A "Functional Analysis" of the Word Stubborn

I’ve been thinking a lot about how we use certain words, and how much of our language is really about function, not description. I don’t look at words as topographies. I look at what they do in an interaction—how they shift responsibility, frame a situation, or change the behavior of the people involved.

“Stubborn” is one of those words, and one that I have been called in my career.

Most people treat stubbornness like a personality trait, something that lives inside a person. But functionally, the term is usually deployed to place the problem on someone else. When a person calls someone “stubborn,” the word often replaces the need for clarity, evidence, or explanation. It becomes a shortcut for: “You’re not agreeing with me fast enough, and I don’t want to provide proof or rationale.”

The person being labeled, though, is often responding to a completely different contingency. They’re not refusing to change for the sake of resisting. They’re saying, in effect: “If you want me to think differently, show me the evidence.”That’s not rigidity. That’s precision-based, rule-governed behavior. It’s a commitment to accuracy, not inflexibility. I operate this way, and so does my colleague Sean. We’ll both change our minds instantly—if given clear reasons or solid data.

This is why I keep coming back to the function of the label itself. If someone is avoiding providing evidence, avoiding explanation, and instead resorts to calling the other person “stubborn,” then who is actually the inflexible one? The person requiring proof, or the person refusing to give it?

When you look at it through a functional-analytic lens, the label “stubborn” often reveals more about the labeler’s avoidance behavior than about the person being labeled. It’s an escape strategy. Instead of engaging with the contingencies—logic, data, precision—the speaker shifts the burden onto the other person and ends the conversation without accountability.

Language isn’t just descriptive; it’s operant. Words shape interactions and the environment we build around each other. When we analyze language by its function rather than its surface features, we start to see the real contingencies that drive our communication.

I’m curious whether others notice this pattern too—how certain labels function less as descriptions of people and more as tools to manage our own discomfort with evidence, ambiguity, or having to change our minds.

Disclaimer:

This content was created with the support of large language models (LLMs). At Amplify, we view LLMs the same way we view any assistive communication tool—technology that helps transform clear but unorganized ideas into accessible, meaningful language. Every concept, value, and clinical position reflects human intention and professional judgment. The technology simply supports the expression of those ideas, much like an AAC device supports someone in sharing thoughts that were always theirs. We choose to use LLMs openly, not as a shortcut, but as a way to communicate with clarity, compassion, and precision.