By Macha

Copyright sluggerotoole

Outrage has become the dominant style of debate online, in politics, and even in everyday conversations, while complexity and nuance are often overlooked. The tone is full of absolutism and hyperbole, and it often feels more about venting than persuading. Over time, my frustration with this has grown to the point where what once felt like irritation now feels like disenchantment.

My core values haven’t changed. I still believe in fairness, equality, and a society that protects the vulnerable. What has changed is my willingness to put up with the way debate is often carried out, especially by those who see themselves as progressive.

I can often understand how people come to their views, even when I don’t agree with them. But I also notice the blind spots and contradictions. That’s why extremes rarely persuade me. What matters more is how people argue, and whether they help others think again or push them further into resistance. Persuasion depends on tact, giving people the space to think and reflect.

What I see all around me is the political equivalent of hammering your chest. It’s noisy, self-satisfying, and useless if the aim is to reach anyone outside your own circle. Social media is full of it, and words that once carried weight are now thrown about so often they’ve lost their force. The effect is moral panic; some alarm might be justified, but too often it’s cries of alarm to an audience that has pressed mute.

I’ve also seen how quickly things spread. A misquote travels faster than the careful version, and once it takes hold, it’s almost impossible to pull back. Accuracy may not feel as gratifying as outrage, but without it, you lose trust, which is essential for persuasion.

Anger can be real and justified. But sometimes the outworking of outrage is only rising to the bait of trolling. The real question is what we do with our anger, where we put it. Use it carelessly and you’re played like a fiddle, giving your opponent exactly what they wanted. I’ve fallen into that trap myself.

Politics is about numbers, from votes to supporters to people convinced. If you want to bring about change, that should be the focus.

There’s a way of debating that appears meticulous but comes across as condescending, relying on detail and structure to assert superiority rather than invite understanding. Detail has its place, and I value structure and argument, but I don’t accept that thinking and feeling are opposites, or that intuition about people and culture is less valid than reciting history or theory. Rigour matters, but without respect it rarely persuades.

What’s often missing is emotional intelligence, the ability to notice how words affect others and adjust when needed. It’s not enough to say what feels right to you. If the other person feels patronised, they won’t listen. Too often, we mistake strong words or long arguments for persuasion when they can just as easily close minds. I’m not guiltless, and I’ve caught myself wanting to win the point rather than the person.

A similar pattern appears in attitudes toward religion. Evangelical Christianity in particular is often met with hostility. Some Christians hold strongly to their beliefs and have worked out an understanding in their own minds that allows them to treat others with respect and care, even when they do not accept certain sexual behaviour. You can challenge this reasoning, and you can disagree with it, but simply dismissing them as bigots will not change minds. Persuasion begins by trying to understand how someone thinks, even if you don’t share their conclusions.

If our goal is a more tolerant society, consistency matters. It makes little sense to treat one faith, such as Islam, with tolerance while mocking another. Critique should be applied fairly across different beliefs.

Politics isn’t only about ideas or policies. It’s tied up with loyalty to family, with faith, with a sense of community. People stop listening the moment you insult any of these things, and so you’ve shut the door on persuasion.

At the end of the day, politics isn’t a clean fight between good and evil. It’s messier than that, and when we reduce it to outrage and superiority, we entrench division instead of creating change.

Outrage has a place. Civil rights, women’s suffrage, and gay rights each had moments of confrontation. But we have to ask, when was the last time progressives brought about major change? Or is the pushback to their values now more obvious, and if so, why are they failing to rally against it? Too often, instead of asking why they haven’t connected with people, they pin the blame entirely on others. That refusal to look inward is part of the failure.

It might sting to hear it, but if we don’t take care with our words, we show that self-indulgence and moral superiority matter more to us than persuasion.

None of this means softening on racism, misogyny, or transphobia. It means recognising that how we speak is as important as what we say if we want to change anything.

Debate carried out with care will always be slower, more demanding, and far less gratifying, yet it’s the only thing that’s ever changed minds. It takes patience and discipline, and a willingness to see people as more than the worst view they hold. I should add that I don’t always manage this myself.

So ask yourself, is your outrage actually changing anything?