But, unfortunately, deconstruction is my love language. To me there is no greater compliment than showing interest, and no better way to show interest than to overanalyze. I like to pick things apart, look at details, dig up contradictions, make comparisons, ask difficult questions. It doesn’t come out of a desire to destroy, or even criticize. It’s more that I instinctively believe that anything worth caring about is worth investigating deeply and honestly. Serious analysis feeds the life of an idea, a belief, a practice. It is, in my mind anyway, a sign of respect. I deconstruct because I care.

In this age, though, that is not necessarily a lovable personality trait. It is fashionable in certain sectors nowadays to lament the decline in enthusiasm for “intellectual debate”, but it’s no mystery why recreational disagreement has fallen out of favor. Like so many things, the internet ruined it. It was one thing, once upon a time, to sit down for a coffee or a beer with a friend and toss ideas back and forth. That’s still nice, when you can get it, when there is a real foundation of mutual respect and an authentic spirit of good faith. But on the internet, where tone is lost, respect is tenuous, and good faith is a joke, the idea of “intellectual debate” has been transformed into a guilt trip used by trolls and harassers. To engage is to get drawn into nauseating maze of circular logic, regurgitated talking points, and tiresome put-downs that may expand to involve dozens of interlocutors and potentially hundreds of spectators. It’s not a polite fencing match. It’s a mosh pit with shivs. And, through the magic of mobile technology, it doesn’t end when someone gets tired and goes home. It follows you everywhere, sometimes for days on end. This isn’t the stuff of which a full life is made. It’s the stuff of nightmares.