Stop Sparring with Straw Men: How We Argue Matters

We’ve all been in those conversations — tense, loaded, and fragile. Maybe it’s with a friend, a relative, a stranger in a meeting, or someone online. The topic is real: safety, addiction, fairness, accountability. Something that matters. But instead of clarity, the conversation derails. We stop engaging with what the other person actually said and start reacting to what we think they meant. We’re no longer responding to a real argument — we’re swinging at something we’ve imagined in its place.

That’s the straw man.

The term comes from combat training: a straw-stuffed dummy used to practice strikes. You can attack it all day — it won’t fight back. There’s no resistance, no risk. You always win, but only because the opponent isn’t real. It’s a perfect metaphor for so many modern debates. We don’t wrestle with someone’s actual position — we attack a flimsy, exaggerated version of it. Easy to defeat. But empty.

And sure, it feels good. I’ve done it too. There’s a moment of satisfaction, maybe even applause from people who already agree with us. But we’re not getting closer to understanding the issue — or each other. We’re just sparring with straw.

There’s a better way — harder, but better. It’s called steelmanning. If the straw man is a weak caricature, the steel man is the strongest, clearest version of someone’s argument, even if we disagree with it. It means stating their view in a way they would recognize and say, “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

It’s not about flattery. It’s about listening. It shows respect — not for the sake of being polite, but because serious ideas deserve serious engagement. When we steelman, we stop fighting assumptions and start confronting the real, complicated thing. And just as important: steelmanning means not attacking the person behind the argument. It can be easy, especially in heated debates, to shift from criticizing an idea to criticizing the person who voiced it. That only pushes people into defensiveness or silence. If we want better conversations, we can’t just go after each other’s worst words, we have to engage each other’s best thinking, and keep the focus on ideas, not identities.

Forging steel, after all, is no simple process. It’s intense. It takes heat, pressure, and precision. Raw metal is melted, purified, folded, and hammered — not just once, but over and over again. Every strike shapes it, strengthens it. The result isn’t fragile or flammable. It’s durable. It holds.

That’s what a real argument can be. Stronger. Sharper. Honest.

Let’s take a real example — one I’ve heard in Scioto County time and time again: the debate over treatment and recovery facilities. Someone says something akin to: “I don’t want any of those here — all they do is bring more problems and trouble makers into the community.”

On the surface, that can sound harsh, even heartless. The reflex might be to fire back — accuse them of being anti-recovery, anti-compassion. But if we’re trying to build something better, we pause.

We ask: What’s the strongest, most generous version of what they’re saying? If we steelman it, we might say:

• “You’re not against recovery.”

• “You’ve seen programs come and go, some with little follow-up.”

• “You’ve seen people relapse again and again.”

• “You’re worried about facilities that operate without oversight.”

• “You feel like your community is being asked to do more than its share.”

• “You want recovery to work — but you want it done right, with transparency, accountability, and respect for those already living here.”

That’s not a straw man. That’s a real, rooted concern. And it deserves a real response.

From there, we can reply:

“We believe recovery should work in practice, not just in theory. Like any healthcare service, it needs real oversight. That means measuring outcomes, listening to residents, making sure facilities serve both those in recovery and the neighborhoods they’re part of. We can support people struggling with addiction and advocate for community safety. Those values aren’t in conflict — they’re linked.”

Steelmanning doesn’t mean softening your own position. It sharpens it. When you respond to someone’s strongest argument, yours has to be stronger still. It’s not just a debate tactic, it can become a mindset if you let it. It shifts the goal from “winning” to understanding. And once understanding is on the table, being understood gets a lot easier, too.

Not every conversation ends in agreement. But a lot of shouting matches could end in progress, or at least mutual respect.

In person, steelmanning means listening actively, slowing down, asking questions, and making sure you actually understand before pushing back. Online, it means skipping the snarky reply, resisting the urge to conjure up the worst sentence in a comment thread. It means asking: What’s the best version of this argument and am I ready to respond to that, instead of to something I’ve invented?

Every time we speak, post, or respond, we face a choice. We can keep sparring with straw men and chasing hollow victories. Or we can do the harder work, the work of understanding, testing, refining, and come away with something stronger.

That’s how real arguments are forged. And when they are, they hold.