The Uncomfortable Mirror, Part 3: The Deception of Immunity

by: Stephen Palmer Wednesday, March 24th, 2010

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This is part 3 of a 5-part article.

Read Part 1 Here
Read Part 2 Here
Read Part 4 Here
Read Part 5 Here

Two Forms of Self-Deception

We must learn to view history as we view a mirror, with conscious awareness that as we look at people like Caligula, Nero, Stalin, and Hitler we are looking at ourselves.

Of course, this is also true of people like Joan of Arc, Cicero, Epictetus and George Washington; our lives and our potential are reflections of the best and the worst of humanity.

mansittingontraintracks 300x199 The Uncomfortable Mirror, Part 3: The Deception of Immunity It is imperative that we recognize that self-deception is manifested by two opposite tendencies, although they are two sides of the same coin.

The first form of self-deception is not believing that each of us has the potential for committing the most inhumane and evil atrocities: the “deception of immunity.”

But the second, and perhaps the more destructive because of its subtlety, way that we deceive ourselves is thinking that we are not capable of becoming a Washington or a Joan of Arc.

This is the “deception of inferiority.”

The Deception of Immunity

The danger of this deception is two-fold. The first danger is that it leads to a relaxation of discipline in the minds of naive–although good-intentioned–individuals.

The second danger is that it can lead to extreme hypocrisy and self-righteousness.

Exterminating immoral tendencies and desires and cultivating divinity is a full-time duty that requires discipline, vigilance and, above all, conscious awareness.

No matter how enlightened and praiseworthy our backgrounds may be or how pure we may be, it is imperative that we recognize that every single one of us is just a few choices away from perversion and destruction.

We find a perfect example of this in David from the Bible, the prophet and king who gave into temptation and fell from glory.

Although called of God and having led an exemplary life, David’s “Achilles’ heel” was perhaps the failure to recognize his own capacity for evil, and this failure led to a relaxation in his discipline.

Many good people are also callow and naive, and social leaders must never fall for this trap.

A social leader’s simplicity must be matured through the depths of complexity, which complexity comes from studying and understanding human nature, using history as the methodology.

The beauty of having access to history is that we don’t have to allow the evil that is in us to erupt and emerge in order for us to understand it; we can study the mistakes of other men and women to gain insight into our own evil tendencies.

We don’t have to murder or to rape to see the killer and rapist inside of ourselves; we have plenty examples from the mirror of history to help us to see our evil natures in order to avoid evil choices.

People who deny their capability for destruction also tend to be self-righteous and hypocritical.

Their condemnation of the evil in other people is usually pride and comparison-based, and meant more to highlight and glorify their own righteousness than it is to condemn the evil.

They criticize others while failing to realize that the only criticisms we have of others are for things that we see and dislike in ourselves, whether consciously or subconsciously.

Those who are the most untrusting are the most untrustworthy. Those who are the most disrespectful are those who respect themselves the least.

It is ironic to find countless atrocities committed in history by hypocritical individuals overzealous for truth.

The Crusades during the Dark Ages are a perfect example of this. One wonders how many people have been tortured, raped and murdered in the name of God and for the supposed cause of “righteousness.”

When we’re deceived into thinking that we are more righteous and/or less evil than others, we find, in our self-perceived purity, justification to do anything necessary to “enlighten” the “barbarians.”

“Why do people behave so unreasonably?” asked Leo Tolstoy. “Because,” said Tolstoy, “from long continued deception, they no longer see the connection between their bondage and their own share in the deeds of violence.”

The truth is that, deep down, nobody ever does something to another person; every evil act we commit towards another person is really directed, at a subconscious level, at ourselves.

We only hate and destroy other people because we hate the destruction that we sense in ourselves; we may physically beat others, but in doing so we are psychologically beating ourselves in a violently misguided effort to get rid of our evil.

But, as Socrates wisely said:

“If you think that by killing men you can prevent someone from censuring your evil lives, you are mistaken; that is not a way of escape which is either possible or honorable; the easiest and the noblest way is not to be disabling others, but to be improving yourselves.”

This concept, as I am describing it, may seem overly dramatic and removed from reality to those who have never been physically violent toward another person.

But violence toward others need not manifest itself physically; the concept of which I speak is manifested in every derogatory word, every criticism, every harsh thought that we ever have for others.

In other words, our misdeeds—as compared with those of the Crusaders—are not a difference in kind; they are merely a difference in degree.

We must never make the mistake of thinking that we are immune from destructive tendencies and desires.

Every single human being has the capacity for committing the most violent and evil atrocities upon his fellow man.

By recognizing and accepting this we are able to develop more discipline and vigilance, and we are also able to avoid hypocrisy and self-righteousness.