Interview with the Flat-Earther

And what it tells us about what schools miss

Last weekend I was lucky enough to have a sit-down conversation with Mark Sargent, one of the leaders of the flat Earth community.

Do you know about Mark? Dude’s famous. I first heard about him when I watched the (truly excellent, humanistic, fun) documentary Behind the Curve in which he steals the show; he exudes “I AM THE PERSON YOU WANT TO STAND NEXT TO AT A PARTY” vibes in quantities that I can only dream of: affable and funny and nutty and kind. The flat-Earth community has its malignant elements,¹ and Mark seems to be a force for generosity and open-mindedness in it.

Everyone has their hobby. Some people like golf, some people like Settlers of Catan; I like arguing with people I disagree with. And for years I’ve wanted to talk to someone in the Flat Earth community.

Mind you, I have a soft spot for conspiracy theorists in general. We tell kids to be open-minded to unpopular ideas, to seek truth for themselves, to be courageous in their beliefs… and conspiracy theorists try to do that!

But I’ve found flat Earth theory fascinating in particular. A lot of conspiracy theories are kinda niche — about small things in the world that I haven’t had any personal interaction with. I wasn’t in Dallas in 1963, and though I’ve been to Loch Ness, I didn’t get my feet wet. I’ve never even been to Area 51. These things are far from me. But I live on Earth, and I think about the stars above me. The shape of the Earth feels like it should be easy to prove demonstrably, even without relying on NASA images. This is a fact that everyone can see for themselves — and yet some people disagree radically about it.

Going into the conversation, I had two questions:

1. could we figure out where we differed?

2. how would Mark respond to some of the arguments (for a round Earth) that I find convincing?

Well, I’m happy with how it went! I present to you: our conversation!

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And… attack!

Imaginary Interlocutor: Why, Brandon, why? Don’t you know that this is, like, one of the least likely conspiracy theories? Don’t you have blog posts to write, or classes to teach, or babies to play with?

Engaging with someone who’s wrong never fails to force me to learn new things. Egan points out that this is a characteristic of Philosophic (👩‍🔬) thinking — the best way to argue for (or against) huge ideas is to fixate on utterly small details. Ordinarily, these details of the world wouldn’t even deserve the name of “trivia” — think of the precise location of where Venus is (which helped vindicate Galileo) or where certain stars seem to be in an eclipse (which helped vindicate Einstein).

If you’re looking to fall in love with the world, engaging a belief you’re nearly 100% sure is wrong can still be a good use of time.

I.I.: So this was just a selfish thing? (Surely you don’t hope to convince flat-Earthers they’re wrong?)

Oh, I always hope that one of us will walk away less sure of our beliefs — and that typically happens! (I’ll let you be the judge of whether that happened here.) But going in, I had two other audiences in mind, too —

#1: Students in Science is WEIRD

I want to model for them (while they’re still young and impressionable)² that in a world in which everyone bemoans intellectual bubbles, it’s still possible (and in fact delightful) to have serious conversations with people you disagree with.

#2: Their parents

Part of my conviction, in starting Science is WEIRD, was to use it as a platform to show how the tools of rationality can help us cut through controversies. Eventually I’d like to have similar conversations about topics like the wisdom of nuclear energy, the age of the Earth, human evolution, how much the climate is changing, how bad the effects of that are likely to be, organic foods and GMOs and various health things, COVID stuff, educational interventions, etc., etc.

I wanted to start with flat-Earthism³ because, compared to all that, it’s non-controversial!

In time, I’ll be engaging the thinking of people whom others find quite objectionable; I anticipate that some people will worry that I’m doing that because I secretly agree with their beliefs and want to give them a megaphone. Starting with Mark is a way to plant a flag in the ground: I will talk politely to anyone about anything, including things I think are entirely wrong. And starting with him is a way to start all that without touching on culture war stuff. (Disagreeing with Flat Earthers: one of the few bipartisan activities we have left?⁴

I.I.: Okay, fine, good for you. But why post it here?

A lot of educational theories assume that the worst case scenario for a teacher is a student who is totally ignorant about what they need to understand. Solving this problem requires cognitive psychology: identifying background knowledge, chunking the information so as to not overwhelm a student’s working memory, reviewing afterwards, and so on. (This is something the Educational Traditionalists are often good at.)

Better educational theories know it can get worse — a student who’s totally indifferent to learning what they need to understand. Solving this problem requires affective psychology: making the content interesting, or meaningful. (This is something the Educational Progressivists are often good at.)

Egan’s approach recognizes that, sometimes, people actively resist understanding what you’re trying to show them. Solving this problem requires a whole pile of techniques that aren’t systematically taught in teachers ed programs. This is something that Socrates was often good at.

Right after I finished the conversation with Mark, I realized that it opens up our community to discussing something essential for Egan schools: how to train teachers to do real Socratic dialogues.

I.I.: Socratic… dialogues? I seem to recall doing one of those in a literature class, talking about how we interpreted the ending, or something. (I think they’re supposed to be for academic-y things?)

No! The opposite! Socrates visited the Athenian marketplace to ask people about their dearest beliefs, to hold a light to them, and to make people realize that their beliefs didn’t actually hold water.⁵

And for this he was executed.

Athens didn’t kill people for being academic. “Academics” were invented to answer the most important questions about life, the Universe, and Everything — especially the things people disagree vehemently about.

Egan points out that, even in very academic schools, this is often forgotten. And for obvious reasons: it’s safer to focus on the Krebs Cycle than to ask why life exists in the first place, safer to debate what the green light refers to at the end of The Great Gatsby than to ask what the book tells us about how to live a good life.⁶

Egan argued that, to build students’ Philosophic abilities to understand the world, we need to swallow hard and invite disagreements about the fiery, messy topics that sensible people avoid. And this means that we need our teachers (especially at the high school and college levels, but also in middle school) to be adepts at holding what Peter Boghossian⁷ dubs “impossible conversations” — discussions where people’s deep beliefs conflict, and in which emotions run hot.

Sometimes a title is so good, you don’t need cover art.

Boghossian’s book How to Have Impossible Conversations has become my Bible for this. It’s a perfectly-organized collection of the moves that enable these dialogues to work. Here are just some of them:⁸

Foundational Communication Skills:

1A: Rapport Building: Establishing trust and connection.
1B: Paraphrasing: Ensuring understanding through restatement.
1C: Mirroring: Encouraging elaboration through repetition of key phrases.

Encouraging Reflection:

2A: Disconfirmation Question: Asking what would change their beliefs.
2B: Asking for Clarification: Seeking deeper understanding.
2C: Acknowledging Complexity: Recognizing the multifaceted nature of issues.

Fostering Respect:

3A: Providing Face-Saving Outlets: Allowing change without embarrassment.
3B: Affirmation: Acknowledging valid points to show respect.
3C: Using Softeners: Reducing perceived aggression in conversation.

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I.I.: Why the numbers and letters?

Because I think it’d be fun to critique how well I did in this dialogue, and to use those moves as a way to do it. Numbering each gives us a shortcut for talking about ‘em.

So, in the comments, I invite you to weigh in on:

• What do you see me doing well?

• Where do I mess up?

• What moves do I rely on?

• Which do I entirely miss?⁹

Crucial and essential:

Critique me, and not Mark. And critique my moves, and not the content (of flat vs. round Earth.) If we want to make a separate post thread for discussing that topic, we can — just say the word — but this ain’t it.

Mark was kind enough to be a guest, and I wouldn’t mind talking to him again; it would be inexcusably rude of me to let critique of him stand on the blog.

Comments on this blog post are open for all subscribers (not just paid ones), but any comments that critique Mark will be deleted. (And anyone who’s mean will be banned.)

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I.I.: I have an idea for how you could have better video quality the next time you do this…

Please! Please tell me! This was done on Zoom; I’m told that Zencastr might be a good choice for the next one I do. I’d love more ideas, especially ones built for tech-snafu-prone people.

1. Truly, does any community lack for these?

2. Yes, this includes you, Blue Seal! I know some of you read these posts…

3. Any readers who are in the Flat Earth community: how do you write the noun form of your system? Is it hyphenated: flat-Earthism? Do you capitalize “Flat”: Flat-Earthism? Do you make both lowercase: flat-earthism? Inquiring (and anal-retentive) minds want to know.

4. Remember that for your next holiday gathering.

5. And also, one imagines, to purchase the occasional bag of vegetables. Mm-mm olives.

6. I know, I know — the green light is a metaphor for one view of the good life. I could have done a better job with this example — but I contend that, too often, literature classes end up cutting off exactly the questions that the literature they’re dissecting was intended to answer. Mark Edmundson’s Why Read? makes this point wonderfully, and I’m probably overdue for another re-read of it.

7. Peter Boghossian is, not coincidentally, a person some people think is beyond the pale, and should not be engaged with! From the rest of this post, you can hopefully guess how I will respond to that. Fun historical fact: once, over a Chinese dinner in downtown Seattle, I got in an argument with Peter Boghossian over why he was focussing his Socratic superpowers on the religious, asking him to support his belief that religion was mostly a source of evil in the world. I can say that, when the tables were turned on him, he responded thoughtfully and reasonably. Years later, and for different reasons, he changed his mind on the topic. Peter, if you’re reading this: that evening, you impressed.

8. Gathered with the help of ChatGPT. I don’t have the book at hand; Boghossian has many more, and puts all of them more powerfully, with examples. The book might make good fodder for a future “book” club, though maybe we’d have to drop the quotation marks. Oh, the three categories are also my invention.

9. If you’ve read Boghossian, then feel free to tell me more of his moves that I didn’t use here.