Tired of discourse

On the longing for rational exchange in an irrational world

There is a certain type of discussion that tires me. Not because I lack arguments, but because they seem to have no effect. I’m not talking about different opinions, but about conversations in which rationality and fair argumentation hardly play a role anymore. These are conversations that are more about being right than about gaining insight, in which language becomes a weapon rather than a tool.

This form of exchange has become deeply ingrained in our social climate. It is not limited to certain platforms or milieus. Rather, it seems to be the new normal: quick judgments, rhetorical feints, reflexive defense of one’s own point of view before it is even clear what the issue is.

Example: University teaching and frustration

Recently experienced again — a discussion about the didactic quality of university teaching. I had presented a factual and nuanced argument that, from a learning theory perspective, the traditional lecture format is inefficient, and that universities have an educational mandate that goes beyond simply providing materials. It was not about simplification or “holding people’s hands,” but about how to convey complex content more effectively.

My counterpart’s reaction? A mixture of formalism, dogmatic experience, and a friendly, condescending platitude at the end: “Enjoy your meal ^^.”

And I realize: I’m fighting a losing battle.

The structural break in the discourse

Not because I’m wrong. But because the other person never had any intention of engaging with the argument. Because his position is not based on verifiable premises, but on self-protection. Because any criticism of the system is perceived as an attack on his own biography. Because many discussions are no longer a search for truth, but social dominance games.

What frustrates me so much is not the individual case, but the pattern. I have never experienced anyone engaging in truly fair, rational, cooperative argumentation. Not entirely.

The ideal: two people who identify contradictions together, work out fallacies, correct each other — not to win, but to get closer to the truth. In reality, this ideal usually remains fiction. Instead, I find myself discussing not content, but fallacies, misunderstandings, and rhetorical smokescreens.

And the worst thing about it is that it always seems to happen this way. Not only on social media, in comment sections, or on the street, but also where one would expect better — among academics. Even in these circles, the culture of discussion is often nothing more than an intellectually embellished power struggle. Rhetorical maneuvering replaces honest debate, and implicit status games supplant the collective struggle for clarity. It is sad enough that it is impossible to have nuanced debates on talk shows, in newspaper forums, or at the regulars’ table. But the fact that even university graduates argue in an intellectually dishonest manner is an indictment of society as a whole.

Even more depressing is the fact that this form of exchange seems to be almost without alternative. Wherever one tries to engage in open, clear, and insight-driven discussion, one runs the risk of being ridiculed or attacked. One is labeled naive, dismissed as arrogant, or dismissed as impractical. Apparently, it is easier to defend oneself than to open up. Easier to react than to really listen.

A real discussion could — in the best case — resemble a fencing match: rule-based, controlled, precise. Two opponents meet with respect, paying attention to their lines, posture, and counterattacks. But what I experience time and again has little to do with fencing. It is more like a rhetorical street fight: dirty, underhanded, unruly. It is not the smartest who wins, but the loudest, the most cunning, the one who is willing to fight by any means necessary — even unfair ones.

The desire for cooperative thinking

I don’t want to be right. I want people to make an effort. To be open to mistakes. To want to think together. But what I get is defensiveness, framing, evasion. And sometimes: personal attacks.

I understand why this is the case. On a meta level, it’s clear to me that an academic degree is not proof of the ability to argue logically. In a sense, academics are classic “nerds” — outstanding in their field, capable of arguing their case, but not necessarily able to think objectively and rationally across disciplines.
Perhaps the most important claim of university education — the ability to think rationally and structurally as a transferable skill — often remains an assertion rather than a lived practice.

Many of them have learned how to solve formulas, apply theories, and operationalize research questions — but not how to engage in discourse that is open to other perspectives, to revision, to genuine understanding. The ability to think rationally not only within a system, but across systems remains rare. And perhaps this is not a coincidence, but a structural failure.

So what now?

Remain silent? Stay out of it to save energy? Perhaps. But that feels like surrender. Like falling silent in favor of the loud, the self-righteous, the naive.

Or carry on? Again and again? In the hope that someone who is open to it will read this? That there is someone out there who shares the same ideals? Perhaps. But it takes strength. And not a little.

Because with every failed attempt, with every blow that falls flat, trust in the idea of understanding threatens to crumble further. And yet: I hold on to it. Not out of defiance. But out of conviction.

I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’m not writing this to complain. I’m writing because I want to hold on to the belief that this ideal still exists. That it’s not naive to hope for fair discussion. That it’s rational to believe in rationality — even if you’re the only one left who does.

Maybe that’s my way of not falling silent.