Why Disagreement is Good for Us

April 2024 Issue

Xavier Symons, Director of the Plunkett Center for Ethics, The Australian Catholic University

Disagreement is instrumental in the human pursuit of truth. Good disagreement broadens the horizons of the mind and helps one better understand one’s own views and those of others. It is difficult to go a day without encountering someone, somewhere, bemoaning the ever-increasing political polarization of American society. But we should not let this obscure the fact that disagreement, when done in the right way and at the right time, gives us a better understanding of our own views and is necessary for a dynamic and lively possession of truth.

The university has long stood as the penultimate environment in which disagreement occurred safely, critically, and, for students, as practice. If we fail to equip students with the capacity to disagree intelligently and vigorously, we fail to prepare them for life. The angered protests currently gripping elite American college campuses are an example of how good disagreement can break down and be replaced with an acrimonious political struggle. Ironically, the failure of universities to foster robust disagreement in the classroom may be a contributing factor to the inflexibility of students involved in political activity on campus.  

The lesson to learn is not just one of promoting respect. University cultures must be conducive to respect, but they also need to foster robust debate in classroom environments. They must foster disagreement to find truth. We must take seriously the commitment to rigorous disputation at the heart of the tradition of Western universities and must ensure that students and faculty are free to contest dominant ideologies on campus. This means that we should take steps to ensure that student and faculty populations are intellectually diverse. This commitment to intellectual freedom and viewpoint diversity should be balanced with what philosophers call the principle of charity, which is a prerequisite of fully understanding arguments. But our commitment to fostering robust debate must have real implications for how universities function. Specifically, a commitment to intellectual diversity should manifest in the students that universities admit and the faculty that they hire.

John Stuart Mill on the Utility of Disagreement

Disagreement is instrumental to truth and vital for institutions like universities. The 19th century English philosopher John Stuart Mill is a top cited thinker in discussions on free speech, and his arguments on the importance of freedom of opinion capture the utility of disagreement in academic environments. Mill’s writings on free speech have been hugely influential on how contemporary liberal democratic societies view the importance of free and open disagreement.

In his book On Liberty, Mill offers two key reasons why disagreement is important. First, it helps dispel error. Second, it ensures that opinions are properly understood and do not go from being a living doctrine to a “dead dogma” that is never challenged.

First, disagreement dispels error. It is easy to become sunk in error when our basic understanding of the world is never challenged. As Mill points out, human beings can confuse a subjective sense of certainty with an objective lack of justification:

“...while everyone knows himself to be fallible, few think it necessary to take any precautions against their own fallibility, or admit the supposition that any opinion, of which they feel very certain, may be one of the examples of the error to which they acknowledge themselves to be liable.”

We easily fall into the trap, in other words, of assuming that all our beliefs are true and justified, when in fact they have not been appropriately tested. For example, I may think it obvious that the United States should continue to provide monetary support for the defense of Ukraine, but my conviction that this is obvious is not necessarily a reflection of a sound grasp of the US’s geopolitical responsibilities. Intellectual complacency is a default position that we drift toward if we do not take practical ‘precautions’ against latent error.

Given this, Mill argues that there is an epistemic value that attaches to actively creating the conditions in which our opinions can be challenged. He writes:

“Complete liberty of contradicting and disproving our opinion is the very condition which justifies us in assuming its truth for purposes of action; and on no other terms can a being with human faculties have any rational assurance of being right.”

Mill is saying that the possibility of disagreement is a precondition for justified belief. We cannot be assured of the truth of our opinions unless it is possible for someone to attempt to disprove them. Mill has in mind the distinction between closed and censorial societies from societies that are politically and socially free—and thus create the possibility of dissensus. It is only really in an open society with robust civil liberties that views can be actively challenged and a publicly expressed viewpoint can been subject to due scrutiny. 

Mill’s account of justification is not entirely uncontroversial. Every belief we have doesn’t need to be disputable by another for it to be justified. Consider belief in gravity: It is not obvious that I need to live in a society where robust scientific disagreement about basic physics is necessary for me to believe that I will plunge to my death if I walk off a cliff.

But this is not Mill’s focus. His focus is on the sorts of beliefs that inform our own social and political views—our beliefs about religion, morals, and politics. Mill argues that for these views to be justified, there needs to be at least the possibility that someone can disprove these arguments for us to believe that they are true. During his time, Mill takes aim at “the most intolerant of churches, the Roman Catholic Church” for creating environments in which dissensus and argument were discouraged (Mill’s preoccupation may stem from his Protestant beliefs—however, rigorous debate is crucial in all intellectual spaces, including religious contexts). 

To a contemporary reader of Mill, the institutions that come to mind are elite university environments—where dissent is stifled, controversial speakers are barred from campus, and faculty are subject to censure for holding heterodox views. Some scholars such as Harvard epidemiologist Tyler VanderWeele have argued that universities’ hiring policies today are broken and that elite schools need to actively hire scholars with diverse viewpoints to better reflect the diversity of opinion on social issues in broader society. UVA politics professor Gerard Alexander argues that there is a dire need for intellectually diverse candidates in PhD and undergraduate programs.

Universities’ free speech policies have grown entirely inconsistent, in some cases “silencing speech outright”, while in other cases “failing to punish students who violate school policies by, say, shouting down unpopular speakers or blockading lecture halls”. Recent data from FIRE, a campus free speech lobby group, indicates that professors are more likely to self-censor today than during the McCarthy era. In 1955, “9% of social scientists said they toned down their writing for fear of causing controversy”, FIRE reports. “Today, one in four faculty say they’re very or extremely likely to self-censor in academic publications, and over one in three do so during interviews or lectures.”

Mill argues that it is insufficient to hear opposing arguments summarized by someone who does not actually hold the view. This resonates with criticisms of contemporary universities strongly—for example, Mill may argue it is not helpful for a well-known pro-choice legal scholar to describe pro-life arguments if only to discount them. “That is not the way to do justice to the arguments, or bring them into real contact with his own mind”, Mill writes.

On the contrary, Mill writes: 

“[One] must be able to hear them from persons who actually believe them; who defend them in earnest, and do their very utmost for them. He must know them in their most plausible and persuasive form; he must feel the whole force of the difficulty which the true view of the subject has to encounter and dispose of; else he will never really possess himself of the portion of truth which meets and removes that difficult.”

The theoretical point here is that we gain a comprehensive knowledge of the truth when it is put under sustained pressure from a full range of objections. Anything less risks leaving us with a fragmented understanding of the truth.

We need to create environments where people with diverse viewpoints can express those opinions in a free and open manner and need not fear political, professional, or social reprisal. An intellectually diverse student and faculty body helps create an environment where dissenting voices can be engaged with.

This brings into view Mill’s second observation: disagreement helps improve our own understanding of the truth. Truth, according to Thomas Aquinas, is the correspondence of reality with ‘the thing’ (adequationem rei et intellectus). We do not really know the truth unless we are able to inhabit it in some sense and view it from a full variety of perspectives.

To quote Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird, “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view – until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”

This process of understanding alternate perspectives, for Mill, is aided by the process of disagreement which brings truth into collision with error in real time and chips off the imperfections in an otherwise sound view of the world.

Interestingly, Mill thought that there are some beliefs that have been so rigorously demonstrated that they no longer need to be subject to lively and ongoing debate. However, this position raises an question: is it a problem that there are so many mainstream views that we don’t regularly assay? In most cases, occasional disputes would go a long way to enriching our grasp of fundamental ethical and political findings—to make sure how we’re thinking about these current truths still stand. 

Is Mill a Bad-Faith Actor?

Some scholars have cast doubt on Mill’s stated intentions in writing On Liberty. The book is about “the nature and limits of the power which can be legitimately exercised by society over the individual.” It is a work of classical liberal political philosophy. Post-liberal political philosopher Patrick Deneen, however, argues that Mill’s real interest is “regime change”, whereby a retrograde social order based on custom is replaced by a progressive social order based on progressive principles and governed by a progressive elite. Thus, Deneen criticizes those who attempt to invoke Mill in contemporary contexts to criticize an ossification of elite opinion in institutions like universities:

“Those who believe that the homogeneity of viewpoint in modern institutions such as universities constitutes a betrayal of Millian principles have not been reading their Mill.”

Rather, Deneen argues that Mill’s intention was instead to bring about “institutions dominated by progressive elites who impose their social radicalism upon the rest of society.” Mill, in other words, is a foe rather than friend of contemporary defenders of intellectual diversity in universities.

Deneen’s critique of Mill is valuable. We must be cognizant of the historical context in which Mill makes his arguments and his focus on refuting a late-Christian and Victorian social ethos that is characterized by a strong sense of social custom and, at times, a suspicion of dissent.

At the same time, we can profit by engaging seriously with the substance of Mill’s arguments notwithstanding his progressive political agenda. The aim of this essay is to consider how Mill’s arguments for free speech can be applied to consider the utility of disagreement. Mill’s account of the psychology of belief is perhaps one of the crispest articulations in the Western philosophical canon of the relationship between robust dialectic and the possession of truth. To dismiss his arguments based on suspicion of an ulterior political motive prevents us from gleaning what is of value in his work regardless of his partisan commitments.

Note also that John Henry Cardinal Newman makes similar observations to Mill. In The Rise and Progress of Universities, Newman writes that:

“[A university is a place] in which the intellect may safely range and speculate, sure to find its equal in some antagonist activity, and its judge in the tribunal of truth. It is a place where inquiry is pushed forward, and discoveries verified and perfected, and rashness rendered innocuous, and error exposed, by the collision of mind with mind, and knowledge with knowledge.”

The university, for Newman, is a school of intellectual virtue whereby budding scholars mature and professors hone their academic craft. Robust debate is instrumental to this goal.

Good Disagreement v. Bad Disagreement

The problem with contemporary universities is not just a failure to appreciate the utility of disagreement. We’ve also forgotten how to disagree constructively.

Arthur Brooks has written of the perils of an atmosphere of contempt in contemporary politics and culture, and his observations are directly relevant to university life. For Brooks, contempt is a mixture of anger and disgust directed at someone with whom one strongly disagrees. Brooks cautions that contempt is becoming increasingly common in an age of political polarization, and that it has detrimental effects on individuals, relationships, and societies. There is some evidence that the emotion of contempt can lower people’s immune defenses and make them more susceptible to disease. Psychologist John Gottman argues that contempt is the number one predictor of divorce. Societies also are negatively affected by the onset of a mentality of contempt: “contempt makes political compromise and progress impossible”, Brooks suggests.

Contempt is a good example of where disagreement can go wrong in catastrophic ways. A common factor motivating contempt is a sense that one party in an argument is obstinately persisting in error and is not only mistaken but also close-minded (i.e., a person of bad character). This would seem to be reflected in the new contours of political polarization, where the beliefs of people on the extremes is typically not just that the other side is mistaken, but that they are morally bankrupt. This phenomenon has been described as “political sectarianism” and has been linked to factors such as the rigid sorting of political partisanship and media on ideological lines.

What might we say of disagreement in this context? It seems that good disagreement becomes impossible when either side of politics holds the other in moral contempt. As a minimum, disagreement requires that each party in a debate is at least open to the fact that one’s opponent is in possession of the truth. This would seem to be precluded by an attitude of anger and disgust toward others and a belief that they are not only in error but also morally corrupt.

This is directly relevant to contemporary universities, where contempt has overrun a sense of the joint pursuit of truth. One obvious example is the abortion debate, where pro-life students are charged with not caring if women are socioeconomically disadvantaged by a pregnancy, or even if mothers die from pregnancy complications, while pro-choice students are charged with not caring enough about whether pre-born babies die. The reality is, however, that several other issues that have become more acrimonious on campus, including debates over DEI mandates or the Israel-Hamas conflict. The debate over Israel and Hamas is about as severe as the situation can be, given both supporters and critics of the state of Israel view the situation as existential. Moral concern may be the starting point for these debates, but we cannot remain at the level of outrage.

This brings us to the principle of charity, a notion originating in philosophy that might provide a path out of the troubling current campus malaise. The principle of charity is described in the Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy as follows:

“The principle of charity governs the interpretation of the beliefs and utterances of others. It urges charitable interpretation, meaning interpretation that maximizes the truth or rationality of what others think and say. Some formulations of the principle concern primarily rationality, recommending attributions of rational belief or assertion. Others concern primarily truth, recommending attributions of true belief or assertion. Versions of the principle differ in strength. The weakest urge charity as one consideration among many. The strongest hold that interpretation is impossible without the assumption of rationality or truth.”

The principle was first proposed in the context of philosophy of language and was intended to identify ways in which we might reconcile disparate statements made by an interlocutor. In other words, we seek a way to maximize agreement between those statements and attempt to identify an overarching rationality between as many of those statements as possible.

The principle of charity may yield a partial solution to the problem of contempt and provide a blueprint for good disagreement. Part of what it means to “understand where someone is coming from” involves identifying the kernel of reason in their arguments. This process, plausibly, is therapeutic in that it leads us to recognize our interlocutor as rational and worthy of serious engagement. Mitigating contempt, then, is not simply about replacing a bad emotion with a good one—like love or compassion. It’s also about a rational change of mindset where we attempt to see the logic in arguments and political positions even where those positions are manifestly objectionable.

Is this just an irenic exercise that misses the rightful place of indignation or anger? Are we giving too much weight to trust in a time where trust is not the appropriate response? Perhaps a risk is that someone might confuse respectful disagreement for saying nice things about people with whom we disagree. This is not the aim of the process, however. The aim of the process is to engage in the most intellectually rigorous way with an opposing viewpoint. 

Another objection holds that in most cases (especially on campus), those with whom we disagree are not the most eloquent, and do not offer the strongest articulation of their arguments. Rather, they are more activists than scholars, who may use ad hominem attacks to disparage others. In this case, how should we respond? With equal hostility (which some may say is the going wisdom on college campuses today)?

To be clear, the principle of charity does not necessarily require mutual buy-in. The best arguments, regardless of whether you’re talking with a philosopher or a political activist, are those which show why even the best version of the opposing viewpoint is wrong.

Some arguments may be undeserving of rational engagement. It is neither worthwhile nor productive, for example, to host a public debate on the defensibility of the doctrine of natural slavery. We might say something similar for the science of eugenics that was popular in the United States in the early to mid-20th century. But these exceptions are limited and, generally speaking, robust but respectful disagreement is something from which we all stand to benefit. Indeed, when it comes to theories like eugenics, it could be advantageous to air the arguments for this set of views if only to demonstrate that they totally lack a scientific basis.

Implications for University Campuses

There is much to say about how these arguments bear on contemporary university culture. I would like to focus on three implications:

First, universities should not actively preclude minority viewpoints from admittance. This is one necessary implication of commitment to intellectual diversity.

The issue is also that students of both religious and conservative bent as well as a progressive persuasion self-censor. Given this, a strategy for universities might be to sponsor dialogues and events where religious and conservative as well as progressive perspectives are presented in their full integrity and conviction, which would signal their commitment to all points of view. The recently convened Harvard Dialogues might be one example of a broader project of culture reform on campus, though the long term impact of this initiative remains to be seen.

Second, universities should take active measures to hire faculty who represent under-discussed viewpoints in academia. Thus, Tyler VanderWeele has written that:

“Universities should thus try particularly hard to hire faculty who hold disfavored or controversial views when those views are held by a large portion of the population, have not been clearly refuted, and influence culture and policy…If this principle were applied consistently, I could imagine faculty searches being conducted in sociology or in public health on marriage and health; in psychology, on character and virtue assessment; in philosophy, on Thomas Aquinas, whose philosophy (not just theology) continues to exert major influence on the Catholic Church and its 1.4 billion adherents. More controversially, a school of public health might consider hiring a pro-life scholar of women’s health.”

There are views that are marginalized and suppressed in academic discourse that nevertheless command significant support among the population and have not been definitely refuted. The constitution of academic departments should be more reflective of diversity of opinion in society generally.

Third, universities should ensure that students cultivate the capacity to disagree not just respectfully but to understand and examine the argument of their opponent. To be clear, the principle of charity is not just about being nice to people. It’s not about empathy. It is about entering into an argument in its full rational integrity and internalizing in our own way of thinking the standards of rationality and justification that characterize excellence in academic inquiry.

Importantly, this argument is not intended to be anti-tradition or anti-custom. I do not wish to deny, for example, the place for religiously-affiliated university institutions that have a particular institutional ethos. But even these institutions need to make broad accommodations for free speech from faculty and students who may have different perspectives. The tradition of a university disputation, after all, has deep Christian roots (consider, for example, the medieval Catholic tradition of Quodlibeta or events where leading scholars would field and debate questions about anything from their audience). But even those who see eye to eye on fundamentals recognize the virtue in disagreeing about what is legitimately a matter of opinion.

Implications for Happiness

An ethic of disagreement has implications for individual and community happiness and flourishing. disagreement is conducive to the pursuit of the truth—it both helps dislodge error and also gives us a livelier understanding of the truths we hold. Put simply, bad disagreement is holding one’s intellectual enemies in contempt; good disagreement involves a charitable approach to debate, whereby we attempt to identify the kernel of truth in the arguments of our opponents.

Happiness is about living in reality, and part of exiting the Matrix, so to speak, is about engaging seriously with others who have alternative worldviews so that we can refine our own understanding of truth. Universities, according to Newman, ought to aspire to liberate and augment the minds of students and instill in their souls a love for truth. They are currently falling short of this lofty aim. We do well to rediscover it.

Contributing editors: Bryce Fuemmeler & Alexis Sargent