Gentle answers

Jefferson Fisher is an internet sensation for all the wrong reasons—if by wrong you mean he got famous for calm, humility, and plain speech instead of outrage. And Fisher no more purposed to become that than the makers of Slack or Flickr set out to build billion-dollar online platforms. Those two began as losing games—literally. Flickr spun out of Game Neverending and sold for millions; Slack was born from Glitch and grew into a company worth tens of billions. Fisher’s story has the same twist. The small-town Texas attorney posted videos shot from his pickup in 2022 to drum up business for his law firm. The choice of venue was a necessity. He had just left a big law firm and didn’t yet have an office. The raw, unfiltered look turned out to be part of the appeal.

One clip went viral, and the side project became the career. Fisher now has 10 million followers across social media, and he is the New York Times bestselling author of The Next Conversation.

At the heart of that book is a warning: “Winning an argument is a losing game.” Just as the software startups found success by walking away from failed games, Fisher tells readers the real win comes not from beating an opponent, but from preserving trust and building connection.

His message cuts against the grain of social media, which pays in provocation. Fisher argues for a different currency: restraint, brevity, careful attention. “Listening is the loudest way to say you care,” he writes. And when it comes time to speak, he adds a warning: “The more words it takes to tell the truth, the more it sounds like a lie.”

Those are not new insights. But they are phrased in ways designed to help ordinary people recall them in moments of stress. Fisher draws on his courtroom skill of distilling complicated cases into sentences a jury would remember. His book is filled with lines that can be carried into everyday life. One of the most practical concerns awkward silences. Don’t rush to fill them, he counsels. Instead: “Let your breath be the first word that you say.” Fisher borrows from the military, noting that “tactical breathing”—the method Navy SEALs use to stay calm under fire—can be adapted into what he calls the “conversational breath,” a steady pattern of inhaling, pausing, and exhaling to regain composure before speaking. If necessary, say simply, “I’m not ready for this conversation … I need a break.”

I first noticed Fisher not because of a New York Times spread or a bestseller list, but because three women I respect all follow him. One of them told me what drew her in: He gave her words to use in conversations where she might otherwise come up empty.

Yet, Fisher’s advice does have its limits. Some conflicts can’t be untangled with patience alone—especially when dealing with manipulators or abusers. He nods to that in a bonus chapter on narcissists and gaslighting, and he’s already drafting a second book on more difficult people: micromanagers, narcissists, sarcastic personalities, and more. But true to form, he’ll emphasize beginning by looking in the mirror—“starting with ourselves as the first difficult person.”

Fisher’s audience is far larger than most pastors, professors, or columnists. He speaks to a hunger for what contemporary American culture lacks: the ability to talk again amid increasing social isolation. In his interview with the Times, Fisher noted how daily life has become increasingly narrow—text messages instead of town squares, online shopping instead of malls, and groceries ordered via app instead of in-store visits. Less human contact means less practice in basic conversation. No wonder his lessons have resonated.

At his best, Fisher reminds us words carry moral weight. “Your words have a ripple effect,” he warns. That ripple can erode or build trust, inflame or soothe.

This isn’t classical rhetoric. It’s a practical guide, written in the cadence of social media, for a culture where public conversations are marked by distrust and outrage. After months of trying for an interview, I finally caught up with Fisher in September. We’ll air that conversation soon on our podcast. In it, I asked him about the nightly prayer of his father: “Dear God, give Jefferson wisdom and always be his friend.” Fisher told me, “The Bible is full of teaching about wisdom and the power of the tongue. My prayer is that what I teach about communication aligns with those principles in a practical way.”

That prayer still shapes his work. And in an age noisy with provocation, Fisher’s reminder endures: Use words not to win, but to serve and build trust.