Hanlon’s Razor

There’s a saying that cuts to the heart of how we interpret the world: “Never attribute to malice what can be explained by stupidity.”

Known as Hanlon’s Razor, it’s a reminder that we’re often too quick to assign malicious intent to others’ actions. It’s easier to believe that someone is out to get us than to consider that they might simply be distracted, overwhelmed, or unaware of the impact of their behavior.

The word malice is apt. It captures everything from small slights—like someone cutting us off in traffic—to something truly catastrophic. But “stupidity”? That’s too simplistic. Life isn’t black and white, and people aren’t either. Countless unseen variables shape human behavior.

More often than not, what we perceive as malice is just a reflection of life’s messy realities:

• A parent rushing to pick up their sick child.
• A person running late for an interview that might save their career.
• Someone who didn’t sleep because of a family crisis.

None of these excuses rude or inconsiderate actions. But they make one thing clear: it’s not about you.

Pause and ask yourself: What else could explain this behavior?

We’ve all been there. That moment when, exhausted and frustrated, we justify cutting a corner—merging into traffic without signaling, snapping at a cashier, or brushing off a friend’s question. On the surface, these actions might seem selfish. But inside, they’re often fueled by stress, worry, or simply being human.

Marcus Aurelius wrote, “You will meet people who are meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous, and surly. They are like this because they can’t tell good from evil.”

Notice what he says: They can’t tell good from evil. Not “they are out to ruin your day.” Not “they are conspiring to make your life worse.” Just people, acting on flawed judgments, shaped by flawed circumstances.

When we assign malice to these actions, we assume they’re personal. We make ourselves the center of the story. But that’s the ego talking.

What if it’s not personal at all?

Think about driving. Cars hurtle past one another at high speeds, separated by nothing but a strip of paint. It’s an absurd system if you think about it. But it works because of a shared instinct for self-preservation. No one wants to crash. That same instinct explains why people often act selfishly—they’re focused on survival, on their own priorities. It’s not about you. It never was.

This shift in perspective changes everything.

When someone wrongs us—real or perceived—it’s an opportunity to practice empathy. What’s going on in their world that we can’t see? What burden are they carrying? What would their day look like if you could walk in their shoes?

Asking these questions doesn’t excuse bad behavior. But it creates distance between their actions and our emotional response. It allows us to act with clarity rather than reacting out of anger or self-righteousness.

Epictetus reminds us, “It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.”

When we approach life this way, we free ourselves from taking every slight personally. Instead of assigning malice, we assign curiosity. We make space for empathy.

None of us are perfect. On our worst days, we hope others will give us the benefit of the doubt. We hope they’ll see past the surface of our actions and recognize that we’re doing the best we can.

So, why not extend that same courtesy to others?

The world isn’t full of bad people—it’s full of people trying to get by. People who make mistakes. People whose priorities sometimes conflict with yours.

If you can pause and remind yourself of that, it doesn’t just make life easier—it makes you better. It gives you control over your reactions. And it allows you to contribute something meaningful to the world: patience, understanding, and a little bit of grace.

As Seneca said, “Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for kindness.”

So the next time someone cuts you off in traffic or snaps at you for no reason, remember: it’s probably not malice. It’s just life happening. The question is, how will you respond?