a faithful paraphrase of Montaigne’s “Of the Art of Conference” (Book III, Chapter VIII), tightened and modernized for a mid-21st-century reader.

Conversation is the sharpest tool we have for testing judgment. I value it more than any other mental exercise. Reading and writing polish thoughts in private, but conversation exposes them to resistance—and resistance is how thinking improves.

I like disagreement. When someone challenges me, they wake me up. They force me to look again, to see whether I’m defending truth or merely habit. I don’t argue to win; I argue to understand. If I discover I’m wrong, that’s not a loss. That’s progress.

The worst conversations aren’t hostile ones; they’re lazy ones. People who cling to their opinions despite evidence, who argue by volume, insult, or authority, are not conversing—they’re performing. They want confirmation, not inquiry. I’d rather speak with someone who contradicts me sharply than with someone who agrees thoughtlessly.

Good conversation requires flexibility. You must be willing to abandon a position mid-sentence if it stops making sense. Pride kills it. The moment your identity tangles with your opinion, the conversation is over. You’re no longer listening; you’re just defending.

I admire people who argue cleanly. They respond to what you actually say, not a version distorted for easy attack. They don’t hide behind clever phrasing or technical language. They aim at clarity, not dominance. They want to illuminate, not impress.

I distrust smooth talkers. Eloquence without substance is just noise. A person who speaks beautifully but thinks poorly is more dangerous than an honest stumbler. Precision matters more than polish.

Conversation also reveals character. Some people can’t tolerate contradiction. Others collapse at the first sign of it. A few—too few—treat it as a gift. These are the ones worth seeking out: people who care more about getting it right than being right.

I don’t expect agreement. I expect engagement. The point isn’t harmony; it’s refinement. Thought improves through friction, as long as the friction is clean.

If conversation fails, it’s usually because we’ve mistaken it for combat or theater. It’s neither. It’s a shared search. And like any serious craft, it demands discipline: attention, humility, and the courage to change your mind.

That, to me, is the art.