Uncharacteristic Depth
A shrink once told me that in a martial arts class he took, the sensei told his students that even if they mastered various fighting techniques, chances were that they would never actually use them in a streetfight. It wasn’t because these techniques weren’t effective. It’s because when a person believes himself to be in danger, he reverts immediately back to instinct. He might know intellectually how to kill a man in three moves, but if he feels truly threatened, he loses his wits and will always be compelled to throw ineffective punches in order to survive.
I’ve noticed this happen a lot in arguments. Fundamentally, although I hate conflict, I find myself drawn to it, and although for the most part I usually do my best to bite my lip and keep my head down in daily life, when it comes to some issues, I can’t help but gird my loins and prepare myself for spine-ripping, Mortal Kombat-style debate. I go into arguments fully expecting to fend off immaculately choreographed attacks from all sides. Yet within less than a minute I start feeling like the people I’m debating keep pushing the “A” button and throwing out wimpy punches that don’t even make sense in the context of the conflict.
It frustrates me that even when I’m not going all Kung-Fu Panda on people’s beliefs, the most innocent and innocuous approaches to issues cause even incredibly smart people to shut down and act like children. Because I’m usually a callous asshole rational, I never understood why people would fight irrationally. Now, I do.
A well-constructed argument often makes people afraid, because it undermines their belief about something. Even if that “something” is trivial, the argument is seen as an attempt to crack the foundation upon which they’ve built their selves and their entire lives. So they bunker down. Rational debate stops because they are afraid that if they open their beliefs up to criticism, they open the door to have their entire identities destroyed.
As some Joe Schmoe talking about a political issue, you’re not just talking to some “person.” You’re talking to a sum total of their identity, their experiences, their prejudices, their hopes, their dreams, their friends, their parents, everything that they see around them. And if that issue undermines some facet of their identity, your interlocutor will stop seriously engaging and start throwing girl-punches.
At the hazard of stating the obvious, political scientists and economists are full of shit. When you talk to someone about an issue that affects their lives, they will rarely be “rational actors.” As a Joe Schmoe, political debate is proving that you’re right to an irrational human being who thinks that what you’re saying is in an attack not only about what they believe, but who they are. And in a democracy, if you want change as a Joe Schmoe, you have to do that repeatedly, until you get enough votes.
But when you’re a lawyer, you only have to prove that you’re right to a reasonable, impartial human being a judge. I think that’s why law appeals to me. Plus, as an added advantage, in the real world, you never win a fight unless the other person concedes. In court, when the judge rules in favor of you, that’s binding and (to a certain extent) final. Effectively, a court order is the equivalent of a judge yelling out “FINISH HIM!” and “FATALITY!”
The moral of all this, I suppose, is that arguing lawyer-style with people who aren’t lawyers is a little like being the asshole that shows up to the paintball field with Kalashnikovs modified to shoot paintballs. People will never take you seriously. (Incidentally, I imagine this is why many attorneys are always unhappy.) Besides, life’s too short for this bullshit. If I want to school haters, I can save it for the judge and get paid for it.
Speaking of judges, anyone else think that Elena Kagan looks kind of like The Penguin?
Justice Kagan dissents!
Confessions of an Aztec Law Student 