From Outrage To Understanding: Restoring Substance in a Performative Culture
Living Under the Same Roof: Part III
In Part I and Part II, I explored how moral performance thrives in our hyper-connected world, and how cognitive distortions fuel “righteous” anger. To close the series, I want to shift from spectacle to substance: what we can actually do to restore understanding in the spaces we share.
The Cost of Outrage and Performance
We’re wired to explain others’ behavior by their character (“she’s careless,” “he’s malicious”) and our own behavior by circumstances (“I was rushed,” “the system failed”). That bias, _the fundamental attribution error, supercharges moral performance. It flattens people into villains and snips away context, making outrage feel justified and dialogue feel pointless.
Every performance needs an audience. Today the audience is vast, and split into cheering sections. News streams and social feeds amplify what flatters the crowd and demonize what doesn’t. We end up shouting past each other, harvesting validation and losing conversation. The applause feels good; the relationship withers.
Responsible – but for what?
We often treat others’ missteps as proof of bad character while treating our own as the product of bad conditions. That asymmetry, the fundamental attribution error, keeps the spotlight on their flaws and off our responsibilities. Responsibility regains traction when we reverse the habit: grant others context, and take ownership for our part.
A theme running through this series is the problem of musts and shoulds. “I must never make mistakes.” “People should always act right.” These sound virtuous but collapse under contact with real life. We have limited control over other people’s behavior; pretending otherwise breeds anger and resentment. Responsibility that begins with self, not with other, is where traction starts.
Mastery over impulse
He who controls others may be powerful, but he who has mastered himself is mightier still. —Lao Tzu
The ability to force change in others by shaming, recording, and pressuring can look and feel like power. Often, though, it is only an illusion feeding the emotions of the moment. It may interrupt a behavior without touching the cause, and it may harden the resentment that produced the behavior in the first place. True strength is the capacity to rule our own responses so we can act with judgment rather than perform for an audience.
From Reactive Performance to Proactive Substance: Six Practices
These are traditional, unglamorous habits. They won’t bring the spotlight, but they work.
- Slow the take. When you feel the familiar flame of anger frustration, or resentment, buy 10–30 seconds. Breathe. Name the distortion (“should,” mind-reading, catastrophizing, etc.).
- Steel-man before you answer. State the most reasonable, testable version of the other person’s view or actions in terms your that person might accept. Add the best situational reasons a reasonable person might hold those views or act in that manner (time pressure, incentives, personal frustrations, etc.). Only then respond.
Why it works: Steel-manning forces you to correct for the fundamental attribution error and disciplines anger into accuracy and respect. - Keep it local and private. Correct privately when you can; public shaming is performance fuel.
- Ask: am I the right person? A feeling of responsibility is just that. A feeling. It is not license. If you lack standing or relationship, choose restraint.
- Repair in sequence. If you crossed a line, acknowledge it first. Then address the issue. Order matters.
- Return to what you can move today. Your conduct, your words, your example. That’s where agency lives, and where culture quietly changes.
What this looks like in practice
Consider a heated exchange in a hallway, a classroom, or a comment thread. The performative impulse says: expose, escalate, win the moment. The responsible path says: pause, invite a conversation off-stage, pursue the smallest next right step. That move rarely earns applause. It often leads to understanding and forward momentum.
I was helping a friend once as they worked on a computer project. In my mind, I was explaining things very clearly. But, my friend kept saying: “This doesn’t make sense. It all feels like random clicks and keystrokes.” My first impulse was to correct them and defend my explanations. I paused for ten seconds, then tried a steel-man: If I take their view at its best, they’re saying the instructions aren’t clear, and are not helping them understand the process. I started actually listening to what they were saying.
My instructions were clear. To me. But, for someone without the necessary foundational knowledge, they made no sense. I apologized and began describing some of the underlying concepts that had been missing in the initial explanations. They finished the project, and, as far as I know, are still using that program effectively. I traded the quick, reactive and emotional win for the quieter win of understanding, substance and progress.
From Outrage to Understanding
Outrage feels like action; it often delivers only performance. Mastery feels smaller in the moment; it delivers trust and respect. By prioritizing self-control over other-control, we leave the chaos of constant reaction and recover the freedom to choose. That’s the opposite of spectacle. It is adulthood. And that’s the kind of neighbor you want when we’re all living under the same roof.
About the Author
Rod Price has spent his career in human services, supporting mental health and addiction recovery, and teaching courses on human behavior. A lifelong seeker of meaning through music, reflection, and quiet insight, he created Quiet Frontier as a space for thoughtful conversation in a noisy world.