Context

I have never once been late because I am disorganized.

At least not according to me.

There is always a reason.

Traffic.

Construction.

A phone call.

An emergency.

Something unexpected.

If I’m late, I can immediately produce a detailed explanation involving circumstances beyond my control. In fact, if given enough time, I can probably assemble a PowerPoint presentation complete with maps, timelines, witness statements, and supporting documentation.

The point is simple:

I am late because of context.

Other people, meanwhile, are late because they are irresponsible, or lazy, or disorganized. In short, they need to get it together.

One of my favorite quotes comes from computer scientist Alan Kay:

“Context is worth 80 IQ points.”

We are remarkably good at noticing context when the person involved is us. We know about the sleepless night, the difficult conversation, the family crisis, the unexpected bill, the looming deadline, and the traffic accident three exits back.

We know the whole story because we lived it.

When it comes to other people, however, we often skip straight to the conclusion.

The coworker is lazy.

The driver is inconsiderate.

The teenager is disrespectful.

The customer is rude.

The neighbor is selfish.

Their behavior becomes evidence of character rather than a reflection of circumstances.

Psychologists call this the Fundamental Attribution Error. That’s a fancy way of saying that we explain our own behavior with context and everyone else’s behavior with character.

Once you notice it, you see it everywhere.

I snapped at someone because I’ve had a stressful week.

You snapped at someone because you’re rude.

I forgot because I’ve been overwhelmed.

You forgot because you don’t care.

I made a mistake because I’m human.

You made a mistake because you’re incompetent.

It’s not that context doesn’t matter to us.

It’s that we selectively apply it.

The irony is that a tiny bit of additional information can completely transform how we see another person’s behavior.

The impatient customer suddenly becomes understandable when we learn they’ve been sitting in an emergency room all night.

The distracted coworker makes more sense when we discover that their marriage is on the rocks.

The withdrawn friend may be carrying a burden we know nothing about.

The behavior hasn’t changed.

The context has.

And context is worth a great deal.

What if I flipped the script - judged my own behavior by my character and other people’s behavior by their circumstances?

What if I held myself accountable while extending grace to everyone else?

Not excuses.

Not enabling.

Not pretending harmful behavior doesn’t matter.

Just a willingness to admit that I rarely know the entire story.

That shift changes more than the way we see other people.

And it changes the way we hold ourselves accountable, which is all we can really change anyway.

When I stop excusing every mistake with context, I begin asking harder questions.

Could I have planned better?

Could I have been more patient?

Could I have handled that differently?

At the same time, when I stop reducing other people to their worst moments, I become more patient, more merciful, and more curious.

The world would be a kinder place if more of us made that trade.

A little more accountability for ourselves.

A little more grace for everyone else.

After all, context is worth 80 IQ points.