Last week I came across this smart tweet from Kirk Miller that describes why most of us enjoy a well-written book: “Good writing is, among other things, a product of clear thinking.” It’s also true that in the process of producing good writing, one is forced to think clearly. This is one of my favorite things about writing this newsletter three times a week. I’m forced to sit down and wrestle with ideas and try to make my thinking clear. I’m not always certain where I’m going to land when I begin an article, but through the process of articulating my ideas for an audience, I am forced to take a stand, reckon with reality, consider my faith in a new light, and translate my ideas into something communicable and defendable. And the wonderful thing about this process is that it is available to everyone. It’s not just for elites or those with a college education. Everyone with pencil and paper has access to the ability to work out their ideas in writing to sharpen their thinking. At a time when intelligence seems to be in decline, when we can’t seem to talk to one another, and when we will be tempted to offload our reasoning abilities onto A.I., the simple practice of writing could be an essential tool to anchor your human thinking.
I admit that I am biased. I teach composition as part of my teaching load at Oklahoma Baptist University, and when I do so my approach is to teach it not just as a basic required course; or as a prerequisite preparing them for other, “real” classes; but as a foundational course that teaches a set of skills in writing, arguing, researching, and communication that will allow students to more fruitfully participate in public discourse over a lifetime. They will be better equipped to advocate for the oppressed, stand up against injustice, approve of what is beautiful and true and good, and discern what is evil. I really believe that, not just for my students, but for all of us. That something happens to us when we get into the habit of reading and writing charitably and reasonably.1 And the fruits of those habits benefit not only ourselves but our neighbors as well.
When you regularly practice writing out your ideas, you are forced to wrestle with what you actually believe and why you believe that. This is especially the case when you write for an audience. In a way, there is something Socratic about writing to an audience, when you truly keep an audience in mind, and if that audience is a challenging audience. When I write, I can hear the comments of readers coming at me, poking at my ideas, challenging my phrasing, questioning my word choices, asking me why I believe what I believe. And if I am a good writer, it is my duty to answer these questions, to revise my word choices in anticipation of their objections. Writing is dialogical in that sense. My thinking is sharpened as I imagine my audience and their responses, enter into dialogue with them, and alter my writing accordingly.
Now, someone might say, isn’t this a perfect place for A.I. to help us? Couldn’t I just ask A.I. to tell me what the significant objections or possible negative responses to my writing might be? Why imagine when I could trust the power of A.I. to predict based on probability? But here, as elsewhere, you are really just asking A.I. to do cognitive work that is valuable for you to do as a human. It is good for your reasoning abilities to imagine an audience rather than rely on A.I. to tell you how an audience will react. It develops empathy and compassion. It develops insight into human motivation. It helps you imagine different arguments and why people would hold them. I’m not saying this is easy. The fruit is in the struggle to imagine other people. Don’t surrender that struggle just because it’s hard.
Writing also reveals the nature of things by forcing you to methodically examine them. Often our thinking is scattered and ephemeral. We get glimpses of thoughts. Flashes of insight. Hints of inspiration. But deep understanding requires sustained concentration. And writing is a way of forcing yourself to create a linear development of thought. For example, you may intuitively love a hobby, but can you articulate why? Can you develop an argument for why you love it? Here our social media does us no favors. We have plenty of practice writing short statements that are perfect for virality, but sustained arguments force something deeper out of us. They reveal whether or not there is anything of substance beneath our bluster and posturing. In writing about what we love, we may discover a deeper appreciation for it. Or we may discover that it was no true worthy object of love to begin with. Either way, we have learned something valuable.
While I think there is great value in writing for an audience and forcing yourself to articulate your views, I do think prudence and temperance are important virtues for any writer, but especially for young writers. It’s not always necessary or prudent for young writers to state their views on controversial issues in public forums that will stay public indefinitely. My advice to young writers is to allow yourself to mature in your thinking before publishing things that could negatively affect your future employment. That’s not to say that there aren’t times to take a stand, but not every stand has to be taken by you and in public. That still leaves a wide array of topics to write and comment on that will help you figure out what you believe and what this crazy world is about. The goal here is not “self-discovery” in the old sense of the term, but a sharpening of your beliefs and thinking.
Another option is to not make your writing public at all, or to make it available to only friends and family. You will still get many of the benefits of writing without having to worry about any of the potential social costs of being “out there” as a writer.
However you choose to practice it, please write. I’m not going to say that we “need your voice,” because frankly we have enough voices as it is. The Internet is filled with voices. What we need is wisdom. And wisdom only comes through study, application, discipline, and of course most of all, the fear of the Lord. Forcing yourself to write out your ideas and defend them will not necessarily make you wise. There are plenty of foolish writers. But the practice of writing can help clarify your thoughts and lead you toward wisdom. And the benefits will help you beyond writing, in your everyday interactions and communications.
Humans have always been tempted to take the easier path, to avoid thinking, to adopt the opinions of the media and propagandists, or to have no meaningful opinion on important issues at all. The nightmare scenario, to me, is a society in which people not only adopt the views of the media and propagandists, but they also rely on the output of A.I. to determine their views. Watch people on Twitter “ask Grok” what to believe about what is true. It’s already happening. Writing is one way to anchor ourselves in our human reasoning (as opposed to trusting in technology), to explore our own thoughts and their relation to God’s revealed Truth. Don’t stop writing, don’t use A.I. to write.
I hesitate to use the word “critically” because often “critical” reading and writing turns out to be subversive and uncharitable reading and writing. What I want to emphasize is the use of reason.
Thank you for this perspective and challenge. Do you believe that writing provides a higher longterm benefit than deep conversation on the same subject does?