💀 Dying Every Day
Dying Every Day is a podcast by the Perennial Leader Project. Each episode turns a selected passage from Stoic philosophy into a guided meditation designed to help you (and me) learn how to live.
Listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or YouTube
Respond with Reason, Not Retaliation
Welcome back to Dying Every Day. This is Day 138.
Most conflicts begin with a story we tell ourselves.
“They meant to insult me.”
“They knew this would hurt.”
“They’re trying to undermine me.”
The mind fills in motives. In seconds, the event feels personal, intentional, and almost malicious. Once that story takes hold, anger seems justified.
The Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius interrupts that story with a different question.
“When someone wrongs you, ask yourself: What view of good and evil does he have? Once you understand this, compassion replaces anger. You will either pity him or forgive him. Every wrongdoing is a failure of judgment, not of nature. And no one does wrong willingly, for to err is to act against oneself. Respond with reason, not retaliation.”
— Meditations
Instead of asking, “How could they do that to me?” Marcus asks, “What do they believe is good?”
This small shift changes the entire situation. Because every action—good or bad—is guided by some belief about what will benefit us. People pursue what they think is advantageous: recognition, security, status, comfort. When they harm others in the process, it is usually because their understanding of what truly matters has gone wrong.
Marcus ultimately concludes:
“Every wrongdoing is a failure of judgment.”
A person who lies believes the lie will help them.
A person who insults believes the insult will elevate them.
A person who cheats believes the gain outweighs the cost.
In each instance, the error is not just in the action but also in the underlying judgment—the false idea of what is good.
Viewed this way, wrongdoing appears less mysterious and less personal. The person in front of you isn't necessarily a villain acting with deliberate malice. They are often someone operating based on a confused map of reality.
And confusion invites correction more than rage.
This is why Marcus says understanding another person’s judgment dissolves anger. Once you see the mistaken belief driving their behavior, something shifts inside you. The offense begins to look less like a personal attack and more like a human error.
At that point, two responses become possible: pity or forgiveness.
You pity the person who harms themselves through bad judgment. Or you forgive them, recognizing that human beings frequently act from misunderstanding rather than malice.
Either way, retaliation becomes unnecessary.
Marcus goes further:
“No one does wrong willingly.”
At first, this sounds implausible. Surely people know when they act badly. But the Stoics meant something more subtle. Even when people break moral rules, they still believe—at least in that moment—that the action will serve some good: advantage, relief, reputation, or revenge.
Their judgment about what is truly valuable has simply gone astray. In that sense, wrongdoing becomes a form of self-injury.
The person who lies damages trust.
The person who cheats weakens their character.
The person who harms others trains themselves in cruelty.
These insights reveal that anger seldom resolves this confusion. Rage might punish, but it rarely clarifies. Only reason can do that.
So he ends with a simple instruction:
“Respond with reason, not retaliation.”
Modern psychology arrives at a similar insight. Research on cognitive distortions shows that people frequently act on mistaken interpretations of reality—assuming hostile intent, exaggerating threats, or misreading situations entirely. When those distorted beliefs drive behavior, conflict escalates quickly. But when someone pauses to reinterpret the situation—a process psychologists call cognitive reappraisal—emotional intensity drops and more constructive responses become possible.
The Stoics practiced this centuries earlier.
Instead of reacting to the offense, they advised examining the belief behind it. Instead of asking, “How dare they?” they asked, “What misunderstanding led them here?”
Often, the answer reveals not an enemy but a confused human being.
And once you see that, anger loses much of its force.
This does not mean you tolerate injustice or allow harm to continue. Stoicism is not passivity. You may still set boundaries, correct behavior, or protect others. But you do so without hatred. Your response becomes deliberate rather than reactive. You remain governed by reason rather than dragged by emotion.
Marcus’ discipline is simple but difficult: before reacting to someone’s wrongdoing, pause and examine the judgment behind it.
What do they believe is good?
What confusion is guiding their action?
What misunderstanding is shaping their behavior?
From that perspective, compassion becomes possible. And compassion does something anger cannot do: it keeps your character intact.
The Stoic goal is not to control other people’s actions. That is rarely possible. The goal is to control your response so that someone else’s mistake (or vice) does not become your own. When someone wrongs you, the Stoics recommend a quiet shift of perspective. See the error beneath the offense. Understand the confusion guiding the action.
And then respond as the wiser person must—with patience, clarity, and reason.
Reflection: Understanding the Offense
1. Recall a recent moment of anger.
What belief or assumption might have been guiding the other person’s behavior?
2. What misunderstanding might have led them there?
How might they have believed their action was justified or beneficial?
3. What would a response guided by reason look like?
How can you address the situation without letting their mistake distort your own character?
Listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or YouTube
—
Thank you for reading/listening; I hope you found something useful.
Until next time, be wise and be well.
J.W.
P.S. Catch up on recent (and past) meditations in the archive!