February 2009

I finally realized today why politics and religion yield such uniquely useless discussions.

As a rule, any mention of religion on an online forum degenerates into a religious argument.

Why?

Why does this happen with religion and not with Javascript or baking or other topics people talk about on forums?

What's different about religion is that people don't feel they need to have any particular expertise to have opinions about it.

All they need is strongly held beliefs, and anyone can have those.

No thread about Javascript will grow as fast as one about religion, because people feel they have to be over some threshold of expertise to post comments about that.

But on religion everyone's an expert.

I finally realized today why politics and religion yield such uniquely useless discussions.

Any mention of religion on a forum degenerates into an argument, unlike Javascript or baking. People don't feel they need expertise to opine about religion — only strongly held beliefs, which anyone can have. On religion everyone's an expert.

Religion yields uniquely useless discussions because, unlike Javascript or baking, it has no threshold of expertise — strong beliefs are enough, so everyone's an expert.

Then it struck me: this is the problem with politics too.

Politics, like religion, is a topic where there's no threshold of expertise for expressing an opinion.

All you need is strong convictions.

Do religion and politics have something in common that explains this similarity?

One possible explanation is that they deal with questions that have no definite answers, so there's no back pressure on people's opinions.

Since no one can be proven wrong, every opinion is equally valid, and sensing this, everyone lets fly with theirs.

But this isn't true.

There are certainly some political questions that have definite answers, like how much a new government policy will cost. But the more precise political questions suffer the same fate as the vaguer ones.

I think what religion and politics have in common is that they become part of people's identity, and people can never have a fruitful argument about something that's part of their identity.

By definition they're partisan.

Then it struck me: this is the problem with politics too — no threshold of expertise, just strong convictions.

It isn't that their questions have no definite answers: some do, like a policy's cost, yet the precise ones fare no better than the vague.

What they share is that they become part of people's identity, and people can never argue fruitfully about something that's part of their identity. By definition they're partisan.

Politics has the same missing threshold. The reason isn't that these questions lack definite answers — it's that they become part of people's identity, and no one argues fruitfully about that.

Which topics engage people's identity depends on the people, not the topic.

For example, a discussion about a battle that included citizens of one or more of the countries involved would probably degenerate into a political argument.

But a discussion today about a battle that took place in the Bronze Age probably wouldn't.

No one would know what side to be on.

So it's not politics that's the source of the trouble, but identity.

When people say a discussion has degenerated into a religious war, what they really mean is that it has started to be driven mostly by people's identities. [1]

Which topics engage identity depends on the people, not the topic. A battle involving your own country turns political; a Bronze Age battle doesn't, since no one knows what side to be on.

So the trouble isn't politics but identity. A "religious war" just means a discussion has come to be driven mostly by identities.

Which topics engage identity depends on the people, not the topic — a Bronze Age battle stirs no one. A "religious war" just means a discussion has come to be driven by identities.

Because the point at which this happens depends on the people rather than the topic, it's a mistake to conclude that because a question tends to provoke religious wars, it must have no answer.

For example, the question of the relative merits of programming languages often degenerates into a religious war, because so many programmers identify as X programmers or Y programmers.

This sometimes leads people to conclude the question must be unanswerable—that all languages are equally good.

Obviously that's false: anything else people make can be well or badly designed; why should this be uniquely impossible for programming languages?

And indeed, you can have a fruitful discussion about the relative merits of programming languages, so long as you exclude people who respond from identity.

More generally, you can have a fruitful discussion about a topic only if it doesn't engage the identities of any of the participants.

What makes politics and religion such minefields is that they engage so many people's identities.

But you could in principle have a useful conversation about them with some people.

And there are other topics that might seem harmless, like the relative merits of Ford and Chevy pickup trucks, that you couldn't safely talk about with others.

So a question isn't unanswerable just because it provokes religious wars. Programmers identify as X or Y programmers, which leads people to conclude all languages are equally good — obviously false. You can compare languages; just exclude those who respond from identity.

More generally, a discussion is fruitful only if it engages no participant's identity. Politics and religion are minefields because they engage so many — but even Ford versus Chevy trucks isn't safe with some people.

Because identity, not the topic, sets off religious wars, a question that provokes them needn't be unanswerable — programming languages prove it. Fruitful discussion is possible only when no one's identity is engaged.

The most intriguing thing about this theory, if it's right, is that it explains not merely which kinds of discussions to avoid, but how to have better ideas.

If people can't think clearly about anything that has become part of their identity, then all other things being equal, the best plan is to let as few things into your identity as possible. [2]

Most people reading this will already be fairly tolerant.

But there is a step beyond thinking of yourself as x but tolerating y: not even to consider yourself an x.

The more labels you have for yourself, the dumber they make you.

The intriguing part is that this explains not just which discussions to avoid but how to have better ideas: if you can't think clearly about anything in your identity, let as few things into it as you can.

There's a step beyond tolerating y while calling yourself x: not even to consider yourself an x. The more labels you have for yourself, the dumber they make you.

If you can't think clearly about anything in your identity, the move is to let as few things in as possible — and beyond mere tolerance, to not consider yourself an x at all.

Notes

[1] When that happens, it tends to happen fast, like a core going critical. The threshold for participating goes down to zero, which brings in more people. And they tend to say incendiary things, which draw more and angrier counterarguments.

[2] There may be some things it's a net win to include in your identity. For example, being a scientist. But arguably that is more of a placeholder than an actual label—like putting NMI on a form that asks for your middle initial—because it doesn't commit you to believing anything in particular. A scientist isn't committed to believing in natural selection in the same way a biblical literalist is committed to rejecting it. All he's committed to is following the evidence wherever it leads.

Considering yourself a scientist is equivalent to putting a sign in a cupboard saying "this cupboard must be kept empty."

Yes, strictly speaking, you're putting something in the cupboard, but not in the ordinary sense.

Thanks to Sam Altman, Trevor Blackwell, Paul Buchheit, and Robert Morris for reading drafts of this.

When a discussion goes critical it happens fast: the threshold drops to zero, and the new arrivals say incendiary things that draw angrier replies.

Some labels may be a net win, like scientist — but that's a placeholder, committing you to nothing except following the evidence, like a sign in an empty cupboard reading "this cupboard must be kept empty."

Religious wars spread fast because the participation threshold drops to zero. Some labels, like "scientist," are placeholders that commit you to nothing but following the evidence.