The Internet’s Addiction to Being Contrary

Lately, I've noticed that many online discussions don't really feel like discussions anymore. Instead of exchanging perspectives, we often default to contradiction - not to understand, but to push back. It's as if simply acknowledging that someone else sees the world differently has become harder than proving them wrong. What I find most disheartening isn’t disagreement itself, but how quickly it turns personal.

A recent example that stuck with me was the reaction to comments from Sven Vincke at Larian, and the broader discourse around Highguard. What could have been an interesting conversation about creative direction, expectations, and taste quickly hardened into camps. Instead of acknowledging that different players value different things, much of the discussion became about drawing lines and dismissing opposing views outright.

This isn't limited to games, of course. You see the same pattern play out across technical discussions, product debates, and even well-intentioned conversations about tools or methodologies. A suggestion is interpreted as an attack, a preference as a judgment. Before long, the focus shifts away from the idea itself and toward defending a position at all costs.

Part of the problem is that online spaces reward reaction over reflection. Strong takes travel further than careful ones, and disagreement framed as certainty tends to attract more attention than nuance ever will. Over time, it becomes easier to be contrarian than curious - to push back reflexively rather than pause and ask why someone might see things differently.

What gets lost in the process is the simple acknowledgment that different perspectives are often shaped by different experiences. Two people can look at the same problem, weigh the same facts, and still arrive at different conclusions without either being wrong. Disagreement doesn’t have to imply bad faith, incompetence, or ill intent - yet those assumptions are increasingly baked into how discussions unfold.

I've also noticed how this dynamic quietly changes who participates. Thoughtful voices withdraw, not because they lack opinions, but because the cost of expressing them feels too high. When every contribution risks being met with hostility or dismissal, silence can feel like the safer option - and communities lose something valuable as a result.

None of this is a call to avoid disagreement. Healthy debate is essential, especially in technical fields where ideas improve through challenge. But there's a meaningful difference between engaging with an argument and engaging against a person. Simply acknowledging that "I see this differently" can open space for understanding, even when agreement is never reached.

That's why spaces that still encourage good-faith discussion matter. Communities where curiosity is valued over winning, and where disagreement doesn't immediately escalate into hostility, are becoming increasingly rare - and increasingly important. If we want better conversations online, the shift doesn’t start with being right, but with being willing to listen.