Between the Pulpit, the Courtroom, and the Stage: Rethinking the Roles We Play
Inspired by Adam Grant and Phil Tetlock
The grand theater of human discourse is rarely content with simple dialogue; we are compelled to perform. Whether consciously or otherwise, we assume the roles of preacher, prosecutor, and politician, each armed with its own instruments and objectives. These roles, as astutely delineated by Phil Tetlock and Adam Grant, reflect strategies for engaging with the world: defending sacred beliefs, dismantling opposition, and courting approval. Admirable as these roles may seem, they often mask deeper dangers—foremost among them, the erosion of thought itself.
The preacher strides confidently to the pulpit, cloaked in the authority of moral certitude. Words resound with conviction, their rhetoric a shield against the perceived desecration of cherished ideals. Moral certitude, however, has a tendency to overplay its hand. The preacher, eager to protect, risks calcifying beliefs into dogma. Questions that might nourish understanding are dismissed as threats, and the pulpit becomes less a platform for dialogue and more a fortress against dissent. The result is a lamentable paradox: a defender of truth rendered deaf to its evolution.
The prosecutor enters the scene with an air of forensic precision. Their role is to scrutinize, to expose inconsistencies in reasoning with the elegance of a fencer at work. A noble aspiration emerges here—the refinement of ideas through rigorous critique. Yet, the prosecutor’s blade, though sharp, is often wielded too eagerly. Victory becomes paramount, reducing dialogue to a courtroom battle where the objective is not mutual understanding but intellectual conquest. Such exchanges, theatrically satisfying as they may be, leave little room for the subtlety and complexity that truth demands.
The politician presents a more elusive figure. Their mission is not to defend or dismantle but to persuade. The politician is an architect of consensus, shaping arguments to align with the prevailing winds of the audience. This deft touch requires a willingness to adjust one's stance to secure approval. Yet, therein lies the danger: the politician, in the relentless pursuit of favor, risks sacrificing authenticity. Over time, their words become not a reflection of principle but an echo of the crowd, a rhetorical chimera that pleases but does not endure.
A curious tragedy emerges from these roles, designed as they are to elevate discourse, yet so often degrading it. The preacher drowns out dissent, the prosecutor revels in dissection, and the politician panders to the applause of the moment. Together, they form a trinity of intellectual stagnation, where the search for truth is subordinated to the performance of certainty, critique, or approval. This is not the discourse of a society in search of wisdom; it is a spectacle in which the loudest voice prevails.
What, then, is to be done? The solution lies not in abandoning these roles but in tempering them. The preacher must wield conviction with humility, recognizing that even the most sacred truths are not immune to refinement. The prosecutor must temper zeal with compassion, allowing space for dialogue to blossom amid critique. The politician must anchor pragmatism to authenticity, resisting the temptation to trade principle for applause. Each case demands not rejection of the role but transcendence of its limitations.
Discourse at its best offers something profoundly beautiful. It is neither sermon, trial, nor campaign, but collaboration—a shared effort to construct what might be called a cathedral of thought. Each voice contributes a stone, each perspective a beam, until the edifice stands, not as a monument to any one individual, but as a testament to the collective pursuit of understanding.
We must ask ourselves: are we content to perform, or will we dare to build? True discourse does not end with applause or agreement. It leaves us unsettled, questioning, growing. Perhaps this is where wisdom begins—not in the triumph of argument, but in the quiet courage to seek.
This essay is part one of a two-part series. The next installment will step beyond the pulpit, the courtroom, and the stage to explore the virtues of thinking like a scientist—a methodical, curious, and open-minded approach to understanding. For those willing to entertain doubt and embrace discovery, the rewards are boundless. I invite you to join me in this intellectual venture when we reconvene.