Can we learn to disagree well?

An interview with John Inazu

Dear Friends,

Welcome back from spring and Easter break to Wear We Are! ICYMI, Michael was able to write about philanthropy and democracy for The Chronicle of Philanthropy’s new initiative, The Commons.

We think love is too soft to effect change in a politics of power. We think the problems in our country are too hard, too big, too technical, for love. But love, according to Aquinas, is the “will to good” — to be committed to others and their well-being. If we are not doing that, if we are not willing the good of the people, communities, and societies we serve, what are we doing?

Too often in philanthropic work and democracy at large, we seek to influence people we do not love. This is dangerous. People are right to be suspicious of those who have the audacity to try to change them and shape their communities without the audacity to love.

He joins other leaders like Rachel Pritzker, Danielle Allen, Darren Walker, Brooke Anderson, Gov. Spencer Cox, and more.

We are ending the week with a special interview our dear friend, John Inazu. He is the Sally D. Danforth Distinguished Professor of Law & Religion and Professor of Political Science at Washington University in St. Louis. John’s latest book, Learning to Disagree: The Surprising Path to Navigating Differences with Empathy and Respect, was published just days ago. You can also check out his very worthwhile weekly Substack, Some Assembly Required.

We’ve read his smart, engaging new book, and we thought our readers would appreciate hearing some of his insights. If you’ve ever found yourself at the dinner table or in the board room at an impasse over an issue, this book is for you.

Melissa

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Michael: To begin, why is disagreement important? Why should we learn to disagree?

John: I don’t think we really have any other choice. We live in a deeply divided society where we have differences over fundamental matters, and those differences aren’t going away. So we could withdraw from our neighbors. We could try to win at all costs and crush the other side. Or we could learn to disagree with one another in a way that takes our differences seriously and does the hard work of politics.

Michael: The way this book is organized is unique. You take us through, month by month, a year of law school. Can you tell us how this format serves the book and what you want readers to learn and ponder?

John: I wanted to focus on telling stories rather than asserting principles. Stories help us situate hard concepts in ways that make more sense to us. They help us feel rather than just think. (As a Type A lawyer, I’m not always very good at this.)

As for the subject of law school, I realized as I began writing this book that the law offers some unique insights about how to disagree and how to understand the other side of an argument. And you don’t have to be a lawyer or go to law school to appreciate them—you can use them at the family dinner table or the workplace lunch. 

Michael: At the beginning of the book, you provide an early lesson that says that during disagreements, you should try not to compromise your own beliefs, but you should also try not to raise someone else’s hackles. I read this as a worthy challenge to many readers. What do you say to readers who will say “that’s naïve” or “that’s impossible” because so many feel like their positions are fundamental to their identity or their viewpoints constitute safety or wellbeing?

John: I think you’re right that some people will view their beliefs and their identity as so entangled that it will be difficult to engage with beliefs without upsetting the person. But I’ve found that more often than not—even when it comes to really hard issues that go to the core of personal identity—most people are able to engage in serious and thoughtful conversation. The key is to make it an actual conversation within a relationship of trust. You’re not going to have much success if you’re preaching to a stranger instead of listening to a friend. 

Michael: What does holding one’s perspective or opinions lightly do to dialogue or conversation? What does it look like in practice?

John: I wouldn’t say we need to hold anything lightly, but perhaps we should take ourselves less seriously. Don’t rush to be offended when someone says something you don’t like. Don’t think the world needs to hear from you on every issue, or that God’s kingdom depends on your social media prowess.

Michael: Can you tell us more about the differences between procedural fairness and substantive fairness? Why do you cover this in the book? Those not in the legal field might find this concept to be thought-provoking.

John: Procedural fairness tells us the rules of the game; it doesn’t tell us what to believe or what is right. The distinction is not always perfect, and there are ways in which procedure can either negate or obscure substance—think of when a legal case is dismissed for jurisdictional or timing reasons and the ways in which that might actually signal something quite substantive. But at least some of the time, procedural fairness is the best we have. When we disagree so fundamentally that we can’t even name a shared common good, we can at least have rules of the game—like expressive liberties—that allow those who have for the moment lost a political or policy battle to continue to advocate for a different view of the world.  

Michael: What do the tools and resources of Christianity offer us when we face difficult conversations?

John: We have the ultimate example of the person of Jesus who spoke with truth and love. We have the fruits of the Spirit. We have the witness of the saints that assures us we are bit players in a much longer story in which we get to play a small part. We don’t measure that story by election cycles or even lifespans but by God’s faithfulness over thousands of generations. That should all fill us with tremendous hope and joy, and it should give us patience and comfort even in the midst of difficult conversations and frayed relationships.