The Myth of Equal Blame: Responsibility Isn’t Always Shared

We love the idea of balance.

When a conflict erupts, we’re quick to say that “both sides are at fault.”

It sounds fair, compassionate, and wise.

But more often than not, this belief hides a deeper truth: wrongdoing isn’t always shared.

Often, one person genuinely tries to preserve peace — awkwardly, imperfectly — while the other keeps pushing, denying, or hurting.

What we later call a fight is often the point where the more patient person finally reaches their limit and fights back.

Reciprocal escalation doesn’t mean reciprocal responsibility.

Identical pain at one point doesn't mean identical responsibility.

Shared Reactivity vs. One-Sided Responsibility

In many relationships, both people end up reactive and hurting each other, yet the initial wrongdoing and the possibility for repair often rest more heavily on one side.

One person’s behaviour sets the pattern in motion — through control, neglect, or betrayal — while the other reacts, sometimes clumsily, to protect connection or dignity.

As therapist Terrence Real writes, couples often fall into a “vicious circle” where one partner misuses power and the other becomes the disowned partner — the one who has adapted, over-accommodated, and finally explodes.

This now-reactive partner is then labelled “difficult,” while the quieter abuse that provoked it remains unseen.

From the side of the aggressor, it can be tempting to look at the other’s defensive reactions — anger, withdrawal, or even a sharp comeback — and conclude,

“We’re both hurting each other.”

This feels balanced, but it’s deceptive.

Interpreting the other’s self-protection as equal aggression blurs accountability and blocks repair.

The aggressor gets to stay comfortable — no need to face guilt or change — while the injured person is shamed for defending themselves.

When defensive strategies born from pain are treated as wrongdoings of the same order, clarity dies and so does the chance for peace.

Accountability isn’t the opposite of peace; it’s the precondition for it.

Reconciliation begins the moment the person who started the harm can recognize their role — not when both agree to “share the blame.”

The Macro Mirror

The same pattern plays out on the world stage.

In any large-scale conflict, violence doesn’t always begin equally. One side attacks, the other defends. The world sees devastation on both sides and rushes to call for “mutual restraint”.

But equality in suffering is not equality in responsibility.

Peace only becomes possible when aggression stops and accountability begins.

The Israel–Hamas war began when Hamas launched a violent assault on Israeli civilians on October 7 2023. Israel’s subsequent military campaign brought suffering to Gaza, but the chain of events was not symmetrical: one side initiated the aggression, the other reacted to prevent more agression.

Yet the global conversation quickly drifted toward equal condemnation, as if identical pain meant identical responsibility. It didn’t.

Peace became possible only when Hamas attacks and hostage-taking was stopped by pressure from United States and Arab countries. The ability to change the dynamic — to end the bloodshed — always lay with the side that began the violence.

The same pattern repeats in human relationships.

When one person keeps crossing boundaries and the other finally reacts, we often call it “a fight.” But it’s not mutual wrongdoing; it’s self-protection. And true repair begins only when the aggression ceases.

Why We Cling to the Illusion of Equal Responsibility

If this illusion is so widespread, it’s not because people are blind — it’s because it feels safer.

1. Relativism and the discomfort of judgment

Modern culture, wary of dogma, prefers to believe that truth is always a matter of perspective. It feels civilized to say “everyone has their reasons.” 

Yet moral nuance is not the same as moral equivalence.

2. Therapeutic language of non-blame

Psychology taught us empathy and self-reflection, but pop-psychology turned every rupture into “a dynamic.”

Phrases like “it takes two to tango” promote introspection but can erase power imbalance.

As Terrence Real warns, therapist neutrality can become complicity, and that sometimes, one person’s healing begins when someone else’s misuse of power is finally named.

3. The social reward of appearing fair

Saying “both sides are wrong” makes us sound wise and rational. Detachment feels rational and evolved, whereas taking a side can feel primitive or ideological.

But neutrality is often just self-protection, not deep reflection, and a way to avoid the anxiety of taking a stand.

4. Fear of conflict and rejection

Equalizing blame maintains superficial harmony. It keeps belonging intact at the expense of truth.

For many of us who grew up in families where conflict meant danger, “both are wrong” feels safer than “one person crossed a line.”

5. Harmony over justice

Collectively, we’ve been conditioned to prize harmony — even false harmony — over confrontation. Yet peace without truth is only silence.

Real peace, whether between people or nations, never comes from flattening accountability.

It comes from clarity, repair, and sometimes, discomfort.

True wisdom isn’t neutrality; it’s discernment — the ability to hold empathy and judgment together.

We can understand someone’s wounds without excusing their actions, and we can hold compassion without denying reality.

Repair is only possible when truth is named.

The Courage to Take a Side

It’s easy to say “both sides are wrong” when you’re not the one being hurt.

It’s easier to call for peace than to name what’s right.

We often mistake neutrality for wisdom — as if staying above the conflict made us more evolved.

But neutrality costs nothing. It risks no belonging, demands no clarity, carries no courage.

Taking a side — not out of loyalty, but out of truth — asks for something harder:

to see clearly even when clarity divides,

to bear discomfort instead of hiding behind fairness,

to lose approval rather than betray conscience.

It takes far more courage to stand where truth stands than to hover safely in the middle.

Maturity means choosing integrity over comfort, reality over appearance.

Because true peace never comes from neutrality — it comes from clarity, responsibility, and the end of harm.