How to Disagree Well: A Step-By-Step Guide

Step 1: Make sure you’re actually having a disagreement.

Lots of people think they’re having disagreements when they’re not. For example, here are some things that, as stated, are not disagreements:

• Person A: “Hiring decisions should consider diversity.” Person B: “Hiring decisions should consider qualifications.”
• Person A: “Black lives matter!” Person B: “All lives matter!”
• Person A: “Defund the police!” Person B: “Defund the media!”
• Person A: “Humans are the product of biological evolution.” Person B: “Evolution is nonsense; humans obviously didn’t come from monkeys!”
• Person A: “Cilantro is great! So fresh!” Person B: “Cilantro tastes like dirt!”

There’s no point in having an argument when you don’t actually disagree, and so far, we can’t say for sure that any of these people disagree. Why not? Well, let’s try to locate the specific idea that A & B disagree about. Take the first example: should hiring decisions consider diversity or qualifications? Hopefully it’s obvious that the answer could be “both.” Let’s go deeper. Maybe A and B think they’re disagreeing about affirmative action. So maybe what A is really saying is that diversity should be used to break ties in hiring decisions or maybe that we should incentivize diverse applicants. And maybe what B is really saying is that we should not let diversity override experience and skill. But again, all of these claims can be true simultaneously.

Hopefully, the problem is starting to become clear. Before we can ever even try to have a successful argument about anything, we need to first do the work of finding out what our beliefs actually are, and whether they even conflict!

Consider the second example: here, B’s claim taken as stated actually entails A’s claim (unless of course B doesn’t consider Black lives to be real lives). And yet both A and B typically think they’re disagreeing with each other. But what is it, specifically, that A accepts and B rejects, or vice versa? Is A really claiming that only black lives matter, as B seems to think? Is B really claiming that black lives don’t matter? In order to have a real disagreement about this, more specificity is needed. The same is true for the third example: what does it mean to “defund the police”? Do A and B understand this in the same way? As for the fourth example, it includes an ambiguity in the concept “evolution,” so that A and B are probably using the same word in different ways. And the fifth example is about mere preferences, which are neither true nor false. In none of these cases do we have a disagreement yet.

Here’s how a philosopher would explain what’s going on: none of these examples involve specific, inconsistent claims about the same proposition; to disagree is to make specific, inconsistent claims about the same proposition; hence, these cases are not disagreements.

“Proposition” is philosopher-speak for the truth-valued content of a declarative sentence. In other words, when you make a claim, it’s the thing in your claim that is either true or false. If I say, “It’s raining,” and my friend Jacques says, “Il pleut,” we have asserted the same proposition (namely, that it is raining). Even though our sentences are different, their propositional content (think of it as the core idea) is the same, which means that if one is true, then so is the other one. “Inconsistent” means that the asserted propositions cannot be true simultaneously.

When we went looking for what A and B were really saying, we were looking for the proposition that they were asserting. And because we couldn’t find propositions that necessarily conflict with each other, there’s no disagreement.

So the first step to having a successful disagreement — or any disagreement for that matter — is to locate the proposition that is in dispute. After all, there’s no sense in arguing with someone we agree with!

Step 2: Avoid the twin errors of dogmatism and relativism.

Dogmatism is the view that at least some of my beliefs cannot be wrong. I call it the Jenga model of belief, because the dogmatist’s entire belief structure is precarious. If one belief goes, they all go. Dogmatists are typically unwilling to engage in dialogue with a disagreeing partner, unless it’s for evangelistic purposes. They need their beliefs to be true, so they’re unwilling to consider the possibility that they might be wrong. Left unchecked, dogmatism leads to intolerance, or hostility towards the views of others. It’s impossible to have a successful disagreement when you’re hostile to all other views. In practice, dogmatists tend to react to disagreement by either taking offense or trying to escape.

Relativism is the view that all opinions are equally valid. It’s the you do you approach to belief. “Everyone can be right, so there’s no need to argue.” It sounds inviting, even friendly, but it’s hiding a dark secret: it can’t possibly be true. I don’t just mean that we can’t know who’s right. I mean it can’t be true. Relativism, in the simple form I’m discussing here, is what philosophers call self-refuting. That means that in order to assert it, you must also hold that it is false. In other words, you’re committed to contradictory propositions. Imagine disagreeing with a relativist. They say, “We can both be right!” You say, “Is that true?” If they say “No,” then they’ve rejected their own view. On the other hand, if they say “Yes,” then they’re affirming both “We can both be right” (their view) and “At most one of us is right” (your view), which is a contradiction. Relativism makes successful disagreement impossible because it disallows asserting that any propositions are true or false. But of course everyone believes that all sorts of propositions are true or false. In real life, relativism simply means ignoring disagreement, not resolving it.

A better approach is fallibilism. This is the view that any of my beliefs could in principle be mistaken, but I’m willing to act on the best evidence I have at the moment, and change my mind if I get new evidence that points in another direction. Since I don’t need any of my beliefs to be true at all costs, I’m not susceptible to the Jenga problem. And since I’m still willing to take a stand on the truth of my beliefs, I can avoid the relativism problem too. Fallibilism is more or less a scientific approach to belief. We believe the results of the best theories we currently possess, while remaining open to new data.

Step 3: Learn to see disagreement as a good thing.

This one will likely take some practice. Many people view disagreement as judgmental. There is some evidence that this sentiment is becoming more common. To open yourself to disagreement is to admit that you are fallible. This is uncomfortable.

The key here is to see that admitting your own limits is the only way to know anything. If I think I already know, then I do not need to ask, nor engage with anyone else to try to find out. But as Socrates taught us, such people are nearly always the least knowledgeable. The wise person is the one who admits that they do not know, so that they can begin the process of seeking the truth.

This is why we see throughout the history of philosophy a willingness — you might even say an urgency — to be corrected. Socrates presents refutation as a trait of friendship: “I hope that you will refute me, and not weary of doing good to a friend.” (Gorgias, 470c) Confucius says, “When walking with two other people, I will always find a teacher among them. I focus on those who are good and seek to emulate them, and focus on those who are bad in order to be reminded of what needs to be changed in myself.” (Analects, 7.22)

In other words, disagreement is almost the best thing that can happen to a person, because it’s the only way we have to know if we’re on the right track. Learning to see it this way will go a long way toward helping deal with it when it happens.

Step 4: Surround yourself with people who try to do it well.

John Stuart Mill said, “Complete liberty of contradicting and disproving our opinion is the very condition which justifies us in assuming its truth for the purposes of action; and on no other terms can a being with human faculties have any rational assurance of being right.” Obviously, you’re not going to satisfy this condition if you never encounter anyone who disagrees with you. So Mill argued that rational people should be able to defend their opinions against the most passionate, able proponents of opinions that they reject.

Now, this doesn’t mean that everyone should go looking for the most committed flat-earther and start a dialogue. Some views don’t deserve representation or engagement (that’s an article for another time). But it does mean that part of learning to see disagreement as a good thing is being around people who are good at it, or who are at least trying to be good at it.

Like pretty much everything else we do, successful disagreement is a learned skill, and it improves with practice. Hence, cultivating a critical environment is key to becoming good at it (indeed, time spent in a critical environment is a pretty good working definition of expertise, which is why experts tend to be better at disagreement than non-experts, though there are always exceptions).

How many disagreeing acquaintances do you need? I’d say enough to keep you from becoming complacent. Somewhere between the extremes of living in a bubble of agreement and never having a moment’s peace, there’s a healthy balance that keeps you on your toes, but doesn’t exhaust you. As with physical exercise, you want to challenge yourself, but allow for adequate rest too. Try to find that balance.

Step 5: Commit to following the evidence where it leads.

This, too, is an ancient ideal. Socrates says in the Republic, “…wherever the argument, like a wind, tends, there we must go.” (394d) Fundamentally, this is a commitment to open-mindedness. As philosopher Thomas Kelly says, the person who follows the evidence where it leads “is genuinely open to believing anything that it might become reasonable for her to believe.” (“Following the Argument Where It Leads,” 113) This is as simple as saying to oneself, “I will believe the outcome of the best argument, whatever it is.” And it’s as difficult as admitting, “This may take me somewhere I’m uncomfortable with.”

This step may sound obvious, but it’s a tall hurdle for a lot of people. Of the myriad disagreements I’ve witnessed and engaged in on social media, I can count on a couple of hands the times when someone actually changed their mind. Far more often, everyone leaves feeling frustrated and like they’ve wasted their time.

Disagreement works best when it is a collaborative, good-faith exchange of reasons. If one party isn’t willing to alter their view, then the exchange is no longer happening in good faith, and the discussion can only go so far. If you can’t commit to following the evidence, then I recommend not engaging in disagreement in the first place. And I intend no shame here either: some may have legitimate psychological or social reasons to avoid disagreement. For others, the reasons may be less healthy. Either way, engaging in bad faith won’t do anyone any good.

Step 6: Be informed.

An implication of Step 5 is that one will be aware of the evidence. This means taking all reasonable steps to be informed of the relevant facts pertaining to the issue at hand. It doesn’t mean that one must be an expert to have a disagreement. It does mean that one should be aware of what the relevant experts think, and why, in general, they think what they do. If we are going to have a successful disagreement about, say, abortion, then we owe it to each other to be aware of the major lines of argument both for and against the moral and legal permissibility of abortion. If I’m not familiar with this, then I have no business engaging in argument with you about something I don’t fully understand. Knowing what you’re talking about is necessary for succeeding in the argument (see next step). But more than that, it’s a form of respect for your interlocutor.

Step 7: Learn how to argue.

If you’re going to see a disagreement through its natural course (rather than shutting down, running away, or resorting to hostile personal attacks), then you’re going to eventually have to make a case for your view. Making good arguments is difficult, and those who do it best have had years of training and practice in the kind of critical environment I described in Step 4. I wish I could tell you there was a shortcut around this practice, but there isn’t. To get started, I recommend reading a good general introduction to argument, critical thinking, and rhetoric written by a philosopher, such as this one. You might also consider a free online course in critical thinking such as this one.

It’s important to understand how arguments work (logic), how to use them to convince others (rhetoric), and common mistakes to avoid (fallacies). Since these topics easily fill a semester-long course, I obviously can’t cover them here. But I can give you a few general tips for arguing well:

• Do your best to share all of your evidence. This includes all of the reasons you are aware of that lead you to believe what you do, where those reasons came from, how confident you are about each one, and why you give each of them the weight that you do.
• Make absolutely sure you understand the other person’s view. The best way to confirm this is to listen carefully to their presentation of their evidence, ask clarifying questions until you’re sure you understand, and then repeat their view back to them and ask if you’ve correctly understood it. Do not proceed with your argument until they confirm your restatement. It’s not enough to make a show of listening; you must prove that you have understood before critiquing.
• Honestly assess whether the person you are disagreeing with is a peer, a superior, or an inferior with respect to the issue at hand. A peer is someone who is as informed as you are (this includes possession of the relevant facts as well as time spent considering the issue), as good as you are at assessing evidence of this type, as intellectually virtuous as you are, as smart as you are, and as attentive as you are. A superior is someone who surpasses you in any of these areas; an inferior is someone whom you surpass in any of these areas. If you are arguing with an inferior, then your goal should be primarily to be informative, while recognizing that they may still have caught something that you have missed. If you are arguing with a superior, then your goal should be primarily to learn, while recognizing that you may still have caught something that they have missed. If you are arguing with a peer, things are a bit trickier (I literally wrote a dissertation about this). In short, sometimes both parties suspending judgment about their views is best, while sometimes sticking to their views and trying to convince each other is best, and the difference largely depends on context. But this situation is relatively rare. In the vast majority of disagreements you are likely to encounter, you and your interlocutor will not be peers.
• Do your best to see the issue from their perspective. Ask yourself, “If I took their view, what would I say to me?” Think of the best argument you could give against your own view (even if it isn’t exactly their argument), and see if you find it plausible. If you don’t find it plausible, see if you can spell out its weaknesses. This will help you to sympathize with their perspective, even if you ultimately reject it. Soberly considering the reasons for a competing view helps to avoid the trap of assuming that the other person must be irrational.
• Give the benefit of the doubt. This is important on two levels: the intellectual and the moral.
  
  Intellectual: The fact is that the person you’re disagreeing with is probably rational. Now, that doesn’t mean they’re correct, and it doesn’t mean that you should agree with them. It simply means that what they believe is probably supported by the evidence they possess. It might not be perfectly supported, and people are not always consistent with their own principles, but unless you’re arguing with a flat-earther or a child, you shouldn’t assume that the person is just picking their beliefs at random. Most likely, they’ve had some experience or read some book or knew someone they took to be an authority, and those things have led them to the opinions that they hold. And very likely, if you had had their experiences, you might very well find their opinion plausible as well. This does not mean that we have to throw our hands up and give up on truth (that would be relativism — see Step 2). But it does mean that we should go into a disagreement assuming that the other person is reasonable to believe as they do — at least until they prove otherwise.
  
  Moral: Don’t assume that someone’s view on Issue X makes them a bad person. Just as most people are rational, so most people are basically well-meaning, and they at least intend to do good. Of course, we all know what good intentions get us in the long run, but for the purposes of argument, it’s important that you try to see your interlocutor as someone with a good will, who is engaged in the same project of improving the world as you, even if they’re coming at it from a different angle. At least, we should commit to believing this until they give us reason to doubt their good will. Just holding Position Y on Issue X is not sufficient reason all by itself to doubt someone’s good will, until we understand their reasons for holding to Y.
  
  Here’s a current example: Person A asserts that race-based affirmative action policies are unfair. Person B strongly disagrees. Should B believe that A is an immoral person? This depends on A’s reasons for their position. If it turns out that A believes this because of a misunderstanding of either historical systemic racism, or of the policies themselves, then B should probably conclude that A is just honestly mistaken, but not wicked. If A believes this because of experiences that A has had of being discriminated against because of A’s minority racial status, then B should sympathize with A’s intentions and conclude that A is motivated by similar moral values as B, even if A is mistaken about the relationship between their experience and the policies. On the other hand, if A’s position on affirmative action is due to a belief that white people are intrinsically superior to other races, then it is reasonable for B to conclude that A possesses a character flaw. Notice, however, that prior to knowing A’s reasons, it would be inappropriate for B to conclude anything about A’s moral character.
  
  Now, obviously this implies that there are beliefs which automatically signal character flaws, because a fully virtuous person would not be tempted by the reasons for such beliefs. This would include, for example, the belief that white people are naturally superior, or that Jews aren’t fully human, or that LGBTQ+ people are intrinsically immoral. People with such beliefs would be moral analogues of our flat-earthers. These people obviously exist (in disappointingly large numbers), and what should be done about them is an open question. But my point here is simply that we should not assume that our interlocutor is in this category until we have good reason to do so. Assuming that all supporters of Issue X are __ is typically a bad rhetorical strategy, both because it is usually inconsistent with the evidence, and because stereotyping your interlocutor is a good way to end a conversation before it starts.
• Appeal to shared values & authorities. If possible, appeal to premises that will be meaningful and important to your interlocutor. For example, if a theist is arguing with an atheist about the existence of God, it’s probably a bad idea for the theist to start with premises about the Bible. Since atheists have no particular respect for the Bible, this would likely fail to be compelling. It would be better for the theist to find areas of commonality, such as (say) a respect for the explanatory power of science, and then work from there.
  
  Relatedly, it’s important to highlight positives and areas of agreement in the other person’s position before critiquing its weaknesses. A trick that I have found useful is to first try to state two or three things — even one is better than none — that you like about the other person’s view or the way that they hold their view (protip: if all else fails, opt for “I appreciate your willingness to engage in dialogue about this”). This makes them more receptive to the critique to follow.
• Don’t rush; wait til you’re calm and in control. Good arguments take time. Each party should commit to seeing it through to the extent feasible, or else it’s not worth doing. Also, taking your time makes it easier to maintain composure, especially about heated, controversial issues with high stakes. Note that being calm and in control is not the same as being stoical or lacking emotion. Sometimes strong emotion — including negative emotion — is both appropriate and rhetorically effective. But uncontrolled outbursts of emotion, condescension, sarcasm, or personal attacks, even when understandable, can hurt your cause and give your interlocutor reason to dismiss your view.
• Be funny if you can. If you can’t, be polite. Not everyone is Kevin Hart or Tina Fey. Know your limits. Sometimes a well-placed gif or emoji can cover a multitude of sins.

Step 8: Learn how confident you should be.

This might be the most important step on this list (though the next two are contenders too). Self-assessment is difficult under ideal circumstances, and most of us are not in ideal epistemic circumstances. Nonetheless, it is absolutely crucial that we ask ourselves, before and during a disagreement, “How sure am I about this?” and “How sure should I be?” This step comes after the others for good reason: being in a critical environment (Step 4) teaches you the difference between earned and unearned confidence; following the evidence (Step 5) teaches you how much evidence it really takes to be justifiably confident about anything substantive; being informed (Step 6) teaches you how much grey area there is in controversial issues; and learning to argue (Step 7) teaches you that making a compelling case for almost anything (especially in a critical environment) is really damn difficult.

The fact is that most of us dramatically overestimate our knowledge and our level of certainty about that knowledge. Overconfidence is a cancer, and it will kill us if we let it go unchecked. The opposite of overconfidence is intellectual humility. Humility is sometimes confused with self-deprecation, but that’s not what it is. Humility, of the intellectual kind or any other, requires at least two things: (a) an outward focus, and (b) an accurate self-assessment. People with low self-esteem may have (a) but not (b). Vain people may have (b) but not (a). (Of course, both sorts of people may lack either.) Humble people have both.

The intellectually humble person will know both her own limitations and strengths, and how important it is to rely on others for what she knows. She’ll be focused on learning from experts, and on making a genuine contribution rather than the appearance of making a contribution. She will recognize that her own opinions are not obviously true, and will understand disagreement itself to be evidence of this. She will be quick to say “I don’t know” when she doesn’t know. And she won’t succumb to the pressure to pretend that she knows, or to excuse her ignorance by redirecting attention to all the things she does know.

Moreover, she will readily change her mind when presented with new evidence which tips the scales in another direction, and she won’t pretend that she didn’t change her mind, or pay lip service to the pernicious idea that changing one’s mind is a defect. When dealing with others who believe differently, she will remember what it was like to hold a different view, and try to be grateful for those people who listened to her and helped her then. She will keep in mind that people often have bad introductions to ideas, and will try to find out how they understand what’s at stake before launching a counterattack.

The intellectually humble person will present her opinions when it is appropriate to present them, such as when people ask, or when she is an expert, or when she can highlight a point made by someone else that went unnoticed, or when she’s aware of being able to articulate an important point clearly. Moreover, she will present her opinions with her level of confidence: “I believe x, but I’m not certain about it for reasons y and z.” And she will know when not to have an opinion, and will be comfortable saying “I don’t have enough information to take a position on that.”

Finally, she will make her arguments and assertions unapologetically, without condescension but also without pretense or embarrassment. This includes when speaking to those with power…

Step 9: Pay attention to power dynamics.

Power is a tricky thing. Philosophers from such diverse fields as existentialism, politics, feminism, and religion have disagreed about it for centuries, but one thing emerges clearly from these debates: power complicates everything. Seemingly intuitive norms such as success is good or treat people fairly or yes means yes or even do unto others become a lot less intuitive when power is taken into account.

Disagreement is no different. In practice, disagreements between peers are experienced very differently than disagreements between people in a hierarchy, as anyone who has ever had a bad boss can attest. Consequently, having successful disagreements within a differential power structure is more complicated than it would be in an environment of complete equality.

The main difference is that whereas peers are motivated to resolve their disagreements out of a sense of mutual respect and the demands of the situation confronting them, these basic motivations are either complicated or completely unavailable in a hierarchical disagreement. If we’re peers and we disagree, I will be motivated to engage in dialogue with you, with the goal of coming to agreement or at least mutual understanding, if: (1) I respect you, and/or (2) there’s something that I need to accomplish, and I need your help. If neither of these obtain, I have the option of just ignoring you. But if our relationship includes an uneven power distribution, that option goes away. In other words, power forces people to confront disagreements that they would otherwise choose to ignore. The weaker party cannot ignore the stronger party on risk of penalty, and the stronger party is incentivized against ignoring the weaker party as a way of displaying dominance and thus maintaining and signalling the status quo. These motivations can easily quash any sense of respect or mutual need that might otherwise be present.

Of course (hopefully this goes without saying), the motivations of feigned subservience and nominal dominance that power foists on us are vicious. I don’t mean that word in the popular sense of evil; I mean it in the traditional Aristotelian sense of productive of a bad character. As Mary Wollstonecraft noted over two centuries ago, “every profession, in which great subordination of rank constitutes its power, is highly injurious to morality.” (A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, Ch. 1)

You’ve heard the phrase “power corrupts.” This is one of the reasons why. It forces people of otherwise average character to pretend they are either inferior or superior to others. Even if they know themselves to be more gifted than their superiors (or less gifted than their inferiors), they must pretend otherwise, either downplaying or exaggerating their talents and knowledge as the situation demands.

In other words, power dynamics make genuine humility almost impossible. This is one of the reasons that Nietzsche famously rejected humility and all other “Christian” virtues along with it — he saw that it was inimical to what he thought was the essence of human nature: power. It’s also why Jesus, the Buddha, Lao Tzu, Epictetus, and many other contemplatives urged the relinquishing of power and the need to control.

Unfortunately, these contemplatives seem to be losing the argument to Nietzsche. It remains true that there are almost no fully equitable spaces. Consequently, almost all disagreements occur within power structures, some plain to everyone, and many still hidden from those with the power (this is a point that philosophers of gender and race have gone to great lengths to elaborate). So if we’re all stuck in power structures for now, what can we do to mitigate their effects on our disagreements?

First, if you’re the weaker party in the disagreement (and avoiding it or getting help isn’t an option): Try to appeal to the better nature of the person in power. Very few people are completely corrupt, and many feel intuitively uncomfortable with the level of power they possess (remember that power forces a pretense — most powerful people know, at least subconsciously, that they do not deserve their power). If possible, appeal to your interlocutor’s own principles. Refer to shared evidence and authorities that you know they accept. And be courteous and explicitly honorific, insofar as you can without violating your own principles. Don’t approach threateningly, or posture in a way that suggests insubordination. State your view firmly but respectfully, and remain open, as always, to refutation or correction. In other words, try the path of humility first. This gives both parties the opportunity to choose the virtuous option.

However, if this fails, as it often will, you must learn the skill of subversive argumentation. This is the ability to achieve the desired result of the dialogue (i.e., the result one would attempt to achieve through the normal means of evidence-sharing, argumentation, etc. if one were talking to a peer), while employing the accepted language and communication styles of the dominant party, even if one in fact rejects such styles or even holds them in contempt. [Note: I am not recommending this as a moral norm, nor as something desirable in an all-things-considered sense. In fact, I think it is often deeply morally injurious to all parties — vicious, as nearly all uses of power are. It is, after all, a form of deception. Here, I am merely recommending it as a useful strategy for making the best of a bad situation.]

The subversive arguer will use the principles, desires, language, and methods of the dominant party to achieve her own ends, but without the dominant party ever becoming aware of this. For example, an employee with a narcissistic boss might pander to the boss’s need for ego-stroking in order to get him to sign off on giving a deserving subordinate a promotion. For the subversive arguer, use of this strategy will always be a utilitarian calculation. The end must justify the means. And the means must only ever be temporary. Subversive argumentation is not a long-term solution. (This is another reason that political power in particular is so corrupting: there is no exit strategy.)

The ideal example of the successful subversive arguer is the person who gains the trust of the immoral superior, ascends to the level of equality or superiority as a result, and then swiftly betrays the previous authority. We all love this type of story (think The Count of Monte Cristo). There’s something deeply human about it (Nietzsche wasn’t entirely wrong, after all.) But most of us also recognize that the pleasure we take in such a story is itself unhealthy, and that to actually be the betraying party would be more unhealthy still. So I only recommend subversive argumentation as a last resort, when all other avenues of respectful, humble dialogue have been exhausted. (Still, it is wise in such dialogues to record everything.)

But what if you’re the stronger party in the disagreement? Here, the advice is much more straightforward. Do everything you can to divest yourself of the power you possess. This is both a moral imperative (I believe) and a dialogic one. Since power undermines humility and therefore hamstrings successful disagreement, the obvious best solution is to eliminate the power imbalance. Note that this does not mean giving up your social position entirely, which often isn’t even possible. Those who cannot, for whatever reason, actually relinquish their power, can take steps to change the effects of their power, and the impact it has on those around them.

If you’re an employer, for example, you don’t have to quit your job or demote yourself. But you can find ways to fulfill your supervisory duties without making your employees feel like your servants. Learn to lead in a way that promotes equity and undermines pretension. Remind yourself regularly of the fact that you are not superior to your employees except in title, which is made up, and perhaps experience, which is acquired with the help of others. Defer to the expertise on your team, which may very well exist below you on the hierarchy. Practice becoming aware of the ways that you are privileged, and then set up ways to use that privilege for others. Ask those under you for help with this (because privilege comes with blinders), and then listen to and apply what they tell you.

In specific disagreements with those in a weaker position, do everything you can to make them feel comfortable challenging you. Show the respect you expect to receive. Learn to deal emotionally with being challenged (recall Step 3), and don’t let any difficulty you may have with this affect the freedom of your subordinates.

Knowing that you possess power, and knowing how power can destroy the ability to successfully disagree, prioritize the interests of the person beneath you on the ladder in the context of your disagreement. Practically, this may look like explicitly telling them that they are more important to you than agreement on the issue at hand. It might mean helping them to make their point, giving away the last word or the perception of winning, etc. This sort of posture builds trust, which is a rare thing in unequal relationships.

Step 10: Know when to stop arguing.

The goal of healthy disagreement is not to win. Stop trying to win. You must learn to set reasonable expectations, such as compromise, admitting the other party is rational too, or even just ending hostility. Give up the dream of convincing everyone. Become okay with ongoing disagreement. And remember that there’s no shame in prioritizing relationships that you value over proving your point or changing someone’s mind. Here are a few ways to know when to end the argument:

• More heat than light: The argument has reached the place where it isn’t doing anyone any good. Tempers are up, respectful dialogue is down, and reasons are no longer being considered.
• Bad faith: One or more parties have given up on following the evidence, and instead have some ulterior motive in mind for the discussion.
• Overconfident dialogue partner: Your interlocutor might be interested in following the evidence, but they consider themselves to be more informed or logically savvy than they are, and so are unable to recognize when they have been refuted.
• Unworthy subject or dialogue partner: You don’t have to argue with openly immoral people or pretend that demonstrably weak or immoral positions are real candidates for respectful dialogue. Remember, humility entails honest assessment of such things.
• Relationship is at risk: You care about your interlocutor, and continuing the argument would risk damaging your relationship.
• Mental exhaustion: You just can’t with this person anymore right now.

In any of these situations, it’s time to cut and run. You can’t win them all, and it wouldn’t be good even if you could. In general, most people will send clear signals when they are done engaging, and this is a good thing. Try not to take it personally, and practice sending these signals yourself. If this is difficult for you in the heat of debate, try memorizing a sentence like, “I need to take a break from this dialogue right now; thanks for engaging.” Then go watch videos of baby hippos or something.

Conclusion

Hopefully, it is clear by now that disagreement is really hard. All of these steps require consistent, careful effort. This means that learning to disagree well will very likely take a long time for most people, and some will probably never get there. I realize this is not necessarily an optimistic take, but hey, philosophers are not known for their optimism.

At the end of the day, the fact that disagreeing well is so hard is one of the many reasons to adopt what I call the Deference Strategy. This is the view that when it comes to controversial issues, the most reasonable thing for the average person to do is defer to the experts. And when there are no experts, or the experts themselves don’t agree? Here I defer to Wittgenstein: “Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.” (Tractatus 7)