How to never answer

When asked an uncomfortable question, there are many possible responses. One can lie, but this requires skill. One can withhold information, but this requires judgement and foresight.

Never answering is different. It requires almost no skill, judgement, or foresight. The basic approach is straightforward: you respond, but never answer the question.

There are many ways to accomplish this. Done properly, you seem to answer at considerable length, say nothing demonstrably false, maybe even provide a fair amount of information, and still leave the questioner knowing no more, and possibly less, than when they started.

The pesky parent

Consider a swim team preparing for a championship meet. On multiple occasions, the coach announces publicly that the two fastest swimmers in the final qualifying race will represent the team in the championship.

The final qualifying race is held. Swimmer A finishes second. Swimmer B finishes third, 0.63 seconds behind. Contemporaneous photographic evidence reveals that Swimmer A finished a body-length ahead.

The coach selects Swimmer B.

A parent asks why.

The coach explains that, despite the apparent evidence, the two swimmers were “tied.”

Redefine the inconvenient fact

Parent: But they weren’t tied. A finished more than half a second ahead. Look, here are the results. Here is the photo.
Coach: In this case, I considered that a tie.
Parent: Doesn’t that go against the rules of the sport?
Coach: No, not really. I don’t expect you to understand.

The swimmers were not tied in the mundane “athletic” sense, which requires that the competitors record identical times. The tie in this case was much more nuanced, so nuanced, in fact, that the coach herself could not fully understand it, let alone the parent. Notice the elegance of what has been accomplished. The coach has not denied the race results. She has not disputed the photograph. She has not explicitly claimed that 0.63 = 0. She simply expanded the definition of a tie until it became broad enough to also include not tying. Simple.

Sadly, the pesky parent keeps asking questions.

Introduce a competing explanation

The athletic director enters the chat.

Athletic Director: To clarify what happened, the championship team wasn't actually selected based on the final qualifying race. The coach actually considered the swimmers' best times recorded during the entire season.

The parent, unfortunately, checks. Swimmer A's best time is also faster than Swimmer B's. So is her average time. We now have two entirely different explanations for the decision, neither of which actually explains the decision. The parent remains unsatisfied.

Time for a new approach.

Attack the questioner

The parent refuses to listen to reason. Clearly, the parent has become emotional.

Athletic Director: I completely understand that parents can become very invested in their children’s performance. If you have a concern in the future, I encourage you to approach the coach with curiosity rather than criticism.

The original question was how the stated criterion resulted in Swimmer B being selected. We are now discussing the parent’s emotional state and future opportunities for personal growth. The athletic director and coach have made substantial progress. A problem remains: at its core, the coach’s decision is still being questioned.

Luckily, this too can be corrected easily.

Play the victim

Coach: This was a very difficult decision for me. Both athletes are wonderful and A has improved so so much during the season. It broke my heart to tell her that B qualified. I am a volunteer, and I spend many hours of my personal time coaching this team. I put my heart and soul into these girls.

A moment ago, the parent was upset because the coach chose B when A was the one who qualified under the criteria. We are now discussing how difficult it was for the coach to disqualify A under those same criteria and award the spot to B. Here the objective is not merely to escape scrutiny. It is to reverse the direction of sympathy. Caught unaware, the parent might be tempted to comfort the coach instead of asking questions.

Remarkable.

Promise clarity… in the future

Now that the parent is on the ropes, it is time for the knockout blow.

Athletic Director: Thank you so much for reaching out with your concerns. Before next season begins, we'll be sure to establish clearer criteria explaining how ties will be considered.

The question asks why Swimmer B was selected yesterday. The answer tells us how swimmers will be selected next year. Magnificent. Also, still a tie.

The parent has been educated. They’ve learned that A and B were tied, despite finishing at different times. They’ve learned that the final qualifying race determined who qualified, except that it didn't. They’ve also learned that season long performance determined the selection, except that it could not have. They’ve learned that they should approach future disagreements with greater curiosity and perhaps seek counseling for their lack of empathy. They’ve learned that the decision was extremely difficult for the coach, who suffered greatly over it. Finally, they’ve learned that next season there will be clearer rules for handling ties, in the unlikely event that any arise. Despite all the learning that took place, the parent still has no idea why Swimmer B was chosen.

The coach has won.

Advanced techniques

Minimalism. Answer the question by telling them nonsenical things they already know.

In January 2021, amid the COVID-19 pandemic, an executive at Delta Air Lines was asked how many passengers had been banned during the previous week for refusing to wear masks. His remarkable answer:

“A number. Not a huge number, but a number.”

The questioner asks for a number. The executive offers “a number.”

Similarly, at a 2013 press conference, a reporter noticed that defensive tackle Vince Wilfork had barely played and asked Coach Bill Belichick why, leading to the following wonderful exchange.

Reporter: Why didn't Vince play more?
Belichick: We just didn’t put him in. That’s why.
Reporter: Was there a reason for that?
Belichick: Because there were other players who played.

He didn’t play because there were other players who played. This is what “not playing” means. Don’t you know anything about sports?

Enthusiastic Agreement. Agree with absolutely everything the questioner says. Be helpful. Be friendly. Be kind. Say nothing.

In 2010, Saracens rugby director Brendan Venter had recently been disciplined for criticizing referees. When interviewed after a difficult loss, he adopted a new media strategy: complete cooperation. Watch this maestro in action, or check out the summary below.

Reporter: How disappointed are you?
Venter: Disappointed. Very disappointed. Very disappointed.
Reporter: What went wrong? You got off to such a wonderful start.
Venter: Ya. Interesting. I wonder what went wrong. Have to think about it.
Reporter: But what did go wrong?
Venter: I’ll have to look and think. Think about it deeply. Very deeply.
Reporter: Did it hinge at the end on some genius from Sireli Bobo?
Venter: Bit of genius. Bit of magic. Sireli Bobo. Very good, very good.
Reporter: But you didn’t win, did you Brendan?
Venter: No, well we didn’t win. It’s true.
Reporter: Why didn’t you win?
Venter: Good question that. Very good question. It’s important to win, it is. We must try harder.
Reporter: Do you think it’s lack of effort?
Venter: Lack of effort? Lack of effort? I can’t think it’s lack of effort.
Reporter: So what is it?
Venter: What would it be? Let me think. I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about that one. Think about it deeply

The interview ends. The thinking has not yet begun.

We’re Working On It. If answering now is inconvenient, explain that you are focused on finding the answer, and it will be available soon. Silence is not a failure to respond: it is evidence that serious work is underway.

I once had a paper rejected because a referee made a series of claims attacking our modeling. The referee’s claims, if taken seriously, would call into question whether the Soviet Revolution, or the collapse of the Soviet Union, had ever actually occurred.

The other referees were positive.

We appealed.

The editor agreed to take another look.

Two weeks later, we checked in.

Editor: My wife and I just had a baby, so I’m busier than usual. Be assured, I’m looking into it, and please don’t interpret my silence as me having forgotten about you.

We didn't.

Six months later, we replied to his email.

Us: Just checking in.

The editor responded almost immediately.

Editor: Sorry, I forgot. My decision stands.

Endurance. If some lily-livered nincompoop insists on repeatedly asking the same question, repeatedly refuse to answer. Eventually, one of you will tire and give up. Just make sure it isn’t you.

In 1997, BBC interviewer Jeremy Paxman asked British politician Michael Howard whether, while serving as Home Secretary, he had threatened to overrule the head of the Prison Service, Derek Lewis.

Howard answered a different question.

Paxman asked again.

Howard answered a different question.

Paxman asked again.

This continues for a while.

Paxman: Did you threaten to overrule him?
Howard: I was not entitled to instruct Derek Lewis and I did not instruct him.

And so it goes.

Paxman: Did you threaten to overrule him?
Howard: I did not overrule him.

Paxman: Did you threaten to overrule him?
Howard: I gave him the benefit of my opinion.

This continues some more.

Paxman eventually asked essentially the same question 12 times. Howard never answered it.

Paxman folded. Don’t be like Paxman. Be like Howard.

Universal Agreement. If absolutely forced to choose between incompatible positions, just split the difference; choose both.

Joseph Harrington, in Games, Strategies, and Decision Making, recounts the story of Ohio politician Tom Corwin. At a campaign rally, someone asked him to clarify his position on tariffs. Corwin noted that “some people in the audience favor high tariffs, while others oppose them.”

“I want everyone in this hall to know—so do I!”

Everyone got an answer. Better still, everyone got the answer they wanted.

Conclusion

Questions create an unfortunate expectation that they will eventually be answered. Do not be intimidated by this convention. An answer is only one possible response to a question, and usually the least interesting one.

You can clarify. You can contextualize. You can acknowledge. You can reassure. You can express concern. You can correct the questioner’s assumptions. You can explain what will happen next. You can thank them for raising the issue.

You can do almost anything.

The particular technique is unimportant. What matters is discipline. What matters is will.

Never, ever, EVER, under any circumstances, answer the fucking question.