“Where there are people, there is drama.” This saying holds true from ancient martial arts circles to today’s digital world. From the fiery keyboard clashes of the BBS era to the verbal sparring on Facebook, I’ve stumbled through it all. I still remember my student days, when I wrote a lengthy rebuttal to defend the driving school I enrolled in (there were two in the area, and the other one was badmouthing mine). That rival school has long since shut down, but looking back, I can’t help but think—why did I even care?
A few years ago, I set a rule for myself: on Facebook, I’d limit my replies to one sentence per person. Over time, this self-imposed constraint surprisingly broadened my thinking and sharpened my arguments, sometimes with a touch of self-indulgent, dramatic flair. If someone’s opinion was outrageously wrong—wrong in a way that harmed society and crossed my moral threshold—I’d allow myself three sentences, structured in a classic three-part argument: introduction, evidence, conclusion. If the debate went beyond three sentences, I’d turn both sides’ points into a full-length article, maybe even earning some freelance fees. (That’s why I rarely bother with non-public posts—writing a response I can’t quote is just not worth it.)
Recently, my perspective has shifted again. I used to be obsessed with debating the truth; now, when opponents resort to emotional appeals or slap on lazy, stereotypical labels, I feel an odd sense of satisfaction. Life, after all, is about keeping yourself happy. Once, while commenting on an issue, a random user tracked me down via a hashtag and declared my IQ was “questionable.” Of all things, they went for my intelligence? With my officially tested IQ of 172, I only needed to ask: “Is your IQ 180 or 80?” If they claimed 180, I’d concede defeat gracefully, but most of the time, I’m dealing with the 80s—ants trying to comprehend a whale. What a thrill!
In truth, online arguments are mostly a waste of time. The clash of two minor cogs can’t shake the main system’s orbit. Only when you become an indispensable, influential “planetary gear” do your debates carry weight. Even if you convince one person, there are millions more out there—how many can you truly reach or change?
There’s a joke online that hits the nail on the head: “People earning a million a month focus on company operations, while those earning ten thousand obsess over national affairs.” Instead of getting stuck in the quagmire of online disputes, focus on becoming a vital part of the system. When you speak then, your voice will carry real weight.
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