Define Your Terms First

Picture two people in a room. One declares they believe in a higher power. The other firmly states they don't. They're about to launch into what feels like a fundamental disagreement, perhaps even an argument that could strain their relationship.

But here's the thing: they're wasting their time.

Until someone asks "What do you mean by that?" they're not actually having a conversation. They're having two separate monologues using the same words but potentially meaning completely different things.

The Foundation of Every Real Conversation

This realization has shaped how I approach every meaningful dialogue, whether I'm teaching, researching, or simply trying to understand someone's perspective. The first question in any substantive conversation isn't about the topic itself. It's about the words we're using to discuss it.

When people criticize religious communities, for instance, they often do so based on narrow conceptions of what religion means or how religious people actually live. These conceptions can be misleading or simply wrong. The criticism might be entirely valid for one interpretation but completely miss the mark for another.

I've been asked countless times to explain actions taken by individuals who happen to share my faith background, as if their choices somehow reflect my beliefs or the beliefs of everyone else in that community. The questions themselves aren't necessarily problematic. Real issues exist within religious communities. Violence happens. Women's rights are restricted. These are facts worth discussing.

The deeper problem lies in the assumptions embedded within these questions.

The Hidden Bias in Our Questions

There's an unspoken belief that certain groups are somehow different, that they operate outside the normal rules of human complexity. The same person who would never assume that two billion people of one faith tradition think identically will easily assume that nearly two billion people of another faith are essentially uniform in their beliefs.

This double standard reveals something troubling about how we process information about different communities. We apply nuanced thinking to groups we're familiar with while flattening others into oversimplified categories.

Consider how we think about any large, diverse community. No one expects all Americans to share identical political views. We don't assume all scientists agree on every research question. We understand that families, professions, and regional communities contain multitudes of perspectives.

Yet somehow, when discussing certain religious or cultural groups, this basic understanding of human diversity disappears. We forget that the same historical, sociological, literary, and contextual forces that have shaped every other major tradition over thousands of years have also influenced these communities.

Building Better Conversations

As both an educator and researcher, I've learned that meaningful dialogue becomes possible only after we establish shared definitions. Before diving into complex topics, we need to ask: What do you mean by "religion"? What's your definition of "extremism"? When you say "traditional values," what specific values are you referencing?

This isn't about being pedantic or avoiding difficult conversations. It's about ensuring we're actually talking about the same things. Without shared definitions, we end up arguing past each other, defending positions the other person never actually attacked, or dismissing viewpoints we've never actually heard.

The process of defining terms together does something beautiful. It forces us to slow down and think more carefully about our own assumptions. It reveals the complexity hiding behind seemingly simple concepts. Most importantly, it creates space for genuine understanding rather than performative debate.

The Ripple Effect

When you start insisting on clear definitions, something interesting happens to your conversations. People become more thoughtful about their word choices. They start questioning their own assumptions. The quality of dialogue improves dramatically because everyone involved has to be more precise about what they actually mean.

This approach works equally well in professional settings, family discussions, and casual conversations. Whether you're debating policy, discussing relationships, or trying to understand someone's worldview, beginning with definitions changes everything.

It's particularly powerful when discussing topics that trigger strong emotional responses. When we're feeling defensive or passionate, we often talk past each other without realizing it. Taking time to define our terms creates a pause that allows more thoughtful engagement.

Beyond Religious Discussions

While my examples often involve faith communities, this principle applies universally. Political conversations suffer from the same definitional problems. What does "conservative" mean to you? How do you define "progress"? What specific policies do you have in mind when you talk about "reform"?

Even personal conversations benefit from this approach. When someone says they want "more communication" in a relationship, what kind of communication do they mean? When they express feeling "unsupported," what would support actually look like?

The technique isn't about winning arguments or proving points. It's about creating conditions where real understanding becomes possible. Once everyone knows what everyone else means by their key terms, you can finally have the conversation you thought you were already having.

That's when dialogue moves from performance to discovery, from defending positions to exploring ideas together. And that's when conversations become worth having.