Tag: blame

The Limits of Liability

As I made my way around the curve, I was caught off guard.

There were brake lights in front of me. Directly in front of me.

The lane I was driving in was closed up ahead. Orange construction cones sat in the lane about 100 yards from my windshield.

Apparently, a driver ahead of me had lost sight of this until it was nearly too late. So, they had brought their vehicle to a complete stop on the left lane of a busy highway.

Now, the drivers behind this vehicle were faced with a double-whammy. There was both the lane closure and the stopped vehicle in their path.

I was driving the third car in this sequence, which means I had only a split-second to react. To my left was a concrete wall, and to my right, a stream of speeding vehicles. My only option was to hit my brakes as hard as I could.

I did, but it wasn’t good enough. Cars need space to decelerate from 70 miles an hour to a standstill. And I didn’t have enough of it.

I was probably going 25 miles an hour when I hit the back of the vehicle in front of me, driving it into the stopped car. The momentum pushed all three vehicles past the cones until we mercifully came to a stop.

The airbags in my car deployed, jolting me once again. And then], the horrifying incident was over.

I checked on my friend, who was sitting in the passenger seat. A half-hour earlier, she and I had been line dancing at a honky-tonk. Now, we had just absorbed a car crash. At that moment, I could have cared less if I was OK. I just hoped — prayed — that my friend wasn’t hurt.

Thankfully, she was alright. We were both shaken, suffering from shock and whiplash. But we had somehow avoided major injuries.

The car, on the other hand, was totaled. The front end was crushed in. Its obituary was written right there on the road.

The police came on the scene to take everyone’s statements. A wrecker came to take my car away. And we got a ride home.

Later, I learned that I was deemed at fault for the accident. Since I was driving the vehicle at the back of the pileup, the liability lay with me.

I didn’t face any charges, but I had a black mark on my insurance record for several years. Because of that, I struggled to get a good rate on my coverage.

I’m well past all that now. And both my friend and I have no ill effects from the crash, aside from the traumatic memories.

But sometimes, I do wonder about that ruling. The one pinning the full weight of liability for the accident on me.

I am accountable to a fault, and I’ve accepted the judgment that was rendered. But I also wonder what else I could have done.

I was left in a no-win position. I did the best that I could, but I ended up paying the price for it. Meanwhile, the driver at the front of the line made a poor decision — only to be left with an unscathed insurance record.

Did that driver really not have any liability? How did that rationale make any sense?

I’ve been thinking about this more lately. With a global pandemic in full swing and a mix of political and social unrest overtaking America, the question of liability is top of mind for just about everyone.

Does the decision to leave our homes make us liable for someone’s illness, injury, or death? Do our words leave us liable for property damage, looting, and mayhem?

In some cases, the answer is clearly yes. If we get behind the wheel of a car while intoxicated and run over a pedestrian, we’ll face manslaughter charges. If we falsely yell Fire in a crowded space, we could be held to account for the ensuing stampede.

But in other instances, the situation is murky. If leaving home leads someone to unknowingly pass a virus to a passerby, who then passes it along to their grandparent, would that first person be liable for an elderly stranger’s illness? If one’s words inspire someone to drive halfway across the country and spark a riot, where does the blame fall?

As with my car crash, the answers aren’t clear-cut. But unlike that incident, there’s no clear protocol to sort out the mess.

I am a Texan.

My home state features vast landscapes, a diversified economy, and a philosophy that can be summed up in two words: Personal responsibility.

It’s not quite a free-for-all in the Lone Star State — anyone caught speeding on Interstate 35 is well aware of that fact. But the limits of liability are profound.

Such a philosophy speaks to the legacy of Texas. There have always been boundless opportunities on these prairies. But with them have come outsized risks.

In the early days, settlers were susceptible to sweeping Comanche raids or attacks by wild animals. Nearly two centuries later, the dangers of tornadoes, wildfires, and hurricanes remain omnipresent for many Texans.

These events have brought plenty of devastation. And yet, assigning blame for them is as futile as roping the wind.

So, the prevailing approach to liability around these parts is hands-off. Texans are expected to exercise good judgment. And, for the most part, they’re only held to account if their actions directly impact someone else.

I have not always been a fan of this limited liability philosophy. The lack of recourse when things go wrong has always seemed disconcerting.

But I still think it’s better than the alternative.

For if we blindly accept a world of broad liability judgments, we shrink our horizons. We limit our opportunities. We shackle ourselves.

After all, if we know the third car in the crash gets saddled with the bill, we’ll do all we can to avoid being that third car. We’ll box ourselves in to avoid misfortune. And, in doing so, we’ll forfeit the opportunities that would otherwise sit in our path.

By playing not to lose, we’ll still end up in last place.

We deserve a better fate.

So, let’s stop squabbling about liability. Let’s stop grandstanding about who’s to blame for each downstream effect. Let’s get back to living under the principles that have long shepherded our society — liberty and responsibility.

We’ll be better for it.

The Blame Game

It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.

If you were to go to a college hockey game in recent years, you were likely to hear the home fans chanting this at the opposing goalie for letting a puck fly by.

In a vacuum, this chant seems infantile. After all, the scoreboard already tells the story.

Why rub salt in the wound? Why make the goalie feel even worse for coming up short?

There is no rational explanation. And yet, the chant has lived on for years.

Some of this has to do with home ice advantage. The chant adds an element of intimidation to the proceedings, making it even more daunting for the visitors to come away victorious.

But a lot of it comes from a human obsession. An obsession in finding someone to blame.

There are few more compelling figures in our society than the scapegoat.

We worship the heroes and abhor the villains. But we depend on the scapegoats.

For these figures provide us a target for our attention. A release valve for our exasperation. A convenient excuse for why things veer off course.

Yes, we need an explanation for each hardship we face. A foil for the moments when our visions of perfection eviscerate into the murkiness of reality.

So, we look for somebody to blame.

This urge to point the finger is so prevalent that it’s practically muscle memory. We instinctively turn toward its seductive glow time and again.

At the moment we find our scapegoat, we feel relief. Our angst, confusion and vulnerability give way to the rush of adrenaline of grabbing the pitchforks and torches.

Of course, nothing on the surface has changed. The circumstances we are facing are just as they were.

But now we have a cause to rally around. A rationale for feelings of renewal.

All while someone else is left to shoulder the burden of our suffering.

There’s a prevalent school of thought. One that equates finding fault with serving karmic justice.

This is a fallacy.

For justice is blind to bias. It does not care about our feelings, or bend to the whims of our desires.

No, true justice is only about one thing: Balance.

Now, some may argue that apportioning blame restores balance. That transferring the burden of responsibility to someone at the origin of our troubles gets the universe back on track.

But reality is rarely this straightforward.

Indeed, the line between accountability and vindictive rage is often perilously narrow. And in the fog of distress, we can easily cross to the wrong side of the divide.

And so, scapegoats find themselves culpable for violations of standards that defy reality. Or wrongly accused altogether.

These are terrifying situations. They are outcomes that we don’t want to find ourselves facing.

And so, we hedge.

We hold back. We play it safe. We do all we can to reduce the risk of blowback.

This defangs us as leaders and innovators. But it also takes the worst case scenario off the table.

Or so we think.

On September 11, 2001, the world changed.

Millions watched in horror as two hijacked airplanes crashed into the World Trade Center in New York City, and another plane crashed into the Pentagon near Washington.

It was the darkest day of my life — and I’m sure I’m not alone in that fact. But the days that followed weren’t much brighter.

There was an uncomfortable stillness in the air. Anxiety and uncertainty were everywhere you turned.

Then, President Bush announced that America was going after those who brought this evil to our shores. Less than a month after the attacks, the United States Army invaded Afghanistan.

At the time of the invasion, it was hard to find many who were opposed to it. We had all just lived through an attack. If we didn’t go after those who were to blame, we would invite another act of terror.

And yet, two decades later, the results of that decision are less clear cut.

The masterminds of the 9/11 attacks are just about all dead or captured by now. And yet, the war in Afghanistan wears on.

What started as an action of blame has morphed into a costly quagmire. Some of the participants in it today were not even alive when the conflict started.

Pointing the finger took us further than we’d ever hoped to go.

As I write this, we are in a new kind of crisis.

A virus with no cure has killed tens of thousands of people across America. And the mass quarantines meant to contain it have caused 30 million people to lose their jobs.

The pain and strife are catastrophic. And the devastation lies on multiple fronts.

As battle through this uncertainty, we focus our attention on one question. Who’s to blame?

Some have pointed to China, where the virus first erupted. Others have pointed to political leaders, who didn’t act quick enough to contain early cases. Others still have blamed government agencies, who botched the rollout of testing for the virus when it was still in the nascent stages of its spread.

The blame game provides us with a convenient distraction from the despair of the present reality. It provides us with prominent punching bags for us to lob our ire at.

But it is wholly misguided.

For viruses are forces of nature. They do not neatly follow the laws of human governance.

This is why there have been pandemics before. And it’s why there will be pandemics in the future.

Even if everyone we point the finger at had acted optimally, there would still have been carnage. There is no conniving terrorist in a faraway cave that wrought this devastation. Nature itself did.

And so, apportioning blame is a futile exercise. Especially in the midst of the storm.

Crises are painful. But they are powerful teachers.

And one prevailing lesson, proven time and again, that the rush to blame is futile.

Yes, accountability is important. Sometimes, it is even a matter of life and death. But it shouldn’t be our first order of business.

We must start by righting the ship. By mitigating the damage and adjusting to the circumstances. By putting survival first.

Only after the fog has lifted should we concern ourselves with determining the blame. With the crisis in our rearview, we can objectively determine who should foot the bill. Or if anyone should at all.

This truth should be self-evident in times of tribulation. In fact, it should be standard procedure even when we’re not on the brink.

It still can be.

So, let’s make it happen.

Let’s learn from our mistakes. And let’s put the blame game behind us.

There are far better uses of our time and energy. Let’s unlock them.

Accepting The Blame

It’s our fault.

The way the world treats us. The opportunities are given and taken from us. The narrative that we see in the world around us.

It all comes back to us.

It’s tempting to blame others for our misfortunes. To blame our bosses for not giving us the raises we feel we deserve. To blame corporate executives for escalating prices on the services we rely upon.

It’s tempting to blame others for exposing us to risk. To blame self-interested investors for hitching our collective destiny to the uneasy wagon of the stock market. To blame banks for taking on bad debt risk and tanking our economy.

And it’s tempting to blame others for leaving a bad taste in our mouths. To blame Mark Zuckerberg for giving away our data to bad actors. Or the media for providing us story after story of blood and guts, deceit and divisiveness.

But it all comes back to us.

We’re responsible.

You see, our capitalist society is built upon more than the principle of free enterprise. It’s built in our image.

Yes, a system built on the tenets of supply and demand reflects our desires. Oftentimes, it reflects the best aspects of humanity. But other times, it speaks to the darkest parts of our nature.

Namely, our overindulgent, win-at-all-costs tendencies.

These flaws lie within all of us, regardless of character. While some of us outwardly display them more than others, they’re certainly omnipresent.

One look at the capitalist structure proves that.

The pursuit of the almighty dollar owns all in this society. The exchange of money plays a fundamental role in our everyday lives.

On a basic level, we trade money for the services needed to survive. That’s a value exchange that benefits both sides of the transaction.

But we’re not okay with staying at that basic level. We want to live into The American Dream.

We want the bigger house, the nicer car, the flashier amenities. We want more, more, more — regardless of the collateral damage that comes with it.

This setup speaks to overindulgence. To a game with winners and losers that continually requires us to get an edge.

The corporate world reflects these values we espouse.

It has to.

Companies come into existence to satisfy our needs. Our overindulgence keeps them alive and thriving – as it provides fledgling companies an abundance demand to serve.

All until companies reach critical mass, and become mature. At that point, the goal becomes to keep that edge. To grow that demand even further, in order to satisfy their investors and keep their competitors at bay. Just as with our individual pursuits, there can never be enough.

Humanity inevitably gets lost in this process. Companies prioritize profits over people. Customers become commodities and employees become expendable.

It’s easy to vilify faceless corporations or their executives for being heartless, greedy and cruel when we feel the sting of these decisions. But it’s far more likely that the real villain is in staring back at us in the mirror.

We are the engine that drives business. Our needs, wants and desires impact the outcomes we see.

We have the voice and power to stem the tide, to turn things in a brighter, less ugly direction.

But we must accept the blame.

We must let go of the narrative that we are good and the world is evil.

We must recognize that the flaws we have within us impact the results we see without.

And we must work to exhibit restraint. To resist overindulging or winning at the expense of others.

No more scapegoats.

The key to a brighter, warmer kinder world lies within.

Let’s seek it out.

The Decentering Advantage

Off the mark.

Regardless of our disposition, those are three words we don’t like to hear.

It means something’s askew. Something’s not as it should be.

This sensation doesn’t sit well with us. So, we seek a cure for it.

We set out to figure out why.

All too often, this means finding the culprit and taking corrective action. Doing so gets us to the three magic words we like a whole lot more: Back on track.

We use this framework to solve problems all the time. It’s efficient and actionable. But it features one major flaw.

Subjectivity.

You see, when something is off the mark, malice is seldom to blame. We don’t all walk around looking to stab each other in the back. No, we thrive on the concepts of trust and community. And we have done so since the earliest days of humanity, when mortal danger lurked around every corner.

So, if malicious intent is not at the root of a missed target, what is? More than likely, you can chalk up these mishaps to misunderstandings.

Misunderstandings are inherently subjective. They’re byproducts of misaligned perspectives between people.

These occurrences are perfectly natural. We each have different programming between the ears. We view the world in our own unique way.

Sometimes these visions don’t sync up with the results we observe. And we find ourselves deeply disappointed.

In these moments, the objective search for truth doesn’t work. Finding the culprit and taking corrective action does nothing except cause further collateral damage — such as bad blood, mistrust and general divisiveness.

We need to stop making misunderstandings a personal quest for vengeance. And start considering the person on the other side of the equation.

We need to decenter.

What is decentering?

It’s viewing the world from a perspective other than your own. And then using that viewpoint to find a productive solution.

Essentially, it’s taking a sledgehammer to The Blame Game, and finding a resolution upon the common ground of objectivity instead.

Now, it can be a challenge putting this strategy into motion. We’re not wired to go from me to we, to abandon our perspective in favor of another’s.

After all, a sense of pride and righteousness is at the heart of most of our conflicts. We have such conviction in our beliefs that we make disagreements personal. We treat our viewpoint as fact and declare war on those who might see the situation differently.

Stepping outside of this foxhole requires us to recognize the solution is bigger than ourselves. That our perspective might even be fueling the inferno in the first place.

It requires us to eat some humble pie, and detach ourselves from our entrenched beliefs. All for the greater good.

This is not a natural leap for us to take. Yet, it’s a critical one.

For once we can truly view the world through the perspectives of others, it can change everything. It can make us more conscientious, more empathetic and more action-oriented.

And this, in turn, can keep us from missing the mark.

Everybody wins.

So, let’s resolve to decenter today. It can deliver a brighter tomorrow for everyone.

What’s Next?

Where do we go from here?

It’s a question we often consider. But not with the proper priority.

We tend to only think about our next move in the context of our last one. It’s a pattern that brings us stability and consistency. But it’s also one that can hold us back.

For while we learn the value of retrospection very early on in life, we fail to recognize that peering into the rearview mirror takes our eye off of the road ahead. And focusing too heavily on how we got to the point we’re at invites all types of white noise — Analysis Paralysis, Monday Morning Quarterbacking and The Blame Game.

None of these are productive or advantageous. And all of them shift our focus away from the more crucial task of determining what comes next.

Let’s take a look at a recent example of this disconnect. As Hurricane Harvey ravaged the Texas Gulf Coast — inundating Houston with unfathomable flooding — the major oil refineries in the region shut down. Within days, some gas stations in Dallas were covering their pumps with plastic bags; the holding tanks were dry, and no oil tankers were heading up Interstate 45 to save the day.

A full-fledged gas panic quickly took hold across the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex. Drivers rushed to the nearest open gas station, causing long lines and exhausting fuel supplies even further. (Having waited in one of these lines myself, I can only imagine what the Oil Crisis of 1973 must have been like in America.)

And this wasn’t just a Dallas event. Similar scenes could be found across the Lone Star State — in Austin, San Antonio, and even Lubbock.

As the panic hit a fever pitch, oil and gas industry experts took to the airwaves to assure Texans that there was no fuel shortage after all. A chorus of angry voices soon followed, with many of those voices blaming drivers for causing the entire situation by gassing up in droves.

They may have been right. But that’s beside the point.

You see, who we decide to collar with the blame — anxious drivers, price-sensitive gas station owners or the storm itself — is irrelevant. Regardless of the cause, the panic happened. So, it’s too late to go back and prevent it.

In other words, the train has already left the station.

So, what can we do? We can focus on what comes next.

In the case of the Texas Gas Panic, this might mean driving conscientiously, planning out short-term travel in terms of fuel demand and being willing to drive further and pay more in order to refuel. These actions can lessen the burden on the fuel industry while gas stations work to get supply levels back to normal.

In other situations, such as workplace setbacks, detailing what comes next could take a different form — trying a new strategy, being more amenable to change, or getting better at collaborating with others more.

The possibilities are endless. But one thing remains the same.

What happens next provides the biggest impact.

What comes next can change the world for the better. It can help cement our legacy. And it provides us the opportunity to innovate, learn and grow.

So, stop quibbling over how we got here. Where we’re going is far more important.