The Instinct to Forgive Defensive Reactions
Sometimes, I think people are quicker to forgive a sharp reply if it’s delivered in anger at another’s initial unkindness than they are the original offense....
Sometimes, I think people are quicker to forgive a sharp reply if it’s delivered in anger at another’s initial unkindness than they are the original offense. It's an odd thing to ponder, isn't it? Like seeing a child lash out after being teased – we understand their hurt, even if their response is regrettable. We don't necessarily condone it, but our hearts soften a little. I’ve noticed this in my years teaching, and now, observing the world from a slightly different vantage point in retirement.
I remember one particular incident with a young man named Daniel. He was a bright boy, capable of great things, but prone to outbursts when he felt slighted. Another student had made a cruel remark about his homemade lunch – something about it smelling funny. Daniel’s response wasn't exactly measured either. Words were exchanged, and there were tears. The initial insult, though petty, sparked a fire. While I reprimanded both of them, my attention lingered more on the boy who initiated the unkindness than on Daniel’s reaction.
It feels almost instinctive to view someone defending themselves as somehow…less culpable. As if their hurt excuses or justifies an escalation. We’re more willing to believe they were provoked, pushed beyond a reasonable limit. Perhaps it's rooted in something old, some instinct for self-preservation within the tribe. A natural inclination to defend those who are standing up for themselves against perceived aggression.
Jerry, bless his heart, has often pointed this out – although he usually phrased it less eloquently! He used to say that I was far more lenient with a shop assistant who snapped back at me than I ever would be with someone who started the exchange rudely in the first place. And he wasn’t wrong. It's almost as if we look for an explanation, a reason why the person reacted the way they did. We construct narratives to ease our discomfort with conflict.
I’ve been doing a fair bit of thinking about human nature lately – more time on my hands now, you see. I spent two weeks in Brooklyn with Marcus and his family recently. It was wonderful being surrounded by their energy; a necessary antidote to the quiet of my own home after so many years filled with classrooms and lesson plans. Watching them navigate everyday challenges – sibling squabbles, parenting frustrations – offered fresh perspectives on how we treat each other.
The food pantry work I've started is a similar kind of clarity. Seeing firsthand the struggles people face, the indignities they endure…it makes you reconsider judgment. A curtness from someone dealing with immense hardship carries a different weight than a casual put-down born of boredom or arrogance. It’s all part of that complex equation: context and perceived motivation.
And it has implications for everything we do – our families, our workplaces, our communities. When disagreements arise, it's so easy to fall into the trap of justifying retaliation. "He deserved it," we might think. But what does that achieve? It rarely resolves anything; instead, it builds walls and deepens resentment. I learned that lesson time and again in my classroom – a quick temper only creates more problems.
The important thing, I believe, is to remember that everyone is carrying something—a hurt, a frustration, a fear. While we can’t excuse truly malicious behavior, trying to understand the *why* behind someone’s actions often diffuses the heat and opens up space for genuine resolution. A little grace goes a long way, even – especially – when it's difficult to offer. It may not always be easy, but it’s certainly worth striving for.