ACKNOWLEDGING HUMANITY’S FALLIBILITY

Within the legal realm, doubt about the possibility of being wrong is not merely a practical concern but an ontological one. Reasonable doubt, a foundational concept in criminal trials, reflects the level of skepticism a trier of fact must maintain before rendering a guilty verdict. At its core, the principle acknowledges humanity’s fallibility, the recognition that our judgments are, by nature, imperfect. We, as humans, are sometimes right and sometimes wrong, and the balance between the two is often shaped by individual perception. In recognition of this fallibility, the legal system embeds procedural safeguards such as appellate review, immigration bond redetermination, and the writ of habeas corpus, all designed to guard against our innate capacity for error. 

Based upon this recognition of human fallibility embedded within the nation’s judicial system, one must also concede that this same susceptibility to error permeates every branch of government reliant on human reasoning. The very structure of our Constitution reflects this awareness. The inclusion of amendments allows for the correction and evolution of foundational principles over time, such as the abolition of slavery through the Thirteenth Amendment and the extension of voting rights through the Fifteenth and Nineteenth Amendments.

As United States citizens, we submit ourselves to the authority of man-made laws, often without protest, allowing them to shape our morals, our thoughts, and our very ways of being. Moreover, we casually accept that in matters of law, the possibility of being wrong is ever-present, thus, requiring procedural safeguards. Yet, despite embracing this truth within the legal and political context, we often resist it in the context of our personal lives. In our interpersonal relationships, our convictions against one another tend to harden into certainties, and we seldom pause to consider that we, too, might be mistaken in how we think and feel toward the other.

In our day-to-day interactions, particularly in the context of law school, where we are constantly surrounded by ambitious, thoughtful, and outspoken peers, this same humility toward doubt often eludes us. We are trained to argue, to persuade, to construct airtight positions, and to dismantle the reasoning of others. In this environment, we are naturally drawn to the attitude of being right. There is comfort in certainty; it offers a sense of control, narrows ambiguity, and affirms our competence. But to believe one is certainly right, by implication, is to believe that all other perspectives are either wrong or unworthy of serious consideration.

This perspective, however, becomes dangerously reductive when applied to our first impressions of each other. Our assumptions about another’s intelligence, background, political beliefs, or emotional temperament can solidify into a rigid paradigm that leaves no space for edification. Edification, which is the instruction or improvement of a person morally or intellectually, is integral to the human experience because it allows us to relate to one another. In a framework that disregards the importance of edification, we interpret one another through the distorted lens of stereotypes, bigotry, and bias, stripping away the nuances that make each individual their own. The consequence is a campus devoid of genuine connection. The possibility of friendship, understanding, and mutual growth between each law student, each human being, ceases to exist.

To exemplify this perspective, imagine the following:

You pass a classmate who once offered a harsh, seemingly detached opinion during a constitutional law discussion, an opinion that struck at the heart of something you care deeply about. Without even realizing it, you’ve already cast them within a particular narrative: conservative, unfeeling, maybe even antagonistic to your values. You exchange a nod, perhaps a tight-lipped smile, but no words. Maybe, you stare blankly ahead instead. Further, you do not ask how they’re doing. You do not sit beside them in class. And in turn, you never learn that this same classmate spent their summer assisting at a nonprofit immigration organization, or that they too carry the weight of displacement in their family history. They could also simply share a common interest in a specific topic, activity, or any other aspect of life. Nevertheless, the moment passes quietly, but so does the possibility of relation. Here, the silence becomes more than absence; it becomes a choice. As everything, including inaction, is a choice. 

In the aforementioned scenario, silence is an intentional decision to remain closed, hardened by the comfort of being right. And while this example may seem small, limited to the everyday interactions we experience as law students, the mindset it reflects echoes far beyond our campus. 

Therefore, as a counter movement to the spread and intensification of this pervasive,  self-assuring perspective, I offer a simpler, healthier thought process, one revitalized by the quiet courage of entertaining the possibility of being wrong. In doing so, we begin to edify ourselves, recognizing that the concept of Justice itself, along with the laws that govern us and the morals we cling to, are shaped, and often distorted, by human fallibility. 

EXPLORING THE POSSIBILITY OF BEING WRONG: A METHOD TO LOVING THY PEER

History offers proof that exploring the possibility of being wrong can lead to the edification of not only individuals, but entire societies. Consider the era of Jim Crow in the United States, when racial segregation and disenfranchisement were not only legal but widely believed to be morally justified by those in power. Courts upheld these injustices, churches preached them, and communities enforced them, all under the conviction that such a way of life was right. Even extreme attempts were made to justify this belief, as pseudoscience’s like phrenology emerged to argue, falsely and grotesquely, that Black people were biologically inferior to the rest of mankind.

These ideas were not fringe but widely accepted, taught, and used to shape public policy. Yet it was only through the courage of those who questioned that so-called moral consensus, including civil rights leaders, student activists, and other inspired individuals willing to doubt the dominant narrative and earnestly explore the possibility that society was wrong in its current state, that meaningful change began. From this exploration, these individuals helped usher society into a modern enlightenment, one that influenced people of every race to reflect on their own ideologies and to consider the possibility that they might be wrong about how they perceived one another. Essentially, society was given a path to edify itself by embracing a way of loving one’s peer, where love, nonviolence, and the courage to see one’s adversary as a fellow human being became instruments not only of resistance but also of self-transformation.

So, in exploring the possibility of being wrong before the other, one must allow their whole being to appropriate this recognition. What does this look like? In reference to the scenario with the student offered earlier, rather than silently judging a classmate based on one opinion, the student might choose to question their assumptions in a sincere moment of reflection. In doing so, ungrounded judgments about the person’s nature are dismantled. Subsequently, by offering a genuine greeting or showing interest in their peer’s experiences, the student practices a form of love grounded in humility and openness. This act of love dissolves barriers, invites empathy, and uncovers the deeper humanity that assumptions so often conceal. Thus, by exploring the possibility of being wrong, we create and open ourselves to a method of truly loving our peers.

Personally, coming from South Florida all the way to Boston, I’ve found myself repeatedly proven wrong about the assumptions I’ve made about others. What I thought I knew about someone’s background, values, or personality was often overturned by a simple conversation or shared experience. These moments have humbled me and, more importantly, edified me. They’ve shaped me into someone more sensible, more open, and more willing to approach my peers with curiosity rather than certainty. The diversity of personalities, values, and histories I’ve encountered, many of which I could never have anticipated, has taught me that the most loving thing I can do is remain open to the possibility of being wrong, and when life presents the opportunity, to explore that possibility fully, with the full appropriation of my body through both thought and action.

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Staniel Brutis is a rising third-year student at BC Law. Contact him at brutis@bc.edu.