kylec | Slow Havamal: 122

In verse 122, Odin counsels Loddfafnir not to trade words with someone who will not see reason.

This verse is one that makes me wish I knew a little more Old Norse—or any at all. The word “reason” is clear enough, but I doubt that whatever word was translated as such meant exactly the same thing to the poet. Crawford is a skilled translator, and in this context it’s probably the best approximation, but there was no Greek logic guiding the actions of men at that time and place. That said, they were a pragmatic people, and surely had some notion for actions that made sense to others; for a style of debate that grounded itself in the world we can agree on and avoided fits of emotion. That will be my tack.

As a habitual arguer, I can certainly see the wisdom. My youth was spent constantly embroiled in some hopeless debate with an authority figure, at times real and others imagined, and only with gritted teeth have I managed to temper that trait in my adulthood. Nevertheless, just this week and appropriate to the verse, I got into a quick tiff with my wife over a topic that I thought she was using fallacies and logical inconsistencies to avoid addressing. Don’t worry, we made peace. The main result of that argument was to fill me with embarrassment that despite all my efforts, I still succumb to the urge to be right and to debate when I know there’s nothing to be gained. Nobody wins an argument, even if their points are logically irrefutable (and rarely is that the case).

Odin tries to save Loddfafnir considerable pain by warning him to let it go. What’s logic anyway, but a certain method of thought concocted a few thousand years ago—a tool, capable in certain domains, useless in others, and even at its best, prone to paradox and inconsistency. It is not the source of truth, or the final judge, even if my argument seems flawless to me. I believe that one can be logically correct and still pragmatically wrong compared to an emotional person who intuits the heart of the matter without having the rhetorical skill to express it.

Even if we limit “reason” to emotional composure and a willingness to hear the other person’s side and subject one’s own claims to testing, there is no guarantee that person’s view aligns with experience.

But that attitude does make a fine start, provided we don’t think that it makes us automatically omniscient. There are times when we know very well the other person’s position and their rhetorical style in advance. If Uncle Beau spends his days in front of his favorite cable news network and imitates their most popular pundits in his debates, there is little point in engaging an offensive statement that slips from his mouth. His mind won’t change, and his brash approach will probably harden even a considerate person to changing theirs, too. It will cost a lot of emotional energy and breed resentment.

Nassim Taleb does make a case for arguing with this kind of person. He says to do it only in public, not to convince the unreasonable man, but those watching. Maybe that works, but personally, I’m tired of arguing altogether. Never has it gotten me anything that quiet removal from the situation wouldn’t have accomplished. At the heart of this is a very human urge to feel right. Our parents and teachers praise us through our early years for correctness, to the point that it feels like a virtue overshadowing humility, compassion, and curiosity.

What’s right and wrong is a topic that requires deep reflection, and the answers don’t lend themselves to winning arguments. In the cases where a debate can be healthy—and there are many cases—it’s best to conduct it with someone who is humble about their knowledge, willing to hear your side, and open to testing any conclusions against the real world. If you can find no such representative of that particular stance, that might be a signal worth noticing. We should save our energy, and look at ourselves constantly to ensure that we, too, are worth debating with.