Most people don’t mean to perform. But give them an audience, and they do.
They defend ideas they don’t fully believe. They push back harder than they normally would. They become more status-conscious, less receptive, and far more focused on appearances than outcomes. This isn’t a moral failing; it’s just psychology. The moment a conversation becomes public, so does the subtext.
I’ve seen this play out a few times. A valid point is raised in a group chat, but instead of addressing it openly, the recipient digs in. Not because they think they’re right, but because they feel they can’t afford to look wrong. Someone tries to course-correct a poor decision in a team meeting, but ends up triggering defensiveness rather than reflection. The environment changes the nature of the discussion, and rarely for the better.
That’s why I’m a strong believer in having difficult conversations in private. Not to exclude others. Not to manage impressions. But to give the truth a fighting chance.
Because if the goal is clarity, then privacy helps. If the goal is understanding, then privacy helps. And if the goal is reasoned disagreement – rather than posturing or face-saving – then privacy isn’t a luxury, but a requirement.
We’re not as rational as we think
There’s a common fantasy that we can have honest, critical conversations in front of an audience without the dynamics shifting. But that’s rarely how it works. As soon as there’s a group – even a small one – other factors come into play. Who’s watching? What do they think? How am I coming across?
People start defending themselves more than their ideas. They stop listening. And what could have been a useful discussion turns into rhetoric tennis.
That’s not Stoicism. That’s theatre.
The Stoic principle: truth over victory
Stoicism isn’t just about being calm. It’s about being just. It asks us to act in ways that are fair, proportionate, and aligned with our values – even when the situation invites something else.
So if someone’s made a mistake, the Stoic response isn’t to catch them out in front of others. It’s to address it with clarity and understanding, in a way that helps them reflect, not just react.
That doesn’t mean avoiding hard truths. But it does mean delivering them in ways that allow the other person to stay rational too. Because rationality is fragile. It doesn’t flourish under pressure; it needs space to breathe.
A private conversation changes the whole dynamic
Take the group chat. The moment you post criticism there, you’ve made it public. You might be right. You might be fair. But you’ve also added a layer of audience pressure that makes it harder for the other person to receive what you’re saying.
Take it private, and the tone shifts. Defences lower, egos soften and you can speak plainly. And be heard clearly. You’re not asking them to perform. You’re asking them to think.
And in my experience, that’s crucial.
The Stoic doesn’t just speak well – they choose when to speak
It’s easy to forget that timing and context are part of communication. Just because something’s true doesn’t mean it needs to be said in front of everyone. Just because something’s important doesn’t mean it needs to be said now.
The Stoic aims for impact, not display. They don’t correct people to feel superior. They do it to be useful. And when privacy increases the chances of a message landing – they choose privacy.
That’s not timidity. It’s restraint. And it’s far harder than posturing.
When privacy isn’t possible
Of course, you won’t always have the option. Sometimes a poor decision is made in public, and a public correction is necessary. Sometimes something’s said in a meeting that cannot go unchallenged. But even then, it helps to slow down. To make it about the issue, not the person. To clarify rather than confront.
And if you still think a private follow-up might be more effective? Do both.
Because at the end of the day, the Stoic’s goal isn’t to win arguments. It’s to live well.
That means asking: What’s in my control? What’s not? If I can create the conditions for a more rational exchange, why wouldn’t I? If I can challenge without humiliating, why wouldn’t I? If I can speak plainly without needing to perform, why wouldn’t I?
The answer, most of the time, is simple: I would. And I do. Not because it gets me what I want every time.
But because it reflects the kind of person I’m trying to be.