Keyboard Battles? Why Waste Your Life Arguing?

“Where there are people, there is a jianghu.” This saying, from the ancient martial arts world to the modern internet world, has always remained evergreen. From the keyboard battles of the BBS era to the sharp exchanges on Facebook, I have stumbled and participated all along.

I remember during my student days, I once wrote a long rebuttal to defend the driving school I attended (there were two in the same district, and the other maliciously attacked the one I chose). Now that competitor has long since closed down, and looking back, I just want to say — what does this have to do with me?

A few years ago, I set a rule for myself: “When replying on Facebook, each person is limited to one sentence.” Over time, this self-restraint actually made my thinking broader and my arguments sharper, occasionally with a self-perceived, slightly chuunibyou “critical hit.”

If I encounter someone who is absurdly wrong, even wrong to the point of harming society and making it impossible for me to stay silent, I limit myself to responding in three sentences, and I must follow the three-part argumentation method: “state the topic at the beginning, argue in the middle, and tie back to the topic at the end.” If the argument exceeds three sentences, I simply organize both sides’ views into a long article and submit it to earn some writing fees. (So, for posts without public permissions set, I usually can’t be bothered to reply seriously, since even if I write it, it can’t be cited.)

In recent years, my mindset has changed somewhat again.

In the past, I was obsessed with arguing for the truth; now, when the other party starts appealing to emotion or frantically pasting labeling language, I instead feel a strange sense of satisfaction inside. Life, after all, the most important thing is to make yourself happy.

For example, once when I expressed an opinion on a certain issue, a passerby followed a hashtag to my personal page and directly pointed out that I “have a problem with my IQ.” Oh ho, of all things to say, you question my IQ? This is an officially certified IQ 172 brain. I only need to ask back: “Is your IQ 180 or 80?” If the other party claims 180, I don’t mind conceding, but usually what I encounter is 80 — just as ants cannot comprehend the existence of whales. This feeling is inexplicably refreshing.

In fact, online arguments are mostly a waste of time. The collision of two marginal little gears ultimately cannot shake the operation of the main star system. Only when you become an indispensable, influential “planetary gear” can your argument possibly be meaningful. Even if you convince one person, there are still tens of millions waiting for you to change. How many will truly take it to heart and thus change?

There is a joke online that hits the mark: “People with a monthly salary of a million care about company operations; people with a monthly salary of ten thousand are keen on discussing national affairs.” Rather than arguing endlessly in the online quagmire, it is better to focus on making yourself a more important link — only then, when you speak, will your voice carry weight.