Inherent rot

MUSINGS

Goodness is a horribly hollow word, you know. Every human being we call good is simply a person who is not bad.

Is there no difference between not being evil and being good? There is, but we have chosen to ignore the alternatives human beings have to being evil, and so we believe that man has two states: being evil, and being good (with good being the absence of evil).

This is not a sad state of affairs: it is a stupid one. It is like saying only two colours exist in this world, and that one is black, and the other is all but. That there are only two creations of God: human, and not.

There are several alternatives a man has to being evil. Being a coward, for instance. Or being too lazy. Most men are either too afraid or too lethargic to test the limits of their moral scale. They are either too afraid of the consequences of crime, or the bother of committing it, and so they “choose to be good”. There is no nobility to their intentions and no honour behind their choice. They simply choose an easier way of life, which is the way of not being evil. Does this make them good?

Most would say it does, but I honestly cannot agree. How can good simply be the absence of evil? And if goodness is only the absence of evil, and if piety is only the absence of sin, then why have we not been told to wrap our eyes and stuff our ears and stumble through life as best as we can, looking away from all that is wrong around us?

That we are not committing the wrongs, after all, is the only thing that ought to concern us.

Let others commit evil, and they will face retribution at the hands of gods earthly or divine. Why should we become a part of an equation containing evil? Isn’t goodness, the complete absence of it? And doesn’t abstinence from evil mean staying as far from it as we can?

If that is incorrect, and if goodness is something more than the absence of evil, then what is it?

Is it actively working against evil, and dirtying your own hands? Is it standing between the wrongdoer and his victim, and risk having to choose between either of their lives? What is a good man’s choice if he is encountered with the choice of the greater evil of letting evil do its work, and the lesser evil of taking from it its ability to do anything at all?

People often tell me I am good, but I find it hard to believe them because I live inside me, and only I can know what it means to live inside me, and I believe firmly that if I could turn myself inside out, if people who call me good could see what I am on the inside, how I think, and who I am, they would never even stray near me again.

This conviction of mine gives rise to another worry; what if all good people are like this? What if all of those ideals we have strung up on high pedestals in books and on screens and canvases are actually as hideous as I am? Does this mean there is no good at all in this world? That humans are divided into the bad and the less bad?

That is a terrifying thought, because it means that not only is there no good in this world, but also that all men are chameleons who hide their reality inside them as they parade around the world showing humanity the right way.

And then, another thought often occurs to me; if not all good people are like me, then am I the chameleon? Am I a particularly good liar, a born pretender, that nobody has seen through me yet? Do they not see that my goodness is forced, that my evil is suppressed with great difficulty and that it is always ready to jump out at the first opportunity, while my goodness has to be lured from whatever hiding place it has found for itself in the ruins of soul inside me, and it has to be led carefully to the outside so that it can be put on exhibition, sometimes for the benefit of others, and sometimes, that of my own?

I have started hating myself recently, because I fancy that I have gained the ability to look upon myself as an outsider while simultaneously retaining the ability to understand myself. It is a terrible combination; being able to see through your own pretensions to knowledge, to talent, to kindness and compassion with the unsympathetic eyes of an outsider is a fearsome thing. It is like having your judge reside inside you, his gavel continually banging against the inside of your skull, passing judgement upon your speedily blackening soul.

The best thing about creating lies on paper is the ability to step into the shoes of flawless men who live by their values, who do not pretend, who do not cheat, or lie, who do not pass by evil in silence but fight against it, and who are able to make difficult choices without their conscience turning upon itself.

The best thing about my lies is that they are white, and soothing, and in them, all has lately started to end well.