How to Enjoy Twitter
When we stop trying to convince people, social media can offer us a wealth of information
Author’s note: I apologize for sending this out on Friday instead of the regular Thursday. On Sunday I am getting MARRIED (well, my beautiful wife and I are already married; but we’re doing a second ceremony for everyone who couldn’t make the mountains-in-midwinter destination of the first ceremony) and things have been hectic. I should be back on a regular schedule next week.
X (formerly Twitter) has a reputation as a cesspool. It's full of bots, trolls, assholes, and ideologues. Even the people who use it for a living often say they have a hate/need relationship with the site.
And yet, I think it's possible to enjoy being on the platform. Over the past few years, I've found using X to be one of the highlights even of an otherwise-very-good life, and an excellent way to learn about the world without getting too upset or attracting too much hate.
Here's what I've learned to make the whole thing more enjoyable.
1) Don't Try to Beat Your Opponents. Try to Win Them
When someone who disagrees with us posts on X, we're often tempted to dunk on them. We dream of marshaling the kind of knock-out punch to their ideology, composed of the perfect mixture of logic and facts and data, that will make them see the error of their ways and say to us those magic words: "You were right, I stand corrected. You have shown me the error of my ways, and now I disavow my old position and publicly agree with you."
I call this trying to beat our opponents. And, in my experience at least, it's very rare.
Why doesn't trying to beat our opponents with logic and facts and data work? For one thing, we don't usually make decisions from logic or facts or data. Instead, we decide what we want to believe; and then we assemble post-hoc justifications to support that belief. As social psychologist Jonathan Haidt writes in The Righteous Mind, our conscious mind is like a "press secretary." The White House's press secretary's purpose is not to create public policy; it's just to defend the public policy that other people in the White House create. If the press secretary loses an argument, that doesn't actually change the White House's policy; because the press secretary isn't the decision-maker. The actual decision-maker in our brains is more subconscious and more emotional than the conscious-mind "press secretary" whose job is just to marshal post-hoc arguments to defend our beliefs.
We've all had the experience of trying to argue someone into something, only to be met with obstinance. Our interlocutor says something that we disagree with (say, that we should raise the minimum wage because it will create jobs). So we respond to their stated argument (say, by pointing to studies that minimum wage hikes tend to kill jobs), thinking that this will convince them. Not so. They'll pivot to another justification for their position, or they'll poke holes in our studies, or they'll engage in some other mental gymnastics to defend their position. As David McRaney writes in How Minds Change, "Reasons, justifications, and explanations for maintaining one’s existing opinion can be endless, spawning like heads of a hydra. If you cut away one, two more would appear to take its place."
As a result, the whole process of arguing with people on X often feels like banging our heads against a wall.
And, I'm skeptical that it works. Even if we prove that our interlocutor is wrong, all that will do is make him feel like he lost. If we prove him wrong in public (say, in a comment thread on X), he'll also feel humiliated. Neither emotion will engender him to want to join our side.
Here's a story of how badly beating people can backfire, courtesy of my friend Jamie Winship. Jamie got an advanced degree in Christian theology and went to Indonesia to become a professor. While in Indonesia, he practiced a sort of "attack and extract" strategy: he would attack the faith of his Muslim students in order to extract them from Islam into Christianity.
As a professor with a doctorate in theology, I'm sure he won a lot of arguments. He probably beat a lot of his students (this is true whether or not you think his arguments were objectively right). He thought that after a few years of this he would have plenty of Christian converts. Instead, he was put on trial for defaming the Quran. At the trial, he was told that none of the Muslims that he had interacted with would come to defend him. As he reports the conversation, he was told, "trust me, you have no friends here that are going to stand up with you because you've insulted everybody."
Jamie beat a lot of his opponents. But far from winning them to his cause, he lost every single one.
So if trying to beat our opponents doesn't work and just makes us frustrated into the bargain, what can we do instead? I think we can win them.
When we try to win our opponents, we recognize that people are drawn to other people much more than they're drawn to ideas. We recognize that a cold heart will protect a person from our best arguments, but a thawed heart can make them lower their defenses and give our side a fair hearing. It can even move people to our side. As McRaney writes, "An engaged, curious, and compassionate listener is far more persuasive than any fact or figure."
Later in his career, Jamie had many experiences that exemplify what it means to win a person rather than just try to beat them. Here's one of my favorites, that some readers may recall:
In one city, a leader of a terrorist cell kidnapped Jamie and drove him into the desert. Once in the desert, he kicked my friend out of his car and said that he was going to kill him. Jamie wanted to get angry, but instead he chose to see the other man as a child of God–not to focus on the worst he had done, but to focus instead on the best that he could be. He responded to the terrorist, "I am not afraid, and I want to be your friend."
Jamie's statement floored the terrorist. He didn't kill my friend. Even more amazingly, the terrorist invited him and his wife to dinner the next night. That night, Jamie says, the entire terrorist cell "decided to withdraw from all hostilities in the region."
What does it look like to try to win an opponent on X? When someone attacks me on X, one thing I've found effective is to not fight back. Instead, I'll try to see the whole person and ask God, sincerely and honestly, if there's anything I can do to make their life better (on the theory that all of us are flawed and need some sort of help; and on the secondary theory that people who have achieved Enlightenment do not usually yell at strangers online). I will approach them with love and grace and a sincere desire to be a light in their life. I will not attack back. I will sometimes hold up a mirror so they can see their attacks, if I think it would be helpful; or other times do something else that I think might help them. But my goal throughout the entire interaction is to advance their welfare however I can.
Sometimes I am successful. Sometimes I am not. But this approach has won over more than one person who would have written me off and who now is open to my thoughts.
It's also much more enjoyable than arguing. Now, whenever someone with a strongly-held position wants to pick a fight with me on X, I thank God for the opportunity. My interlocutor represents a challenge: to be the best version of myself, to show up as the man I would be proud to look in the mirror, and to practice my highest convictions. It is deeply life-affirming. And it beats the hell out of going 11 rounds with someone and getting increasingly frustrated that my carefully-collected evidence isn't convincing them.
2) Listen to Learn, Not to Persuade
I used to be a hardcore ideologue, and for a decade I committed most of the mistakes that I caution people against making now. One change in my mindset made me a much less obnoxious interlocutor, a much better writer…and made my interactions on X much more enjoyable.
Before: "If you saw XYZ the way I see XYZ, you would think about XYZ the way I think about XYZ. So let me show you."
Now: "If I saw XYZ the way you see XYZ, I would think about XYZ the way you think about XYZ. So show me."
I figure as a human being, I understand about 0.00001% of the universe. Honestly that's being generous; the universe is big.
If I spend all of my time lecturing you about what I think, then my understanding will never grow. I'll live, grow old, and die understanding that same tiny fraction of the universe.
But what if I use my time on this earth to try to learn what you know about the world? Then I can learn more. Maybe, with enough learning, I can get to 0.00002%! I'm being facetious, but the difference actually isn't trivial. By listening, we can learn about the experiences of people very different from us. We can learn how they grew up, what shaped them, and why they think the way they do. We can learn why they oppose something we support, and maybe even learn a little more about a complex and nuanced issue.
But what if the person's not stating facts or reasoned arguments–what if they're just yelling? That's still information that I want. Greg Lukianoff, president of the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE), coined the "Lab in the Looking Glass" theory.
"Imagine being a scientist and showing up to a new fully staffed laboratory with all of the best equipment that’s ever been invented. You have not been told about the project you will be working on, but there is a huge curtain in front of you. The director of the project announces that the study is the most challenging that has ever been undertaken and you will not be able to finish it in your lifetime, but even knowing a little bit more about the subject will be of nearly limitless value. He pulls back the curtain to reveal a gigantic mirror looking right back at you.
“You and your colleagues are to be the subjects. The project: to know everything about you and everything related to you.”
The point of Lukianoff's idea was to showcase how free speech can help us to better understand our fellow human. I think something similar applies here. I want to know what my interlocutor feels, even if it's ugly. I want to know what he thinks, even if it's objectively wrong. Because all of that represents information about him and how he sees the world.
As one example, one of my interlocutors on X, an African-American man, recently posted that white Christianity is a slaveholder religion. I think he's objectively wrong (especially in 2024). But what happened in his life to make him think this way? Perhaps he's had experiences of racism whose ugliness dwarfs anything I've heard about. Perhaps he's had a rough life and his views on some matters have been beaten down into black and white. Perhaps white Christians in his past have treated treated him terribly, either due to the color of his skin or for other reasons. I want to know. Whatever he's willing to tell me about why he thinks the way he does will deepen and enrich my understanding of our incredibly complex world.
Besides deepening my knowledge of the world, this is also far more enjoyable for me than trying to convince someone. Instead of banging my head against the wall, I'm co-opting them into helping me learn more about their perspective. Everything they tell me is something I didn't know before the interaction; and, because people like talking about themselves and their point of view, I rarely get pushback when I ask them to share more deeply. Rather than adversaries, they become my aids and helpers as I seek to understand and learn from their point of view.
To be clear, this isn't about using people or instrumentalizing them. It's about learning to accept what they offer us. It's about seeing their perspective as a gift that can help us learn, rather than a barrier that we need to knock down.
How can we use this approach on X? Next time someone disagrees with you, instead of trying to convince them, ask them probing questions. Try to get at the heart of what they think and (perhaps more importantly) why. You might be surprised what you learn. I know I have been.
3) Don't Take Anything Personally
If you've spent any amount of time on X, you've probably been flamed. I've been called a sociopath, a moron, a corporate shill, a racist who would have sided with Eugene Connor over MLK, and more.
What helped me was realizing that these insults don't actually reflect on me. I take reasoned criticism of my articles or tweets very seriously. But if someone just wants to insult me, that says nothing about me but something about them. As Jonathan Rauch puts it in The Constitution of Knowledge, "If someone calls me a 'fucking faggot,' I interpret her as telling me that she needs counseling, not that I am a fucking faggot." As a result, when someone insults me, I'll tend to either forget it or make a sincere desire to help them (see recommendation #1).
This mindset makes X far more enjoyable for two reasons.
First, when people do attack me, I don't carry their insults with me all day. I might think about the insult for a minute or two, and then I'll let it go and get on with my day. I think taking insults personally is a large part of why so many of us find X to be such a cesspool in the first place.
Second, I've noticed that I get less hate on X than many of my fellow commentators. Of course, there could be a few reasons. One thing that probably helps is that I'm a straight white male. My black friends get called "Uncle Tom" and "House n****r" online; I don't. My female friends get called ugly, or bitches; I don't. I may also be less well-known than the average commentator, so perhaps I just don't attract the mob's attention the same way that (say) John McWhorter does.
But I also think the mindset I described above cuts down on the hate that I get. The unfortunate fact is that some people on X want to cut you just to watch you bleed. If you do bleed, they'll come back for more. Further, as soon as they smell blood in the water, they'll bring their friends for a feeding frenzy. But if you don't take their insults personally, if you let them roll off your back or–even better–you respond with love and grace and a sincere desire to help the flamer; then they will get bored and seek other prey. They will realize that you aren't giving them the misery and pain that they want, and they will go elsewhere.
In conjunction, these three rules have helped to make my interactions on X some of the highlights of my past year. I have learned immensely about the world, which has deepened my articles and my conversations. I have shifted my mindset towards X; away from a site full of people who want to beat me down, and into a daily opportunity for me to live out my highest ideals. I think I have even used X to thaw some peoples' hearts. Mostly, I've turned it into a platform not only that I need for work but that I genuinely enjoy logging on to.
So here's our action item this week, as a community of practice. Next time someone disagrees with you on X, don't try to beat them. Try to win them.
And then let us know how it went.
Bio: Julian Adorney is a volunteer with Braver Angels, a national nonprofit dedicated to reducing toxic polarization. He is the founder of Heal the West, a substack movement.
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