Why Schopenhauer’s “last resort” ruins thinking and how to debate without it.
When conversations get tense, the easiest move is also the worst one: drop the issue and go after the person. The Latin term is ad hominem: “to the person.” It feels sharp, earns quick laughs, and ends debates. It also destroys clarity, trust, and any chance of finding the truth. If you care about good decisions – at home, at work, in science or policy – learn to recognize personal attacks, refuse to use them, and steer talk back to reasons and evidence.
The moment you attack a person instead of their argument, you’ve exposed yourself as the weakest mind in the room.
Schopenhauer’s warning
In The Art of Being Right (Eristische Dialektik), Arthur Schopenhauer catalogued 38 tricks people use to “win” disputes. The final trick on his list appears when someone runs out of reasons: abandon the topic and attack the speaker – mock their intelligence, guess their motives, smear their character. Schopenhauer put it at the end for a reason. It’s the move of last resort, a signal that the argument has stalled.
Personal attacks are the lowest form of debate, proof that you’ve run out of reasons and lost the argument.
What ad hominem is – and isn’t
Ad hominem happens when criticism targets a person instead of the claim. “Your idea is wrong because you’re lazy” is ad hominem. The person’s trait is irrelevant to the truth of the claim. Attacking people instead of ideas is intellectual bankruptcy on display.
This differs from evaluating sources, which is sometimes necessary. If a claim depends on testimony (“Trust my memory of the meeting”), it’s fair to check credibility (notes, logs, track record). That’s not a personal attack. The key test is simple: after noting credibility, do you still engage the content – the data, logic, and assumptions? If not, you’ve slipped into ad hominem.
Why personal attacks feel powerful, and backfire
Personal attacks work on crowds because they create a story with heroes and villains. They also relieve us from doing hard work: defining terms, checking evidence, arguing precisely. But the short-term hit comes at a long-term cost:
- They’re logically empty. The truth of “2 + 2 = 4” doesn’t change if a rude person says it.
- They erode trust. Spectators assume you lack evidence; that’s why you’re swinging at people.
- They derail focus. Time shifts from the claim (“Will this ship on Friday?”) to egos and motives.
- They poison culture. Teams learn that speaking up means getting labeled, so they go quiet.
- They invite risk. In workplaces, personal attacks can cross HR and legal lines.
The main variants (with examples)
Ad hominem shows up in predictable forms. Learn to spot them so you can name and stop them.
Abusive ad hominem. You insult the person to discredit the idea.
“Only an idiot would propose this architecture.”
Problem: intelligence isn’t the argument; performance data is.
Circumstantial ad hominem. You claim someone’s situation makes them wrong.
“You benefit from this change, so your forecast is false.”
Problem: conflicts of interest matter, but they don’t decide truth; analysis does.
Tu quoque (“you too”). You call the speaker a hypocrite.
“You used to smoke; don’t lecture me on health.”
Problem: past behavior doesn’t refute current evidence.
Guilt by association. You link the idea to an unpopular group.
“People like X say that, so it’s tainted.”
Problem: lineage is not logic. The claim stands or falls on reasons.
Genetic fallacy. You dismiss the claim because of its origin.
“This came from marketing, so it’s wrong.”
Problem: origin is irrelevant; merits matter.
A better way to argue (step by step)
You don’t need a debate club certificate to argue well. Use this compact workflow in any discussion, from code reviews to family plans.
- Pin the claim. Reduce it to one sentence.
“Claim: we can deliver feature X in 48 hours.”
Named claims are easier to test. - Ask for reasons. Separate data from opinion.
“You say we don’t spend enough time together, what makes you feel that way? Is it weekends, evenings, or trips?” - Steelman the position. Restate the other side’s case as strongly and fairly as you can.
“You’re saying you felt left out because we made plans in the group chat after you’d logged off, and no one updated you directly.”
This reduces defensiveness and exposes the real hinge points. - Test the links. Challenge assumptions, not dignity.
Instead of “You don’t know anything about nutrition anyway,” say: “If cutting carbs really improves energy, why do some people feel more tired at first?”
Good tests are specific and measurable. - Propose an experiment. Prefer reality over rhetoric.
“Let’s run a 10-order dry-run today, measure defects and lead time, and decide at 5 p.m.” - Social experience. Apply the same principle to broader debates.
“You argue that community centers reduce crime. What local data or case studies show that effect?”
This method turns “who’s right” into “what’s right,” which is the only question that matters.
Examples:
Bad: “You don’t know anything about this anyway.”
Good: “Have you checked how long the train takes compared to driving?”
Bad: “You don’t know anything about this anyway.”
Good: “If we cook it at a lower temperature, do you think it will stay juicier?”
Bad: “You don’t know anything about this anyway.”
Good: “Can you give me an example from your experience that shows this in real life?”
Bad: “You don’t know anything about this anyway.”
Good: “How do you explain the difference between what you’re saying and what we see in the news?”
Bad: “You don’t know anything about this anyway.”
Good: “What would convince you that the opposite view might also have some truth?”
Bad: “You don’t know how to cook anyway.”
Good: “If we add the pasta before the water boils, won’t it turn out soggy?”
Bad: “You’re so stingy, that’s why you don’t want to go out tonight.”
Good: “Dinner at that place costs €40 each. Do we want to spend that or look for a cheaper option?”
Bad: “You know nothing about sports, shut up.”
Good: “If the team hasn’t won in ten games, doesn’t that suggest the coach’s strategy isn’t working?”
Bad: “You always panic, so your opinion doesn’t matter.”
Good: “The forecast says heavy rain tomorrow, should we move the picnic indoors just in case?”
Bad: “You’re clueless about relationships, don’t give advice.”
Good: “If constant arguments keep happening, isn’t that a sign something deeper needs to be fixed?”
Handling personal attacks in real time
Even with good norms, someone will eventually swing at you. Keep your footing with short, neutral lines that pull the conversation back to substance.
- Refocus the target.
“Let’s keep me off the table. Which premise do you think is wrong?” - Name the move.
“That’s an ad hominem. Can we talk about the data instead?” - Set terms and continue.
“Happy to critique the idea hard. Let’s skip labels.” - Pause and document (workplace).
“I’m going to stop here and summarize decisions in writing. We can resume once we have the numbers.”
Calm tone, short sentences. The goal is not to “win” socially but to get back to the claim.
Building a team norm that actually holds
Rules work when they’re concrete and enforced. Here’s a simple norm you can adopt on a project page or Slack channel:
- We critique claims, evidence, and reasoning, not people.
- Before disagreeing, we steelman the other side in one sentence.
- We avoid labels about motives or traits.
- We log key assumptions and what would change our minds.
- We end meetings with a named next test and an owner.
Make this visible, point to it when needed, and hold everyone to it, especially leaders.
Practical examples
Consider a forecast discussion.
Personal attack version:
“You’re always pessimistic, that’s why your numbers are low.”
Nothing about the model, just a trait smear.
Reasoned version:
“Your forecast assumes 6% month-over-month growth because of last quarter’s campaign. This quarter has no campaign. What variable accounts for the difference?”
Now the conversation can check data or adjust assumptions.
Or a technical architecture choice.
Personal attack version:
“Of course you want microservices, you’re the architect.”
That’s circumstantial ad hominem.
Reasoned version:
“What failure mode does microservices solve here that a modular monolith doesn’t? Let’s compare deploy frequency, team ownership, and latency budgets.”
Now you’re on trade-offs, not titles.
What about conflicts of interest?
Conflicts of interest can bias judgment. Surfacing them is healthy: “You hold the vendor contract; let’s get a second estimator.” The mistake is stopping there. After disclosure, return to the claim. Ask for numbers, compare alternatives, and, where possible, run a small test that doesn’t depend on anyone’s incentives.
Why this matters beyond debate
Ad hominem isn’t just a logical error; it’s a cultural solvent. Teams that tolerate personal attacks learn to avoid hard problems, because the social cost of being wrong is too high. Innovation slows; decisions drift toward politics. By insisting on argument over identity, you protect the conditions that make progress possible: curiosity, accountability, and the freedom to change your mind in public.
How to start today
Pick one meeting this week and try three moves:
- Write the central claim at the top of the agenda.
- Ask, “What would change our mind?” and list falsifiers.
- End with a single next test, small, fast, and owned.
If someone takes a shot at a person, redirect once, and if needed, park the topic until you can return to evidence in writing. You’ll feel the temperature drop and the quality rise.
Conclusion
Schopenhauer catalogued personal attacks as the debater’s last refuge. He was right. When you can’t answer reasons, attacking a person looks like strength but signals emptiness. The discipline is simple: name the claim, examine the evidence, test the logic, and, when possible, let reality decide. Keep the person out of it. Keep the argument in.
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