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Insight delves into a pressing question: Have we lost the art of respectful disagreement? This intriguing exploration, titled “Death of Debate,” can be viewed on SBS or streamed via SBS On Demand, as it engages students, families, politicians, protesters, and academics in a meaningful dialogue.
Reflecting on my upbringing in a rural area, it was evident that there was a disconnect between city-based policymakers and the realities of country living. In the small farming town of New Zealand where I grew up, life was deeply intertwined with sports, religious gatherings, and the land itself.
Pressing issues like fuel prices and environmental regulations were always at the forefront of community discussions. I can still recall the dramatic image of a farmer who drove his tractor up the steps of parliament to protest against emissions taxes, a vivid demonstration of the rural resistance to policies perceived as city-centric.
Conversations around climate change were rare and, when they did occur, were often met with skepticism or humor. A cold spell would prompt remarks like, “We could use a bit of that global warming right now,” reflecting the dismissive attitude towards global climate concerns prevalent in our community.
We didn’t talk much about climate change, but if it did come up, it was a joke or in a dismissive context. If we had a cold snap, we would say, “We could use a bit of that global warming right now”.
My views on this topic would later start to change — thanks to a debate.
Schooled in suspicion
In high school, I had a teacher who was drawn to conspiracy theories. His classes were entertaining, and I felt encouraged to question widely held views.
I had mentors and role models at home and church who helped me critically assess politically motivated conspiracies. But I felt there weren’t many people who could help me with scientific topics.
I had turned to the internet and old-school email forums, when I came across confident voices claiming climate change was a hoax.
I wouldn’t have called myself a climate change denier, but I felt strongly that the science was not settled.
Despite my doubts, I was a teenager who was excited about alternative energy sources.
Burning fossil fuels felt like an expensive use of a limited resource. I was also concerned about energy security and the human health impacts of smog and soot.
So, at 16 years old in 2007, I built a renewable energy project with help from a scientific mentor and the local welding workshop.
My project placed in the local science fair, and I went on to compete nationally.
Confronting the climate scientist
As a national finalist, I was invited with others to a university where I toured the climate change research lab facilities. I was amazed to see where the ice cores were stored and the scientific instruments used to measure carbon dioxide in both the ice and atmosphere.
One climate scientist presented a talk on the science of climate change and I decided to challenge her.
I brought up the argument that carbon dioxide historically lags temperature — implying that carbon dioxide couldn’t be the cause of global warming.
She listened, did not dismiss me, and then addressed my argument.
Yes, in natural cycles carbon dioxide used to follow temperature. But today, carbon dioxide is rising before temperature. That reversal is evidence of human influence.

After the talk, she pointed me to the website of a not-for-profit organisation that answered common questions about climate science and explained counterarguments with peer-reviewed research.
It was one of the first times I had encountered a debate about climate science where I was invited to assess the evidence for myself — and better understand both the science and the scientists behind it.
When knowing isn’t enough
Learning the facts changed my mind, but it still took a few years for me to care about the impact of climate change.
At university, I was mentored by a cancer researcher and theologian Graeme Finlay who introduced me to the work of the late physicist Sir John Houghton, a founding member of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change.
The work of these two scientists helped me see that there wasn’t a conflict between my faith and science — my faith supported my calling to science.
And so, climate change stopped being only a scientific question and also became a moral one to me.
The past 10,000 years of climate stability enabled human flourishing and now that stability is breaking down.
I believe this breakdown will most affect vulnerable ecosystems and communities with the least resources and infrastructure.
If I take the evidence seriously, what responsibility do I carry and how should I respond if I want my actions to align with my values?
Why I keep debating
The debate I had as a 17-year-old with a climate scientist — and later conversations as a first-year university student with mentors — taught me something important about disagreement.
In both the scientific and faith communities, I encountered people who were willing to challenge my ideas while still treating me with respect and care.
Those experiences shaped how I approach my work today both as a university lecturer and a researcher looking at how carbon can be used in green technology.

These days, when I encounter mistrust or defensiveness, I try to remember what it felt like to be the one asking the questions and how respectful debate opened the door for me.
If I care more about winning the argument than about the person I am arguing with, I’ve missed the point of debate.
We think better together.
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