The Ethics of Me and Me

I promised myself that I’d write today. 

So, I’m going to focus on the brain pimple that’s been growing steadily in my head over the last few months.  Simply put, I’ve been thinking about personal ethical codes and integrity.

How important are they?

I think it’s a question a man needs to ask himself every five to ten years.  Situations change.  Values change.  People change.   What happens to your scruples?

I’ve often imagined the conversation that I’d have with perhaps a younger version of myself.  I know that I’m not the young man that I used to be.  He was a republican.  He had a very different idea about religion and spirituality than what I currently have.  Ronald Reagan was the best president we were ever going to know.  Democrats were a bunch of bleeding hearts who didn’t know anything about anything.  When I think about what I was like in 1986 or 1990, I remember a man whose compassion was limited to his family and friends.  Anyone outside of that circle was really out of scope.  He was centered around personal power and materialism.  Each day was a day to essentially “get through” with no thought to the future.  Shallow.  Inconsiderate.  Manipulative.

He was an idiot.

What’s worse is that he’d probably look at me, who I am today, as a whining liberal.  Well, nowadays, I’m a reader.  My younger self was not.  Actually, that’s wrong.  He read, but he read things like Warren Murphy’s “The Destroyer” series.  And while that to this day is a source of guilty pleasure, these days I read things that are more self-improving.

The common ground that we share is that we both knew when to take a stand.  We knew what was important to us and to act accordingly.  We both knew when to say, “That’s wrong!”  And with that exclamation we’d act.
The funny part now is that we would both disagree about what would constitute as “wrong”.   Back then, I’d know that stealing was wrong.  Today, I’d contemplate the concept of whether it was wrong for a man to steal a loaf of bread to feed his starving family.  There are extenuating circumstances with every situation.

I envision my conversation with myself about say marijuana going like this:

“Is smoking marijuana wrong?”  Present me asks.
“Yes, it is.  It slows down the mind,” Past me answers.  “Drugs are bad.”
“What if I told you that they weren’t?  That used responsibly, by adults, they wouldn’t really have any long term effect.”
“Show me the study.”
“I could show you one study held by Fiorello LaGuardia done in the forties that says they aren’t permanent.”
“Hey, if you want to be an old hippie pot-head, go right ahead.”
“What if I told you that cancer patients will use marijuana to not only combat the nausea associated with those treatments, but it would also help them eat again?   Would it be wrong then?”
“Yes.”
“What if they were terminal?  What if the marijuana they were ingesting were grown legally in this country specifically for them?  What if I told you that it relieved the symptoms of glaucoma for the elderly?  Would it still be bad?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because people need to keep their senses about them.  They’d be addicted.”
“Apparently, it’s not really addictive in the physical sense.  In actuality, alcohol – like the beer you drank last night – is more addictive and damaging than marijuana is.”
My younger self scratches his head for a moment.  “There is no way that’s true.”
“What if I told you that it helped ease the effects of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder?”
“What’s that?”
“Right, you don’t know about that.”  My older self thinks for a moment for an example that my younger self would understand.  “Remember Howard Hughes?”
“Yeah, He was a crazy hermit billionaire who grew his toenails three feet long.”
“He suffered from OCD.  What’s more, I know you have no idea of the technical advances he was responsible for in his lifetime… Because you’re an idiot.”
“I’m not an idiot.  And you’re fat.”
“I can diet.  You’ll still be stupid.  That is, until you read a few books and become me.  More exists in this world than what you can watch on television.”
“Whatever.”
“What’s your view on religion?”
“I don’t believe in the Bible.  Just the things that Jesus said.  Church is just stupid.”
“I’m not going to disagree with you.  But I will say this: Church does have some value.”
“How?  It bores me to tears and I can’t focus long enough on what the priest says to remember it.”
“That’s because you have ADD.”
“ADD?  I can add.”
My older self sighs.  “Attention Deficit Disorder.  You have it in a big way.  Not your fault.  That’s why you daydream.”
“What was that middle part again?”
“Never mind,” My older self closes his eyes briefly.  “Let’s get back on topic.  What if I told you that the very concept of church was to bring people together once a week?  What if a church goer were in serious trouble?  What if his family were starving and he needed help?  Where would he turn?”
“To his family.”
“Or to the people he managed to contact in his weekly community meeting… aka Church.”
“Okay.”
“But you’re right in one sense.  Most of the stuff you hear in the sermon is crap.  When you get past the 30 minutes of spiritual PR and the parables written for an audience from two to five millennia ago what you have left is a time and a ritual that comforts people and gives them a sense that there’s some order in this universe.”
“But there is order in the universe.”
“Is there?  I don’t know if there is.”
“Of course there is.  There is justice.  There is fair play.”
My older self closes his eyes briefly and shakes his head.  “I hope you’re right.  You see?  There is something you have now that I don’t.  You have faith.  You have a rock hard belief that everything will turn out right.  That the good will always end up okay.  That eventually the bad people will be punished.  And from your perspective and experience, you have no reason to doubt that.  The world is more complex than you believe.”
“Is this what I become?  A condescending, jaded, bastard?”
“Easy there, bub.  You’ve already got a jump on the condescending part.  You’ve even got a bit of the bastard part.  The jaded part you have yet to experience.  And, trust me, you will experience it.  I’ve just got about two decades of experience to master the jaded, bastard part.  I’ve seen and done more evil than you’ll ever think of.  You have much to learn, young padawan.”
“What the hell is a padawan?”
“It’s from Star Wars.”
“No, it isn’t.  I saw all three movies.”
“Right,” my older self grins.  “You’ve just proved my point.  I don’t want to spoil anything for you.”
“I’ve got all three movies on VHS.”
“I’ll bet you do,” my older self says while doing his best to stifle a laugh.  “Oh, and you might want to stop buying tapes about now.”
“That’s easy for you to say.  I’ve got sixty Star Trek episodes on tape.  I’ve almost got all of them.”
“Let’s get back on topic.  What do you know about Buddhism?”
“Other than he was a laughing fat man?  Not that much.”
My older self feels a small vein in his forehead throb, “Right.  You should know that there are other ways to view the universe.  However, I’m not sure you should know about them right now.  What I will tell you is that everything you like about your religion, Buddhism embraces.  You should think some more.”
“You talk about devil worship.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Anything that is not God is of the Devil.”
“Where the hell did you pick that crap up from?”
“Stuff I read in high school.  It was a book about a Satan worshipper who turned Christian.”
“I’ll bet it was,” my older self says with a bit of a growl. “Of all the things you decided to read, you read that garbage.”
 “Yup.”
My older self starts gearing up for a rant and then takes a deep breath.  “Okay, let’s go this way.”  Each word spoken by my older self is made in a short staccato burst.  “Do you know the ten commandments by heart?”
“I think so.”
“No, you don’t.  You may think you do, but you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“What’s the first one?”
“Thou shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Close but no cigar.  Try: ‘I am the LORD your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, from the house of slavery. You shall have no other gods in My presence...’.  Know the second?”
My younger self shifts uneasily, “No.”
“I’m not surprised.  It’s "Do not make an image or any likeness of what is in the heavens above..."  Also, he proclaims that he’s a jealous God.  What you actually said before is closer to the third commandment.  ‘Do not swear falsely by the name of the LORD...’”
“If you come close to making a point, you should make it.”
“The first three commandments have a lot to do with God’s PR and that to deviate from him is disaster.  To sum up.  One, no other gods.  Two, don’t worship idols, because I’m jealous.  And, three, no blasphemy.   Meaning, ‘watch your mouth with the God stuff.’  All public relations.  This is the Bible saying, ‘This is the stick.’”
“Okay.”
“What’s the fourth one?”
“Honor your father and mother.”
“No, that’s five.  I’ll paraphrase.  ‘Keep the sabbath holy.’  In the Hebrew version, it means to not do anything on the weekend.  For you, it means to go to Church on Sunday.  Every Sunday.  Without exception.”
“That’s just stupid.”
“That’s PR.”
“I remember that as being one of the stupid ones.  That and jerking off are mortal sins.  Mess up with that one and you go to hell.”
“Yeah, and disobey your alcoholic, sexually abusive parent and you also go to hell.  How about number six?”
“Don’t kill?”
“Good.  Killing is bad.  Unless of course, you become a hired hit man for the Pope during the Crusades.  Then it’s okay to kill non-Christians.”
“Whatever.”
“What do you mean, ‘whatever’?  Killing is bad.  End of discussion.  How about number seven?”
“Don’t steal.”
“That’s number eight.  Number seven is adultery.  Which is bad.  Don’t screw someone else’s wife.  That’s part of the Bro Code.”
“The what?”
“Even you should know the Bro Code.  Okay, let me rephrase.  Is it okay to sleep with your best friend’s girl friend or wife?”
“No, of course not.”
“Bro Code – short for “Brother man” Code.  Get it?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.  We both agree that cheating is bad, right?  Don’t cheat on your wife and don’t sleep with some other guy’s wife.  You should be glad that I took that with me.”
“Sure.”
“Because, in the future, we’re married.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“But who do we…”
“I’ve said too much already.  Let’s move on.  Yeah, Don’t steal.  That’s bad.  There are people who would say that stealing anything is bad and  you’ll go to hell.”
“Well, it is.”
“Really?  Got a pen?”
“Sure, what do you need it for?”
“You buy this pen?”
“No, I… um… well.”
“I rest my case.  Number nine?”
“No lying.”
“Not really.  It’s actually that you should not bear false witness against your neighbor.  It’s not really lying.  It’s more about perjury.  Meaning, if we were to go by the letter of the law, lying is fine.  Just don’t do it in court.  Number ten?”
“Something about coveting.”
“Yeah that’s another stupid one.  Don’t covet your neighbor’s wife.  Which means to not even begin the process of adultery – which is forbidden anyway.   Some interpretations are to not covet at all or to not covet your neighbor’s goods.  Which, incidentally, Mister Conservative, the entire capitalistic system and marketing premises is based on… drum roll, please…. COVETING!!”
“Why do you say that?”
“Watch a commercial, any commercial.  It’s keeping up with the Joneses.  You want something that you’re buddy bought.  So instead of stealing it, you desire it and buy one for yourself.  But you don’t buy it because you came up with the idea all by yourself.  You bought it because you wanted what your buddy has.  That seed of desire came when you saw what he has.  And this could be his car, his wife, his house, or even his blender.  Coveting: It’s the American Way.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Hey, you were the marketing major.  But let’s get back to what you said before – that nonsense about not being of God means that it’s the Devil.  By this reckoning, you’re already a devil worshipper because these Christian people deal in absolutes.  If you don’t follow the big ten, does that make you a bad person?  No, it doesn’t.  That’s why you’re a Catholic.  If you step too far out of line, you’ll go to confession and do a penance.”
“Yeah, I just hate that booth.”
“Some churches don’t do the booth.  Which is worse?”
“No booth.”
“Yeah, I remember liking the anonymity of the booth.  Looking the priest in the eye was a bit unnerving.  How about trying this?  Live a life of compassion.  Don’t hurt anyone or steal from them.  And follow the Bro Code.  How does that sound?”
“I like it.”

I’d like to think that a conversation between young me and old me would go like that.  I’d like to think that he’d have a good sense of humor about it.  I think he’d be a little more uptight than how I just portrayed him.  But there was a lot at play going on when I was a young man.