A justification is a convenient cognitive process we use to excuse bad behaviour. People everywhere justify their actions all the time. Take for example the husband who feels his wife doesn’t understand him so he is justified in keeping his mistress. Or on a larger scale; this land previously belonged to my country therefore I’m justified in taking it back.

Starting when I was nine, and lasting for about ten years, I had a friend who had fantastic leadership skills with no place to employ them. She could read a group and assess the status and role of everyone present before the phrase ‘group dynamics’ even existed. She was a natural project leader with no project available. Without an adult to recognize and channel her unique abilities those powers were sometimes put to evil use. There were times I was recruited into behaviour that suited her needs and not mine. I’ve always justified my part in these activities by telling myself I was manipulated. For instance, at her instigation, we used to call a not-very-popular boy from school and tease him relentlessly about why he liked science. I was the one on the phone, we were at my house, I could have said no, but there I was, receiver in hand, saying what she told me to say. 

Around about age 14, a new girl moved in down the road from us. Saturday night excitement at this time meant we would dress up in our best jeans and t-shirts, put on our best make-up and walk up and down the road. We’d pause at the general store… we’d talk to boys who slowed down in their car… Nothing important but it was all important. The new girl wanted to join us on one of these excursions and we deliberately excluded her without giving her any particular reason why. I’m sure she was hurt.

Next up in the bad behaviour category was my friend and I took turns calling the new girl to get her to say, or at least agree with, negative comments about ourselves. Of course we were right there in the room with each other. The icing on the cake was when we each called her back to say we knew what she had said about us. That was the supposed payoff but the taste was sour in my mouth.

I had the grace to feel guilty. My justification was it had not been my idea. I knew I had ‘only’ been the follower in this behaviour but the new girl had no way of knowing this and probably would not have cared. I engaged in it, that’s all that counted. 

In a lame effort to make amends I approached the new girl a few days later. She made it very clear in a polite and gracious way she was not going to have anything to do with me ever again. She had moved on to a new group of friends, she was having a lot of fun with them, ‘so piss off you little bitch’. 

She didn’t say that last part but she would have been justified if she had. Every once in a while justifications are decidedly apt.

The phone calling incident was the last time I ever participated in behaviour of that sort. A year or two later my friend, the original one, sided with others on at least two occasions to target me. I was older, wiser and beyond the reach of her manipulations. I took a lesson from the new girl’s playbook. I walked away and moved on.

I don’t know for sure, but I like to assume my friend perhaps learned from these incidents and figured out how to employ her fantastic powers for good.

I have googled the new girl. She had a brilliant career, retired now. I might have enjoyed her friendship if I hadn’t been so easily deterred. Alas.

Justifications let us off the hook; they are so convenient and comfortable. Who apologizes for behaviour they believe was justified? The cheating spouse doesn’t want to deal with their marriage. It’s much easier to believe the cheating is warranted. If I had owned my participation in the shabby treatment of the new girl this story would have ended very differently. At the very least, I wouldn’t still be thinking of her decades later. The kicker is my google search revealed she lives in the same small city I do. When I run into her, I’ll have my apology at the ready.

Keep your joy.

Anne Milne is an every Sunday blogger, unless it’s a holiday weekend. Or summertime. Facebook or email.