argument Archive - The Art of Communicating

It blew up in my face

Everyone loves clarity… right up until it gets them into trouble.

You know, I get a lot of heavy nods when I say that clarity forces you to take a stand. And people mean it. They want to take a stand.

But eventually, someone speaks up with a but: “I’ve tried that. I spoke plainly. I was very clear. And it blew up in my face.”

And I get it. That’s a real scar.

Maybe people pushed back.
Maybe the room went quiet.
Maybe the project stalled because someone felt threatened.

Whatever it was, it taught you a lesson:
that clarity is dangerous.

Here’s the thing though. That lesson is incomplete.

Because what really happened isn’t that clarity failed. It’s that clarity revealed something: about the culture, about the priorities, about the willingness to have hard conversations.

And that’s precisely why clarity matters.

If your words never create friction, they probably never cut deep enough to matter. And if the truth never meets resistance, maybe it’s not the real truth.

Clarity is not the absence of pushback. It’s often the cause of it. But that pushback is information. It shows you where the real work begins.

The leaders who light the path don’t avoid those moments. They walk straight into them … not to win an argument, but to move the conversation forward.

So, to me the question isn’t so much “What if it backfires again?”

The question is “What might change if you kept going after it did?”

Keep lighting the path,
Michael

Fine. You won the argument.

So why does it feel like you lost?

Perhaps because you have.

Sure, you made your case. You proved them wrong. There was zero room for doubt.

And in the end they gave in… “Fine. Whatever.”
But is that really winning?

I’ve been through this way too often before I noticed that even when you win the argument, you can still lose a lot.

For example …

→ Trust. They agreed, but not because they believe you. They’re done fighting.

→ Influence. They’ll think twice before engaging with you again.

→ Progress. The fight is over. But the problem is not.

And the strangest part?
The argument itself was never actually the point.
You’ve won the wrong conversation.

It turned out we forgot to ask the more important question: “Wait a second, what problem are we actually trying to solve here?”

Be honest: How often did you have an argument without really knowing the answer to that question?

So, what would actually moves things forward?

It’s not “winning” the argument.
It’s shifting the conversation entirely.
It’s clarifying the path:
→ What path are we on?
→ What are we trying to achieve (together)?
→ Where are we aligned?

Because as long as the conversation itself is unclear, proving a point means nothing (except, perhaps, for your ego).

The most important lesson here might be this:
Don’t let others drag you into an argument that misses the point (even if you know you can win that argument).

Keep lighting the path!

What if they’re just flat-out wrong?

Not kind of wrong. Not “we see things differently” wrong.
Flat-out, factually, objectively wrong.

Do you still have to listen? Do you still have to “align”?

This is where most people dig in.

When you know you’re right, and the facts are on your side, it feels ridiculous, almost irresponsible, to entertain their perspective.

So you push harder. You stack up logic, dismantle their argument, walk them, step by step, to the only reasonable conclusion.

And yet…

They still don’t budge.

Because here’s what we get wrong about being right:
If logic won arguments, you wouldn’t be having this one.

People don’t accept the truth just because it’s true.
They accept it when it stops feeling like a threat.

When you make them feel like they’re losing, even if you’re right, they’ll hold on even tighter.

So, what do you do?

Do you just let them be wrong? Do you sit there and nod along?

Not at all. But you do something counterintuitive:

You remove the need for them to defend themselves.

Because when you put someone in a position where admitting they’re wrong feels like a loss, they won’t do it.

Instead, you light them a path that doesn’t feel like surrender.

Instead of “That’s incorrect.” → Try “How did you come to that conclusion?”
Instead of “The data shows otherwise.” → Try “What would need to be true for that to work?”
Instead of “You need to change your mind.” → Try “What part of this doesn’t sit right with you?”

Because the moment it feels like a battle, they stop thinking.

But when you give them a door instead of a wall, they might just walk through.

What started as a fight about who is right is now a path to getting it right.

And when that happens?
You don’t have to win the argument.

Because now, there is no argument.
There’s a conversation.

Keep lighting the path.

Not again.

Arms cross. Voices rise. You know exactly where this is going.

You explain. Again. They push back. Again.

It’s not that they don’t understand. It’s more like they don’t want to.

And if you’re honest with yourself… maybe it’s the same for you.

Because at this point, it’s not even about the argument anymore.
It’s about holding your ground.
It’s about not losing.

But the harder you fight to be right, the more resistance you create.

So you dig in. They dig in. And suddenly, it’s not a conversation anymore, it’s a battle.

And no one actually wins.

Until…

… you stop trying to prove your point and start uncovering theirs.

Because as long as you’re focused on being right, so are they.
And as long as they’re focused on defending, nothing moves.

But the moment you shift from competition to empathy, everything changes.

You listen. Not to prepare your next counter-argument. But to really understand what’s actually in their way.

Because the real reason they push back isn’t always the one they say out loud. And it’s almost never just logic.

It’s pride.
It’s fear.
It’s stakes.
It’s the feeling that changing their mind means losing.

But when you see that…
and when you speak to that…
the fight disappears.

Not because you made a better case, but because they no longer feel like they have to fight.

Suddenly, they feel seen.
You’re not on opposite sides anymore.
You’re walking the same path.
You align.

And what a difference that makes.
What started as a fight about who is right is now a path to getting it right.

And when that happens early?
The fight never even begins.

Keep lighting the path!

No further explanation

“What you said hurt me deeply.”
This needs no further explanation.

And yet, in an argument, how often do you bet on ever more explanations?

You disagree with your colleagues from the executive team.
Mails are gearing up.
Arguments build up.
Everyone feels deeply misunderstood.

More explanations follow.
Still no agreement in sight …

The explanations become longer …

More potential for misunderstandings …

When there’s actually not much to explain in the first place: What your colleague said during the partner meeting hurt you deeply.
That’s it.
This needs no explanation.

Actually, long explanations will likely make it worse.

So, instead of widening your argument why not focus it?
Go to a place where you can calm down, collect your thoughts, and focus.
Could be outside, could be in a quiet corner, could be at a café.

When you’re there, figure out:
So, what is it that I actually want to say? What is my point here?

That’s never 30 reasons. It’s often rather one, maybe two. Often even just a feeling.

And then, in your next reply, just make that point.
Say it as simply as possible.
And leave it at that.

Both, my clients and myself have often been amazed by the difference that makes.

What’s your experience?
Have you ever been frustrated with arguments where no one could find agreement, and everyone just kept overexplaining?

The not-so-rational argument

Fact: The glass is half full.
Which is the same as half empty.

The more relevant question is what conclusions do we draw from the fact?

These can be rather different depending on your take regarding half empty or half full, e.g. because they imply a different sense of urgency.

The thing is that arguing rationally based on facts can be just as frustrating as arguing emotionally when we don’t agree on the meaning of the facts. Even more so … because everyone is so deeply convinced that their take is right. After all, the facts prove them right. It really is a factual argument: “But the glass is half empty! You can’t deny that!”

Why then does the other party, based on the facts, arrive at a different conclusion? And how come they are just as convinced of their conclusion?

The problem is that facts are just facts and the argument is not about the facts. It’s about what the facts mean. It’s informed by our experiences and expectations. It’s influenced by our values and principles.

And this means, that it only masks as a rational discussion unless we agree on these things. It’s a rational discussion relative to our values and principles. Only when we agree about these will a rational argument lead to the same conclusion for all participants.

Are you clear about the values that influence the meaning of a fact to you?

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