What To Do When Arguments Don't Work

Sometimes the problem isn’t your argument. Logical arguments have limits, and understanding when and why they fail helps you recognise when to change approaches entirely.

When Politics Becomes Identity

The toughest situation you’ll face is when someone’s political position has become part of who they are as a person, not just something they believe, but something they are.

How to spot this:

Watch for defensive reactions that seem disproportionate to the substance of your point. They respond with absolute statements, reject alternatives without consideration, and treat any criticism of their preferred politician or party as personal attack. The tell is that presenting better evidence or clearer logic makes them more entrenched rather than less.

How to spot this:

They get furious the moment you say anything critical about their politician, even something mild. They treat it like you’ve insulted them personally. The conversation escalates instantly from discussing politics to them being genuinely angry at you. Most telling: the angrier they get, the less your actual points seem to matter.

Why this happens:

Politics has become tribal in a way it wasn’t before. People aren’t defending a set of ideas anymore. They’re defending their side, their team, their tribe. Someone who’s immersed in online communities that love or hate a particular politician isn’t just expressing a political opinion when they defend their view, they’re defending the community they’re part of, the people they interact with daily, the shared identity they’ve built with others who feel the same way. Someone who watches certain media exclusively and sees the same political narratives reinforced constantly isn’t arguing about the merits of a politician, they’re defending their entire understanding of what’s happening in the world. Someone whose friendships and social life now revolve around shared political views isn’t just discussing politics, they’re defending relationships that matter to them.

What to do:

Change from persuading to understanding. Ask questions that invite them to explain their connection to the issue rather than defend their position:

“What is it about them that you like?

What happened that made you see things this way?”

The goal here isn’t gathering ammunition for your next point, but understanding why this particular politician or party connects to their sense of self. Sometimes being heard and understood reduces defensiveness enough that space opens for them to engage with complexity they’d have rejected as an attack moments earlier.

Look for ways they can adjust their position whilst maintaining the identity that matters to them. If someone’s sense of self involves standing up for working people and that’s why they support a particular politician, you can discuss whether that politician actually delivers for workers without asking them to care less about workers.

If someone’s identity involves being anti-establishment and that’s why they love a particular leader, you can discuss what challenging the establishment actually looks like. You’re working within their framework rather than demanding they abandon the identity that makes this politician matter to them.

Know when to accept that this particular conversation isn’t going anywhere. Preserve the relationship for discussions where identity isn’t at stake. Not every disagreement needs resolution, and pushing for resolution when someone’s identity is threatened usually just damages relationships whilst accomplishing nothing.

When You’re Speaking Different Moral Languages

Here’s a pattern that drives people mad: you make what seems to you like an obviously compelling point about why a politician is terrible or wonderful, and the other person sits there completely unmoved. Not confused. Not struggling to follow. Just... unmoved. You’re speaking different moral languages.

How to spot this:

You keep making points from one angle (this politician lies, this politician is corrupt, this politician hurts vulnerable people) and they keep responding from a completely different angle (but they’re strong, but they stand up for us, but they’re authentic). You’re talking about competence and they’re talking about authenticity. You’re citing their record and they’re discussing their character. The conversation goes in circles because you’re prioritising different moral considerations altogether.

Understanding the different moral foundations:

Different people weight different moral foundations as most important. Some evaluate politicians primarily through harm and care: does this person help vulnerable people? Do their actions reduce suffering?

Others evaluate primarily through fairness: is this person honest? Do they play by the rules? Still others prioritize loyalty (does this person stand up for our group?), or legitimate authority (does this person maintain order and respect institutions?), or protecting what they consider sacred (does this person respect our values and traditions?).

Someone focused on care and harm hears your criticism that a politician cut social programmes and finds it damning. Someone focused on loyalty hears the exact same criticism and remains unmoved, because they’re asking: does this person fight for us against them? Does this person stand up for our community? They’re not lacking compassion. They’re operating from a moral framework where group loyalty matters more than policy outcomes.

What to do instead:

Start by identifying which moral considerations drive them.

Ask directly:

“When you think about why you support them, what matters most? That they’re honest? That they fight for people like you? That they’re strong? That they respect tradition?”

You’re trying to understand their framework rather than assuming they share yours.

Then translate your argument into their moral language. If you’re criticising a politician for incompetence, but they operate primarily from loyalty concerns, that framing won’t work.

Reframe it: “I get that you feel like they stand up for you. But are they actually delivering for people in your situation? Are they fighting effectively or just making noise whilst things get worse?”

You’re making the same criticism but through loyalty rather than competence. To someone operating from fairness, frame it differently: “You care about people being honest. This person has lied repeatedly about X, Y, and Z. How do you square that with your values?”

Acknowledge that multiple moral considerations matter. The question is how to balance them: “I agree we need someone who fights for working people. I also think we need someone who can actually get things done. Can we talk about whether this person does both?”

When You Can’t Agree on Basic Facts

This is one of the most frustrating situations: you want to discuss whether a politician is good or bad, but you can’t even agree on what they’ve actually done or said.

How to spot this:

The pattern looks like this:

• You cite things the politician said or did and they dismiss it as fake news or taken out of context

• You reference their record and they either deny it happened or claim different facts entirely

• You point to scandals or failures and they point to completely different interpretations

• You’re not really arguing about the politician anymore, you’re arguing about whose version of reality to trust

The trust problem underneath:

The truth is that these factual disagreements usually aren’t really about facts at all. They’re about trust. The person who loves a politician you hate doesn’t trust the media outlets, fact-checkers, or sources you’re citing.

When you reference mainstream news reports or official records, you’re citing sources they’ve already decided are biased or compromised. The person who hates a politician you support trusts their gut feeling and what they see on social media more than they trust official statements or fact-checks.

When you cite the politician’s actual words or voting record, they hear “establishment sources covering for someone corrupt.”

What to do instead:

Name the trust issue directly rather than pretending you’re having a factual disagreement: “Sounds like you don’t trust those sources. Who would you believe?”

Sometimes just acknowledging that trust is the actual issue creates space to discuss it honestly rather than continuing to argue past each other about facts.

Look for sources they might trust more than the ones you’ve been citing. If they don’t trust mainstream media, are there alternative journalists or commentators they respect? If they don’t trust official records, is there firsthand video or audio they’d find more credible? You’re not abandoning reality-based reasoning. You’re recognising that evidence only works if people trust the sources, and finding sources that might actually reach them.

Take their experiences and impressions seriously even when those seem to conflict with documented facts:

“I hear that you feel like things have got better under this politician. The economic data shows the opposite, but that doesn’t mean your personal situation hasn’t improved. What you’re experiencing is real even if it’s not what’