I have no way of knowing how people really feel, but the vast

Tucker Carlson once declared with candor: “I have no way of knowing how people really feel, but the vast majority of those I meet couldn’t be nicer. Every once in a while someone barks at me. My New Year’s resolution is not to bark back.” Though the words are spoken in a modern voice, their wisdom echoes with the weight of the ancients. They are about more than television, politics, or public life—they are about the timeless struggle between anger and restraint, between the urge to retaliate and the higher call to maintain one’s composure.

The meaning of this reflection lies first in the recognition of uncertainty: “I have no way of knowing how people really feel.” Here is humility, the admission that appearances may deceive and that hearts are hidden behind smiles and gestures. Yet rather than dwelling in suspicion, Carlson focuses on the goodness of most people, choosing to honor their kindness. Still, he acknowledges that at times, hostility bursts forth—someone “barks.” His resolution is not to mirror that hostility, but to break the chain of anger by refusing to bark back.

The origin of such wisdom can be traced to the ancient philosophies of self-control. The Stoics, especially Epictetus, taught that we cannot control the actions of others, only our response to them. To bark back at an insult is to surrender mastery of oneself. Carlson’s words, framed as a New Year’s resolution, echo this same lesson: to measure victory not by silencing one’s foes, but by mastering one’s own impulse to lash out.

History offers us vivid examples of this restraint. Consider Abraham Lincoln, who was often mocked and slandered in print by rivals. Instead of responding in rage, he would write letters of fiery rebuke—and then set them aside, never sending them. By refusing to “bark back,” he preserved his dignity and kept his focus on the greater task before him: the preservation of the Union. His greatness was magnified not only by his eloquence, but by his discipline of patience.

Yet there is also realism in Carlson’s words. He admits that insults and hostility do exist—that the world is not free of cruelty. His wisdom is not naïve optimism, but deliberate choosing of peace. To be barked at is to be provoked, but to remain silent, calm, and unmoved is to stand like a mountain against the wind. The resolution is not about weakness but about strength, the power to decide that one’s energy is too valuable to waste on barking contests with those who cannot be swayed.

The lesson for us all is clear: when insulted, mocked, or provoked, resist the instinct to retaliate in kind. Do not let anger dictate your actions. To “not bark back” is to keep your dignity, to conserve your energy for higher purposes, and to remind yourself that the measure of your character lies not in how you are treated, but in how you respond. The world is full of noise; wisdom lies in not adding to it.

Practical wisdom flows from this: when next you are provoked, pause before replying. Ask yourself, “Will this response elevate the moment, or will it drag me into the mud?” Often, silence or calm words disarm anger more powerfully than sharp retorts. Make it your own resolution to master your tongue, to hold back the bark, and to answer hostility with grace. For in doing so, you honor not only yourself but also the greater truth that peace begins with self-control.

So, children of tomorrow, carry this teaching forward: most you meet will be kind, but when hostility arises, choose not to return it. Do not bark back. For to mirror another’s anger is to be ruled by them, but to master your response is to walk the path of wisdom. In patience, in silence, and in restraint, you will find strength greater than any shout.