Defusing an Argument

Civil Discourse, Part 2

Last week I reflected on the way that sources of disagreement often are rooted in a different place than we think: in our own vulnerabilities rather than what was intended by the other person. I suspect that all of us have had powerful emotional responses to things that other people have said to us. And when we experience a strong surge of emotion, it’s natural to express it – in fact, it’s hard to keep from expressing it.

If that’s true of you, it’s also likely that you’ve regretted some of your responses after the emotion of the moment has died down. When receiving what feels like a verbal punch in the mouth, it’s easy to react by punching back. But an emotion-driven outburst can damage any relationship, whether personal or professional, and the damage can be lasting.

We’ve all had our buttons pushed. How can we respond wisely when this happens? There are two lines of thought that I’ve found helpful when I’m angered or hurt or annoyed by something that’s been said.

First, recognize when it’s not personal. Most of the time, it has nothing to do with you – you may just happen to be standing there.

Sometimes we are attacked because we are delivering an unwanted message. Recently I was sharing a controversial plan of action in a meeting. It wasn’t really my plan, but I agreed to be the messenger because I understood the plan and felt I could explain it. There were people in the meeting who were angry about the chosen direction, and they spoke angrily – to me. But it had nothing to do with me; they were simply angry about the plan.

It's natural to feel attacked when someone speaks angrily to you, but most often, they’re not really angry with you. If you’re able to recognize this, and respond calmly, their anger has nothing to feed on and is unlikely to escalate. But when you take it personally and fire back – well, we all know what is likely to happen.

There are other times when a comment feels like an attack because it touches on a point where I’m sensitive. I once had a good friend who had grown up in an environment where he never felt fully accepted; he experienced love as something awarded conditionally based on performance. This may be the deepest wound that a person can have. This friend could never accept criticism of any kind or accept a relationship that involved accountability. He was prone to sense disapproval and to hear judgement when nothing of the kind was intended. I’ve seen innocuous remarks trigger violent reactions.

I don’t have the same kind of sensitivity that my friend had, but I too have some raw places that hurt when they are touched. When someone’s words hurt me, I first try to diagnose where the pain is coming from. When I realize that it’s my issue, not the other person’s, it’s much easier to refrain from lashing out. Nothing constructive happens when I lash out because of my pain.

It might fairly be asked, “What about times when someone consciously and deliberately seeks to hurt me?” There are malicious people out there, certainly. But it seems to me that their malice has everything to do with them and little if anything to do with you or me. Jesus observed, “Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.” Personal though such an attack can feel, it really isn’t personal. The malicious person treats everyone maliciously.

Photo by Aditya Raj on Unsplash

The second thing I try to remember when I feel that I’m being attacked is that the attack might be justified – the criticism might be true. I am a flawed human being, and some flaws persist at least in part because I am blind to them. When someone sheds light on what was previously a blind spot, it’s an opportunity to learn. When someone points out a flaw, I try not to respond before I’ve carefully considered what they’ve said. I try to be silent, asking only questions aimed at clarifying, making sure I understand, rather than responding. I’ve found that usually it’s best not to respond in the encounter at all. I’ve learned that when someone points out something I didn’t see before, it often has broader implications than I can recognize at first. I need time to process and reflect.

If I feel that the other person is misunderstanding me, I might respond with something like this: “Let me share with you why I’ve come to that conclusion, Maybe I’m wrong, and if so I’d appreciate your showing me what I’m missing, or where my thinking went off track.”

In most social settings, we listen to respond rather than to understand. This is one of the greatest obstacles to growth in our understanding or our emotional maturity. We have all erected defenses for our vulnerable places, but if we rely on those defenses we rarely move toward healing.

It’s hard to listen quietly to a criticism that we believe to be untrue. But even the most unfair criticism is unlikely to be 100% untrue. If I think about it, I usually find that it’s rooted in something real. If I can keep from allowing my offence at the inaccuracies from blinding me to the grain of truth that may be present in someone’s comments, I have the chance to learn something valuable.

The disappointing truth is that, though I want to take every opportunity to learn and grow, sometimes I want even more to appear better than I am. The Apostle Paul bemoaned this tendency in his own life: “What I want to do, I do not do, but what I hate I do. . . . I have the desire to do what is good, but cannot carry it out.” (Rom. 7:15, 18).

If that is true of me, I need others to extend grace to me when I falter. And if that is the case, shouldn’t I be willing to extend grace to others just as readily?