The battleline between good and evil runs through the heart of every man. – Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
Evil. It’s an intimidating and frightening word. It is so scary that we often resort to less malevolent terminology: wrongdoing, misdeeds, or bad conduct. No matter the language, the concept is the same: we have done something that we shouldn’t, and it has had a negative or destructive impact on others and, in the long run, on ourselves.
We have all been victimized by it at some point. We have witnessed it. And we have been guilty of it. In our day-to-day lexicon, the word “evil” is accepted on our continuum that describes and evaluates human behavior. We refer to “good vs. evil.” We don’t say “good vs. not so good” or “good vs. inappropriate.” It is good vs. evil and we instinctively recognize it. Some behavior genuinely inflicts pain to others and ourselves. It’s called evil.
My average reader may give pause it this point. Conventional thinking may be something like this: “Nobody’s perfect and I’ve made mistakes, but I’m not evil.” Fair enough. Most “evil doers” are not fundamentally bad people. They have a conscience. Most of their activities do not harm others and generate some positive outcome for their families and the society in general. Those without a conscience, typically referred to as sociopaths, are not controlled by feelings of guilt or remorse. Those rare individuals are truly to be feared and avoided. The rest of us are left with the contradictory realization that, although we are not essentially bad or conscienceless, we nevertheless do some evil and genuinely harmful acts.
So, if the majority of our fellow humans have a conscience, are not evil to their core, and mostly engage in worthy activities, why is it that genuinely harmful and damaging behavior comes from us at times? I believe the answer lies in what preoccupies the “snowman:” our thought patterns.
In Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice, friends of the protagonist, Antonio, are pleading with the court to rescue their friend. He is about to be executed, under the letter of the law, for failing to repay a loan to his vengeful enemy, Shylock. Antonio’s friend and advocate, Bassanio begs the court “To do a great good, do a little wrong.” He asks that the court ignore the law and save their friend. As Shakespeare’s readers and playgoers, we invariably are hoping that Antonio is spared, even if in doing so, the letter of the law must be broken. As the fateful scene unfolds, we agree that the rules should be bent in order to achieve a perceived positive outcome.
Although both Antonio and the letter of the law are saved by Shakespeare’s clever plot twist, the reader has nevertheless been massaged into believing that “doing a little wrong” is okay under some situations. Can we look into our metaphorical mirror and claim that our moral equivocation and ethical detours will save a life? Obviously not.
How often do all of us engage in such sophistry? The taxpayer may rationalize, “Okay I fudged on my income tax, but I’m using the money to send my kids to college or pay for a nice vacation that the family deserves.” We lie about something, be it as small as calling in sick at work in order to “sleep in” to something as important as an infidelity or addiction relapse with the justification, “Why hurt someone else with the truth? No one else needs to know. I deserve the time off or the excitement or the buzz.” Once again, we obfuscate with the belief that the little lie actually spares the more important feelings of another, be it our boss, our spouse, or our 12- Step sponsor. Since we have a conscience, this train of thought doesn’t actually work, anymore than an aspirin cures a toothache. It just moves us along temporarily, leaving us dancing on the razor’s edge between truth and the justifying of a falsehood.
I’m guessing that I have few truly evil, sociopathic readers. I’m also surmising that most human beings have engaged in evil and shame-generating conduct. The last chapter of my book Dump the Neanderthal; Choose your Prime Mate is entitled “Do the Right Thing.” I elaborate the belief that most of us possess an internal compass that points us to truth, honesty, and right action. We need only give up the self-serving, but ultimately self-defeating, belief that we can do good by doing bad.
Homework: Listen to that inner voice and act accordingly.
The world is a dangerous place to live: not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don’t do anything about it. -Albert Einstein
Evil. It’s an intimidating and frightening word. It is so scary that we often resort to less malevolent terminology: wrongdoing, misdeeds, or bad conduct. No matter the language, the concept is the same: we have done something that we shouldn’t, and it has had a negative or destructive impact on others and, in the long run, on ourselves.
We have all been victimized by it at some point. We have witnessed it. And we have been guilty of it. In our day-to-day lexicon, the word “evil” is accepted on our continuum that describes and evaluates human behavior. We refer to “good vs. evil.” We don’t say “good vs. not so good” or “good vs. inappropriate.” It is good vs. evil and we instinctively recognize it. Some behavior genuinely inflicts pain to others and ourselves. It’s called evil.
My average reader may give pause it this point. Conventional thinking may be something like this: “Nobody’s perfect and I’ve made mistakes, but I’m not evil.” Fair enough. Most “evil doers” are not fundamentally bad people. They have a conscience. Most of their activities do not harm others and generate some positive outcome for their families and the society in general. Those without a conscience, typically referred to as sociopaths, are not controlled by feelings of guilt or remorse. Those rare individuals are truly to be feared and avoided. The rest of us are left with the contradictory realization that, although we are not essentially bad or conscienceless, we nevertheless do some evil and genuinely harmful acts.
So, if the majority of our fellow humans have a conscience, are not evil to their core, and mostly engage in worthy activities, why is it that genuinely harmful and damaging behavior comes from us at times? I believe the answer lies in what preoccupies the “snowman:” our thought patterns.
In Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice, friends of the protagonist, Antonio, are pleading with the court to rescue their friend. He is about to be executed, under the letter of the law, for failing to repay a loan to his vengeful enemy, Shylock. Antonio’s friend and advocate, Bassanio begs the court “To do a great good, do a little wrong.” He asks that the court ignore the law and save their friend. As Shakespeare’s readers and playgoers, we invariably are hoping that Antonio is spared, even if in doing so, the letter of the law must be broken. As the fateful scene unfolds, we agree that the rules should be bent in order to achieve a perceived positive outcome.
Although both Antonio and the letter of the law are saved by Shakespeare’s clever plot twist, the reader has nevertheless been massaged into believing that “doing a little wrong” is okay under some situations. Can we look into our metaphorical mirror and claim that our moral equivocation and ethical detours will save a life? Obviously not.
How often do all of us engage in such sophistry? The taxpayer may rationalize, “Okay I fudged on my income tax, but I’m using the money to send my kids to college or pay for a nice vacation that the family deserves.” We lie about something, be it as small as calling in sick at work in order to “sleep in” to something as important as an infidelity or addiction relapse with the justification, “Why hurt someone else with the truth? No one else needs to know. I deserve the time off or the excitement or the buzz.” Once again, we obfuscate with the belief that the little lie actually spares the more important feelings of another, be it our boss, our spouse, or our 12- Step sponsor. Since we have a conscience, this train of thought doesn’t actually work, anymore than an aspirin cures a toothache. It just moves us along temporarily, leaving us dancing on the razor’s edge between truth and the justifying of a falsehood.
I’m guessing that I have few truly evil, sociopathic readers. I’m also surmising that most human beings have engaged in evil and shame-generating conduct. The last chapter of my book Dump the Neanderthal; Choose your Prime Mate is entitled “Do the Right Thing.” I elaborate the belief that most of us possess an internal compass that points us to truth, honesty, and right action. We need only give up the self-serving, but ultimately self-defeating, belief that we can do good by doing bad.
Homework: Listen to that inner voice and act accordingly.
The world is a dangerous place to live: not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don’t do anything about it. -Albert Einstein