Arguments and duels

I was thinking just now about the nature of arguments. I used to love arguing. As the time passes, I come closer to the opinion that for the most part they are useless.

I say for the most part, because there are exceptions. Arguments can lead to one or both parties changing their opinions if: 1) one or both parties are intelligent and open-minded individuals, 2) one of the parties is authoritative (his/her opinion matters) to the other party for whatever reason. Since both cases are rare, the arguments leading to people changing opinions are also rare.

Another way that arguments can be useful is by allowing the people involved to strengthen their position in their own mind. For example, oftentimes, when I argue with someone, I do not change my opinion in the end, but my opponent oftentimes asks questions which, though by themselves not convincing enough to change my opinion, nevertheless are interesting. After I look for the answers to the questions and find them, my position becomes even stronger.

Discussions are a completely different thing. People approach discussions with an open mind. They do not enter into discussions to defeat the opponent or even to uphold one’s view. They start a discussion to learn something new.

A difference between an argument and a discussion is that between a fight and rowing a boat together.

I have also noticed that arguments in the scientific environment are usually very short (not to be confused with the “academic” environment in general, where arguments in the hack-in-chaynik manner can go on and on). Probably because for the most part they are about facts, not, as they say in Russian, pouring liquid from a full cup into an empty one.

Which brings me to the main point of the post: throughout the history, duels have always been rather on the short side. Works of fiction (in literature and cinematography) portray duels as really long, drawn-out affairs, but in most cases, they took a few minutes at most. This included the duels in the West (both using swords and pistols) and in the East (e.g., a samurai duel consisted of a waiting period of intense concentration after which both samurai rushed towards each other and made one single movement — the one whose blow landed first usually managed to kill his opponent and went home).

Sometimes, however, the portrayal of duels is quite accurate. I give you two Western examples.

A more modern example, borrowed, no doubt, from cowboy movies:



An example from Napoleonic France (there is an even better scene from that movie, where they duel on foot, using rapiers, but I couldn’t find it):

Subclavian, or aorta itself

In the post in which I quoted a passage about Patrick O’Brian’s Stephen Maturin performing a surgery on himself, a couple things should have caught your attention: 1) Dr. Maturin inquired whether the woman whom he asked Jack Aubrey to visit was wearing black, and 2) when he declined the offer of another doctor, he said: “No, sir. I do this with my own hand. If it could undertake the one task, it must undertake the other: that is but justice.”

Putting the two things together, one realizes where Maturin got his wound — at a duel over a woman! (And he was wondering whether she was mourning over the other fellow by wearing black — which she wasn’t.) As any red-blooded male, I like to read about duels (although I prefer swords to pistols), so here it is:

Polish duel — an explanation

Apparently, a lot of my readers misunderstood what’s happening in this scene. I even got an agry e-mail saying: “Interesting, I havent seen swordfight ending with one guy dying because his head was split in half... I think ever”.

My response:

That is not at all what happened!

The short guy didn’t want to kill the tall guy, because the latter would be useful in the war against the Swedish. So, he just tapped him in the head with the sabre (probably bruising the scalp and giving him a light concussion). Didn’t you hear what he said to the fallen guy’s chevra? Something like: “Now he is mine. And don’t worry: we don’t kill the wounded — a king’s custom.”

The clip actually shows how rational thinking and honor of man’s life prevailed over testosterone (of which both had enough). This is what it means to be a real man (not “human”, but davka male) — someone who can be a badass with his sabre, when needed, but then in the critical moment, can control himself to give his opponent a slight tap instead of killing him.

IIRC, samurai got to the level of proficiency with their katana swords to the point that they were able to split a fruit (and some say a rice grain, and some say a watermelon) lying on their assistant’s neck without killing the guy. (Now, how many assistants they went through before achieving this level is not clear from the history.)