“It’s a bit early for that.”
That was a thought that popped into my head not long ago while I was out for a walk before work.
It was about 9am.
I noticed a man walking towards me. He was dressed a bit like me. He had a cigarette in one hand. As we passed, we said good morning to each other and I noticed he had a can of beer in the other hand.
Then that thought.
Almost immediately after that, my brain had a sharp word with itself.
Why on earth had I done that? Yes, it might have been 9am for me, but for him it could just as easily have been 9pm, that he was simply enjoying a stroll, unwinding from a long night shift – that it was, in fact, the end of his working day.
I realised that, on the basis of what I had seen (and nothing more), I’d made an assumption about him, perhaps that he had an issue with alcohol.
I’d been a bit grumpy with some folk over the previous couple of weeks because I’d witnessed them jump to conclusions about other people, conclusions I felt were possibly unfair.
I was cross with myself for doing exactly the same thing.
My own thought that morning and the things I’d heard others say in relation to people have been consistently on my mind for some weeks.
As I like to do, I’d reduced it to one word: Assumptions.
In various contexts, we need them. In my former world as a property disputes lawyer, they are frequently encountered in the valuation of real estate – when a lease rent is to be reviewed, for example.
However, I’ve been more concerned about them in a “human” context. But I was not sure why I was concerned about them, where my thinking was taking me or why I was trying to go anywhere at all with it.
My headline conclusion was that, in that “human” context, they deeply impact me in every one of the work roles I have: mediator, coach/mentor and director/governor. And in my personal life too, of course.
We constantly make assumptions about each other.
In my reflections over the last few weeks, I have asked myself whether these “human” assumptions are necessary? How good or bad are the assumptions I make?
These assumptions are often unspoken and rapidly formed. They can be the product of intuitive thinking, a topic Malcolm Gladwell discusses so well in “Blink: The power of thinking without thinking” (2005).
Such assumptions are deeply embedded in our social interaction. They arise from limited information and serve as cognitive shortcuts (or, heuristics) that allow people to navigate a complex social world.
The assumptions we make about others could be expectations regarding intentions, competence, morality, identity, or behaviour. We might assume, for example, that others will follow what we each consider to be basic social norms, that communications are meant sincerely, or that outward appearance conveys meaning about personality or status.
Some assumptions are structural and shared, such as assuming that strangers understand common ideas of politeness or law.
Others are personal or cultural, shaped by upbringing, past experience, stereotypes, and media. Importantly, these assumptions are rarely neutral: they often reflect power relations, social hierarchies, and historical patterns of inclusion and exclusion. They are very much affected by our respective cultures, in respect of which a lack of awareness can lead to serious misunderstandings (read Erin Meyer’s “The Culture Map” (2014) – it can help avoid or reduce those).
But assumptions can be efficient. Without them, everyday interaction would be slow and cognitively exhausting. Trusting that others generally mean what they say enables cooperation; assuming competence allows division of effort; assuming shared norms makes large-scale societies possible. Assumptions also provide a sense of predictability and safety, reducing uncertainty and anxiety in social encounters. In this sense, they are foundational to societal coordination, empathy and order.
The thing is, assumptions, despite the speed at which they are made, can frequently be correct. Gladwell illustrates that in Blink, as does Gert Gigerenzer in, for example, “The Intelligence of Intuition” (2023).
But assumptions can also carry huge risks. They can lead to misunderstanding, unfair judgment, offence, bias, prejudice and exclusion, particularly when assumptions harden into stereotypes. Assuming intent where there is none, or interpreting behaviour through biased expectations, can escalate conflict and reinforce inequality. They could even be illegal under laws like the Equality Act 2010.
Assumptions also limit curiosity: when people believe they already understand others, they are less likely to listen or revise their views. On an individual level, being misjudged can be alienating; on a societal level, widespread false assumptions can sustain injustice.
That impact on curiosity concerns me deeply. I worry about having a closed mind to something, or not noticing something important. Basically, making a mistake about someone or something they’ve said or done, or, of course, not said or done.
This might seem to trivialise this serious topic, but when I think about this particular aspect of assumptions, I often think of an episode of the US TV series CSI in which the team, led by Gil Grissom, have to investigate the death of a passenger on an aircraft. He was reported to have been behaving erratically and apparently attempting to open an aircraft door mid-flight. He was probably killed by passengers for reasons of perceived self-preservation. On that basis, they were not pursued. But there was a reason the passenger was probably behaving the way he was. What I particularly recall from the episode is Grissom’s anger that no one had paused to wonder why the passenger was behaving as he was, to consider that he might not have been a threat at all, and that he had lost his life as a result. [The episode was apparently influenced by areal-life incident on an aircraft.]
The reflections I’ve had, the concerns I feel, do not represent novel thinking on my part. Many have written about the issue in various contexts. I’ve already mentioned Gladwell and Gigerenzer, but you could easily also point to Daniel Kahneman, Nancy Kline, Brené Brown, Margaret Heffernan, Ellie Middleton and many others.
Just typing that list of names emphasises to me, at least, that in fact the concerns I have been noticing within myself are not new to me: that list is not just of names I’ve picked off the internet – I have read works by all of them over the last ten years.
When trying to explain to someone recently why I have spent so much time on books like that, I reduced it to something like this: I wanted or needed a manual of how to engage with others, how to interpret what they do or say, and how to behave or react myself.
But a problem I have had with all of that is that I found I tended to label people. For example, having learnt something about autism and ADHD, I then thought I saw that in others. With the help of others, particularly close family, I have had to unlearn that, and consciously engage or enjoy people as they are, adjusting my own thinking or behaviours to meet them on their terms, in their space.
So, where have I got to on the need, or not, for these human assumptions? Are they necessary?
In my view, to a large extent, yes. A complete suspension of assumptions is neither realistic nor desirable - we require heuristics to function socially. The problem is not that assumptions exist, but that they often go unexamined, uninterrogated. When assumptions are treated as facts rather than provisional interpretations, they become harmful. Conversely, when people remain aware that their assumptions may be incomplete or wrong, assumptions can coexist with openness and humility.
In the specific context of my working life and with serendipitous timing, in a post on LinkedIn in December 2025, Sam Ardery wrote about mediation and mediators(a key part of what I do):
“Mediators call themselves “neutrals,” and from the standpoint of not being a legal advocate for either side, that is true. From the perspective of thinking we can rise above the human condition and not be affected by primal human feelings, I think that is poppycock.
Mediators feel happiness, sadness, anger, fear, surprise, disgust, and contempt. Our job is to be as aware as possible and not use our natural human feelings to push an agenda. We will not always succeed.
Because we are human, we must commit to being hyper-aware of those feelings, own them, sometimes apologize for them, set them aside, and occasionally withdraw because of them.
A mediator who uses the term "neutrality" as a badge of honor should be very careful not to think that they are in some way better or above those other humans with whom they are working. We are all human in the best and worst ways that humans can be. Mediators are no exception.”
In the post, albeit in relation to the specific topic of mediator neutrality, Sam Ardery has nicely encapsulated and summed up what has been worrying me about the assumptions we make, the thoughts we think, that I make and think, and what one could or should do about them.
And where have I got to on this overall – at least for now?
The assumptions we humans make about one another are neither inherently good nor bad. They are unavoidable tools that enable social life, but they carry ethical responsibility. The challenge is not to eliminate assumptions, but to reflect on them, test them against reality, and remain willing to revise them. Used critically, assumptions can support cooperation; used uncritically, they risk entrenching misunderstanding and harm.
This will never be something we can tick off as “done”. We will get it wrong. But, for me, I hope just being aware of what is going on, the better the chance I have to achieve the neutrality I wish to work and live by.
© Jason Hunter
December 2025
