Resolving Repetitive Arguments: A Brief, Practical Guide

Repetitive conflicts are extremely common. In fact, nearly half of all couples—around 48–50%—say they have the same arguments again and again. And research from the Gottman Institute shows that about 69% of marital conflicts involve perpetual problems: issues that never fully resolve.

There’s no guaranteed way to eliminate these patterns, but if you think carefully about the ideas below and adapt them to your own situation, you can improve things. Doing so requires steady effort and mutual respect.

Why Repetitive Arguments Happen

Recurring arguments are stymied primarily by process,  only secondarily by content. In other words, the problem is less about what you’re arguing about and more about how the argument unfolds. This is why the most effective way to break the cycle is to start with metacommunication—communication about the communication process (Watzlawick et al., 1967). Most repetitive arguments persist because metacommunication fails (McCusker, 2025). The underlying disagreement never gets addressed in a clear, rational way.

Step 1: Start With Your Own Contribution to the Pattern

Before trying to solve any specific issue, each person pauses to reflect on their own role in the interaction. The first person—let’s call them Sam—begins by identifying flaws in their own metacommunication process. Examples include:

• interrupting
• becoming defensive
• shutting down under stress
• assuming intent instead of asking questions

This is a self-assessment, not a criticism of the other person. After stating it, Sam asks the second person—let’s call them Pat— whether they agree.

At this point, Pat does not correct or challenge the statement, but simply affirms or disconfirms the self-assessment. The discussion continues until both agree on Sam’s contribution to the metacommunication problem.

Step 2: The Second Person Mirrors the Process

Next, Pat identifies their own metacommunication flaws, again without interruption, and then ask whether the Sam agrees.

This reciprocal structure creates balance, reduces defensiveness, and strengthens mutual accountability—factors known to improve conflict resolution (Gottman & Silver, 2015).

Step 3: Each Person Proposes  Their Own Remedy

Sam acknowledges the owned metacommunication issue, and proposes a specific remedy. Examples include:

• pausing before responding
• summarizing the other person’s point before replying
• naming emotions instead of acting them out

Pat says whether they agree that Sam's metacommunication remedy is appropriate. If not, the conversation stays focused on refining the proposed remedy—not on who is right.

Then Pat goes through the same sequence: identifying their own metacommunication flaw, asking for agreement, proposing a remedy, and refining it collaboratively.

Through this process, the pair builds a shared metacommunication strategy—clear rules for how they will talk during disagreements. Research shows that explicit process agreements reduce escalation and increase perceived fairness (Burleson, 2010).

Step 4: Only Then Do You Address the Actual Issue

After completing the metacommunication phase, the participants choose one manageable problem to address. Using their agreed-upon metacommunication strategies, they work toward a solution.

If both are satisfied, they explicitly agree to the resolution and end the interaction. Closure matters; unresolved endings often lead to recurring arguments (Markman et al., 2010).

If other issues remain, they are addressed later—one at a time. Each new discussion begins anew with metacommunication, reinforcing and adjusting the process rules as needed.

Over time, this structured approach turns repetitive arguments into opportunities to strengthen both metacommunication and problem-solving. The goal shifts from winning to collaborating.

A Brief Example

Imagine a recurring conflict where:

• Sam feels Pat is always lecturing.
• Pat feels Sam never listens.

This dynamic often escalates: Pat explains more, Sam withdraws more, and both feel confirmed in their beliefs.

Using the metacommunication sequence, the conversation begins with process, not rebuttal.

Sam might say: “I notice that when conversations become detailed or directive, I experience them as lecturing. When that happens, I disengage. My flaw in the metacommunication process is that I don’t signal this early—I just shut down internally. Do you agree?”

This is an “I” statement: it focuses on personal experience, not blame (Gordon, 2003). Pat’s role is simply to say whether they agree that this pattern occurs.

Then Pat identifies their own metacommunication flaw: “When I feel unheard, I respond by explaining more forcefully and at greater length. I intend to clarify my needs, but I can see how it may feel like lecturing. Do you agree?”

Once both agree on the patterns, each proposes a remedy.

Sam’s metacommunication remedy: “I’ll try to signal earlier—by saying ‘I’m starting to feel overwhelmed’—and ask for pauses instead of withdrawing. Does that seem workable?”

Pat’s metacommunication remedy: “I’ll check in before continuing—by asking whether you want input or just to be heard—and I’ll limit myself to one point at a time. Does that work for you?”

This structured exchange creates a shared metacommunication plan that makes future disagreements more manageable.

At this point both parties are free to deal with the originally-targeted problem in a meta-communicatively rational manner. This then becomes a true test of each contributor’s willingness to give and take. If neither can compromise a bit, they must either agree to disagree. Or, more constructively, they can use their intellect singly and/or conjointly. to reach mutually acceptable accommodations.

                                                                          

References

 

Burleson, B. R. (2010). The nature of interpersonal communication: A message-centered approach. In C. R. Berger, M. E. Roloff, & D. R. Roskos-Ewoldsen (Eds.), The handbook of communication science (pp. 145–163). Sage.

Gottman, J. M., & Silver, N. (2015). The seven principles for making marriage work (revised ed.). Harmony Books.

Markman, H. J., Stanley, S. M., & Blumberg, S. L. (2010). Fighting for your marriage (3rd ed.). Jossey-Bass

McCusker, P. J.  (2025) Weaponized Communication: Improvised Explosive Devices.  Amazon.

Watzlawick, P., Bavelas, J. B., & Jackson, D. D. (1967). Pragmatics of human communication: A study of interactional patterns, pathologies, and paradoxes. Norton.

 

Losing Someone

You almost certainly  at some point, euphemistically have spoken of “losing” someone.  The expression implies that you had possessed that person, even if that person also possessed you. Especially when the loss is recent, the metaphor is quite apt. It implies that we very much would want to have that person again. But of course, repossessing them sometimes is impossible.  At one extreme, speaking un-euphemistically, that person literally is dead.  At the other extreme, the possibility of finding that person theoretically exists. but presumes  that they want to be found. For instance, if the lost person permanently, irrevocably “canceled” you, there is no possibility of reuniting. In that case, perhaps the old poetic expression that” it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” might offer you some  conciliation.  If poetry is insufficient for you, what does current psychological research say about longing for someone lost.

Contemporary psychology treats longing not as a sentimental indulgence, but as a predictable, measurable, and often adaptive response to attachment disruption. Whether the loss is due to death, estrangement, or what we now describe as social cancellation, the same psychological machinery is activated. The form of the loss changes; the underlying processes do not.

From an attachment-theoretic perspective, longing is the cognitive-emotional residue of a bond that once regulated our sense of safety and meaning. Bowlby’s foundational work on attachment emphasized that humans do not simply grieve the absence of a person; they grieve the collapse of an attachment system that previously organized emotion, behavior, and expectation (Bowlby, 1980). In this view, longing is not pathological by default. It is the mind’s attempt to restore coherence after the sudden or ambiguous removal of a central figure.

Modern empirical work has refined this idea. Neuroimaging studies suggest that longing activates reward and motivation circuits similar to those involved in craving, particularly dopaminergic pathways associated with anticipation and pursuit (O’Connor et al., 2008). This helps explain why longing can feel both painful and compelling. The mind continues to “search” for the lost person, even when consciously we know the search is futile. In cases of death, this pursuit gradually extinguishes. In cases of social rupture—ghosting, estrangement, or cancellation—it often does not.

This distinction matters. Pauline Boss’s concept of ambiguous loss captures why some losses are harder to metabolize than others (Boss, 2016). When a person is physically absent but psychologically present—as in estrangement or cancellation—the loss resists closure. There is no funeral, no culturally sanctioned endpoint. Longing persists because the attachment system never receives definitive confirmation that reunion is impossible. In fact, intermittent cues—memories, social media traces, mutual acquaintances—may repeatedly reactivate hope, even when reunion is not desired by the other party.

What, then, of the old claim that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? Research offers a qualified endorsement. Longitudinal studies on close relationships suggest that deep attachments, even when lost, are associated with greater long-term meaning-making and narrative coherence than a life characterized by emotional avoidance (Wrosch et al., 2007).

However, this benefit depends on one’s capacity to integrate the loss into a revised self-concept. When longing becomes fused with rumination—endless counterfactuals, imagined dialogues, or moral scorekeeping—it predicts poorer mental health outcomes, including depression and complicated grief (Nolen-Hoeksema et al., 2008).

Importantly, current psychology does not advise the eradication of longing. Rather, it emphasizes transformation. Adaptive coping involves shifting from a reunion-oriented longing (“If only they would come back”) to a meaning-oriented longing (“What did this bond make possible in me?”). Research on post-loss growth indicates that individuals who can reframe longing as evidence of their capacity for attachment—rather than as proof of deprivation—fare better over time (Neimeyer, 2019).

In the context of modern social life, this has unsettling implications. Cancellation and abrupt relational severance exploit vulnerabilities in the attachment system while denying the rituals that help resolve loss. The longing that follows is not weakness; it is the predictable cost of having once been emotionally invested. Psychological health, then, does not lie in pretending the loss did not matter, but in refusing to let longing dictate the terms of one’s future agency.

So, you might ask one last time whether it is better to have loved and lost? The research, I conclude, is this: loving and losing expands the emotional range of a life, but only if longing is eventually integrated rather than endlessly rehearsed. Longing tells the truth about what mattered. Wisdom lies not in silencing it, but in deciding what we do with the truth once we hear it.

Since each person is unique, you never will be able to “find” a permanently ”lost” person, or any single person to replace them. However, there are ways to cope. One strategy is to think about what that person provided for you. And to think about it very concretely and segmentally. They may have been a person with whom you had a meal, a walk, a discussion, or a project. Any conjoint, lost, valued engagement is a possible candidate. Having done that, set about—as best you can—to find a collection of “compensatory” people. Each of them might fill one  or more of your lost interpersonal benefits. That’s one possible way to cope with an irretrievable loss.

Psychological research supports this intuitively pragmatic approach. When we decompose a lost relationship into its functional components, we reduce the tendency to globalize the loss into something total and irreplaceable. Studies on coping and adjustment consistently show that people fare better when they shift from person-focused rumination (“only they could do this”) to function-focused substitution (“this need can be met in multiple ways”) (Wrosch et al., 2007). This is not denial of uniqueness; it is acknowledgment of psychological pluralism. One person cannot be replaced, but many of the relational goods they provided can be distributed across multiple relationships.

From an attachment standpoint, this strategy works because attachment systems are more flexible than our grief initially suggests. While a specific bond may be irretrievable, the underlying needs for connection, validation, shared activity, and meaning remain viable and responsive to new inputs (Bowlby, 1980). Importantly, this does not require emotional amnesia. Longing may persist, but it becomes less monopolizing when daily life once again contains moments of shared engagement.

This is particularly relevant in cases of ambiguous or socially imposed loss, such as permanent estrangement or cancellation. In such situations, the mind often waits—implicitly—for moral repair or reconciliation that never comes. Segmenting what was lost allows agency to re-enter the picture. Rather than waiting to be “found” again, one begins actively rebuilding a workable interpersonal ecology (Boss, 2016). The question subtly changes from Why did this happen to me? to What kind of relational life can I now construct, given what I know I value?

In that sense, coping with loss is less about closure than about reorganization. The goal is not to stop caring, nor to retroactively judge the love as a mistake, but to let the evidence of that love guide future decisions. Longing, then, becomes informational rather than paralyzing. It tells us what mattered—and therefore what is worth seeking again, albeit in altered form.

References

Boss, P. (2016). The context and process of theory development: The story of ambiguous loss. Journal of Family Theory & Review, 8(3), 269–286. https://doi.org/10.1111/jftr.12152

Bowlby, J. (1980). Attachment and loss: Vol. 3. Loss: Sadness and depression. Basic Books.

Neimeyer, R. A. (2019). Meaning reconstruction in bereavement: Development of a research program. Death Studies, 43(2), 79–91. https://doi.org/10.1080/07481187.2018.1456620

Nolen-Hoeksema, S., Wisco, B. E., & Lyubomirsky, S. (2008). Rethinking rumination. Perspectives on Psychological Science, 3(5), 400–424. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1745-6924.2008.00088.x

O’Connor, M. F., Wellisch, D. K., Stanton, A. L., Eisenberger, N. I., Irwin, M. R., & Lieberman, M. D. (2008). Craving love? Enduring grief activates brain’s reward center. NeuroImage, 42(2), 969–972. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.neuroimage.2008.04.256

Wrosch, C., Bauer, I., Miller, G. E., & Lupien, S. (2007). Regret intensity, diurnal cortisol secretion, and physical health in older individuals: Evidence for directional effects and protective factors. Psychology and Aging, 22(2), 319–330. https://doi.org/10.1037/0882-7974.22.2.319

I WANT MORE !

The “have-to-want” trajectory describes a familiar psychological pattern. A surge of happiness occurs when we acquire something new, whether it is a material possession, a promotion, or social recognition that typically is short-lived. Having acclimated to the novelty, individuals soon begin seeking the next source of satisfaction. This phenomenon is known as the hedonic treadmill, first articulated by Brickman and Campbell (1971), which posits that people return to a baseline level of happiness despite gains or losses.

In modern society, this cycle is intensified by consumerism and social comparison, leading individuals to equate happiness with surpassing others or obtaining material objects. Research has repeatedly confirmed that individuals adapt to improvements in income, material possessions, and even major life changes (Diener et al., 2006). Social comparison theory (Festinger, 1954) explains that people frequently evaluate themselves relative to others, leading them to want more in order to “catch up” or surpass those around them. The combination of rapid adaptation and constant comparison fuels the have-to-want trajectory: after obtaining one desired object, experience, or status, the person soon seeks the next. Contentment with having is short lived at best. The tendency causes us to ignore whatever good fortune we currently experience. And induces the stress of cyclical discontent. Aspiring influencers and merchandisers of all kinds continually strive to self-servingly accelerate our discontent and, therefore, the speed of our hedonic treadmill.

The hedonic treadmill metaphor suggests that happiness derived from external acquisitions is inherently temporary. For example, buying a new car or achieving a promotion may initially elevate mood, but over time, individuals adapt and return to their prior level of satisfaction and well-being. This adaptation underscores the futility of equating happiness with material gain. Instead, sustainable well-being requires a shift in focus from external acquisitions to internal fulfillment, genuineness, and enduring needs.

Psychology has long recognized basic, enduring fundamental human needs that, when met, contribute to lasting well-being. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs (1943) remains one of the most influential frameworks: Physiological needs: Food, water, shelter, and rest are essential for survival. Without these, higher-order pursuits are impossible. Safety needs: Security, stability, and protection from harm allow individuals to function without constant fear. Belongingness and love needs: Relationships, community, and intimacy provide emotional support and reduce isolation. Esteem needs: Recognition, respect, and achievement foster confidence and self-worth. Self-actualization: The pursuit of personal growth, creativity, and authenticity leads to enduring fulfillment.

Two other approaches to needs also deserve mentioning. Virtually everyone needs to feel  competence, autonomy, and relatedness. According to Ryan & Deci’s (2000) self-determination theory, these comprise essential psychological nutrients that support intrinsic motivation and well-being They qualify as needs because individuals thrive when they feel capable, effective, and able to act volitionally. Similarly, Steger (2012) endorses the eudaimonic psychology idea that a sense of meaning is a core need that enables individuals to sustain motivation and life satisfaction. Lack of purpose is strongly associated with distress and poor mental health outcomes.

All the aforementioned qualify as true needs because they are universally required for human flourishing, unlike transient desires for status symbols or consumer goods. Meeting them contributes to demonstrable, long-term improvements in lifestyle and psychological functioning.

To cope with the cycle of wanting then, individuals must pause and evaluate whether a new desire truly aligns with genuine needs. To do so we might ask a series of questions. first, does this acquisition improve my life in a functional and enduring way? Second, will it contribute to my basic needs or long-term well-being? And finally, is it motivated by comparison with others, or by authentic, autonomously determined  necessity To cope with the have-to-want trajectory, individuals can pause before pursuing new desires and ask whether the desire satisfies—at least loosely—one of the basic needs described above. This reflective pause shifts decision-making away from impulsive wanting and toward intentional choice.

A desire that aligns with a basic need is more likely to offer enduring value. For example, investing in something that supports competence (such as learning materials or skill-building experiences) or social connection (such as meaningful shared activities) is more likely to contribute to long-term well-being than acquiring a novelty item driven by comparison.

Need-based reflection also helps individuals identify whether a desire will demonstrably improve life for an extended period rather than merely providing a temporary boost. The goal is not to eliminate wanting—an entirely natural human process—but to transform wanting into a tool for enhancing functional and emotional well-being.

Ideally, the chosen goal or acquisition becomes an enduring asset, one that strengthens autonomy, capability, health, relationships, or meaning. When individuals orient their choices toward needs rather than impulses, they reduce the churn of the hedonic treadmill, increase satisfaction with what they already have, and cultivate a more stable sense of contentment.

Nothing is wrong with wanting. Wanting is rooted in our animal nature. But knowing what you want, why you want, and controlling your wants is uniquely human. And one might say that wanting what is best for us is "divine."

References

Baumeister, R. F., & Leary, M. R. (1995). The need to belong: Desire for interpersonal attachments as a fundamental human motivation. Psychological Bulletin, 117(3), 497–529

Brickman, P., & Campbell, D. T. (1971). Hedonic relativism and planning the good society. In M. H. Appley (Ed.), Adaptation-level theory (pp. 287–302). Academic Press.

Diener, E., Lucas, R. E., & Scollon, C. N. (2006). Beyond the hedonic treadmill: Revising the adaptation theory of well-being. American Psychologist, 61(4), 305–314. 

Festinger, L. (1954). A theory of social comparison processes. Human Relations, 7(2), 117–140. 

Maslow, A. H. (1943). A theory of human motivation. Psychological Review, 50(4), 370–396. 

Ryan, R. M., & Deci, E. L. (2000). Self-determination theory and the facilitation of intrinsic motivation, social development, and well-being. American Psychologist, 55(1), 68–78.

Steger, M. F. (2012). Making meaning in life. Psychological Inquiry, 23(4), 381–385. 

 

Do You Really Mean It ?

Honesty is a cornerstone of human communication and interpersonal trust. The statement, “When you ask me a question, if I can’t give you an honest answer that you don’t want to hear, then you can’t trust me to honestly answer a question by telling you what you do want to hear,” highlights the paradox of selective truth-telling. Let’s consider the psychological and ethical implications of honesty in communication, emphasizing how withholding unwelcome truths undermines trust and distorts authentic relationships.

Trust is built upon consistent honesty, even when the truth is uncomfortable. According to Rotenberg (2019), interpersonal trust depends on the expectation that others will act with reliability, emotional support, and honesty. When individuals choose to conceal or distort information to avoid discomfort, they compromise this expectation. Research in communication studies shows that deception—even when intended to protect feelings—erodes relational trust over time (Levine, 2014).

Moreover, honesty is not merely about factual accuracy but about transparency in intent. If one only provides answers that align with what the listener wants to hear, communication becomes manipulative rather than authentic. This aligns with Bok’s (1999) ethical framework, which argues that lying—even benevolent lying—creates a slippery slope that weakens moral responsibility and interpersonal credibility.

Psychological research suggests that people often avoid delivering unwelcome truths due to fear of conflict or rejection (Vrij, 2008). However, studies on authenticity demonstrate that individuals who communicate openly, even when uncomfortable, foster stronger and more resilient relationships (Kernis & Goldman, 2006). The willingness to share difficult truths signals respect for the other person’s capacity to handle reality, thereby reinforcing mutual trust.

Furthermore, selective honesty can create cognitive dissonance. Festinger’s (1957) theory explains that when individuals act inconsistently with their values—such as valuing honesty but practicing selective truth-telling—they experience psychological discomfort. Over time, this dissonance can erode self-concept and relational integrity.

Thus, as I repeatedly have emphasized in my blog posts and books (e.g., McCusker, 2025), context is critical. Delivering truths that others may not want to hear requires careful consideration of the proper time, place, and person. As Knapp, Vangelisti, and Caughlin (2014) note, interpersonal communication is most effective when it accounts for situational appropriateness and relational dynamics. 

To maximize the chances of supportive and constructive dialogue, several strategies can be applied—First, timing: Choose a moment when the listener is most receptive, avoiding times of heightened stress or distraction. Research on conflict resolution emphasizes that poorly timed disclosures often escalate tension rather than resolve it (Deutsch, Coleman, & Marcus, 2011). Second, setting: Select a private and safe environment, particularly when the truth may be emotionally difficult. Public settings can amplify embarrassment or defensiveness, reducing the likelihood of constructive engagement. Third, audience: Consider whether you are the right person to deliver the truth. In clinical or educational contexts, trusted professionals or mentors may be better positioned to communicate sensitive information (Rogers, 1957). Fourth, wording: Frame the truth in language that is clear but compassionate. Using “I” statements and avoiding accusatory phrasing reduces defensiveness and promotes understanding (Gordon, 2000). Fifth, prosody and nonverbal cues: Tone of voice, pacing, and facial expressions significantly influence how messages are received. Supportive prosody conveys empathy and respect, increasing the likelihood of effective communication (Burgoon, Guerrero, & Floyd, 2016). Finally, follow-up support: Difficult truths should be accompanied by reassurance, resources, or constructive next steps. This transforms honesty from a blunt disclosure into a supportive act of care. By integrating these strategies, honesty becomes not only a moral imperative but also a skillful practice that strengthens trust while minimizing harm.

The ethical dimension of honesty in communication is critical. Trust cannot be compartmentalized into “truths we want to hear” and “truths we do not want to hear.” As Habermas (1984) argued in his theory of communicative action, genuine dialogue requires openness and sincerity. Without these, communication can degrade into strategic manipulation rather than mutual understanding. In short, the statement under consideration underscores a profound truth: honesty must be consistent to be trustworthy. If one cannot be relied upon to deliver unwelcome truths, then their willingness to provide welcome truths becomes suspect. 

Psychological research confirms that honesty, even when uncomfortable, strengthens trust, authenticity, and ethical responsibility in communication. Yet, context remains vital—choosing the right time, place, person, and manner of delivery ensures that honesty is not only truthful but also supportive. Ultimately, the integrity of dialogue depends not on selective truth-telling but on the courage to speak honestly in all circumstances, with sensitivity to context.

References

Bok, S. (1999). Lying: Moral choice in public and private life. Vintage.

Burgoon, J. K., Guerrero, L. K., & Floyd, K. (2016). Nonverbal communication. Routledge.

Deutsch, M., Coleman, P. T., & Marcus, E. C. (2011). The handbook of conflict resolution: Theory and practice (2nd ed.). Jossey-Bass.

Festinger, L. (1957). A theory of cognitive dissonance. Stanford University Press.

Gordon, T. (2000). Parent effectiveness training: The proven program for raising responsible children. Three Rivers Press.

Habermas, J. (1984). The theory of communicative action: Reason and the rationalization of society (Vol. 1). Beacon Press.

Kernis, M. H., & Goldman, B. M. (2006). A multicomponent conceptualization of authenticity: Advances and directions in self research. Advances in Experimental Social Psychology, 38, 283–357. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0065-2601(06)38006-9

Knapp, M. L., Vangelisti, A. L., & Caughlin, J. P. (2014). Interpersonal communication and human relationships (7th ed.). Pearson.

Levine, T. R. (2014). Truth-default theory (TDT): A theory of human deception and deception detection. Journal of Language and Social Psychology, 33(4), 378–392. https://doi.org/10.1177/0261927X14535916

McCusker, P. J. (2025). Weaponized Communication: Improvised Explosive Devices. New York: Amazon.

Rogers, C. R. (1957). The necessary and sufficient conditions of therapeutic personality change. Journal of Consulting Psychology, 21(2), 95–103. https://doi.org/10.1037/h0045357

Rotenberg, K. J. (2019). The psychology of trust. Routledge.

Vrij, A. (2008). Detecting lies and deceit: Pitfalls and opportunities. Wiley.

 

 

More Important Than Sweet Potatoes: Reactance Motivation

No, this blog is not really about sweet potatoes. It just begins with a sweet potato story. 

I attended a Philadelphia Catholic elementary school, and like many students there, had lunch in the cafeteria. In approximately second grade, I remember queuing up to be served. A nun stood behind the line, monitoring what went on the trays. When I passed without getting sweet potatoes, she stopped the line and told the server to plop a blob of canned cold sweet potatoes on my tray. I did not eat them, and stood to go to the school playground for recess. However, the nun pushed me back down in my seat and told me to finish eating. I replied, "But sister, I don't like sweet potatoes". Undeterred, she stood there behind me until the school bell signaled that it was time to return to class. I never did eat the sweet potatoes, and she was not happy about that. So, what does that have to do with anybody? It’s all about reactance motivation.

Psychological reactance theory was first introduced by Jack Brehm (1966) to explain why individuals resist when they perceive their freedom of choice is being threatened. Reactance is defined as an unpleasant motivational arousal that occurs when people feel their autonomy is restricted (Rosenberg & Siegel, 2025). In the cafeteria story, the nun’s insistence that I eat the sweet potatoes represented a direct threat to my freedom to choose what I consumed. The stronger the pressure, the stronger the reactance response became. Rather than complying, I resisted—even though the cost was missing recess.

Reactance is not simply stubbornness; it is a psychological mechanism designed to protect perceived freedoms. When individuals feel coerced, they often respond by asserting their autonomy, sometimes by doing the opposite of what is demanded (Steindl et al., 2015). In this case, the nun’s authority amplified the sense of restriction, which intensified my motivation to resist. The sweet potatoes became symbolic of lost freedom rather than just food.

This phenomenon has broader implications. Reactance motivation explains why people resist persuasion in family settings, health campaigns, political messaging, or even everyday interpersonal interactions. For example, when individuals are told they “must” adopt a certain behavior, they may reject the message outright, even if the behavior is beneficial (Rosenberg & Siegel, 2025). The cafeteria incident illustrates how coercion can backfire, producing resistance rather than compliance.

Understanding reactance is crucial for families, educators, leaders, and advocates. Strategies that emphasize choice, autonomy, and collaboration are more effective than those that rely on force or pressure. In the family and in the classroom, offering individuals options rather than mandates can reduce resistance. In public health, framing recommendations as empowering rather than restrictive can increase acceptance.

The sweet potato story is thus more than a childhood memory; it is a vivid example of how psychological reactance operates in everyday life. When freedom is threatened, even in small ways, people are motivated to restore it. The lesson is clear: persuasion works best when it respects autonomy.

Some might legitimately assert that elementary school-aged Peter merely was being disobedient. After all, sweet potatoes are nutritious, and children should be taught respect for authority. So, I feel compelled to end by briefly addressing how families can maintain authority while supporting healthy identity development.

Excessive coercion fosters not only psychological reactance but also, in the extreme, negative identity formation. The latter is an identity formed in opposition to unfair societal expectations. For example, when continually forced to try to achieve standards that they truly cannot attain, they might seek success in antisocial behavior.  Less extreme—but more common—than negative identity formation is the adoption of negative ideation and negative communication.  There, it’s not so much negative behavior, but obstreperous and negative talk. Families can mitigate these risks by enforcing rules through clarity, collaboration, and respect. Such strategies not only reduce resistance but also empower people to internalize positive identities rooted in autonomy and responsibility. Ultimately, effective rule enforcement requires balancing authority with empathy, ensuring that boundaries guide rather than suffocate identity development.

References

Brehm, J. W. (1966). A theory of psychological reactance. Academic Press.

Rosenberg, B. D., & Siegel, J. T. (2025). Psychological reactance theory: An introduction and overview. Motivation Science, 11(2), 133–138. https://doi.org/10.1037/mot0000376

Steindl, C., Jonas, E., Sittenthaler, S., Traut-Mattausch, E., & Greenberg, J. (2015). Understanding psychological reactance: New developments and findings. Zeitschrift für Psychologie, 223(4), 205–214. https://doi.org/10.1027/2151-2604/a000223

Guiding Conversations Based on Internal Questions

In my Questioning & Answering book ( McCusker, 2023), I emphasized that effective communication is not simply about exchanging words.  It is about fostering understanding, building relationships, and promoting well-being. Communication research emphasizes that individuals can guide their conversations by asking themselves three internal questions. These questions serve as cognitive-emotional anchors that help structure dialogue, ensuring that communication is purposeful and impactful.

The first internal question—“What?”—focuses on identifying the subject matter of the conversation. Research in communication highlights that clarity of content is essential for knowledge exchange and audience engagement (Warwick University, n.d.). By asking “What?” individuals ensure that they are addressing the topic directly, reducing ambiguity and enhancing comprehension. This step is particularly important in educational and professional contexts, where precise information sharing supports learning and productivity.

The second  internal question—“Why?”—encourages reflection on the purpose and significance of the topic of conversation. Communication scholars note that understanding motivations and underlying reasons fosters empathy and relational depth (Social Science Research Council, 2024). Asking “Why?” helps individuals connect ideas to broader contexts, whether in personal relationships or organizational settings. This reflective practice strengthens social bonds by validating perspectives and encouraging mutual respect.

Finally, the internal question “What to do now?” directs communication toward actionable outcomes. Research shows that conversations that conclude with clear next steps are more effective in promoting behavioral change and problem-solving (Lee, 2025). This forward-looking orientation transforms dialogue from abstract discussion into practical guidance, supporting both personal growth and collective decision-making.

Applying these internal questions has broad benefits.  In the knowledge realm, asking “What?” ensures accurate information exchange, while “Why?” deepens understanding by linking facts to meaning.  And regarding social relationships, “Why?” fosters empathy and trust, strengthening interpersonal connections. Physical and mental health benefits accrue because structured communication reduces stress and uncertainty.  The “What to do now?” question helps us by promoting proactive coping strategies that support well-being.

Communication research underscores that internal questions transforms conversations into tools for empowerment. By guiding dialogue with What, Why, and What to do now, individuals can cultivate clarity, empathy, and action—qualities that enhance both personal and collective flourishing.

How about some practical examples?  

Think about workplace collaboration: You’re in a team meeting about a project deadline. First internally query, What is the issue here?  Then aloud you ask, “So, the main challenge is that our data analysis is behind schedule, right?”  Your next internal query is, Why is this important?  That is followed by stating aloud, “If we don’t finish by Friday, the client presentation will be incomplete. That’s why this matters.”  The last internal question is What’s the next step? Then out loud you advise, “Let’s assign two people to focus on the analysis today so we can catch up.”  The outcome ideally is that the conversation stays focused, clarifies urgency, and ends with a concrete plan.

Next, imagine a personal relationship in which a friend seems upset during dinner. Your what is: What is happening here?  Your aloud, “I notice you’re quieter than usual tonight. Is something bothering you?”  Your why, Why might this matter to them?  Your aloud, “Is  work stress  weighing on you—it’s been a busy season.” Your What is the next step is the question:  “Do you want to talk it through, or would you prefer a distraction tonight?”  This strategy demonstrates your awareness, empathy, and offers agency, strengthening the relationship.

Now, questions pertaining to having heard a doctor’s just-delivered advice to promote lifestyle changes and health. What is the key message?  Aloud, “So the main recommendation is to increase physical activity, correct?” Internal Why is this important for me?  Out loud, “That’s because regular exercise lowers blood pressure and improves heart health, right?” Internal “What to do now?” Out loud: “Would starting with 20 minutes of walking three times a week be a good first step?” Outcome: You clarify the advice, connect it to health benefits, and leave with a doable plan.

In all three examples, the strategy is obvious.  Knowledge: “What?” ensures you understand the facts.  Relationships: “Why?” builds empathy and shared meaning.  Health: “What to do now?” reduces uncertainty and stress by creating actionable steps.

 

References

Lee, S. (2025, May 25). Research impact in communication: Methods and strategies. Number Analytics. https://www.numberanalytics.com/blog/research-impact-in-communication-methods-and-strategies

McCusker, P. J.  (2023). Questioning & Answering: How, Who, When, & Where. New York: Amazon.

Social Science Research Council. (2024, June 9). Seven tips from experts on communicating your research. The Mercury Project. https://www.ssrc.org/mercury-project/2024/06/09/seven-tips-from-experts-on-communicating-your-research/

Warwick University. (n.d.). Quick guide to research communications. https://warwick.ac.uk/research/priorities/productivity/media/documents/research_communications_guide_pdf_1.pdf

 

Where the Tribe Ends & the Individual Begins

The role of the advocatus diaboli (Latin for “Devil’s Advocate”) was formally established in the Catholic Church during the canonization process (Delaney, 1980). The intention was to ensure rigorous scrutiny of candidates for sainthood by appointing someone to argue against canonization, highlighting flaws, inconsistencies, or potential exaggerations of virtue. This institutionalized skepticism was meant to safeguard against hasty or biased judgments.

Yet, even with such a moderator, groups could descend into adversarial argumentation. The Devil’s Advocate often reinforced a combative dynamic, where the goal was to win rather than to understand.

Instead of perpetuating adversarial debate, a more constructive position might be envisioned: the Angelic Inquirer. This figure would not argue for or against but would facilitate objective, Socratic questioning. The Angelic Inquirer’s task would be to guide participants toward clarity, encouraging dialogue that seeks truth, not merely self-serving victory. The “angel” would facilitate objectivity, introduce and facilitate questions that illuminate assumptions. The model would require and moderate the Socratic method, encouraging participants to articulate reasoning and confront contradictions. And, finally, insofar as possible, the angel would ensure a constructive tone that demands inquiry that does not descend into hostility.  in short, the angelic process would reframe discourse from adversarial combat to collaborative exploration.

One of the angel’s greatest challenges in dialogue is disentangling tribal identity—political, religious, or cultural—from personal identity. When individuals conflate group membership with selfhood, disagreement feels like a personal attack (Tajfel & Turner, 1979).  Considered in the light of identity, Socratic dialogue offers a pathway to disassociation. First, assumptions are questioned, asking why one holds a belief and whether it is contingent on group identity. Second, alternatives are explored by considering perspectives outside one’s tribe without immediate rejection. Third, reflective distancing is reinforced by indicating that identity is multifaceted and not reducible to group affiliation. By practicing these steps, individuals can cultivate resilience against polarization and rediscover their authentic selves beyond tribal boundaries.

To conclude, the Devil’s Advocate was designed to safeguard truth through opposition, but adversarial roles can entrench division. An Angelic Inquirer, by contrast, facilitates objective questioning by nurturing Socratic dialogue. In doing so, individuals can learn to disassociate tribal identity from personal identity, fostering a culture of inquiry that strengthens democracy and human flourishing. However, such learning is just as critical— perhaps more critical—an issue for our dysfunctional governmental officials. The recent and longest government shutdown in American history is attributable to our legislators’ total unwillingness to accept the reality of their situations and limitations of their power. They sought personal political advantage over the welfare of the nation. Perhaps, at minimum, we need an objective angelic advocate citizen to be present at every government session that addresses substantial issues.  The advocate would publish on the Internet a full report, quoting not only what was said, but also,  who said what, and when.

References

Delaney, J. J. (1980). Dictionary of saints. Doubleday.

Nussbaum, M. C. (2010). Not for profit: Why democracy needs the humanities. Princeton University Press.

Popper, K. (1945). The open society and its enemies. Routledge.

Tajfel, H., & Turner, J. C. (1979). An integrative theory of intergroup conflict. In W. G. Austin & S. Worchel (Eds.), The social psychology of intergroup relations (pp. 33–47). Brooks/Cole.

 

 

Defusing Our Uncivil House of Dynamite

Since war is the absolute antithesis of civility, consider that within the past week millions of Americans—and millions more around the world—watched Kathryn Bigelow’s A House of Dynamite, a film  dramatizing the tense 18 minutes after a missile is detected heading toward the United States. Also, factor in the 2024  Annie Jacobsen book Nuclear War: A Scenario that became a bestseller and was shortlisted for the Baillie Gifford Prize for nonfiction, vividly describing how a single nuclear strike could escalate into global catastrophe. Finally, recall that in 1983, President Ronald Reagan watched The Day After, a chilling portrayal of nuclear war’s aftermath. According to his memoirs and contemporaneous accounts, the film deeply affected him, reinforcing his urgency to collaborate with Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev. They met and that meeting led to the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty, a landmark agreement that reduced nuclear arsenals and eased Cold War tensions.

Regan could confidently negotiate with Gorbachev, because he had a 73 percent approval rating.  That reflected the fact that Americans were fully united behind him and our national priorities. Citizens did not always agree with all national policies, but—more often than not— they were willing to communicate rationally about policies rather than personalities.

As I said in my previous Kimmel, Kirk and Us  blog post, our adversaries—China, Russia, North Korea, and Iran—are not just monitoring our military posture. They are watching our politics, our media, and our culture. They are measuring whether we are a nation capable of rational debate. When we descend into ridicule and polarization, we project weakness. We show ourselves as distracted, fractured, and vulnerable to intimidation. Adversaries then are emboldened, less likely to negotiate in good faith, and more likely to threaten war, even nuclear war, as Russia and North Korea recently have.  In short, American division is an invitation to catastrophe. .

All this means that rational discourse is our existential responsibility.  When speech is weaponized for political or monetary profit or division, it exacts profound costs by eroding democracy, safety, and civility.  Jimmie Kimmel and his allies parlayed punishment into profit, teaching millions how to divide and destroy America for entertainment. I again restate and emphasize that our children, along with China, Russia, North Korea, and Iran, are watching and learning.

By contrast, civil disagreement minimizes national threats.  It deters aggression by demonstrating resilience in disagreement. It signals strength. Respectful debate shows that we can govern ourselves without collapsing into chaos. You may feel powerless in the face of nuclear weapons, but you are not powerless in shaping the climate that influences whether conflict escalates or is contained. You can model civility. Even in disagreement, speak with respect, reject division-for-profit by refusing to reward those who monetize outrage, and by being mindful of the audience, our adversaries, and our children.

The lesson of House of Dynamite, Nuclear War: A Scenario, and The Day After is stark: in a nuclear age, our margin for error is vanishingly small. If we cannot govern our speech and disagreements with discipline, we risk undermining our individual and collective freedom.  One more historical memory is instructive: on June 16, 1858, during his famous speech at the Illinois Republican convention in Springfield, Abraham Lincoln said, "A house divided against itself cannot stand." America is a house imperiled. Let’s defuse what now has become a political House of Dynamite.

Continuation of the Attention, Identity, and Emotion Blog post

Once attention is captured, emotion continues to shape how people think. Emotions act as cognitive frames, influencing interpretation and judgment. Research shows that anger often leads to overconfidence and polarized thinking, fear promotes risk-aversion, and sadness encourages deeper reflection and more systematic analysis (Lerner, Li, Valdesolo, & Kassam, 2015). In short, emotions bias not only what we notice but also how we reason about it.

Consider the example of a political debate. A viewer who feels anger may quickly categorize one side as entirely right and the other as entirely wrong. Another viewer, experiencing sadness over societal problems, might adopt a more nuanced perspective and weigh competing arguments carefully. Thus, emotions operate like mental filters that tilt the balance of thought processes, often outside awareness.

Identity is an interpretive lens. If emotion frames cognition in terms of feeling, identity frames it in terms of meaning. People are motivated to interpret information in ways that protect and affirm their identities, a process psychologists call motivated reasoning (Kunda, 1990). For instance, partisans often interpret ambiguous political events in ways that favor their party’s position. Similarly, religious or cultural identities can influence how individuals make sense of moral dilemmas or scientific evidence.

This identity-based filtering gives life coherence but also introduces bias. When people’s sense of self is tightly bound to a group or ideology, they may discount or reject information that threatens that identity. This dynamic helps explain why debates about politics, religion, or social values often feel intractable: they are not merely exchanges of evidence but defenses of selfhood.

Emotions are not just mental states; they are embodied responses that prepare people for action. William James (1884/1994) famously argued that emotions are essentially perceptions of bodily changes. Fear involves a racing heart and a readiness to flee; anger involves muscle tension and a readiness to fight. Modern neuroscience confirms that emotions prime the body for specific action tendencies (Damasio, 1994).  This means that when people act, they are often following emotional momentum rather than deliberate choice. Someone who feels insulted may lash out before thinking, while someone who feels compassion may help a stranger without calculating costs. Emotions provide an immediacy and urgency to behavior that pure rationality rarely matches.

While emotions push people into action, identity often keeps them acting in consistent ways over time. Self-verification theory suggests that individuals are motivated to behave in ways that confirm their self-concept, even if that concept is negative (Swann, 1983). Similarly, identity-based motivation theory argues that when actions are tied to one’s identity, they feel more compelling and necessary (Oyserman, 2009).  For example, someone who identifies as “a dependable friend” will continue showing up for others even when exhausted. A person who sees themselves as “a loyal employee” may stay late at work regardless of personal cost. Such consistency provides stability and predictability, but it can also lead to rigidity when identities no longer align with changing circumstances.

Together, emotion and identity not only influence moment-to-moment decisions but also shape the situations in which people remain. Emotional attachments and identity commitments can create powerful forms of situational entrapment. People may stay in toxic relationships because love and identity as a partner override rational awareness of harm. Employees may remain in unfulfilling careers because leaving would threaten their identity as successful professionals. Citizens may cling to political movements that no longer reflect their values because group identity and emotional loyalty keep them bound.  This dynamic often unfolds mindlessly. Once entrenched, emotions reinforce identities, and identities reinforce emotions. Breaking free requires conscious reflection—a willingness to question both how one feels and who one believes oneself to be.

So, emotion and identity are silent architects of life, and awareness is the tool that allows people to remodel the structures they create. Mindfulness practices, for example, help individuals notice emotional states without immediately acting on them (Kabat-Zinn, 1990). Similarly, critical thinking and Socratic questioning can expose the ways identity shapes reasoning, allowing for greater intellectual flexibility. Identity itself can also be made more fluid: people can adopt multiple, overlapping self-concepts rather than clinging to a single rigid role.

By cultivating such awareness, individuals can reclaim a measure of freedom from the automatic guidance of emotion and identity. Rather than being passively shaped by these forces, they can engage them consciously, using their power to build lives that are both meaningful and intentional.

To conclude, although people like to imagine themselves as rational actors, emotion and identity guide much of what they notice, how they think, and what they do. These forces not only determine the flow of attention and the framing of thought but also drive action and entrench individuals in particular life situations. While they provide coherence, belonging, and motivation, they also risk narrowing perception and limiting freedom. To live with awareness and flexibility requires recognizing how deeply emotion and identity structure human experience. Only then can individuals move from mindless persistence to mindful choice.

References

Damasio, A. R. (1994). Descartes’ error: Emotion, reason, and the human brain. New York: Putnam.

James, W. (1994). The physical basis of emotion (Originally published 1884). In M. G. Johnson (Ed.), The philosophy of William James (pp. 323–335). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Kabat-Zinn, J. (1990). Full catastrophe living: Using the wisdom of your body and mind to face stress, pain, and illness. New York: Delacorte.

Kunda, Z. (1990). The case for motivated reasoning. Psychological Bulletin, 108(3), 480–498. https://doi.org/10.1037/0033-2909.108.3.480

Lerner, J. S., Li, Y., Valdesolo, P., & Kassam, K. S. (2015). Emotion and decision making. Annual Review of Psychology, 66, 799–823. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-psych-010213-115043

Markus, H. (1977). Self-schemata and processing information about the self. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 35(2), 63–78. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.35.2.63

Oyserman, D. (2009). Identity-based motivation: Implications for action-readiness, procedural-readiness, and consumer behavior. Journal of Consumer Psychology, 19(3), 250–260. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jcps.2009.05.008

Pessoa, L. (2009). How do emotion and motivation direct executive control? Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 13(4), 160–166. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tics.2009.01.006

Swann, W. B. (1983). Self-verification: Bringing social reality into harmony with the self. Psychological Perspectives on the Self, 2, 33–66.

Tajfel, H., & Turner, J. C. (1986). The social identity theory of intergroup behavior. In S. Worchel & W. G. Austin (Eds.), Psychology of intergroup relations (pp. 7–24). Chicago: Nelson-Hall.

Emotion and Identity: Silent Architects of Attention, Thought, and Action

When people are asked why they made a particular decision, they often describe it in terms of logic and reasoning. Yet research across psychology, neuroscience, and sociology consistently shows that much of what guides human behavior lies outside deliberate rationality. Two of the most powerful but subtle forces are emotion and identity. These factors determine what we notice in our environment, how we interpret it, and how we respond. Even more profoundly, they shape the situations in which we find ourselves and often keep us trapped in them, sometimes long after reason would suggest leaving.

The human brain processes far more sensory information than it can ever consciously attend to. Psychologists often describe attention as a spotlight: it illuminates a small portion of the environment while leaving the rest in shadow. What determines where this spotlight lands is often emotional salience. Research shows that emotionally charged stimuli—such as threatening faces, symbols of danger, or even images linked with reward—are noticed more quickly and remembered more vividly than neutral stimuli (Pessoa, 2009).

This tendency has clear evolutionary roots. Early humans who rapidly noticed the snake in the grass or the angry glare of a rival were more likely to survive than those who overlooked such cues. But in modern life, this same attentional bias means that our emotional states can dramatically skew what we perceive. Someone feeling anxious may notice only the risks in a situation, while someone feeling joyful may see possibilities that others overlook. In this way, emotion is not just a passing experience but a force that shapes perception at its most basic level.

If emotion determines what feels urgent, identity determines what feels relevant. Identity is the collection of roles, values, and group memberships through which people define themselves. Social identity theory demonstrates that individuals pay heightened attention to information related to their in-groups, because such cues are tied to self-esteem and belonging (Tajfel & Turner, 1986). Similarly, self-schema research shows that people are more likely to notice and remember information that is consistent with their self-concept (Markus, 1977). For example, someone who strongly identifies as a parent will quickly notice environmental cues related to children’s safety, while someone who defines themselves as a professional athlete may immediately spot opportunities for competition or training. Identity, in this way, organizes attention around the themes that make life feel coherent and meaningful. But it can also narrow focus, making people blind to information outside their roles.

 Once attention is captured, emotion continues to shape how people think. Emotions act as cognitive frames, influencing interpretation and judgment. Research shows that anger often leads to overconfidence and polarized thinking, fear promotes risk-aversion, and sadness encourages deeper reflection and more systematic analysis (Lerner, Li, Valdesolo, & Kassam, 2015). In short, emotions bias not only what we notice but also how we reason about it.

Consider the example of a political debate. A viewer who feels anger may quickly categorize one side as entirely right and the other as entirely wrong. Another viewer, experiencing sadness over societal problems, might adopt a more nuanced perspective and weigh competing arguments carefully. Thus, emotions operate like mental filters that tilt the balance of thought processes, often outside awareness.

If emotion frames cognition in terms of feeling, identity frames it in terms of meaning. People are motivated to interpret information in ways that protect and affirm their identities, a process psychologists call motivated reasoning (Kunda, 1990). For instance, partisans often interpret ambiguous political events in ways that favor their party’s position. Similarly, religious or cultural identities can influence how individuals make sense of moral dilemmas or scientific evidence.

This identity-based filtering gives life coherence but also introduces bias. When people’s sense of self is tightly bound to a group or ideology, they may discount or reject information that threatens that identity. This dynamic helps explain why debates about politics, religion, or social values often feel intractable: they are not merely exchanges of evidence but defenses of selfhood.

EMOTION CONTINUED IN NEXT BLOG POSTING