Why I Disagree By Isabella Jackson-Saitz Analysis

“Why I Disagree” – Isabella Jackson-Saitz

From a very early age, perhaps the age of six or seven, I realized that I enjoyed disputing things. As I grew older, I attempted to curb this tendency, since I thought it might negatively impact people’s views of me, but I never intended to stamp it out, as it was too integral to my nature.

I was the oldest child of two by three and a half years which led to a sense of my knowing best– as well as my sister’s habit of thinking she did. Like most elder siblings, I became practiced at contradicting whatever statement she made. I took pleasure both in “winning” our squabbles and in the act of learning how to win. I feel certain that, had I been an only child, I would not disagree so often as I do. Nevertheless I was not angry or contrary; I tended to confine my audible arguments to my sister or close

friends–any other opinionated ideas I would follow through in my head. Generally overawed by those in positions of authority, I accepted their opinions with much less doubt. Throughout much of my childhood, I rarely voiced dissenting thoughts for fear of offending those whose good opinion mattered to me. The more respect I had for a person and their intellect, the less likely I was to disagree. I had not learned the art of disagreeing respectfully, indeed, I was rather unaware there was such a thing.

I give all this background information because although disagreement is a fundamental part of human nature, I believe I do it more than most, or at least derive more pleasure from it. Generalizing all of humankind is no light task, but I think there are clear reasons that most people disagree. They are:

(i) Strong opinion. Perhaps the most clear cut reason– two people’s opinions are simply different.
(ii) Desire to win. In vocalized disagreements. The need to win and the satisfaction of doing so. Certainty in one’s own rightness.
(iii) The need to make another lose. Similar to the desire to win, but somewhat darker. A vindictive side of people that wants to prove others wrong before being right themselves.
(iv) To learn. Learning through considering, understanding and opposing. Sometimes learning is an unintended consequence of opposing opinions, sometimes people disagree with the intention of learning something.

It can be seen how these various impulses must fluctuate from person to person and from time to time. Throughout my earlier development, the first three motives drove me to disagree and enjoy it. As I grow, however, I find myself having more fun with the fourth even if I will never lose my competitive streak.

Once I reached a particular point in my education, around middle school, I began to understand the virtues of disagreeing well. In class discussions, I found a way to separate most personal feelings from arguments which precluded my worrying about rudeness. In many cases, I would disagree for its own sake, taking an opposing side even when I did not support it. For two summers, I set aside swimming and sailing in favor of discussing literature– and frequently disagreed about the meaning of beauty or a definition of self. Surrounded by those I felt were more intelligent, I disregarded any trepidation and voiced my thoughts. Contradicting those whose opinions I valued did not end in disastrous embarrassment, and I discovered I enjoyed this new type of academic argument where it felt like I was learning and understanding.

The first discussion I had that truly liberated me to strongly disagree aloud, and in the presence of my elders and betters was about this passage from Plato’s Republic:

And this is the distinction which I draw between the sight-loving, art-loving, practical class and those of whom I am speaking, and who are alone worthy of the name of philosophers.

The lovers of sounds and sights, I replied, are, as I conceive, fond of fine tones and colours and forms and all the artificial products that are made out of them, but their mind is incapable of seeing or loving absolute beauty. And he who, having a sense of beautiful things has no sense of absolute beauty, or who, if another lead him to a knowledge of that beauty, is unable to follow — of such an one I ask, Is he awake or in a dream only?

In my mind, the name Plato carried an indubitable authority. Despite that, I found myself contradicting his ideas. I completely rejected the idea of an absolute beauty only visible to an elite class of philosophers. When I voiced my opinions, some people nodded along while others pushed back. The instant I moved from disagreeing internally to verbally, I found a type of joy in the back and forth– a joy that came not from my being right, but from learning to defend my ideas and considering those of

others.

Looking back through what I have written, I see that I have made it appear as though disagreeing is some sort of lofty, scholarly exercise. I do not wish to leave that as a final impression. I have in no way ascended to some intellectual realm in which disagreement and argument serve emotionless purposes. If I said I had, I would be as conceited as Socrates. My fascination with disagreement has of late become something for me to monitor. Passion for disagreeing, especially academically, quickly creates an endless cycle of discussion and nitpicking which precludes real progress. Much of the fun of an argument comes from the struggle for victory, but, thinking over my experiences, I see that it is invariably the times when I refused to stop disagreeing–refused to lose– that I enjoyed myself least.