We both care a lot about certain policies and really want to change the other’s mind, but whenever we try, it just ends in frustration. I've spent a lot of time wondering why our arguments are so unproductive.
I like your list, but I think there's an underlying issue you need to address: what does it mean for an argument to be productive? I think this is related to
really want to change the other’s mind
Which is very zero-sum, and indicates that to the extent a discussion is productive for one, it's counter-productive for the other. I recommend NOT HAVING those arguments. If you're going in with goals of understanding their position, changing your own mind, or better modeling the universe (and those in it), then you might actually be productive. This works even if your debate partner is trying to change your mind (though he or she may not feel productive, that's their lookout).
>really want to change the other’s mind
Which is very zero-sum, and indicates that to the extent a discussion is productive for one, it's counter-productive for the other. I recommend NOT HAVING those arguments. If you're going in with goals of understanding their position, changing your own mind, or better modeling the universe (and those in it), then you might actually be productive.
Not quite. If my goal is to change your mind and I succeed, you don't lose and therefore it's not zero-sum.. If I succeed it's probably because I'm right, or at least in your estimation I seem more likely right than your old position was. This holds true even if you went into it really wanting to change my mind as well -- it would just mean that you'd have had to change your mind on whether that was a good goal once you started seeing that I might be right.
The real problem is going in not wanting to be convinced. If you do that, and keep attachment to your belief that you're right, then you're adding a negative penalty to a win condition that makes it hard to get to. So long as you go in willing and happy to be convinced, you can productively go in with the main goal being to change their mind if you expect that to be more likely than them having something to say which could change your mind. In cases where you don't already understand their position, then this comes down to the same thing you say where you work towards goals like "understanding their position" and "changing your own mind", but when you think you already get their side then putting that to the test and seeing if you can change their mind is a very valid goal. You just come at it in a very different way when you're open to their viewpoints than when you're not.
Changing someone's mind could be useful – it all depends on the relevant beliefs. But, given the low probability and relatively high costs, it's probably better not having arguments with that chief purpose.
Also keep in mind that it's entirely possible for both of you to agree on all of the facts of a situation, but if you have different values, preferences, or utility functions, you can still disagree on policy.
Content Note: I've kept things abstract, but this post may still put frustrating politics on your mind.
I have strong political disagreements with a close friend of mine. We both care a lot about certain policies and really want to change the other’s mind, but whenever we try, it just ends in frustration. I've spent a lot of time wondering why our arguments are so unproductive, and after much rumination and journaling about it, I have come up with the following list of helpful reminders. Now when he sends me something politically charged, or when I get the urge to do the same, I stop and read some of the items in the list.
In no special order, they are:
When I review this list, the initial impulse to argue with my friend is replaced by a patient desire to find something more productive to say. And often this newly reformed desire then evolves into a different desire: to simply table the topic until I've become more informed (or just thought about it more).
This felt shift in desire has a familiar gestalt. There's probably a word for this but I don't know it. It reminds me of some sort of acceptance archetype--perhaps like the person who finally accepts that they aren’t just getting unlucky over and over, but rather that there is an underlying issue they must fix before they have a chance of succeeding.
If I'm actually serious about all this, then my next step is to set aside some blocks of focused time during which to: leave a line of retreat, see if I can find and correct any flagrant bucket errors, attack my arguments at their weak points, and maybe also recite the Litany of Tarsky for good luck. Only then will I be able to honestly tell my friend that I am arguing in good faith to the best of my ability. Presuming, of course, that I still disagree with him.
Recommended rereading: