Social media may make the task difficult, perhaps impossible

Vanderbilt social scientist Arthur C. Brooks, who styles himself The Happiness Professor, wrote an intriguing piece for The Atlantic four years ago called “A Gentler, Better Way to Change Minds.”
In it, he noted that research “shows that changing minds, especially changing beliefs that are tied strongly to people’s identity, is extremely difficult. As one scholar put it, this personal attachment to beliefs encourages ‘competitive personal contests rather than collaborative searches for the truth.’”
He suggested, moreover, that online arguments make things worse. “Disagreements can feel like a war in which the fighters dig trenches on either side of any issue and launch their beliefs back and forth like grenades. You wouldn’t blame anyone involved for feeling as if they’re under fire, and no one is likely to change their mind when they’re being attacked.”
I’m reminded of this by a couple interchanges I had on Facebook with a couple former BusinessWeek colleagues. One set was based on a piece someone else shared that enumerated historical problems between Palestinians and Israelis. The other was based on a Wall Street Journal editorial that took the Nobel Committee to task for awarding the peace prize to Navi Pillay whose career, it said, “has been marked above all by hatred for Israel and the Jews that support it.”
Provocative as they were, these pieces gave my friends platforms for attacking Israel, the writers and, oddly, AI. Their criticisms, in fairness, did make some valid points, though there were no point-for-point refutations or even any of the real back-and-forth that marks in-person conversation. Mostly, they vented — briefly and sometimes tartly — making their cases or mounting attacks.

One of 55 posts in response to my posting of the WSJ editorial called it “[a]nother tone-deaf misread of history, geopolitics, and the real dangers facing Jews around the world today,” for instance. Another asserted that Israel’s actions in Gaza amount to a “genocide,” though it dismissed the matter as “almost a semantic distraction,” contending that the term “massacre” would make right-wingers “just as hysterical.” The writer also defended the use of “apartheid” and “racist” as descriptive terms for Israel and, puzzlingly, referred to the U.S. as still having a “slave-based economy” today. She called Israeli democracy “an outright falsehood.”
Another friend derided opinion pieces that slammed Hamas and held that scholars of genocide broadly concurred that the term for the destruction of a people was suited to Gaza — though evidence suggested that there was far from a consensus on the point. She faulted what she called “poor sourcing and unfounded assertions.” She didn’t single out any examples, when pressed, but instead added, “I’ve said all i can usefully say.” On the matter of Israel limiting access to Gaza for journalists, she faulted an account of how various militaries, including those of the U.S., have limited journalistic access to war zones over time, calling it mere “whataboutism.”
All fair enough, I suppose. We all have deep-set views about such unsettling topics.
But I got the discomfiting sense that pieces I posted in response to their contentions went unread or, at least, unconsidered. It’s as if I cast them into a void, that they couldn’t be bothered reading something contrary to their biases or views. Or, if they did read them, they simply dismissed them as “opinion pieces.” One sympathetic friend, responding separately, noted that opinion pieces do often contain facts, suggesting that I remind my friends of that point.
Disturbing as some of these things may be alone, though, the more troublesome thing is a core problem related to the Net broadly and to social media in particular. Thanks to such vehicles, we are exposed to an astonishing explosion of diverse views. We are awash in more facts and viewpoints than ever before in history – not limited as we once were to, say, three major TV networks or a handful of newspapers. And yet, it seems many of us just see what we want to see, reading or viewing only what reinforces our prejudices.
Do we, in these interchanges, really consider the views of others or facts that contradict our biases? And are we really exposed to such dissenting views? If not, it’s perhaps because we are abetted in this narrowness by social-media algorithms that don’t share contravening information.
Maybe it’s inevitable that, as we sit separately in our homes and sift through information tailored for us, we remain blinkered. It’s far different from, say, meeting in a book club, where we converse with others who open our eyes and minds to different views of a piece of literature. It’s different from a classroom where, as young people, we were exposed to a range of novel views. And it’s far different from BusinessWeek editorial discussions, back in the day, where we were challenged — and challenged back — in live-and-in-person thrusts-and-parries of conflicting ideas about topics.

Along this line, I was privileged a while ago to attend a few dinners in Denver, where a rabbi of my acquaintance invited people in for “Clean Speech” dialogues. His concept, which he has rolled out nationally over the last few years, is to invite people in to talk at tables of eight so about hot topics on which there is likely to be disagreement. Facilitators – and sometimes speakers – provide some context and expert information. But the idea is to debate and disagree civilly — the “clean” part.
These dinners are set in a Jewish context. So, at one session, we discussed whether a two-state solution is still possible in the Middle East. At another, we discussed whether Jews have a home in the major political parties anymore. There was, of course, a lot of disagreement – though the discussions were all done respectfully and, I believe, people learned things they might not have considered. Certainly, I did.
In at least one of the dinners, I believe, one person’s mind seemed to have been changed. I don’t know about others. But, whether that happened or not, we did listen to one another, consider opposing views, and offer our feelings considerately and politely, if at times strongly.
“Showing others that you can be generous with them regardless of their values can help weaken their belief attachment, and thus make them more likely to consider your point of view,” is one of the phrases with with Brooks concludes his Atlantic piece. It’s easier to do that when sitting opposite someone over a meal.
That idea, moreover, echoes something I teach students in an editorial-writing course – that it’s helpful to concede points to your opponents when appropriate. Such an approach can buttress your view by showing that you recognize and consider the other side.
“But for your values to truly be a gift, you must weaken your own belief attachment first,” Brooks holds. “This is the argument of the late Buddhist master Thich Nhat Hanh. As he taught, we should all promise to ourselves, ‘I will cultivate openness, non-discrimination, and non-attachment to views in order to transform violence, fanaticism, and dogmatism in myself and in the world.’”
That’s a tall order when so many of us are so divided on so many things. But, for a host of reasons – not least of which is one’s own emotional well-being – it seems like smart advice. Whether people active on social media can heed it, of course, is a knotty thing.



























