Don’t argue - Winning people over

Writing to Persuade: How to Bring People Over to Your Side - Trish Hall 2019

Don’t argue
Winning people over

I hate political arguments at dinner parties. I used to wonder how I could love ideas and yet detest those endless debates. I remember one in particular, between two of my close friends who took opposite positions on the question of whether it was right or wrong to let people use food stamps to buy soft drinks. One was a passionate advocate for healthy living through his job for the New York City health department. He believed that limiting access to soft drinks by disallowing their purchase with government support was an easy way to improve health and still leave people with plenty of choices. The other friend ran a nonprofit that helped poor people globally. He argued that it was unfair and elitist to decide what people should eat.

I couldn’t question the integrity or good will of either of them. But as their voices got louder and they just kept arguing, I retreated, heading to the kitchen to wash dishes. Even by the sink, I could still hear them. They went on for at least 15 minutes, which felt endless to me.

In reality, my guests were both just performing, and they probably didn’t expect to change any minds. And in all likelihood, they enjoyed performing, and maybe some others enjoyed watching. In decades of dinner parties and family events, it seems to me that many people, perhaps emboldened by a drink or two, think they can get their way by arguing, by overwhelming their audience.

Actually, it’s the reverse. You don’t want to go head-on.

Most of the time, if you argue, you will annoy people and make them feel battered and defensive (or worse, bore them). The person you’re trying to convince will also argue, voices will get louder, and a standoff will ensue. Ever watch two drivers argue? I’m always worried that physical violence is the next step. Both are trying to be the top dog, and the only way to do that is not to give an inch.

When arguments become intense and anger flares, there is no positive outcome. Before you know it, you’re telling your aunt she is a stupid fool, thus removing the chance to make any progress at that moment and probably in the future. Never belittle anyone. That should be obvious, but it’s surprisingly hard when you are upset to resist commenting, “You’re an idiot.” It’s satisfying in the moment, but it only increases distance. If you are too intense, you will alienate people. You might trigger an emotional reaction that will shut you out, which is exactly what you don’t want. Anger builds anger, in yourself and in others.

I’m not saying that angry polemics have no place in the world of opinion. There is opinion that riles up and stirs up, and there is opinion that hopes to persuade. If you’re aiming for the former, go for it; just don’t kid yourself that you’re bringing anyone around to your side. Argue, of course, if you’re in a situation that calls for that: a college debate, a pro and con on a certain subject on a panel. But even in those contexts, you don’t want to be argumentative or personal; you just want to be forceful.

Intriguing studies suggest that when faced with aggression, people don’t change their minds. They hold even more fiercely to what they believe.

Suppose you are visiting your mother, and she says, “I just love that Ben Carson.” You think Ben Carson, a neurosurgeon who unsuccessfully ran for the Republican nomination for president and then served as HUD secretary in Trump’s cabinet, is an idiot. But it’s your mother, and you don’t think she’s an idiot. So, you don’t say anything negative. You can only lay the groundwork that will prompt her to think about him the next time he is in the news, maybe even soften her position a bit. Your conversation might go something like this:

“I think he’s great,” Mother says.

“Well, that’s interesting. Tell me what you like about him.”

“He’s tough. He’s an African American who went to Yale and then became a neurosurgeon. That’s really impressive,” Mother answers.

“Is there something he’s done in HUD that you especially like?”

“Well, I don’t know, I don’t know much of what he’s done in HUD,” Mother answers.

“He’s not a bad guy, but he has never done anything to suggest he can run a housing agency. He even admitted that he thought brain surgery was easier!”

Mother laughs.

You are probably shaking your head as you read this, thinking of famous columnists or even presidents—Donald Trump—who have successfully taken an argumentative stance toward the world. They prove that anger is a potent emotion to trigger. It can connect you to your audience. It can inject your writing with passion.

But never fight with your audience. Anger needs to be a bonding mechanism, not something that creates a wall. Leaders and writers who use anger are speaking to their followers, not attempting to bring others to their side. That’s fine. It’s just something else—not persuasion. The same holds for those television shows where guys—and it is mostly guys—loudly argue with one another, and people seem to love it. They have lots of viewers. My husband is one of them. For him, those shows are like watching sports, only better. I would never say they aren’t entertaining or emotionally satisfying for some people—just that they don’t change minds.

We all know what argument looks like in a speech or on television. What is it in writing? To me, it’s anytime you make fun of other people. That’s a sure way to lose the readers who don’t already agree with you. In your writing, don’t indulge in personal attacks, guilt trips, or berating. Another form of arguing, even if it’s done in a calm voice, involves trying to debunk the ideas your audience believes to be true by battering them with facts that appear to demolish their world view. That won’t work. Social science research shows again and again that we are not persuaded by facts, especially when they are presented as part of an argument.

Always concede the good points of the other side. What you want is to be heard, not to win every outing. You want your listeners and readers to be open to a point of view that might be different from what they already believe. So, whether in person, in a tweet, on Facebook, or on the printed page, don’t argue. I stop reading if an article assumes something about me based on my gender, geographic location, or income. Generalizing about people is a major way to be hostile in writing. It’s aggravating and off-putting when writers take a stance that all poor people are lazy, all white people are bad; all men, predators; and all women, kind and gentle. You get the idea.

The first step is to open up, which is kind of the opposite of arguing.

Show respect for the other person’s opinions. Don’t put yourself up on a mountain and talk down to people, which is a way of showing disdain and anger. Instead of arguing, look for points of agreement. Let the other person think that all the brilliant ideas belong to him or her. And, as hard as it might be for someone totally convinced of a point of view, show some humility.

Let’s say you are writing that New York City should limit car services like Uber. Admit that there’s some logic to the argument that people distant from Manhattan might have trouble getting transportation. Admit that you might not have all of the answers. But then, provide the ones that you do have. Express some doubt regarding your own position. Suggest that it might not be 100 percent right. I’ve seen people kind of collapse in on themselves with relief when they don’t feel they have to gear up to fight for each little thing.

At work I managed people for decades and found that in day-to-day life, they always responded well when I was willing to say, “I’m not sure, what do you think?” Don’t be dogmatic. Offer choices. Instead of saying, “I want this story to be the cover of this Sunday section,” I might say, “I like this story on attention deficit disorder, and I can make it the cover. But it can also hold, so if anyone has something better or more urgent, please let me know.” That way you are giving people room to jump into the conversation. You are saying, “I have this plan but it might not be perfect, what do you think?”

People like people who don’t try to crush them all the time with their superior knowledge. Showing off that way is just another form of fighting and aggression. If you are too certain, you will come off as smug. If you qualify your statement and say things like, “Well, it is possible that . . . ,” you will not seem like a know-it-all who can’t be debated. You don’t want to create a situation where the conversation is shut down; you want it to continue, for “the other side” to come back with something useful.

Show confidence without being arrogant. People tend to trust scientists, so using the tools of their trade, like charts and graphs, can make you seem more trustworthy. Not all people are alike, of course, but I know I’m influenced by numbers and charts. I have known for years that my cholesterol was a bit high, but it was only when I went to a new doctor who took sixteen vials of blood and produced page after page of charts that I got serious about giving up my chocolate ice cream habit. The swath of red on the chart that signified inflammation was more powerful to me than any single number could be. Whenever I go for chocolate—and of course I still do, just less often—I remember that chart. Sometimes I just walk past the display and out the door. A doctor criticizing me for my choices would never have influenced me. I probably would have rebelled and eaten more. But for me, the visual data was vivid and powerful.

When my friends had that argument about government assistance for healthful choices, I went into the dinner party believing that placing limits on purchases with government money was proper and fair, and there are few public health problems greater than the role of sugar and its contribution to diabetes. I left the party with my mind unchanged.

The dishes, however, were done early.