Beyond beliefs
How often do we simply listen to a person’s argument without imposing our view on them? Understanding is the new winning, says a contest-weary Harriet Minter
Way back at the start of my secondary school career, I decided to put my tendency to talk too much to good use by joining the debating society. Newly formed, the group would meet once a week to thrash out a big topic – ‘is red better than blue?’ is the one that sticks in my mind – then we would name the most convincing case the winner. As someone who liked to win, I took no prisoners in my efforts to claim the top spot.
As I’ve grown older, I’ve made a bit of a name for myself as someone who enjoys a squabble. I’ve been booked for TV shows because I’m happy to take on the most belligerent of talk-show hosts, and consultancy clients tell me they want to work with me because I’ll challenge them. But in the past few years, I’ve become tired of arguing and I’ve realised it’s because we’ve all stopped debating and started fighting.
Can I be in your gang?
There are many theories about why society feels so divided at the moment – social media gets blamed a lot and it definitely hasn’t helped – but the simplest seems to be our need to feel as if we belong. We might like to think our beliefs are based on rational decisions but mostly they’re down to the evolutionary desire to be part of a community. Once we’ve found a tribe, we become terrified of being cast out of it, so we double down on our beliefs and turn against anyone who disagrees with us.
We see the extremes of this in what the media calls ‘cancel culture’, but for me it wasn’t about unfollowing famous names on Twitter. I was, however, dismissing parts of my social circle to avoid having to debate with them. I started to ask myself: can I love someone who doesn’t agree with me? And would they love me if I dared to express an alternative opinion? I’d gone from someone who loved a debate to someone who smiled, nodded and kept their opinions to themselves, and wished others would do the same. While a polite society sounds good in theory, the massive disadvantage of this is that we lose a sense of intimacy. When we debate with people, we learn about who they are at their core. So, recently, I’ve tried to look at debates differently. Winning is no longer about being able to destroy someone’s argument and has become about whether or not I can understand where their argument comes from. As Benedictine nun Mary Lou Kownacki said: ‘There isn’t anyone you couldn’t love once you’ve heard their story’ and I think she may have a point. What I’ve learned is that we ask too much of our relationships when we expect everyone to agree with us on everything. And we miss an opportunity to deepen our empathy when we shut down others’ views. We need to take the time to understand our beliefs and where they come from: what are the values that drive them, and do we really feel confident in them? Because, when we do, we can let go of the need to win and embrace the joy of understanding. Even when we don’t agree.
Your timing is perfect – we really do need a future we can look forward to. Why did you start writing the book?
I was so sick of being at dinner parties and people discussing the latest disaster, and nobody had a solution. So I started to think ‘stop moaning and do something’. I travelled the world to find out who was reinventing the wheel and finding different ways to do things in business, health, diet and education.
I thought that if I write about these methods, there’s no reason people can’t pick up and choose what to use in their own lives.
You seem so positive about the future and young people. Why?
AI think the millennials and younger kids will be the drivers of this new future.
They’ll have apps on their phones that will tell them who’s been exploited before they choose to buy something. Businesses will be forced to evolve quickly because they’re driven by these young, conscientious consumers.
Your children, Max, 31, Maddy, 29, and Marina, 26, are the generation of people you believe will change the future…
ANone of my kids are driven by ambition and they don’t have envy. I know that not all kids of their generation are like that, but they’ve surrounded themselves with like-minded people. No one’s a big success or a banker or dressing up like the Kardashians. They’re not obsessed with their careers – it’s the weirdest thing.
I can die now because I’ve done it – my children are OK!
uby Wax is fearless. She is reclining on her yellow Argos sunlounger in the garden of her beautiful stuccoed town house in the luvvies’ favourite patch of West London, Notting Hill. For many, this represents the pinnacle of success, but Ruby’s not impressed. She’s opting out and going to live in an eco community in the north of Scotland. There, the comedian with an Oxford degree in mindfulness-based cognitive behavioural therapy and a garden full of fake fabric flowers, will learn how to harvest home-grown veggies for the local food bank and live in a low-impact and sustainable way. This change of direction in her 60s is thanks to two years of research for her latest book, ‘And Now For The Good News: To The Future With Love’. ‘Don’t think I’m not grateful for all this,’ she says, waving a hand in the general direction of the house. ‘I just think: “Wow, how did I fucking do this?’’’ Now she’s embarking on a new journey.