Enchiridion 42 — They Act on What Seems Right to Them

When someone treats you badly or speaks ill of you, remember that he does so believing it to be the fitting thing for him to do. It is impossible, then, for him to follow what appears true to you, but only what appears true to himself; so that, if his view is mistaken, it is he who is harmed, since he is the one deceived. For if someone supposes a true conjunction to be false, it is not the conjunction that is harmed, but the one who is deceived about it. Starting from these considerations, you will be gentle toward the one who reviles you. For say on each occasion: "It seemed so to him."

This chapter offers a profound psychological insight into the roots of others' bad behavior toward us, and a powerful basis for responding with gentleness rather than anger. The core observation is that when someone treats you badly or speaks ill of you, they do so "believing it to be the fitting thing" (kathēkein autō oiomenos) — that is, from their own perspective, acting on what seems right or appropriate to them. No one acts on what seems true to you; everyone necessarily acts on what seems true to themselves. The person who wrongs you is following their own perception, their own judgment of the situation, however distorted that judgment may be.

From this follows a striking conclusion about where harm actually lands. If the person's view is mistaken — if they are acting on a false perception — then it is they who are harmed, "since they are the one deceived" (hostis kai exēpatētai). Epictetus illustrates with a logical example: if someone wrongly judges a true proposition to be false, the proposition is not damaged by their error — it remains true — but the person is damaged, by being in a state of error. So too with the one who mistreats you: their action proceeds from a flawed judgment, and the primary casualty of a flawed judgment is the one who holds it. They have harmed themselves by being deceived, by acting from a distorted view of what is fitting.

The practical fruit of this understanding is gentleness (praōs). Once you genuinely grasp that the person who wrongs you is acting on their own (mistaken) perception of the right, and that they are themselves the chief casualty of that mistake, anger gives way to something closer to compassion. The formula Epictetus offers is beautifully simple: say of each offense, "It seemed so to him" (edoxen autō). This phrase encapsulates the whole teaching — the recognition that the person acted on their own view, that their view is their own responsibility and their own burden, and that their wrong action reveals their error rather than diminishing you. Far from excusing bad behavior, this understanding frees you from being controlled by it: you meet the offense not with reactive fury but with the steady gentleness of one who sees clearly what is actually happening — a person acting, as all people do, on what seemed right to them, and bearing the cost of their own mistaken judgment.

The teaching that those who wrong us act on their own (often mistaken) perception, and are themselves harmed by their error, resonates with the Socratic conviction — central to Epictetus's tradition — that "no one does wrong willingly," that wrongdoing proceeds from ignorance rather than deliberate malice. People act on what seems good or fitting to them; when they act badly, it is because their perception of the good is distorted, and the wrongdoer is thus, in a deep sense, to be pitied rather than hated, for they are the one laboring under the deeper deprivation of ignorance.

This connects directly to the practice of compassion across the contemplative traditions. The Buddhist understanding that harmful actions arise from ignorance (avidyā) and the afflictive emotions — and that the one who acts from these is creating suffering for themselves — grounds the cultivation of compassion even toward those who harm us. The recognition that the wrongdoer is themselves caught in delusion, and is the primary casualty of their own distorted mind, transforms the natural reaction of anger into something closer to the pity one feels for someone in the grip of an illness. The Christian counsel to forgive "for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34) expresses the same insight: the wrongdoer acts from a blindness that is itself their deepest harm.

The formula "it seemed so to him" — the steady recognition that each person acts on their own perception — parallels the wisdom across traditions that meeting others' offenses with understanding rather than reactive anger frees us from being controlled by their behavior. To see clearly that the one who wrongs us is acting on their own mistaken view, and bearing the cost of it, is to be released from the compulsion to retaliate. The gentleness Epictetus prescribes is not weakness or the excusing of harm but the natural fruit of accurate perception — the same equanimity and compassion toward difficult people that the contemplative traditions cultivate as both a gift to others and a liberation of oneself.

When someone treats you badly or speaks ill of you, they are acting on what seems right or fitting to them — not on what seems right to you. No one can act on your perception; everyone acts on their own, however distorted it may be. This simple recognition is the key to meeting offenses with gentleness rather than reactive anger. The person who wrongs you is following their own judgment of the situation, and if that judgment is mistaken, they are the one chiefly harmed — for the deepest casualty of a flawed perception is the one who holds it.

This understanding does not excuse harmful behavior, but it frees you from being controlled by it. Once you genuinely see that the person acted on their own (mistaken) view, and that their error is their own burden to bear, the compulsion to retaliate loosens, and something closer to compassion can take its place. Epictetus's formula captures it: say of each offense, "It seemed so to them." They acted on their perception; their perception is their responsibility; their wrong action reveals their error rather than diminishing you. Meet them not with fury but with the steady gentleness of one who sees clearly what is actually happening.

This chapter offers a genuinely transformative reframe for handling conflict, criticism, and mistreatment. The insight that people act on their own perception of what's right — not on yours — is the foundation of a more compassionate and less reactive response to others' bad behavior. When someone wrongs you, the instinct is to take it personally and react with anger; Epictetus's reframe is to recognize that they are acting on their own (likely distorted) view of the situation, and that this view is their responsibility and, ultimately, their own deeper problem. This connects to the modern psychological recognition that understanding the perspective and internal logic behind others' behavior — even harmful behavior — tends to reduce our own reactive anger and increase our capacity to respond rather than merely react. The parallel is worth naming as resonance, not as the ancient text being clinically validated.

The practical tool is Epictetus's simple formula: when wronged, say to yourself, "It seemed so to them" — a reminder that the person is acting on their own perception, which is theirs to own and theirs to bear the cost of. This is not about excusing harm, tolerating abuse, or abandoning appropriate boundaries and consequences; it's about freeing yourself from the corrosive grip of reactive anger and resentment. You can hold someone accountable for harmful behavior while still recognizing that they acted on their own distorted view rather than out of a personal campaign against you — and that recognition keeps you steady and gentle rather than consumed by fury. In a world full of conflict, criticism, and people behaving badly, the discipline of meeting offenses with the understanding that "it seemed so to them" — seeing clearly rather than reacting blindly — is both a gift of patience to others and a profound liberation of one's own peace.