You Can Be Right and Still Handle Something Badly

This essay is part of a series inspired by simple lessons for living better. Each one looks at an everyday truth and finds deeper meaning by considering Stoic philosophy and our own experiences.

I started working in records and information management back when microfilm was seen as cutting-edge. I’ve been at this for quite a while. Early on, a potential client came to us with a big contract. Their organization was in the middle of major litigation and needed to provide a large set of documents for discovery. Both sides could exchange records on microfilm, which was a practical way to manage large volumes of documents then.

But the arrangement had a problem. The client asked us to intentionally mix up the records, spreading pages throughout the microfilm so the other side would have a hard time finding what they needed. They wanted to meet the requirement to produce the records, but also make them as hard to use as possible.

I knew what they wanted, and it made me uneasy. We would be helping someone interfere with the discovery process in a lawsuit. Still, this was a big business opportunity, and I couldn’t make the decision alone. I brought it to the company’s owner and shared my concerns. Luckily, he agreed that knowingly manipulating evidence like this could put us at serious legal risk. We turned down the contract.

I still think about that decision now and then. I’m glad we said no, and I’m glad I spoke up instead of deciding on my own. But I still wonder: what if the owner had disagreed? Would I have refused to go along, even if it meant risking my job? I think I know what I should have done, but I’ve learned to be careful about assuming how brave I’d be in situations I haven’t faced.

I can’t say I’ve always shown that kind of judgment. I haven’t. Like most people, I’ve told a few white lies, often to avoid awkward moments or spare someone’s feelings. Sometimes it’s as simple as saying someone’s new shirt looks great when I just want to leave. Other times, I’ve softened a hard truth because I didn’t want to deal with what might happen if I said it outright.

Of course, these situations aren’t the same as tampering with evidence in a lawsuit. Still, they make me think about how we decide what’s right and how we act. We all know honesty matters, but telling the truth isn’t always easy. Sometimes kindness means choosing our words carefully. Other times, we avoid discomfort without thinking it through.

The Stoics understood that knowing what’s right and acting wisely are closely related, and that living by our principles takes practice. Epictetus taught that our judgments and choices are central to our character. We might understand a moral principle but still not follow it when pride, fear, anger, or convenience get in the way. The real challenge of philosophy starts when we try to live by what we believe.

Marcus Aurelius gave a helpful reminder in his Meditations.

“The best revenge is not to be like that.”

I’ve realized how much that simple idea really asks of us. Someone might treat us unfairly, misrepresent our intentions, or make an argument we know is wrong. We might have every reason to push back. But just being right doesn’t mean everything we say or do in response is okay.

I see this especially in public disagreements, where people become so convinced of their own righteousness that they permit themselves to treat others badly. I’ve certainly felt that temptation. When an issue matters deeply to me, particularly one involving fairness or justice, I can become impatient with people who seem unwilling to acknowledge what appears obvious. Sometimes, after a conversation ends, I find myself thinking more about how I expressed my disagreement than about the disagreement itself.

This is where Stoic virtues help. Wisdom tells us to think before we act. Temperance helps us hold back, especially when we’re angry. Justice reminds us to think about how our actions affect others, even those we disagree with. These virtues ask us to own our behavior, even if we think someone else is in the wrong.

Modern psychology helps explain why this is hard. When we feel threatened or challenged, strong emotions can make us defensive and narrow our focus. We get caught up in proving our point and sometimes miss what the situation really needs. Taking a pause lets us check our assumptions and see if our response fits our real goal.

It’s also a little uncomfortable to admit that being right can feel good. Winning an argument can be satisfying, especially if we think someone else was unfair. I’ve had times when I kept arguing even after I’d made my point. Looking back, I wonder if I was still trying to solve the problem or just enjoying being right.

There’s a similar idea in the Christian tradition. In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul tells believers to speak the truth in love. I’ve always found that an interesting combination because it asks us to think about how our words affect others, not just whether they’re true. Honesty is important, but so is caring about the person we’re talking to. There’s real wisdom in learning to balance both.

I still think about that client and the microfilm contract. The decision worked out, and I’m grateful the owner agreed. I never had to find out if I’d stick to my convictions under more pressure. That uncertainty stays with me, because I know it’s easier to admire moral courage when someone else has to show it.

Most of our ethical choices aren’t so dramatic. They come up in chats with friends, arguments at work, or when someone annoys us. We might be completely right and still have to decide how to respond. Sometimes the hard part is telling a tough truth. Other times, it’s knowing when to stop talking.

I’ve come to think that one measure of character is what we do when we’re certain we’re right. Certainty can make us careless about our own behavior, particularly when we believe the other person deserves whatever response we give them. Stoicism asks us to examine that impulse and remember that our responsibility for our actions remains our own.

Maybe that’s something to remember for the next tough conversation. Picture being asked to do something you think is wrong, knowing that saying no could cost you. Or think about facing someone who’s made you angry, with all the facts on your side. How would you act? Would you still feel good about your behavior once the argument was over and the anger was gone?

I hope I would. But I also know myself well enough to realize that the answer depends on the choices I make when that moment arrives.