There's plenty to be angry about. But does anger help us see the world more clearly, or does it get in the way?
Donald Robertson is a therapist and philosopher. He was also once punched in the face while pushing his baby in a pram during a blizzard in Montreal.
“It made the local newspapers,” he says. His first instinct was to yell: “What did you do that for?”
Then two thoughts occurred to him. “I don't need to know why he did it. It's more important to get the baby away from him.”
Over our video call, Robertson sits at ease in his home. Occasionally, the happy upright tail of a cat appears on screen and brushes his beard. He smiles when asked about anger. “It's my favourite subject,” he says.
Anger might be Robertson’s favourite subject, but it feels like the world’s favourite drama. Polarised politics and culture wars divide us. Online influencers nurture grievances and spread prejudice. A violent incident becomes a new front in an online battle. It's easy to think we are living through an age of anger. But are we getting angrier?
“The picture that anger is getting worse over time is poorly supported,” says Robertson. Gallup's global survey found that the proportion of people reporting anger during much of the previous day rose from 19% in 2006 to 24% in 2020, before falling to 22% in 2024. The trend is not quite the relentless rise we may imagine. And visible anger and experienced anger aren't the same thing.
Perhaps we're looking at anger from the wrong end of the telescope. Anger is a response to what we think is happening, but it can also change how we think. Once it takes hold, we see the world through its distorted filter.
“Angry people go looking for reasons to be angry,” says Robertson. Our whole style of communication can change. When we're on edge, a friend's neutral remark seems hostile; a joke sounds sarcastic. Online, it's easy to read the worst into someone else's words. Behind a screen, as behind the wheel in a bout of road rage, we may feel insulated from the consequences of our own fury.
“Everybody knows that when someone is angry, they're potentially going to snap at other people,” says Robertson. “But the revelation is that angry people don't realise that.”
Our attention fixes on whoever has upset us, leaving us less aware of ourselves. As Robertson puts it: “All my attention, like a laser beam, is on you, but that means hardly any of my attention is on myself.”
Our anger can provoke anger in others, which we then take as further evidence that we're right. It's like poking the bear and then wondering why the bear is angry. “In therapy, one of the most common things that people get angry about is other people being angry with them,” says Robertson.
Even when an argument seems over, anger can keep it alive. We ruminate on it. Robertson sees a parallel here between rumination and doomscrolling. Social media can keep us engaged with things that anger us, while making it easy to broadcast our grievances. Our own anger then adds to the wider anger we see in the world.
If anger is this corrosive, why is it so hard to let go?
Like a stimulant, anger feels clarifying and purposeful. It gives us energy, at least at first. “Anger motivates people. There's no question about that,” says Robertson. “But it does so by impairing judgement and decision making.”
Anger gives us certainty about what we need to do, even when our actions may be reckless. The feeling of clarity is not the same as clarity of mind.
Yet would any of us want to live without anger? Think of the friend who is forever being taken advantage of, or who seems relaxed after being unfairly sacked. 'Why aren't you mad about this?' we ask. Anger can alert us to a line being crossed.
It can also rally us against injustice. Anger at an exploitative workplace can bring people together in a trade union. It can also be protective, particularly when people face violence or abuse. “Psychologists who are concerned with female safety and male violence think that anger can be protective. I think there's some validity to that,” says Robertson. If we ask victims of abuse not to respond with anger, are we asking them to accept the unacceptable?
Robertson's wider argument, however, challenges the underlying assumption that justified anger is useful. He is less convinced of anger's benefits than many therapists. His view reflects Stoicism, which distinguishes between our first reactions and the judgements we make about them. “In general, I probably see anger as less healthy than most,” he says. “The closer you look at this thing, the less adaptive it starts to look.”
Stoicism offers more than a pause before reacting, and it has little in common with the way the word stoicism is used today. The goal is not to bury our feelings. We may not choose our first reaction, but we can learn to question the judgements that allow the full emotion to take hold.
In examining our first instincts, we can distinguish what we can control from what we cannot, and let our values guide us.
There is plenty in the world worth getting angry about. The challenge is to see clearly enough to change what needs changing, without adding to the anger we see around us.
Donald J. Robertson is a philosopher and cognitive behavioural therapist. His books include Marcus Aurelius: The Stoic Emperor, How to Think Like Socrates and The Philosophy of Cognitive-Behavioural Therapy. You can subscribe to his newsletter and podcast, Stoicism: Philosophy as a Way of Life, here.
Header photo by mana5280 on Unsplash
Photo of Donald Robertson by Vadim Daniel
