Why debate often stumbles at the first hurdle
At some point in a debate—especially one wrapped in the shiny, post-19th-century Western gift box—someone will inevitably say, "We need a more precise definition of X."
And just like that, the debate takes one of three inevitable paths:
The Semantic Pit Fight: Everyone beats their intellectual war drums, arguing over the real meaning of X. This escalates until they’re so lost in dictionary rabbit holes that they forget what they were even debating in the first place. (Somewhere, a philosophy professor cackles in delight.)
The Great Diplomatic Fizzle: Everyone realises they’ve been using X differently and starts nodding sagely, saying things like, “Ah, well, if you mean X that way, then I see where you’re coming from.” The debate dissolves into polite irrelevance.
The Franken-definition: A new hybrid definition of X is born, cobbled together like a linguistic monster. Yet, mysteriously, the debate still goes nowhere because neither side actually changed their mind.
Why Does This Happen?
Because while precise definitions sound like they should help, they usually just trap us in an intellectual purgatory of overthinking. Imagine trying to build a house, but every time you pick up a hammer, someone insists on defining what a hammer really is before you can use it. (Meanwhile, the house remains unbuilt.) The wisdom behind the precise definition is that we are likely to argue in circles if we can’t pin down how were using key language. Staying with the DIY metaphors, we can’t turn the screws if the drill keeps morphing in our hands.
But the deeper issue? Debate, as we structure it today, simply isn’t designed to get past this problem.
The Colosseum Effect: Public debates are often gladiator matches. Nobody actually wants to see agreement, they want blood! In this scenario, it’s about crushing your opponent to dust, not understanding them or their position.
The Abstract Safe Zone: If we keep the conversation in linguistic theory (“What does X really mean?”), nobody actually has to engage with messy real-world implications. It’s all very civilised—and pretty darn useless.
Semantics Is a Black Hole: Language is imprecise… I say precisely. Words change, evolve, and carry layers of nuance. Trying to solve a complex issue by first solving language is like trying to untangle Christmas lights by first defining the word tangle.
Precision Can Be a Trap: Precision sounds like a virtue, but often it’s just a way to suck all the life out of a conversation. When ideas are actually alive, they shift, adapt, and breathe. Trying to pin them down with rigid precision is like stopping a sprinter mid-stride to check their running form. You will not only fail, but also possibly kill the sprinter. Don’t do that.
Why debates sometimes feel pretty stupid.
Here comes the harsh, slightly arrogant truth: we’re just not smart enough.
No, really.
Public debates tend to showcase two types of intelligence:
Memorisation: The ability to recall impressive-sounding facts and references.
Categorisation: The ability to organise those facts into (reasonably rigid) intellectual frameworks.
Both of these skills are great for, say, winning pub quizzes or writing academic papers, but they’re terrible for actual conversation.
That’s why debates so often feel like watching two robots malfunctioning at each other. They’re operating within totally different, inflexible mental frameworks—so instead of engaging, they just keep repeating preloaded scripts.
What Would a Good Debate Look Like?
Imagine this: A debate where neither person had prepared arguments, rehearsed rebuttals, or memorised sources. Instead, two deeply curious, agile-minded thinkers simply sit down with a topic, a moderator, and a willingness to explore the unknown.
That’s what we need more of. Less precision, more play. Less combat, more conversation. Less trying to win, more trying to understand.
So, What Should We Do Instead?
Don’t just rebut—ask and clarify.
Don’t attack—adapt.
Don’t turn ideas into statues—let them dance.
Don’t reduce everything to black and white—explore the full spectrum of possible nuance.
Don’t debate a position—talk to a fellow human on the same journey.
Don’t overprepare—trust your ideas enough to let them be tested.
Most importantly: Don’t be a jerk — lean into curiosity, humility, and a sense of adventure.
That’s how real conversations happen. That’s how ideas grow. That’s how we actually move forward.
And if we ever do define X? Let’s at least agree to do it over coffee, not in the middle of a sword fight. “I am not left handed!”