Conflict vs. Mistake

A fairer take

This Scott Alexander blog post strawmans the “conflict” position. Often I write when I am deeply annoyed or when I see an opportunity for humor, and I’m currently experiencing the former.

To be clear, what I propose below is not a rebuttal. I think of it as a demonstration of what it would mean to explore the distinction between “conflict” and “mistake” in a fairer, somewhat-less-shallow way.¹ It’s also less political and more interpersonal. If you’re interested in more of an argument against Scott’s post, see this.

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Imagine that Morgan has a father Jack and a mother Jill, and that Morgan is queer and that Jack and Jill are queerphobic. I want to explore three different ways to characterize the relations between Morgan and their parents.

One. Morgan is in conflict with their parents.

This is the most obvious position. Reality is broad, so the conflicts might manifest in many different ways, but they all reduce to “Morgan wants something, and their parents don’t want them to have that something.”

Morgan wants to wear certain types of clothing; their parents want them to wear clothing more traditionally aligned with their assigned gender at birth. Morgan wants to date a person of a certain gender identity; their parents don’t want them to date people with that gender identity. Or perhaps more generally Morgan wants to act in the myriad other ways that align with how queerness manifests in society, and their parents don’t want them to do so. Or, finally, Morgan simply wants to be queer and Jack and Jill do not want them to be queer. Maybe they have an issue with how Morgan acts; maybe they have an issue with how Morgan is.

In any case, Morgan wants something and they don’t want that.

Two. Someone is making a mistake.

Jack and Jill want the best for their child. They always have. Jack and Jill raised Morgan as well as they could, giving Morgan everything they needed to grow up to become a kind, caring, competent adult.

That’s how parenting works. It was not a conflict when Morgan wanted to take a certain English class in high school and Jill advised against it; after all, Jill had heard some spicy parental gossip about the teacher’s reputation. (Jill told Morgan a few things and Morgan decided, with the additional information, to take a different class.) It was not a conflict when Jack didn’t buy Morgan a car at age 16, though Morgan had begged for one; after all, he thought it would be better that Morgan saved up more money first to contribute more toward the purchase, because he understood better the value of discipline and financial independence. Morgan didn’t fully understand at the time, but they trusted him and got a job at a boba shop—and soon grasped the benefits of work (and their father’s position.)

And Jack and Jill (believe they) know more about queerness than Morgan. They know that being perceived as queer will hurt Morgan’s future employment opportunities; that it will lead to discrimination against them; that Morgan may lose friends; that even family members may cut Morgan off—so Morgan should simply not be queer. And if Morgan knew the same, Morgan would agree. Or maybe, they just think that being queer is bad for Morgan. That it is a sin; that it condemns Morgan in the eyes of God. Maybe they instinctively react in disgust, and think that Morgan will eventually grow up and look back, disgusted, at themselves, for this phase in their life. They’re trying to protect Morgan from themself.

Morgan themself might believe their parents are making a mistake. Morgan also thinks their parents want the best for them; remembers Jill reading them fairytales and Jack driving them to art lessons and countless instances in which they gave Morgan invaluable advice. Morgan understands their parents grew up with different norms and media and thoughts they were allowed to think. It’s just that Jack and Jill don’t understand Morgan’s internal experience—but why shouldn’t Morgan keep trying to help Jack and Jill, then, for if they understood better, wouldn’t they accept Morgan for who Morgan is?

So we might think: Morgan obviously wants what’s best for themself, and it seems that Morgan’s parents also want what’s best for Morgan, too. Where’s the conflict? Aren’t Jack and Jill just making a mistake?

Three. Morgan is in conflict with their parents.

This is a response to Two more so than it is an independent framework.

Morgan sees themself as necessarily queer. It is not a limb, or an article of clothing, or a tattoo, or something that can be excised through material means. Every part of their personhood is interlaced with queerness.

Jack and Jill want the best for their conception of Morgan. It is possible that Jack and Jill do not see Morgan as necessarily queer; that they see Morgan’s queerness as something to be hacked off and disposed of. They may even not believe there is such a thing as a “queer person.” In that case, there is an error with the idea that “both Morgan and Morgan’s parents want the best for Morgan.” Morgan and Morgan’s parents have conflicting conceptions of what the entity Morgan actually is.

It is true in general that two people A and B do not have (can not have, even) the same conception of person A. But there is a distinction between preferences—B thinks A prefers coffee to tea; A actually likes them equally—and identity. I enjoy playing chess; I love Thai tea; I believe the only good protein powder is Optimum Nutrition Gold Standard Whey. But making music is core to who I am. And what matters is that I myself see making music as core to who I am, not whether an outside observer disagrees.

Jack and Jill may even believe who Morgan is attracted to is not a choice, is God-given; thus they may say that we all have our vices, and that we must strive constantly to fight against them. Then again, queerness is not just about attraction. Jack and Jill may even see religion as core to their identities—necessarily religious, as it were—and thus see rejecting queerness as such, too. That too would induce conflict.

We could delve further into hypotheticals, imagining what Jack and Jill and Morgan believe about the label “queer,” inventing more and more conditions upon Jack and Jill and Morgan’s conflict—or Morgan’s mistake, or Jack and Jill’s mistake—but I’ll leave it here for now. What appears to be a mistake may mask genuine conflict.

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Scott writes at this at the end of his blog post:

Right now I think conflict theory is probably a less helpful way of viewing the world in general than mistake theory. But obviously both can be true in parts and reality can be way more complicated than either. Maybe some future posts on this, which would have to explore issues like normative vs. descriptive, where tribalism fits in here, and “the myth of the rational voter”. But overall I’m less sure of myself than before and think this deserves more treatment as a hard case that needs to be argued in more specific situations. Certainly “everyone in government is already a good person, and just has to be convinced of the right facts” is looking less plausible these days. At the very least, if I want to convince other people to my position here, I actually have to convince them – instead of using the classic Easy Mistake Theorist tactic of “smh that people still believe this stuff in the Year Of Our Lord 2018” repeated over and over again.

There are some things here that I agree with. In certain situations and sub-situations it might be most helpful to view the relations between Morgan and their parents as involving “conflict”; in others, involving “mistakes.” Taking the latter lens, Morgan might imagine that the right path forward is to talk to their parents more, sharing information and resources to help them better understand Morgan. Taking the former, Morgan might hide their true feelings and identity to elide fighting entirely or cut off their parents as they grow older.

So both conflict theory and mistake theory can be useful—can be true—can inform one’s decisions—in parts. And if so, that means that whichever side you favor, you ought to consider the other with the seriousness it deserves.

If you read Scott’s blog post, you’ll see that no matter what he says above, he doesn’t.

Thank you to Espen, Janet, and Edward for writing thanks messages in italics at the bottom of their blog posts. Thank you to Z and Lydia for hosting a writing event that I wasn’t able to attend, because it made me remember this idea. Thank you to Ava and Charlotte for asking me what’s been on my mind recently, because it forced me to continue remembering this idea. Thank you to Espen for suggesting many, many, many useful edits.

1. This is not a Scott Alexander hatepost. Others have done critical analyses: see Jonathan Korman, David Thorstad, or if you’re feeling spicy, Elizabeth Sandifer.