The Devil’s Advocate and Why Arguing Online Is a Terrible Use of Creative Energy

'Don Quixote Fighting the Windmills' – anonymous colour illustration, c. 1890, from Don Quixote. Public Domain.

"Not every battle is noble. Or remotely productive. Like Don, some are just very public arguments with windmills."

We tend to think of arguments as signs of intelligence, sharpness or even engagement. But history tells a subtler story. The phrase "devil's advocate" didn’t originate on social media, nor did it begin as a casual invitation to disagree for sport. It comes from a very specific and intentional role within the Catholic Church: Advocatus Diaboli.

This person was formally appointed to argue against the canonisation of a potential saint. Their task was to question miracles, probe inconsistencies, and introduce doubt – not to be obstructive, but to ensure that only the most indisputable cases withstood scrutiny. In other words, resistance was used strategically, not constantly.

Opposition was a tool, not a lifestyle.

Over time, the phrase drifted into everyday language, where it now often means "I’m going to push back on this idea", sometimes helpfully – and sometimes reflexively. What’s often missed is that the role itself is inherently resistant. Even the word advocate comes from the Latin advocare: "to call upon" or "to summon".

When someone plays devil’s advocate, they are quite literally summoning doubt into the room. That isn’t always wrong. But it is always consequential.

"A man is what he thinks about all day long."

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

Momentum is one of the most underestimated forces in human life. We understand it instinctively in physics: an object in motion tends to stay in motion. But the same principle applies to thoughts, ideas, creativity and social change.

Ideas don’t arrive fully formed and unstoppable. They begin quietly, tentatively. They gather energy through repetition, attention and alignment – until suddenly they move with force. This is why constant resistance matters. Scepticism acts like friction. A little can be useful – it stress-tests an idea. Too much, too early, and momentum never has a chance to build.

Imagine a train pulling away from a station. At first, it takes enormous effort just to overcome inertia. Once it’s moving however, its mass and velocity make it powerful, even difficult to stop. But if obstacles are repeatedly thrown onto the tracks – doubts, interruptions, contrarianism for its own sake – the train slows, stalls, or derails before it ever reaches speed.

This is where much of social media gets stuck.

Two trains colliding head-on don’t create progress. They create destruction and stagnation. And that’s what endless online argument often is: opposing forces slamming into each other, each convinced that stopping, or "owning" the other is the goal.

Not to mention that a growing body of research shows that heavy social media use – particularly when it involves conflict, comparison or outrage – is linked to increased anxiety, stress, and depressive symptoms. Constantly arguing with strangers online keeps the nervous system in a state of threat rather than resolution, which is mentally and emotionally depleting.

So, what if ideas didn’t collide? What if they connected? If thoughts linked like train cars – insight added to insight, perspective layered onto perspective – momentum would compound instead of collapse. Energy would move forward instead of cancelling itself out.

"Watch your thoughts; they become your words.

Watch your words; they become your actions."

– Lao Tzu

In improvisational theatre, the guiding principle is "Yes, and…". Instead of questioning, blocking, or undermining what another participant introduces, each person accepts it as true ("yes") and then adds to it ("and"). The result is an energetic creative flow and a shared reality that expands collaboratively, rather than defensively. Unlike the devil’s advocate, which tests ideas by opposition, “Yes, and…” bolsters ideas through participation, momentum, and collective creativity.

There is of course still a place for resistance – but it’s earlier, quieter and more internal than we’re taught. Learning to pivot a negative thought before it gains speed is wisdom. Just as a slow-moving train is easier to stop than a fast one, a negative or unhelpful thought is far easier to redirect early. Resistance, in this sense, becomes a signal, not a battleground. A moment of discomfort, a tightening in the solar plexus, a sense of "this isn’t aligned" – these are invitations to change tracks, not to argue harder.

This is very different from endlessly summoning doubt into every shared idea. Arguing online rarely builds anything new. It expends energy without direction. Creation, on the other hand, requires sustained focus, cooperation, and a willingness to let ideas breathe long enough to become something real.

Which raises an intriguing question. What if ancient civilisations understood this instinctively? What if the reason their wisdom traditions endured – and their structures still stand – is that they harmonised knowledge instead of weaponising it? Instead of clashing egos, they layered insight. Instead of constant opposition, they cultivated momentum.

If that’s true, then perhaps the most radical thing we can do today isn’t to win debates – but to build trains instead of crashes.

Not every idea needs a devil’s advocate. All good ideas need time, attention and aligned energy to become what they’re meant to be – great.

-----

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wDpQ0EFe5Fw

If this resonates with you, I explore the Devil's Advocate, momentum, physics and so much more in greater depth in The Book of Revolution. There I discuss how ancient prophecy, science and alchemy converge to tell the story of humanity's great awakening – a story we are all living right now.

If you'd prefer to watch the vlog version of this post, please click here.

Image caption: ‘Don Quixote Fighting the Windmills' – anonymous colour illustration, c. 1890, from Don Quixote. Public Domain.