This and That (12)

Some great Substack posts and my new favorite puzzle

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This gives you access to all sorts of cool things, including all paid content, the paywalled sections of my podcasts with Robert Wright, and the twice-monthly Zoom meetings (tons of fun!), which will start again at the beginning of 2025. And you’ll warm my heart—while I’m grateful to any reader of Small Potatoes, I’m extra grateful to paid subscribers.

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Since the last This and That, I’ve done three podcasts with Robert Wright. In the most recent one, Bob and I have an extended argument over Biden’s pardon of his son Hunter. I build on the argument I made in the post Blood is Thicker, where I defend Biden’s decision. Bob very much disagrees. We argue, and I defeat him handily.

As always, paid subscribers can access the paid overtime sections—sometimes more interesting, always weirder.

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Here are three recommended Substack posts by sharp, imaginative, and often aggressive writers—David Pinsof, Freddie deBoer, and the anonymous contributor to Bentham’s Bulldog—“an undergraduate studying philosophy, with opinions on many things.”

1.

Arguing Is Bullshit

Why do we argue? You might think that it’s about persuading others and being open to being persuaded yourself, a process of getting people to appreciate your point of view and coming to understand where they’re coming from.

David Pinsoff argues that this is all bullshit. He gives 12 reasons why arguing is not persuasion, starting with:

1. Hitler. When people argue on the internet, they often compare each other to the German fascist. Which is an odd way to persuade someone. “Wow, I’m just like Hitler—you’ve totally persuaded me.” …

2. Shouting. We often raise our voices when we argue, which is also odd because people don’t like to be shouted at. If you upset the person you’re arguing with, they’re less likely to be persuaded. They might even run away.

3. Straw-manning. This is when you argue against a dumber, crazier version of the person’s view—a view that they do not actually hold. If arguing is about persuasion, then straw-manning is beyond odd. It makes no sense.

I find these points convincing. But as I read Pinsof’s list, I started to get exasperated. This started to feel like the sort of humans-can’t-be-rational argument I’ve been attacking for much of my career. (For the long version of my critique, see my book Against Empathy; for the shorter version, see the Atlantic article The War On Reason.)

One of my problems with the anti-rationality position is its circularity. In Against Empathy, I write about scholars who think we make decisions based on empathy, not rationality. 

… If you ask them why they think so highly of empathy (or compassion or pity or anything else), they won't just insist, they won't scream or weep or try to bite you. Rather they'll make arguments. They'll talk about positive effects, about the tangible good that these emotions do, about how they align with our most considered priorities. That is, they will defend empathy by appeals to reason.

I don't mean to rag on my colleagues, but there is a certain lack of self-awareness about this point. It is one of the ironies of modern intellectual life that many scholars insist that rationality is impotent, that our efforts at reasoning are at best a smoke screen to justify selfish motivations and irrational feelings. And to make this point, these scholars write books and articles complete with complex chains of logic, citations of data, and carefully reasoned argument. It's like someone insisting that there is no such thing as poetry—and making this case in the form of a poem.

So I wanted to yell at Pinsof: Arguments can’t be bullshit. You’re making an argument right now!

But he was one step ahead of me. After completing his list, he has a section headed with:

What about the argument that arguing is bullshit?

And then he writes.

Yes, there’s a contradiction here, so allow me to resolve it. I’m not saying that arguing is never about persuasion. It sometimes is.

He goes on to make two points. First, we can argue well, at least sometimes.

When we argue about mundane things like which restaurant we should pick for dinner, or what route we should take to get there, we really are trying to persuade, and we often succeed. In cases like this, we’re quite reasonable and willing to change our minds. For concrete, practical matters, we’re rational animals.

Second, at least some of us can argue properly, even for more abstract issues such as politics—and we should exercise that capacity more.

… if you’re anything like me, you’re the kind of person who enjoys having real arguments (or likes to think they do). The kind of person who questions the nature of their reality and collaborates with other people to arrive at a fuller understanding of it (or likes to think they do). … There’s a safe space here on Everything Is Bullshit. I look forward to arguing with you—genuinely arguing with you—very soon.

The only thing that I ended up disagreeing with Pinsof about is his on-brand claim that arguments are bullshit. What's bullshit is the idea that most arguments are about persuasion. But Pinsof and I agree: When arguments are done right, they are terrific, and we should have more of them.

2.

The Woke Aren't Woke

The anonymous author observes that the woke don’t seem to care about the injustices that matter most, such as extreme poverty and the suffering of animals.

They’re like the pharisees! Remember those guys in the gospels who are constantly getting wrecked by Jesus and going around saying stuff like “um, no Jesus, you can’t cast demons out of that guy because it’s Shabbat,” and “noooooo, doing good stuff would run afoul of some obscure ritual purity law, better leave that guy in the ditch with a horrible disease.” Like the woke, the pharisees combined extreme self-righteousness with opposition to actually doing anything of consequence, and spend much of their time condemning those with the temerity to try to make the world a better place, rather than joining reading groups where they fatalistically complain about the impossibility of genuine progress.

When you inform the woke that they are one of the richest 1% of people in the world and that children are dying of preventable diseases that they can stop for just a few thousand dollars, rather than being persuaded to give their money, they instead come up with elaborate justifications for why the people giving away their money are the real villains.

That's a nice analogy, though I would argue that the woke are not the only ones guilty of this hypocrisy. Most of us are, too; the woke are more obvious about it.

3.

Being Ghosted by the New York Times

My other two recommendations concern big issues—the state of rational discourse and the question of how to do good in the world—while deBoer’s piece addresses a very specific and small injustice. Here’s his story.

On November 8th, in response to the election of Donald Trump, I pitched an editor at The New York Times, trying to sell a piece about a potential Democratic candidate for president in 2028. … The editor replied to the pitch with enthusiasm but informed me that he was no longer the right person to pitch to directly. He would, however, send the pitch along to the appropriate people. … The word came back that they were interested; could I do it in 900 words? I wrote the piece the next day, 900 words on the button, and sent it along. After a week, I received a Google doc with requested edits. I made them, and said “back to you” to the editor. Since then I’ve heard nothing. Enough time has passed to let me know that it’s a definite no. I can’t try to sell it somewhere else, at this point; the piece is stale, the post-election moment has passed. And no one ever bothered to say “Thanks, but no thanks,” which is all I would have asked for.

This wasn’t an isolated instance.

I have been writing for a public audience for sixteen and a half years. In that span, there have been four occasions where an editor has told me to write a draft, sent me requested edits that I did in fact make, and then simply not contacted me to tell me that the piece was not moving forward. Three out of those four times, the publication in question was The New York Times.

He wants something pretty simple:

when you express interest in a piece, ask me to write it, and give me edits to make, and I make them, you have to tell me you aren’t interested anymore if you aren’t interested anymore. That’s all that I’m asking for, wretch that I am, a simple “no.” The 90-second effort (if that) to tell me that the work you commissioned is no longer wanted, that is what I expect and have not received from the single biggest and best-resourced periodical on the face of the planet.

Again, this isn’t the biggest issue in the world. But I share deBoer’s frustration. It’s happened to me several times. Never with the Times—I’ve published about ten pieces in the Opinion pages of the New York Times and have had many more rejected, and I’ve always been dealt with fairly. But once, an editor for a different outlet ghosted me in the middle of working together on a long piece, ignoring my increasingly desperate emails on my part.

I’ve also had back-and-forths about possible articles that ended because the editor lost interest but won’t bother to say so. As deBoer says, a simple “no” makes a big difference. It would liberate the writer to pitch the same idea elsewhere and save them from writing painful follow-up emails that include “Sorry to pester you …“

Most of all, responding to a legitimate request—one that is part of your job—is basic respect.

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Last recommendation: My wife and I have gotten into cryptic crosswords, and you should, too. I recommend beginning with the Minute Cryptic. (Go to “Our guide” to learn how to play.) It’s tons of fun!