judicial system, that we often fail to grasp the Hegelian alternative.

The Aristotelian approach to debate leads, more often than not, to frustration and despair. It sets an impossible standard where resolution—decisive, final, and satisfying—is rarely achieved without the brute force of external authority. And perhaps this is where the true futility of debate lies: not in the act itself, but in our expectation that every conflict should have a winner.