I encountered a rude person last week. Truth be told, I encounter this same person all the time. Gruff, impatient, acting as if their time is all that matters. Here’s the rub: that person is me.

I was rude to a friend the other day. I didn’t even realize it. And I still wouldn’t have realized it unless this person’s demeanor toward me hadn’t changed. At that point, the hamster on the wheel came back from his lunch break and told me what was what.

So, I apologized. I legit apologized because I was wrong.

So, the question is: Do rude people know they are rude? I try to realize when I make a mistake and apologize when I need to. Not the case for so many people. Not naming names, but I encounter rude folks (other than myself) every single day that ends in Y.

So, as I survey the all-too-common acrimonious spectacle of public debates lately, I’ve been contemplating how often plain rudeness and disrespect may stem not from malice, but ignorance. Do abrasive people recognize the offensiveness of their own remarks? My sense is no—a failure of self-awareness and surplus of misguided moral superiority swirl together into a toxic brew.

Turn on the television, peruse social feeds—it seems we encounter someone dressing down others in smug fashion everywhere we look. But we need not look so far to find brusque, offensive people oblivious of their coarseness. Most of us have dealt with gruff individuals in various face-to-face encounters who speak harshly or act dismissively to others, convinced of the sole validity of their own perspective. Like the self-righteous voices shouting through media channels, these rude folks in everyday settings leave no room for meaningful discourse or nuance. They seem unaware of how their gruff words and manners land like hammer blows upon whoever has the gall to differ or even politely disagree. Irony abounds when supposedly upstanding folks crusading for their own convenience exhibit callous indifference to the discomfort they inflict upon those around them.

In my eyes, before firing verbal salvos or acting bluntly dismissive, we should pause to ask ourselves some grounding questions—Could I have this wrong? Am I letting my beliefs blind me to the harm I’m causing? Is there wisdom I’m missing from the other side? This kind of conscientious self-inquiry opens space for true exchange instead of one-sided attacks, spoken or unspoken.

I believe most of us have fallen into the trap of smug disregard for others’ dignity at some time or other when we feel especially self-assured in our correctness. But righteousness that rides roughshod over basic respect for the humanity of other people, no matter how flawed their views may seem, risks severing the ties that bind us as a society. Those we offend today for disagreeing politely may become allies tomorrow once the fog of self-certainty lifts. 

What if we made a practice of dousing heated personal and public conflicts with the cooling waters of humility? By really listening before reacting and tempering reactive impulses with mindful reason, perhaps we can prevent the invisible wildfires of discord that threaten to ignite whenever arrogance and obliviousness combine to stifle real understanding.

Maybe rude people just don’t know. I didn’t. So, let’s all strive to be the first person to go forward.

(Josh Beavers is a teacher and a writer. He was named as a semi-finalist for Louisiana Teacher of the Year in 2020. He has also been recognized five times by the Louisiana Press Association for excellence in opinion writing.)