Negotiators sometimes wield offence as a weapon. Donald Trump, in The Art of the Deal, famously wrote:
Much as it pays to emphasize the positive, there are times when the only choice is confrontation. In most cases I'm very easy to get along with. I'm very good to people who are good to me. But when people treat me badly or unfairly or try to take advantage of me, my general attitude, all my life, has been to fight back very hard. The risk is that you'll make a bad situation worse… (my emphasis)
The Art Of The Deal
In practice, this means provoking an opponent's anger or indignation to gain leverage. By hurling insults or feigning outrage, a negotiator can push a counterpart into a corner—often hoping an emotionally rattled interlocutor will make concessions to calm the situation.
Offence as a Negotiation Tactic
As a starting point, anger alters bargaining dynamics. An opponent who appears angry is often perceived as a hard bargainer, leading the other side to make larger concessions. Sensing this, some negotiators intentionally display or provoke anger to influence deals because they believe it will force their counterpart to back down.
On one hand, facing an angry negotiator can indeed prompt higher concessions in the short term. However, fake outrage is a double-edged sword and negotiators who put on an angry front do not always secure better deals than those who remain calm. However, this approach can create a sense of guilt and creates a lower trust environment with counterparts afterward. In effect, playing the offence card can backfire: any immediate gain may be wiped out by damage to the working relationship or future collaboration.
Ethically, using offence lies in a grey zone. It is not outright lying, but it is a form of deception through emotion—indeed, many negotiators view emotional deception as more acceptable than factual lies. Ultimately, while offence tactics might momentarily rattle the other side, they risk derailing rational discussion and violate norms of professional courtesy. A negotiator who relies on insults or manufactured indignation may win a concession, but at the cost of undermining open communication and mutual respect.
Offence in Action
History is replete with figures who mastered the art of calculated offence. Napoleon Bonaparte, for instance, frequently insulted foreign dignitaries to unnerve them. When dealing with Austrian diplomats, he often mocked their intelligence and decorum, causing them to stumble through negotiations in an effort to placate him. A rattled diplomat is a pliable one. Similarly, Winston Churchill, though renowned for his wit, used offence strategically. His barbed remarks—such as calling political opponents 'sheep in sheep's clothing'—were not just rhetorical flourishes but deliberate attempts to weaken opposition morale.
However, to say that Donald Trump does not rise to the rhetorical, much less political, heights of a Churchill or Napoleon is a massive understatement. Yet this has not stop him consistently enacting his own maxim of pursuing confrontation and using offence to strong arm his negotiating position. A vivid recent example came when Trump (joined by J.D. Vance) sharply rebuked Ukraine's President Zelenskyy as 'ungrateful' during a tense Oval Office meeting about Ukraine and Russia. By shaming Zelenskyy for perceived ingratitude, they tried to coerce him into bowing to their demands. This incident shows how indignation can be weaponised to corner a counterpart—Zelenskyy was put on the defensive—but also how such tactics invite backlash and diplomatic strain.
In the corporate arena, a telling example comes from Elon Musk's high-profile takeover of Twitter (ironically a deal that Trump called 'rotten'). After agreeing to buy the company, Musk appeared to have second thoughts about the price and tried to renegotiate by lobbing public insults at Twitter's leaders. He went so far as to accuse them of deceit and 'borderline criminal' misbehaviour. This offensive ploy aimed to pressure Twitter into lowering the price. Twitter's board responded with a lawsuit to enforce the original terms, and Musk ultimately had to close at the initial price. His attempt at offence backfired: it damaged trust and failed to gain any advantage.
These cases show that while offence can create a momentary power play—Zelenskyy on the back foot, Twitter's board under public fire—they invariably escalate conflict. When the dust settles, any short-term edge (a rattled opponent, a burst of media attention) may be outweighed by strained relationships, reputational harm, and even the opponent's strengthened resolve to resist.
Ethical Implications
From a business ethics standpoint, provoking offence is a questionable negotiation strategy. It clashes with principles of respect and honesty that underlie ethical dealings. A negotiator who intentionally inflicts anger or humiliation is treating the counterpart as a mere means to an end, rather than a true negotiating partner. This violates the spirit of Kantian ethics, which would argue that manipulating someone's emotions undermines their autonomy and dignity. Furthermore, offence tactics erode trust—the glue of long-term business relationships. Deals secured under duress or resentment may fall apart in implementation or poison the well for future cooperation.
Many ethicists classify deliberate insults or emotional manipulation as forms of bad faith negotiation. While not illegal, such behaviour contradicts norms of professional integrity. If every negotiation were conducted with both sides flinging personal barbs, basic trust and goodwill would evaporate. Indeed, good faith bargaining norms (in diplomacy, law, and business) presume a baseline of civility. Deliberately inciting anger crosses that line, substituting intimidation for dialogue.
That said, overly polite behaviour not only sugarcoat realities but runs the risks of making the negotiator look weak—sadly we live in a world in which 'raw' emotion is widely considered the only genuine emotion. As such, forthright, tough talk—which in some cultural settings boarders on offence—can be necessary to break stalemates or call out uncomfortable truths.
Not every blunt statement should be judged unethical, if it stops short of deceit or personal malice. However, even these critics draw a line between directness and outright bullying. Few would condone personal abuse; a crucial distinction remains between being unapologetically frank and being needlessly insulting.
Using offence as a negotiating tactic is ultimately a high-risk, low-reward strategy. It may occasionally yield a short-term advantage – your opponent might flinch or momentarily lose composure – but the long-term costs to trust and cooperation are significant. A skilled negotiator can achieve better results by being firm on the issues without resorting to personal attacks. A good approach is be soft on the people, hard on the problem. Offence-based tactics do the opposite: they attack the person, often obscuring the real issues.
In both political and business contexts, the most effective negotiations tend to be those where parties feel respected even in disagreement. Offence can poison that atmosphere, making genuine agreement harder to reach. Negotiators who become known for bullying or brinkmanship may also find fewer willing partners down the line. To that end, Trump would do well to read his book and the balance of the quote with which I open this piece:
The risk is that you'll make a bad situation worse. I certainly don't recommend this approach to everyone.
The Art Of The Deal
In the end, business ethics and practical wisdom align on this point. Yes, negotiation is often a tough endeavour, but toughness need not equate to cruelty or indignity. One can drive a hard bargain with integrity intact. The 'insolence of offence' may grab headlines, but it rarely builds real value. Negotiators seeking sustainable success would do well to remember that an insult may win an inning, but integrity wins the game.
Good night, and good luck.
