Oratory—the art of weaving words so compellingly that listeners hang on every syllable, nodding in awe as if you’ve just delivered the lost scrolls of wisdom. Great orators have swayed nations, inspired revolutions, and won over skeptics. But there’s a villain lurking in the wings, ready to sabotage even the smoothest of speeches: conviction. Yes, conviction—the thing that gives your words heart, but also the thing that turns your speech into an emotional car crash.
Now, before you accuse me of sacrilege, let’s be honest. Conviction can be helpful in personal growth seminars or when rallying your friends to pick the pizza toppings you like. But in the sacred domain of oratory, it introduces emotions that are about as welcome as a mosquito at a camping trip. Instead of delivering poised, precise arguments, you end up ranting about how you “really feel” while your audience wonders if they’ve accidentally stumbled into a therapy session.
So, buckle up as we unravel why conviction, with all its raw passion, may just be the kryptonite of effective speechcraft.
The grand dichotomy orators vs. True believers
There’s a stark difference between a great orator and someone consumed by their beliefs. A great orator uses conviction like a dash of chili powder—just enough to make things interesting without overwhelming the dish. A true believer, on the other hand, dumps the whole spice jar into the pot and wonders why everyone at the table is gasping for air.
Think about the great orators of history—people like cicero, churchill, or even morgan freeman narrating a documentary about penguins. Their speeches weren’t fueled by frenzied passion; they were carefully crafted performances. Sure, they believed in what they were saying, but they didn’t throw a public tantrum to prove it. They were like jazz musicians: improvising just enough to keep you hooked while staying in complete control of their instruments.
Now imagine the opposite: someone so convicted in their message that they lose all semblance of composure. Instead of jazz, you get a toddler banging on a piano, convinced they’re mozart. Sure, it’s passionate, but is it persuasive? Not really.
Emotion a double-edged sword (mostly pointing at you)
Emotion in a speech is like alcohol at a party—it can make things lively, but too much will have you embarrassing yourself and alienating your friends. The trouble with conviction is that it cranks up the emotional intensity to eleven. Suddenly, instead of presenting facts or delivering a compelling narrative, you’re tearing up over your own metaphors or pounding the podium like it owes you money.
Consider the following scenario: you’re at a debate competition. Your opponent calmly and methodically dismantles your arguments like a jenga tower. Meanwhile, you’re red-faced and yelling, “how can you not see the truth?” congratulations, you’ve just lost both the debate and the respect of your audience.
The problem isn’t that you’re wrong—it’s that you’re letting your emotions do the talking. And as everyone knows, emotions are terrible public speakers. They ramble, forget their points, and sometimes start crying inexplicably in the middle of their sentences.
Conviction’s sneaky sidekick overconfidence
Another delightful side effect of conviction is the overconfidence it breeds. When you’re deeply convicted about something, you tend to assume you’re automatically right. Who needs research, evidence, or coherent arguments when you’ve got feelings? Spoiler alert: your audience does.
Let’s say you’re giving a speech on why cats are superior to dogs. If you let conviction take the wheel, you’ll start making wild, unsubstantiated claims like, “cats invented the internet!” sure, you believe it with every fiber of your being, but belief alone doesn’t make it true—or persuasive.
Your audience, meanwhile, is frantically googling “did cats invent the internet?” and realizing you’ve gone completely off the rails. You might think you’ve won them over with your passion, but in reality, they’re just texting each other, “is this guy okay?”
The solution channeling conviction, not succumbing to it
So, how do you keep conviction from turning your speech into a melodramatic disaster? It’s simple: treat it like a garnish, not the main course. Use just enough to show you care without letting it overpower your logic and rhetoric.
Instead of screaming, “this is the only way,” try saying, “let’s explore why this might be the best way.” see? Same point, fewer veins popping out of your forehead. A little restraint goes a long way in making you seem credible rather than combustible.
Remember, your goal as an orator is to persuade, not to perform an exorcism. Let your words, structure, and evidence carry the weight of your argument. Save the raw passion for karaoke night—it’ll be much more appreciated there.
Closing thoughts passion is not the enemy, but drama is
In the grand theatre of oratory, conviction should be a supporting character, not the star. It adds depth and sincerity, but when it starts stealing the spotlight, things quickly spiral out of control. The best speeches strike a delicate balance between logic and emotion, passion and poise.
So, next time you take the stage, remember this: your audience doesn’t need to see you cry over your beliefs. They need to hear why they should share them. Otherwise, you’re not a great orator—you’re just someone with a microphone and a lot of feelings. And let’s be honest, the world already has enough of those.