Socrates believed that no one does wrong on purpose.

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People don’t set out to be cruel, dishonest, or lazy — they just don’t know any better in that moment. They act from ignorance, not evil.

It’s an idea that’s easy to nod along to… until someone cuts you off in traffic, forgets to pay your invoice, or leaves the milk out again after you’ve reminded them seven times.

Then suddenly, you’re not thinking about philosophy — you’re thinking about vengeance.

But Socrates’ point wasn’t to excuse bad behaviour. It was to understand it.

He believed that knowledge and virtue are inseparable. When people truly know what’s good — when they’ve internalised it, not just memorised it — they’ll act accordingly. And when they don’t? They act foolishly, because they haven’t learned yet.

That’s a hard pill to swallow. Because it means the people who frustrate you most aren’t your enemies — they’re just a little lost.

I’ve been there myself. In business, I’ve had people promise the world and deliver nothing. I’ve had clients make decisions that tank their own campaigns, then act surprised when it happens. I’ve had staff make the same mistake after three conversations.

And I’ve done the same thing. Plenty of times.
I’ve said things in frustration I shouldn’t have. Made decisions out of ego instead of reason. Overpromised, underdelivered, assumed I was right when I wasn’t.

None of it came from malice. It came from ignorance — from thinking I knew better than I did.

When you see it that way, something shifts. Instead of going straight to judgment, you start to understand. Not excuse — just understand.

A few years ago, my daughter London came home from school upset because a friend had did something mean to her.
“She stole my new pencil” she told me.

I asked, “Do you think she did that to hurt you, or because she really liked it, and maybe she doesn't get nice pencils like you do.”

London paused. “Maybe she really did like it. Maybe she's doesn't get nice pencils. Maybe we could get her one to share with her.”

That’s it. She got it in one sentence — what Socrates was trying to teach for a lifetime.

The Stoics carried the same torch. Marcus Aurelius wrote, “When someone does you wrong, consider what they believe is good or bad. Once you understand that, you’ll pity them instead of being angry.”

In other words — when someone acts poorly, they’re not attacking you. They’re just acting according to their own warped understanding of what’s good.

It’s ignorance in motion.

I’m not saying this makes it easy. When you’re dealing with someone selfish, arrogant, or inconsiderate, it’s natural to want to retaliate. But the moment you understand where their actions come from, you take back control of your own.

You can’t fix ignorance with anger. You fix it with example.

Socrates didn’t win arguments by shouting louder. He asked questions. He made people think. He let their own contradictions show them the truth.

Imagine doing that in business, in relationships, in parenting.
Instead of snapping, you ask questions.
Instead of assuming bad intent, you assume someone doesn’t know better — yet.

That doesn’t make you soft. It makes you wise.

We live in a world that rewards outrage. It’s easy to feel superior, to call people out, to point fingers. But wisdom is quieter than that.

It looks like patience.
It looks like restraint.
It looks like helping someone grow instead of condemning them for not being there yet.

No one does wrong willingly.
They just don’t see clearly.
And sometimes, neither do we.

Reflection​
Where in your life could you trade judgment for understanding?
Where could you respond with curiosity instead of anger?

You can’t fix every fool — but you can make sure you’re not one of them.

Until next time,
​Broden Johnson