The High Cost of Being Right
Why winning an argument might be the fastest way to lose a relationship
By Jessica
July 2025
We’ve all been there. A conversation starts off innocently — about politics, parenting, or whether pineapple belongs on pizza — and suddenly, it derails. Voices tighten. Eyes narrow. A shift occurs. It’s no longer a discussion; it’s a match. And we’re playing to win.
But what exactly is the prize?
According to trial lawyer and communication coach Jefferson Fisher, the spoils of victory in these moments are rarely what we think they are. “When you ‘win’ an argument,” he explains, “you don’t gain understanding — you often win a bad mood, a weird vibe, or worse, distance in the relationship.” That might be the most honest scoreboard of all.
Somewhere along the way, we began to conflate disagreement with danger and curiosity with weakness. We approach differing opinions like opposing teams, with fixed strategies and talking points. And instead of opening a door, we draw a line.
The internet hasn’t helped. Social platforms reward snappy comebacks and punishing retorts. The quicker the dunk, the more the applause. But offline, where nuance lives and eye contact softens everything, the collateral damage of argument-as-combat is real: frayed trust, emotional withdrawal, a subtle but certain erosion of closeness.
What’s striking is how rarely anyone actually changes their mind in these encounters. If anything, most people — when confronted — entrench. They double down. The deeper the pressure, the deeper they dig.
Fisher puts it plainly: “Most minds don’t shift in a single conversation. They shift in reflection, in time, and only when they feel safe enough to be curious themselves.”
This idea — that openness, not pressure, is the true catalyst for change — is not new. The Greek philosopher Heraclitus wrote of it over two thousand years ago. Known for his concept of the unity of opposites, Heraclitus believed that seemingly contradictory forces — light and dark, war and peace, joy and sorrow — are not in conflict but are instead deeply intertwined. He saw the world as in constant flux, and believed that tension between opposing ideas was not a flaw to be resolved, but a truth to be held.
It’s a reminder we sorely need. Not every disagreement needs a verdict. Not every conversation needs a winner.
What if the point of dialogue wasn’t persuasion, but discovery? What if instead of trying to lead others to our conclusion, we became curious about how they reached theirs?
How did you come to believe that? What shaped your view?
Discussions don’t have to be zero-sum games. They can be shared journeys. And the goal isn’t to change someone’s mind on the spot, but to protect the space between you — to keep the thread of connection intact.
This doesn’t mean surrendering your convictions or swallowing your beliefs. It means recognizing that how we show up in a conversation matters as much as what we say. That being right is a hollow victory if it costs the relationship.
We can all probably name someone we no longer talk to because of “that one argument.” Often it wasn’t even what was said, but how it was said. The tone, the look, the dismissiveness. The feeling of being steamrolled instead of seen.
In a time when divisions seem sharper and patience thinner, the real power may lie in letting go of the need to win — and leaning into the humble, unglamorous art of listening.
Because in the end, the question isn’t Who won?
It’s What did it cost?
