The practical upshot
In the Czech Republic you always negotiate on the record. Even when no minutes are taken. Even when nothing is being recorded. The other side's memory is a recording device that cannot be switched off.
## And when it really is being recorded
The second layer, discussed even less: a recording made without your consent. Section 86 of the Civil Code protects privacy and expressions of a personal nature — as a rule, nobody may capture them without permission. Yet Constitutional Court case law weighs that protection against the right to a fair trial: a covert recording may be usable in proceedings where it is the only or a decisive way of proving a right and the interference with privacy is proportionate. Between two business people negotiating a commercial dispute — that is, outside the intimate sphere, in professional dealings — the courts admit such recordings fairly generously.
I am not going to advise you to record. I will tell you something more useful: **always negotiate as if the other side were recording.** It is the only assumption whose being wrong costs you nothing.
## Anatomy of a quotable sentence
Over years at negotiating tables I have developed a taxonomy of the sentences that come back to haunt people. Three categories, in descending order of frequency:
| Category | How it sounds at the table | How it reads two years later from the record |
|---|---|---|
| **Bravado** | "I'll happily drag this out for ten years, I don't care." | A threat, an obsession or harassment — and the judge also rules on costs |
| **Unintended admission** | "Well obviously we knew it had defects, but for that money…" | "The defendant conceded knowledge of the defects." Nobody cares about the rest of the sentence |
| **Conditional capitulation** | "If we were hypothetically to go to a million…" | "The defendant himself conceded the figure of one million at the meeting." |
**Bravado** is treacherous precisely because it yields no tactical gain whatsoever: it convinced nobody, it moved nothing, it merely got written down. It is pure emission of risk with no return.
**Unintended admissions** most often arise when you are defending something else: you concentrate on defending point B and hand over point A in passing. An opponent who knows how to listen is not taking notes at the table on what you assert. They are taking notes on what you concede.
**Conditional capitulation** has a property people underrate: the conditional mood is the first thing to evaporate from anyone's memory. A settlement offer made without a protective formulation becomes an anchor you will never negotiate below again — and, at worst, the other side will present it as your acknowledgement of the basis of the claim.
## How to frame a concession so it is not an admission
None of this means you may not make offers at the table. Without offers you never reach a deal. It means the offer needs a construction that separates it from the merits. The craft looks like this:
Always anchor an offer to economics, not to the facts. Not "we accept we owe something, let's discuss how much", but "we consider our position fully sound; the figure X reflects solely the price of the time and uncertainty a dispute would cost us". The difference is legally decisive: the first sentence is an acknowledgement of the basis of the claim, the second is a commercial calculation from which nothing can be extracted.
Put a time limit on the offer and say so out loud. "This proposal stands until the end of the month; after that we are talking about different numbers." Beyond creating pressure, it documents that this was a one-off proposal for a deal, not a standing position on the merits.
And if you keep minutes of the meeting — which I recommend always, sending the other side a summary the same day, because whoever writes the minutes writes the history — set out the offer passages expressly: "The parties discussed possibilities of an amicable resolution; no statement made in the course of these discussions constitutes an acknowledgement of the claim or any part of it." It is not bulletproof. It is far better than nothing.
## When to concede a weakness on purpose
Now let me turn it around, because an honest guide cannot end at "admit nothing". There is a situation in which a statement against your own interest is the strongest move available — and I use it.
Credibility at a negotiating table is not built by asserting "trust me". It is built by telling the other side something that cuts against you. When I say at a meeting "our claim has a weak spot and it is X; we have priced it in", something remarkable happens: everything else I have said and will say acquires weight. A liar does not concede weaknesses. Whoever uncovered one themselves is believed about their strong cards too. This mechanism has long been described in the psychology of judgment — information running against the speaker's interest earns a credibility premium — and it works reliably.
But it has rules. The concession is made **under control**: a weakness I selected, in wording I drafted in advance, to an extent I can live with in the record. Never in the heat of the moment, never under the pressure of a question, never a weakness the other side does not yet know about and would not find on its own. And never from an overall weak position — a concession works as seasoning on a strong position, not as a substitute for one. I will devote a separate text to the controlled concession, because it deserves one.
## The five-sentence checklist
Before every negotiation worth the name, I prepare five formulations in writing. I recommend you do the same — it takes twenty minutes and it is the cheapest insurance you will buy in the whole dispute:
| # | The sentence | What it is for |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | The one with which I make my offer | Anchored to economics, not to the facts |
| 2 | The one with which I refuse | Without bravado — "that is not acceptable to us" closes just as firmly |
| 3 | The one that answers the most unpleasant question | Otherwise you will answer it in the heat of the moment, and badly |
| 4 | The one with which I break off | Walking away from the table is a legitimate move, not a defeat |
| 5 | The one I will never say | A trap once named stops being a trap |
The rest of the negotiation may be improvised. These five sentences may not.
## What to take away
In the Czech Republic there is no protective wrapper around settlement talks. Everything you say is potential evidence — and an opponent with a good memory or a good phone is a recording device. That does not mean staying silent; it means speaking like someone who knows it is going on the record. It weakens strong positions not at all. It kills weak sentences — and that is exactly the difference you will see in a courtroom two years later.
On how the other side reads your conduct and what the judge does with it, see [Statutes are just the foundation: psychology and tactics in a legal dispute](/en/blog/psychology-and-tactics-in-legal-disputes/) and [The psychology of the parties: how a judge decides](/en/blog/psychology-of-the-parties-judge-and-hidden-interests/). Whether to head for the table rather than the courtroom at all is taken apart in [When to go to court and when to mediate](/en/blog/when-to-go-to-court-and-when-to-mediate/).
Preparing the wording for a specific negotiation — including the sentences that are never said — is part of the work we do in the [War Room](/en/services/war-room/).
Facing a negotiation that actually matters? Five sentences prepared in advance are the cheapest insurance in the whole dispute — and they cannot be bought once you are at the table. Get in touch, or read what the preparation looks like in the War Room.
This text is a general commentary, not legal advice; every situation requires its own assessment. The example sentences are generalised and refer to no specific matter or person. Law as at August 2026.