Whatabout… What?

Ah, there it is — the oldest trick in the rhetorical book: whataboutism.
Like mushrooms after rain, these comparisons pop up everywhere.
And just like mushrooms, some are edible… but many are poisonous.

Whataboutism is the art of deflection disguised as discussion.
It’s not about comparing, but about confusing — turning criticism into counterattack.
Anyone brave (or masochistic) enough to spend an hour watching political debates knows the feeling.
It’s like walking through a car wash without the car — high-pressure arguments spraying from all sides until your brain fogs up completely.

Cold War Roots

The word itself has Soviet roots.
During the Cold War, whenever Western leaders criticized the USSR, Soviet politicians shot back:

“Oh really? What about racism in America?”

Classic move: discredit the critic, shift the spotlight, exit responsibility.
It worked brilliantly — and still does.

The Moral Illusion

To be fair, whataboutism can sometimes expose double standards.
But more often, it’s a rhetorical smokescreen — destructive, not constructive.

Over time, constant finger-pointing corrodes public discourse.
Conversations stop being conversations and become competitions in blame.
Each “What about…?” drives reason a little deeper into exile,
until critical thinking quietly packs its bags and leaves the room.

Let’s face it:
Whataboutism is the burnout of public communication.

And just as I wrote that, my inner voice whispered,

“What about your own moral preaching?”

Touché, fingerspitzengefühl. Touché.

Escaping the Trap

So how do we avoid this rhetorical trap — in politics, at dinner, or online?
First rule: recognize it.
Second: breathe.
Third: bring it back.

Try this:

“I understand there are other important issues,
but right now we’re talking about this one.
Let’s stay focused.”

It’s not flashy.
But in the age of outrage, calm focus is revolutionary.

The Power of Composure

There are still speakers who resist the chaos.
People like Mark Carney, Canada’s current Prime Minister —
a man who treats heated debate like a chess game, not a bar fight.
Or the late Helmut Schmidt, the German chancellor who could out-reason a thunderstorm.

Their secret? Composure.
They don’t shout.
They don’t dodge.
They answer.

And when the inevitable voice from the back yells,

“What about Donald…?”

“No.”