Is there ever a time when one should “give up” and conclude that the situation is totally the fault of the other person, it is permanent, and it is everything about them?

What about the “jerks” we interact with out of necessity? What’s a useful way to think about the people who annoy us? Are “attack and avoid” behaviors ever justified, outside of a life-threatening situation?

Let’s look at a political leader who faced this decision. This leader had plenty of reasons to treat another group with contempt. Regardless, he made a decision to sacrifice his “right” to retaliate, and he used the opportunity to be effective instead.

Nelson Mandela, the former president of South Africa, wrestled with the question of effectiveness versus self-righteousness in an extreme and very public form. In his country, the white, Dutch government ruled with institutional racism, torture, rape, imprisonment, and the execution of thousands of black South Africans. If anyone had a reason to blame, Mandela did. Knowing this, the world watched in 1990 as he was released from prison, and later was elected president.

In his autobiography Long Walk to Freedom, Mandela tells how he was deeply influenced by the writings of Gandhi during the years he was incarcerated. He realized that blame and contempt, although “justified,” would not move him closer to his goal of creating a healthy, viable government and society. Mandela focused on changing the system, not individuals or the white race. He suspected that if he created a more healthy system, it would feed the other dog and his country would heal.

Mandela wrote, “I know people expected me to harbor anger towards whites. But in prison, my anger towards the whites decreased and my hatred for the system grew.”

Mandela let it be known that anyone who wanted to help rebuild South Africa as a nonracial democracy was welcome at the table. He broke a long-standing Cycle of Contempt, and reached out to white South Africans with an invitation to join him in solving their country’s problems.

Together with Bishop Tutu and the former president, DeKirk, they created Truth and Reconciliation, a process that allowed individuals, white and black, to step forward and confess to political crimes in exchange for amnesty. Under the policy, both black and white citizens had a specific deadline to confess the crimes they committed under apartheid. If they refused to take accountability, they were liable for criminal prosecution.

It was a brilliant decision. It avoided a civil war. It allowed families on both sides of the conflict to receive reliable information about the fate of their loved ones. The process avoided hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of civil and criminal lawsuits—charges that would have taken decades to resolve. Truth and Reconciliation allowed people to admit wrongdoing, ask for amnesty and forgiveness, and rejoin the community with an opportunity to contribute to the rebuilding of their country. It replaced retaliation with a process for reconciliation and cleared the way for a viable future.

Videos of the tribunals were eventually broadcast in the United States and they were wrenchingly painful to watch as perpetrators on both sides of apartheid confessed. The stories were reminiscent of Zimbardo’s prison experiments—in horrific systems, ordinary people commit heinous crimes.

However, many of Mandela, DeKirk, and Bishop Tutu’s hopes were realized. Even though they were dealing with millions of people, they proved that healthy systems elicit healthy behavior from the same people. The country held its citizens accountable, but avoided exacerbating a costly power struggle. By retaining the skill base and knowledge of the previous administration, the newly elected government established itself with unusual speed. Whites and blacks united in unprecedented cooperation. A nonracial democracy was born.

Consequently, when people assure me that they know someone who deserves to be blamed, a person who qualifies as a real jerk, I respond only slightly tongue in cheek, “If you have more reason to treat someone like a jerk than Nelson Mandela does I’ll grant you an exception. Make a choice between matching your adversary’s tone and behavior, or moving toward your goal.”

Everyday we make multiple choices every day between self-righteousness and effectiveness. Now you can make yours consciously.

All three assumptions—it’s your fault, it’s my fault, or there’s a reason—self-validate. Imagine the impact over your lifetime as your experiences accrue. With reflective rather than reflexive thinking, you will become curious about people in all walks of life. You will learn about government, the stock market, hospital staffing, schools, highway maintenance, the newspaper, your neighbors, and other ethnic groups. You can find out why the highways are jammed, why the legislative process is slow, why the Palestinians and Israelis are mutually fearful. The understanding you gain will allow you to identify the best leverage points to fix whatever problems fascinate you.

When your automatic response to frustration is curiosity, concern, and the ability to open the dialogue, you will learn why your neighbor parks his boat next to the garage and not in it. You will discover why your brother stopped coming to family gatherings three years ago, and why your daughter doesn’t want to play soccer anymore.

Instead of flooding you will be in the position to learn why the driver is digging in the back seat of her car, why your boss is suddenly closing her door, why the bride’s father is smirking, and why the supervisor is missing from the floor.

At work you will be constantly gaining knowledge about the hidden influences in your organization. You will learn about its constraints, limitations, history, and assets. As you practice your skills you will gain confidence and insight. You will find yourself sharing what you’ve learned and educating others.

The people with whom you interact will trust you because you respect their efforts and are willing to learn about their constraints.

If you could compare my life 10 years ago with it now, you would see this difference with crystal clarity. All of these changes have occurred in my life through an increased understanding and application of the principles in this book.

In the past, blame and self-doubt were constant, unwanted companions that I didn’t know how to dismiss. Now, like Bruce the Vietnam vet from Chapter Two, wherever I go, I can create and ride the energy of appreciation. Every frustration is an opportunity to learn, and every person, crabby or pleasant, has a wealth of hidden stories, experiences, and varying skills, but the same goal: the desire to feel valued and valuable, cherished and appreciated.

Positive energy buffers frustration. You can use it consciously to grease the wheels of human interaction. It’s good for your career, your relationships, and your heart. It shapes the quality of every interaction, every opportunity, and every challenge.

It’s the best habit you can give yourself, your colleagues, direct reports, and loved ones.