Wait...Why are we fighting?

Combativeness is on my mind today. I have been discussing the topic with my friends lately and the more I think about it, the more interested I become. Philosophy is combative. There is no way around it. The shades of grey are defined into black and white and every issue quickly turns into a antagonistic back and forth. As I began to read about the issue of “women in philosophy” I found frequent comments that the argumentative spirit of philosophy may be turning women away from the discipline. A career in philosophy means a career where you are constantly engaged in some aggressive argument (which will likely never be settled). As a woman (hmm why does woman suddenly seem to fit there), and a philosopher, I found this compelling. I am often frustrated with the argumentativeness that pervades philosophy. It’s not that I don’t want to talk philosophy, I do! I would just rather have a discussion than a fight, and usually the content will be much the same in those two scenarios. It’s the tone that changes.
What worries me on a professional level is my unwillingness to engage with people that want to fight. When a discussion gets heated and people begin to talk over each other, I pull out of the fight. I am simply uninterested in getting into a yelling match, and unfortunately, the points are often lost when the argument reaches this point. Interestingly, I have heard this desired echoed by many of my male colleagues, so perhaps it is generalizing too much to say this is a gender issue. There are a lot of us out there that just don’t want to argue. We want to figure out complex problems with philosophical methodology, but we don’t want to fight. 

Yet, so much of philosophy takes place in the seminar room, or in casual group conversations. These can often become disorganized and chaotic as everyone tries to make their voice heard. The loud prevail and the quiet sit on listening. In the classroom, this can be easily mediated by hand raising or a firm mediating presence, but in casual conversation (or the unmediated seminar conversations which so often take place) there is no established method for toning this down. In fact, the attitude of most is that this is how philosophy should be practiced. If you are quiet, you should learn to speak up. 

This, I think, is a mistake, and one that is detrimental not only to the quiet philosophers, but to the discipline itself.


I saw the downside of this behavior very clearly at a gathering of philosophers this week. Two of my good friends were engaged in an argument (with several others) and both were so eager to get their points out that they began speaking simultaneously to the group. They did not pause when they realized the other was talking, but continued on, each getting louder in competition with the other. I turned to another friend, another quiet philosopher, and we both shook our heads and chuckled at the strange situation. Both were so excited to make their point that nobody could understand what either was saying.


This is an extreme example, but unfortunately it is not that unusual. It seems simple but I think it is time to remind philosophers about the virtues of taking turns, slowing things down and actively listening. We’d hear a lot more. The quiet ones would get to make their points. The loud ones would actually be heard. Let’s stop competing with each other and start working together to a common goal. There is nothing about philosophy that necessitates fighting. So why are we doing it so much?