A few months ago, I, along with 25 million other people, subjected myself to an hour-and-a-half-long video called, “Can 25 Liberal College Students Outsmart 1 Conservative”, featuring right-wing political debater Charlie Kirk. The channel that it was posted on, Jubilee, describes itself as seeking to “provoke understanding” and “create human connection”, but I didn’t feel understanding or connection when that video came to a close. I just felt angry. I thought about writing something about it then, but I figured it wasn’t a big enough deal. I mean, it’s just one video, right? But, to my dismay, Jubilee turned it into a series, inviting political figures from both sides of the political spectrum to debate a crowd of people who disagree with them. I hate these videos. Like so much. They make me feel anxious and frustrated and hopeless. But I also can’t stop watching them, and that’s, I think, the point. Because these kinds of videos aren’t actually meant to foster connection or understanding, they’re designed to profit off of polarization. Months after the original video was posted, off the heels of Donald Trump’s inauguration and a Canadian election looming, I feel more hopeless than ever. And for some reason, I’m still thinking about that video. As always, I have lots of feelings. Let’s talk about it.
The series I’m talking about is called “Surrounded”, and it goes something like this: They take a well-known political figure or commentator like Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigiege or Ben Shapiro or just a guy named Dean, and surround them with 25 people who align themselves with the other political party. The main debater will say something purposefully controversial, like “Trump was a good president” or “Democrats are more patriotic than Republicans”, and the participants must race -— literally race, like this is a nightmare final round of musical chairs or something — to the centre of the circle to debate them on their claim. Notice how we’re beginning with statements that are deliberately polarizing and anger-provoking? The debaters then get a certain amount of time to discuss or debate the statement (I forget how much, and I refuse to rewatch the video again — I’m protecting my peace). If the group doesn’t like what is being discussed in the centre, they can raise up a red flag, and after a number of them have been raised (I’m still protecting my peace), there’s another race to the centre for a new person to debate. Notice how this gives the group power to, as soon as they find that the conversation is shifting in the favour of the other side, stop it in its tracks before it gets anywhere?
My biggest problem with this video, and this style of content more generally, is that these aren’t truly debates at all. Sometimes, it feels as if these individuals are just waiting for the other person to stop talking so that they can make their point. Oftentimes, they don’t even wait and launch into their point in the middle of the other person’s sentence. It’s no longer a conversation and instead, just two people monologuing at each other. So much for understanding. People get so caught up in the desire to prove each other wrong that they don’t stop to think about the merit of what the other person is saying. In this video for example, it’s only after the time has run out in Kirk’s debate with this guy named Parker and they’re shaking hands that he acknowledges the strength and merit of one of Parker’s arguments. “That was the first good argument anyone’s made”, he said. But Kirk doesn’t, and can’t, acknowledge this in the actual debate, because that would mean conceding, or, at least finding a bit of common ground. But isn’t that supposed to be the whole point of this?
The videos go so viral because they make us angry, and they’re supposed to make us angry. We yell at our screens about how stupid the other side is, if only they could see things the way we do. And we keep watching, despite the fact that it might be unpleasant because we’re emotionally invested. Kirk acknowledging the strength of Parker’s argument in the middle of their debate wouldn’t create the same rage in us that we feel watching him completely refute logic. Kirk, as most political figures online do, walks into these debates with absolutely no willingness to concede. Regardless of whether he thinks it’s a good argument, he must argue against it. Because his audience thinks the left is the enemy, and they definitely wouldn’t want to see him agree with the enemy.
Kirk’s company, Turning Point USA, claims that it aims to encourage free speech on university campuses. You might have seen videos of him on TikTok debating crowds of passionate college students. He’s not the first person to do this. You’d probably recognize Steven Crowder from the “prove me wrong” meme made from his college-campus debates. These men set up shop on university campuses under the guise of creating space for productive political debate, but in reality, they’re searching to produce the same environment and reactions that Jubilee does. Guys like Kirk and Crowder purposefully seek out young people (almost like they’re afraid to debate experts…), who are more likely to be passionate and emotionally invested in the causes they care about. They seek out kids who are on their way to their math class, who have no time to prepare their arguments. They control what topics and discussions are posted, as well as their final edits. It’s not actually about finding common ground or fostering constructive debate. It’s about getting that perfect video of Kirk “owning a snowflake liberal” or Crowder making a kid cry. It’s about likes and shares and fuelling political division online. That’s the problem with social media debaters who make their living off of arguing. Less arguing means less views, less clicks, less money. They thrive off of painting the other side as stupid by, without exception, choosing to argue over understanding.
But my feelings are complicated. We’ve established that common ground is not what these discussions are about, but common ground might also be impossible. If I was in a situation like Dean was, in his “Surrounded” video, and I was faced with a man who voted for Trump and who doesn’t believe that racism is a thing anymore, I would find it pretty hard to find common ground with him. In fact, I don’t think I would even want to try. I don’t think you owe people time and understanding when their beliefs directly contradict your or others’ personhood, rights, and lived experiences. I don’t think that you owe everyone patience and acceptance in this way. It reminds me of a TikTok I saw, where a woman describes how she views politics not as a difference in opinion on policy, but as a difference in morality. To paraphrase her words, the debate should be, for example, about how we go about solving an issue like homelessness, not about whether we should even solve it at all. But somehow, the latter is the subject of debate. I think the young people debating Kirk have every right to be angry at him and his views and to not want to try to find common ground, especially when Kirk is obviously unwilling to do the same. Since discussions like these feature individuals who fundamentally see the world differently, finding common ground might be much harder than we think.
But while that might be true, I don’t think the solution to this fundamental difference in views is videos like Jubilee’s, despite the fact that they claim to be creating space for productive conversation. In fact, I think they’re dangerous. Not only do they cause emotional distress, but the rhetoric they showcase, (like Kirk’s anti-abortion stance, advocacy for Christian nationalism, climate change denial, and claims that gun deaths are “worth it” to protect the Second Amendment), are dangerous. Some even credit guys like Kirk as important forces in Trump’s re-election. Videos like Jubilee’s are unproductive, but they also platform these harmful ideas and viewpoints, framing them as legitimate and acceptable, with the express purpose of making them go as viral as possible. That’s reckless and dangerous.
I’m tired of pretending like these kinds of videos are healthy forms of conversation. The political division around us feels huge and significant, and it’s hard to imagine where we go from here. Providing space for productive conversations to achieve common ground is a great idea, but that is not the point of this kind of content. Understanding is important, but it can’t be sought out in this way. I think if we’re really serious about learning and growing, we’ll turn off the cameras and actually start listening.