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When asked to describe myself, I quickly come to
the traits of honesty and integrity, personality traits to which I
hold myself with highest scrutiny.
My family has a long and powerful oral history, usually shared at the
dinner table or during childhood car rides. My dad did not 'lecture
us' about the importance of honesty and integrity, he only told
stories from his life, his childhood, growing up on the farm and
moving himself to the city. He told stories about the importance of
wealth, of honest wealth. He told stories about the importance of
honoring your commitments. He lived in a time of racial and ethnic
divides, where the weight of every institution was brought to bear to
keep 'this one' or 'that one' subservient to those of 'our kind' and
he constantly ran afoul of these informal institutions. Of course his
stories cut a thousand ways, but they all come back to my dad, living
a simple and honest life, honoring his commitments in marriage, to
his extended family, in real estate and business transactions, and to
his own children. He had a simple understanding of right and wrong,
and readily used every tool available to him to see that he did
whatever he could that right was done and wrong was put aside. I
honor him, quite simply, by acting as he did in those stories, in
everything I do every day.
But I am cursed, like Eve in the garden of Eden, from growing up in
enlightened times and cosmopolitan circumstances. Now we know about
"spare the rod" and the fallacies of "Dr Spock".
Knowledge about self-actualization, family roles, twelve step
programs bring freedom, yet responsibility. My dad, grew up on a farm
and remembers his dad getting his first Model-T. He enlisted and was
turned down a dozen times to fight the Germans (4-F from a childhood
farm injury). I grew up with a television set, a computer and now the
Internet. I bought my first house with 14% interest during the
Carter/OPEC years, and watched a dozen world leaders shot down before
my eyes. He lived in the era of the 'fireside chat' and I live in the
era of the 'spin doctor'. I know what the definition of "is"
is, but it is not simple, anymore, when you know right from wrong to
act upon it. The day of punching the bad guy is over. Now the bad guy
will buy your employer, raid its pension, lay you off, taint your
groundwater, file for bankruptcy protection, then laugh all the way
to the bank in his chartered jet full of paid-off politicians. It is
a difficult time to be an honest man.
My dad's favorite advice was this: "Brothers
stick together", and he imparted it to us with a voice directly
from his own depression era childhood. My dad was the third of a
family of eight but it was the fourth child, his little brother, that
was the center of his life. The yarns told at my childhood dinner
table were about the exploits of these two brothers, and it makes
perfect sense that when my father was finally blessed with two sons,
the first was given his own name, with a middle name for his younger
brother. The second son was named directly for that younger brother,
with his middle name for my dad. This way the adventures and
comradery from the previous generation lived on in their namesakes in
the next. My father had first his own brother and now his two sons,
that would "stick together". This cross-naming scheme
bonded these two sons to each other, laid the foundation for the
premise that 'brothers stick together', and fated them to fulfill the
promise that was cut short two decades before I was born.
You see my father's little brother, the one with whom both of his
sons share a name, had enlisted in the navy. Yes, he was present at
Pearl Harbor in December of 1941. He was stationed on the USS
Arizona, and he perished on that 'day of infamy' and his name, that
is reverently possessed by my two brothers, is etched into the marble
memorial over the sunken hull. The family institution of those two
names, that stern advice, even the possession of the purple heart
awarded to the original upon his death leave 'the brothers'
intertwined. A family institution was invented, where honestly
assessing the behavior of these later brothers, invokes the mythology
of the one original brother who is the closest thing our family has
to an honest to goodness hero. I was ten years old before I
understood that I was never actually going to meet the magical uncle
that was the first to carry the name given to my father's two sons,
the star or co-star of all of those stories that kept me spellbound
at the dinner table. I had truly wondered when he was going to come visit.
Another three decades later I found myself dumbstruck, at age 40, to
be told once again about the sacred bonds between
"brothers", finally realizing the implication, that I was
the third son, the one that had neither my father's nor his brother's
name. I was the son that was named for my "mother's family".
I was the son whose very birth represented a risk to the very life
of my mother, the mother of those three older children. The child
that the doctor had warned them not to have and that he lived in fear
of his loss. I was the last child, although my mother had wanted to
have an even six. I was the extra, not the 'brother' that is supposed
to 'stick together'. I sat at the restaurant, at age 40, and stared
open mouth when I finally heard what had been said hundreds or
thousands of times across dozens of years. No, Dave, the "other brothers".
I was, it seems, the son that was doomed at birth to be his own
friend, and his own protector. The one with the intellect and the
energy and the time to ask the questions and to listen to and
understand the answers.
So the odd one's out were my poor sister (the
first born), and myself (the last born). As I have already pointed
out, by the time I arrived all the good names were taken. Like any
last child, I was definitely treated differently by my parents then
the way they treated their first born daughter, and the two
'brothers' that came next (that, it seems, stuck together). I have
always been extremely smart, and like many smart children, uneager to
apply myself to tasks. I would always prefer to play a game than to
do honest chores. Regardless of the complexity of those invented
games, I am sure that as the quiet and thoughtful one I did not match
'the brothers'. I was nearly raised as an only child. My being
youngest, with extra unscheduled two years delay in my birth due to
mom's health problems, and the newfound wealth of my parents during
my teens (when compared to their struggling early years) due to
beneficial labor agreements, less mouths to feed at the table, and
the unanticipated decision by my next older brother to drop out of
school and live the life of drugs and bugs, working menial jobs and
sleeping in flophouses.
I was the recipient of numerous scholastic honors in school, showered
with a new-used car to drive myself to college while still only
sixteen and a senior in high school. I rushed through my academic
requirements, finding myself to be a college "junior" while
still too young to vote. Money was simply something that you asked
mom for, not what you earned by delivering papers on a cold and dark
winter morning before school. As the youngest, my parents saw to it
that life's daily machinations have always been that easy for me. I
have followed their lead and selected a career and a lifestyle that
have reflected that simplicity of physical need. Thus blessed, I have
been free to pursue the intellectual questions that everyone else in
my family puts off for a future time when the bills are all paid and
the cars are all running right.
There is a basic human belief that the people
you grow up with, the family you are born into, is 'normal'. Children
born to drunkards or migrant workers, bank robbers or circus gymnasts
will tell you that they had a "normal" childhood among a
"normal" family. Child psychologists drop their jaw to hear
a child describe the "normal sexual activity" that they are
having with an adult, because every child simply assumes the world in
which they live is "normal". It was dozens of years after I
left the house of my childhood that I learned that every child
considers their upbringing "normal", but only the few will
explore to understand it, and fewer still will take action to correct
their own personal flaws that resulted from it. Doing so is a
rigorous often exhausting mental and emotional exercise, that most
cannot or will not undertake.
In many movies, there is a character that is
described as the epitome of evil. Often it is a character
representing "Satan", sometimes it is the sleazy lawyer, or
the greedy businessman, or the cowboy badman devoid of a conscience.
(Do I remember that often this character is played by Bruce Dern?)
This "character" has no moral compass, and does not make
any distinction between right and wrong, truth or lie, integrity or
deceit, helpful or harmful, progressive or destructive. There is no
external yardstick and all actions are justified from a totally
narcissistic self-centered perspective. If something benefits them
personally, that is the only justification required for taking an
action. In short, there is no 'social contract', no 'conscience', no
sense of 'fair play' or for that matter recognition that laws or
rules even exist external to their moment to moment personal wishes.
Sometimes this character is a zombie or horror star, where they are
shot dead, then rise up again; their head is plunged by an ax, then
they return to strangle the hero or heroine. In the movie, this
character possesses the extreme power of refusing to play 'by the
rules'. Of course, 'the rules', developed over millennia, are what
have given man a society. It is the charismatic perverters of these
'rules' that stand out in history as mankind's saddest hours.
It is chilling to watch the movie with the 'corrupt cop', lacking a
moral compass and completely willing to abuse the trust projected
onto their institution by average citizens, to further their own
selfish, sometimes petty or self-flattering, ends. This "corrupt
cop" is seen polishing his badge and helping a little old lady
across a street, tipping his hat, babbling "Yes ma'am" and
"No ma'am" then lighting up when they see their favorite
target du jour. Sometimes the target is an innocent black man to a
southern sheriff. Sometimes it is a woman with professional ambitions
to a sexist willing to silently use coercive powers to frustrate her
earned progress. Sometimes its the 'All-American' street cop seeing
one-too many "long hairs". Sometimes it is the preppie
lawyer hanging out at the Harvard Club, willing to leverage and
pervert the honor of the decent people that precede him in that
profession to destroy with neither passion or pity the career of a
young lawyer that happens to come from a different background. Many
movies have such "pure evil" characters.
These movie characters easily and without remorse invoke the stature,
the history, and the prestige of their institutions; whether it be
the trustworthiness of policeman, the law, or Adam Smith's
self-interest in profit which has driven our country to unheralded
prosperity. They guiltlessly pervert their institution's authority to
their own selfish whimsey. But in the movies (unlike real life) the
audience gets to see this immoral agent take a fancy to destroy
somebody's career, find a hankering to physically harm another, or
choose to passively tear an innocent life to pieces, sometimes
through quiet misrepresentation other times with a bold and direct
false statement. Onlooking characters within the movie scene project
onto this immoral one the honesty, integrity, and prestige of the
institution that is missing in the man; be it the police, a
university, or a family member. "This story must be true. A
<fill in the blank> would never lie about such a thing. Nobody
could get to that position in that institution and not be worthy of
trust." Of course, the one unhindered by conscience easily plays
these third parties as dupes. He encourages trust in his institution
while acting out evil without remorse. This way, the poor victim of
his choosing is thus separated from any ally that might rise to his
aid. "Who are they going to believe? A policeman that said you
had drugs or a prostitute that said they were planted?" That
immoral perversion of the institution is nothing less then erosion at
the very underpinnings of man's society. It is the beginning of the
end for that institution, whether it be the police, big business, or
a family. So through this coercion of third parties, it becomes just
the evil one against his victim. It is what was meant by the
universal truth that for evil to win simply requires that the good do nothing.
Of course, to stand up against this evil, to
side with evil's victim, is to call down upon yourself the harm
already doled out directly (and usually with a little extra dose for
the original victim's new ally). Remember, it was not JUST black men
that were killed during America's racial reorganization in the
1960's. And how many corporate whistle blowers have been destroyed
financially, personally, or sometimes even physically for the simple
curse of having both a conscience and the moral necessity to act upon
it. Sure, it is easier to step aside, avoid a confrontation with the
perpetrator, avert your eyes and thank God it was not you singled out
as the victim (this time). The immoral one knows that avoidance is
easier for potential supporters of his victims, and usually starts by
simply making such supporters 'uncomfortable'. Of course, if
necessary, the sociopath easily escalates, shows no compunction about
bringing to bear the full weight of every weapon available to himself
against this moral man. Each white victim during the 1960's was first
"warned" to "leave things alone" and go back home
before they were beaten, or jailed on false charges, or raped, or
killed (by the corrupt people in leadership positions of those
cherished social institutions). As the immoral man hones his skill,
he doesn't need to use all his tools at once. Like a cattle prod, a
simple poke here and there, strategically timed and strategically
placed, is enough to gain compliance from his dupes and therefore
separate and single out his victim for undefended attack.
And the poor victim. By their very nature they are at a disadvantage
to the sociopath. If they are the original victim, they made some
original act (whether it be to express a certain opinion, wear a
certain style, make a certain choice, or simply be born a certain
way) to draw the attention and action of the immoral one. The victim
is usually timid, wishing only to live their life, to use their
intellect. It is after all a 'free country' (on paper). But the
immoral one, unilaterally and without the social rules that limit
moral citizens, easily punishes their chosen victim simply for the
crime of invoking their freedom, of speaking their mind, or wearing
their hair or clothes, of choosing who to associate with, of being
born into a certain family or birth order.
Everybody has seen the tired old western. The farmer has title to the
land, worked hard to clear it of rocks and weeds, toiled in the sun
to plant and tend a crop. But the rancher (or his hired gun)
unilaterally and self-centeredly decides that no such freedom, no
title, can override their own legal or illegal self-interest. But
while the farmer plays by the rules, the opponent has no moral
compass, feels no necessity to follow suit. They choose to ride at
night, use terror, threaten, coerce, even murder. In that movie,
nobody roots for the black-hatted terrorist. But in real life, just
like the fat sheriff in the movie, everybody finds it easier to
surrender a little piece of freedom, a little piece of personal
integrity, a little piece of their own morality, and simply look the
other way.
But pity the one cursed with a moral compass and
a backbone. The lone gunman, the 'honest man' hired to stand up to
the lawless desperados. This integrity of the honest man (Gary
Cooper? John Wayne?) drives him to action yet simultaneously denies
him the most powerful (evil) tools. Their own moral code prevents
them from shooting the other in the back (even though their opponent
would not bat an eyelash to do so to them). The honest man would
never think to amass a faceless gang of thugs to bushwhack his rival
(even after he is victimized this very way). The honest man, the
moral man, is compelled by his integrity to 'fight fair', to 'tell
the truth', to honor his own integrity all the while his opponent has
no such compunction, actually possesses no integrity or moral code to
even slow down his evil ways.
But the big difference is apparent between the downtrodden townsfolk
in the scene and the hooting and hollering movie audience. The
audience cheers the hero's courage. Nobody in the cinema ever roots
for the lawless and immoral sociopath. The audience applauds when the
honest man of integrity stands up for the downtrodden. He is their
hero. He reflects those traits of character that they themselves
either wish they possessed or flatter themselves that they do. But
look at the townsfolk in the scene. They are the true representation
of human nature. They are the ones begging to have the honest man
'not cause trouble', to 'not make things worse', to learn to 'just
live with' the self-centered lawless intruder. Those townsfolk don't
honor their hero, don't support him (sometimes they actually betray
him to the one who would guiltlessly profit from such a betrayal).
These meek townsfolk fear the honesty and courage of the moral man,
because he quickly comes to represent the traits that as a birthright
they once had, but by temperament or training have chose to forget,
have chose to deny and have chose instead to assume a position of
servitude to their charismatic oppressor. Of course, clutching for
any word to cloak their own personal shortcomings, their lips quickly
implore the preservation of "harmony" and the avoidance of "trouble".
And the sociopathic oppressor has a keen sense
of the leash that he keeps tightly on his dupes. It is not necessary
to constantly humiliate the fearful. Actually such callous disregard
serves only as a catalyst for the meek to find courage. It is best to
humor them, to laugh and entertain them, so long as they are
consistently subservient to his will. Of course, the weak honor
themselves (like Chamberlain claiming to find "peace in our
time" through appeasing Adolph Hitler). They flatter themselves
that they have "maintained harmony", and "reached
compromise", and dream themselves to be "peacemakers".
They feel free to nag and browbeat the honest man, confident
that his moral code will protect them from backlash; but would never
dare to implore their oppressor to change. They instinctively
sense that the sociopath, devoid of a moral code and unencumbered by
social convention, would guiltlessly cut their words and wishes to
pieces. They steer clear of their demon, and then demonize their
protector. Here again, integrity brings harm to the honest while
immorality is a shield to the evil.
That is the sad irony of human nature, to hurt the one that might
help you grow while fawning on the one that keeps you in a place of
servitude. Every charismatic madman has instinctively known and used
this fact. And within my own family, this same human drama, as old as
the bible, plays out again.
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