Win Every Argument: The Art of Debating, Persuading, and Public Speaking

by Mehdi Hasan

Diodotus instead built his argument around the importance of free and open debate, warning his audience how “haste and passion” were the two biggest obstacles to “good counsel.”

But arguing itself tends to get a bad rap. It’s blamed for everything from political polarization to marital breakdown. In his 1936 classic, How to Win Friends & Influence People, Dale Carnegie wrote: “I have come to the conclusion that there is only one way under high heaven to get the best of an argument—and that is to avoid it. Avoid it as you would avoid rattlesnakes and earthquakes.” I take issue with Carnegie’s conclusion—if he were still alive, maybe we could debate it.

There are also patent practical benefits to knowing how to argue and speak in public. These are vital soft skills that allow you to advance in your career and improve your lot in life. There are very few things you cannot achieve when you have the skill and ability to change people’s minds. Or to quote Winston Churchill, “Of all the talents bestowed upon men, none is so precious as the gift of oratory. He who enjoys it wields a power more durable than that of a great king.”

“It is better to debate a question without settling it than to settle a question without debating it.”

Sure, facts might not care about any of those feelings, but consider this: our feelings rarely care about the facts.

In our speeches, our presentations, and our debates and arguments, we tend to rely on logos above all else. We extol the use of reason and logic, statistics and data—and for good reason. We want our arguments to be based in bedrock truth. But when we’re trying to change people’s minds, that’s not enough. It’s not how our minds work. In fact, this is where I differ from the great Aristotle. He tended to give equal treatment to all three of his modes of persuasion. But the reality is that pathos beats logos almost every time.

“Those who tell stories rule society” is a quote attributed to Plato, Aristotle’s teacher.

For millennia, humans have been sharing stories with one another, telling multiple stories a day, often without realizing we’re doing so. Evolutionary psychologist Robin Dunbar revealed, according to the Atlantic’s Cody C. Delistraty, that 65 percent of our daily conversations consist of sharing gossip!

Researchers led by Kurt Gray, a psychologist and director of the Center for the Science of Moral Understanding at the University of North Carolina, conducted fifteen different experiments that found that our opponents in a debate “respect moral beliefs more when they are supported by personal experiences, not facts.” Gray and his coauthors call this “the respect-inducing power of personal experiences.”

What’s interesting, however, is that many politicians still don’t fully realize this reality. Westen notes that Republicans often win because “they have a near-monopoly in the marketplace of emotions,” while Democrats continue to naively “place their stock in the marketplace of ideas.” This drives Democrats up a wall, as they cite policy propositions and figures only to lose out on inspiration. But the simple truth is that conservatives across the West know how to rile up and energize their base.

There are scads of experts and commentators who have made massive misjudgments, on matters of global importance, with massively bad consequences. And many of them are still at it, without facing any consequences, still making the same appeals to their expertise.

One recent survey, reported Insider, found that iPhone users unlock their devices an average of eighty times per day. That amounts to six or seven times per waking hour, or once every ten minutes.

Some people have been acting over the last week as if there is an absolute, untrammeled right to say whatever you like, whenever you like. That’s not true. There are legal limits and there are moral limits. Forget things we ban. There are things we just don’t say out of taste, out of decency. Sorry to be crude, but you have the right to fart in a crowded lift; you just don’t do it, though, do you? And when you do it, and if somebody attacks you for it, that attack is outrageous, but you don’t expect everybody else in the lift to fart in solidarity with you.

Laughter provides your audience with “social glue,” too. Researchers at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill found that shared laughter brings people together—in ways that can help you as the person making them laugh. “For people who are laughing together,” says social psychologist and study coauthor Sara Algoe, “shared laughter signals that they see the world in the same way, and it momentarily boosts their sense of connection. Perceived similarity ends up being an important part of the story of relationships.”

Because the disease is only in the poorer countries, it doesn’t get much investment. For example, there’s more money put into baldness drugs than are put into malaria. Now, baldness, it’s a terrible thing. And rich men are afflicted. And so that’s why that priority has been set.

Don’t be afraid to say to your audience, “Here’s where my opponent is right,” because that then gives you the opening to say: “And here’s where they’re wrong.” This will throw them off—flip them on their back, metaphorically speaking. You’ll diffuse their passion and energy with your curveball concession. To an audience, you then come across as more reasonable and rational, which is how you want to present yourself prior to making your own bespoke counterarguments (and counterattacks!).

We often see making a concession as a sign of weakness. It isn’t. It is a sign of strength and confidence. It shows your audience how open-minded you are. It reveals to them that you’re not an inflexible ideologue. Your opponent might be, but you most certainly are not!

Still, Diogenes had the last laugh. Walking over to the table with a cup on it and peering inside, he asked if the cup was empty. When Plato nodded, Diogenes asked: “Where is the ‘emptiness’ which precedes this empty cup?” As Plato was trying to think of an answer, Diogenes leaned over and, tapping Plato on his head, said, “I think you will find here is the ‘emptiness.’”

The Spartans of Ancient Greece were the masters of brevity when it came to quips and comebacks—to the point where dry wit is known today as laconic humor (after Laconia, the historical region of Greece that included the city-state of Sparta). On one famous occasion, King Philip II of Macedon threatened to invade Laconia, sending a message to the Spartan leaders asking them if he should come as “friend or a foe.” Their reply? “Neither.”

Perhaps unbeknownst to himself, Trump was engaging in what has become known in debating circles as the Gish Gallop. This is a speaking method that involves, to quote the Urban Dictionary, “spewing so much bullshit in such a short span that your opponent can’t address let alone counter all of it.” It has one aim: to bury your adversary in a torrent of incorrect, irrelevant, or idiotic arguments.

I’m going to let you in on a secret: most people want you to succeed. They do. Whether it’s your partner, parents, or kids—or an audience of strangers. The truth is that most people are “rooting for you,” writes psychologist Lybi Ma. “Why wouldn’t they?” Of course, our minds are terrible at absorbing this idea. We remember the one person who teased us in high school better than the hundred who were casually friendly. We stew over the one frown, as the saying goes, in a sea of smiles.

There’s a saying often (mis)attributed to Albert Einstein: “Stay away from negative people. They have a problem for every solution.”

Consider this: when you’re trying to change someone’s feelings or attitudes, your words account for just 7 percent of your overall message. Seven percent. That’s it. In contrast, your tone of voice accounts for 38 percent of it, and your body language accounts for a colossal 55 percent. This is the famous 7-38-55 rule, or concept, which Albert Mehrabian, a professor emeritus of psychology at the University of California, came up with in 1971 in his book Silent Messages.

That’s why we have to be mindful of how others see us. Carmine Gallo cites research showing we make snap judgments when we see someone for the first time. These first impressions can be formed in milliseconds; they’re difficult to erase; and they’re based on body language and bearing. So why not learn to speak that language?

“The human voice: It’s the instrument we all play,” said sound consultant Julian Treasure at the start of his now-viral TED Talk in 2013. “It’s the most powerful sound in the world, probably. It’s the only one that can start a war or say ‘I love you.’”

By his early thirties, Demosthenes was delivering passionate public tirades, now known as The Philippics, against the invading Philip II of Macedon, father of Alexander the Great. His speeches were rousing and so inspiring, notes writer Steven John, that Athenians literally took up arms and prepared to fight their Macedonian invaders upon hearing him speak. John quotes Demosthenes in his now-legendary Third Philippic: You are in your present plight because you do not do any part of your duty, small or great; for of course, if you were doing all that you should do, and were still in this evil case, you could not even hope for any improvement. As it is, Philip has conquered your indolence and your indifference; but he has not conquered Athens. You have not been vanquished, you have never even stirred.

Let me make an admission here: If you’re feeling awkward and overwhelmed as you start to watch yourself, know that you are far from alone. I have long had issues with my own facial expressions. I have what I call RAMF—or “Resting Angry Muslim Face.” My default look is one of anger and intenseness, and being an adult Muslim male, looking angry and intense comes with all sorts of unwanted (and unfair!) connotations and assumptions. It’s something I have had to work hard on prior to TV appearances and public presentations: to not permanently look like I want to bite someone’s head off!

As the great poet and author Maya Angelou observed, “Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with deeper meaning.”

And regardless of Donald Trump’s views on Israel, he’s always been an anti-Semite. This is not a controversial opinion. The facts are there. He was an anti-Semite in the 1980s when Ivana said he kept a book of Hitler speeches next to his bed. He was an anti-Semite in the 1990s when his casino manager said he only wanted short guys in yarmulkes counting his money. He was an anti-Semite in 2013 when he shamed Jon Stewart on Twitter for having a Jewish birth name. And, of course, in 2015 when he said to Republican Jewish donors, “You won’t vote for me because I don’t want your money.”

And yet, as the philosopher Patrick Stokes has observed, “You are not entitled to your opinion. You are only entitled to what you can argue for.”

Finally, I feel validated. I've been saying the first part for years.

In short: be skeptical about the main text on Wikipedia, but don’t be afraid to use its citations as a way to jump-start your research process and seek out primary sources worth relying on.

When any of us prepare an argument, there’s a danger of falling into confirmation bias. That’s the term coined by the cognitive psychologist Peter Wason in 1960 to describe our human tendency to look only for information that “confirms” what we already believe, while just ignoring any evidence that backs up other or especially opposing viewpoints. In a debate, this often leads us to research our preferred line of argument until we can’t imagine losing—even as we fail to anticipate our opponent’s actual counterattack.

The “third time” is your conclusion, your peroration. A crucial part of your peroration’s job is to summarize the main points of your argument—and one of the most effective ways to accomplish that is by harnessing the power of repetition.