When I was much younger (which of necessity was a long, long time ago) these values and their importance were drummed into my impressionable skull by a vast array of the minions of the state from parents, grandparents, school, church and children’s literature. This brainwashing was both overt and covert but as an outcome of this indoctrination I was palpably honest, told the truth and accepted responsibilities for my actions. At least I tried, as I suspect that there may have been more than one moment of moral equivocation. But if I did err and stray from the way like a lost sheep I certainly felt bad about it because I knew that I had been really bad. In one or two cases I still burn with shame at my moral turpitude which seemed to generally revolve around girls in my teenage years.
It didn’t occur to me that the preachers of this old-fashioned morality may have been in regard to their own actions been ‘economical with the truth’ - that wonderful phrase originating from the liars’ liar Richard M. Nixon. Slowly it dawned on me that truth, honesty and responsibility were middle class concepts that were cheerfully ignored by the bookends of the so-called upper and lower classes through acts of minor and major larceny, sexual profligacy and control of the press.
As I may have alluded to somewhere in the past I was somewhat of a troublesome youth at secondary school; a devious miscreant whose primary objective in my later school years was to break every rule in Christ College’s twenty-eight page densely written rule book at least once every term. Given that the rules were painted with a broad brush across every phase of adolescent existence this was not the challenge you might think. Just by attempting the normal adolescent’s life you broke at least half as just about every possible pleasurable action was ruled out. But I was scrupulously honest owing up when my impish actions were noticed. Partly this was because I didn’t want another lad blamed for what I had done but often because I wanted to take credit for the occasional spectacular prank.
The school was determinedly old-fashioned in its approach to discipline and punishment which meant that whilst physical maiming was outlawed, and the heads of new boys were no longer displayed on the spikes on the school walls, I was usually caned or strapped with occasionally spectacular enthusiasm - I think I even got the obligatory “This is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you.” It didn’t of course. But there were times when my honesty and candour led to my almost being forgiven, a forgiveness that soon vanished when I demonstrated a startling lack of contrition. How could one be contrite when one was going to do it again?
Actually to call the school merely ‘old-fashioned’ is to diminish the colourful robustness of an institution which was firmly anchored on the bedrock of the 19th century, a period in which most of the masters were raised in the best of Dickensian, Victorian and Gladstonian traditions of cold showers, ancient gowned masters, ‘fags’ and freezing stone cloisters.
It all finished one year when they told me not to come back - which for some reason vaguely shocked me but which for them must have had some simple wonderful and undeniable logic. No more Rudd minor! Fewer problems and better sleep for all. No more wondering if all the desk lids had been unscrewed again. Send the lad to art school and let him get over it.
Despite these and other minor unruly moments I currently look around feeling like a Pilgrim progressing through the wrong book. Instead of the Slough of Despond, the Hill of Difficulty and Vanity Fair, I find my self confronting the Murdoch Press, Australian politics 101 and Reality Television. The latter which of course isn’t. All around a see a confederation of card sharps, flimflam men, confidence tricksters and human moral and ethical vacuums.
What I find incredible is the ability to lie on the grandest scale, deny one has lied and keep on spitting ‘porkies’ with a straight face. I would like to think that the present Prime Minister is the most egregious example of this unworthy ability but then you look at the financial planning industry, property developers, the energy industry, professional sportsmen, and almost everybody who is trying to sell you something. Including those salesmen and women of eternal life and heavenly bliss that only require you to give them your money, destroy the art of the past, or merely cover-up decades of child abuse.
A pox on them all.
The only group that one can have any faith is the scientific community where the search for truth is relentless harsh and unforgiving. And therefore inconvenient when it comes to fact like climate change. Everything is examined and tested for falsity. Can this theory be disproved? Fraud, fakery, and falsehood eventually get caught out. There are no canals on Mars just as there is no Father Christmas.
Science seems like a useful role model - but of course it is too difficult. We are, almost regrettably, all too human. We cannot abide too much reality. Or even truth, honesty or responsibility.