Boethius, The Consolation 1.19

. . . “This alone I would be willing to say: it is the last burden laid upon us by unkind fortune, that when any charge is invented to be fastened upon unhappy men, they are believed to have deserved all they have to bear.

“For kindness I have received persecutions. I have been driven from all my possessions, stripped of my honors, and stained forever in my reputation.

“I think I see the intoxication of joy in the sin-steeped dens of criminals. I see the most abandoned of men intent upon new and evil schemes of spying. I see honest men lying crushed with the fear that smites them after the result of my perilous case. Wicked men one and all are encouraged to dare every crime without fear of punishment, no, with hope of rewards for their accomplishment.

“The innocent I see robbed not merely of their peace and safety, but even of all chance of defending themselves. So then I may cry aloud: ” . . .

—from Book 1, Prose 4

What seems to make life so unbearable is not just our struggle of trying to do right, but also the consequence of being treated as if we were wrong. Human judgments will often have little to do with an honest consideration of merits, and will instead flow thoughtlessly from a conformity to popular opinion. Boethius finds himself condemned by a tyranny of appearances, unable to offer any defense against the force of presumption.

How many of us have read a news story, and immediately believed everything we read? How often do we agree with whatever our friends have to say, nodding our heads to feel like a part of the group? How easy is it for us to merely accept something because it is convenient, instead of taking the effort to consider it from a different point of view?

I can appreciate how Boethius describes the intoxicating effect of evil; we might also add that it can be infectious. We have surely all seen what happens to a crowd when a clever orator has grabbed our attention. The words sound so delicious, regardless of whether they are true. We are pulled in by our passions, even as sober understanding lags behind. We look around us, we see others increasingly excited, and we are sucked into a sort of critical mass, where individual judgment has surrendered to the feeding frenzy of the herd.

The triumph of an evil deed sends mighty waves outwards into the world around us, inspiring others to join in, to gain their own leverage as quickly as they can, to grab their own piece of the spoils. Meanwhile, those who have resisted the fever will cower in terror, seeing how the power of the mob will keep anyone from protecting them.

I once was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and saw a convenience store being robbed. One man pulled a gun, and the clerk obediently opened the cash register for him. What struck me the most, however, was how many people in the store immediately took the opportunity to grab as many items from the shelves as they could, and ran out the door. They allowed the greed in one man to awaken their own greed.

I had the sudden idea of taking a 40 oz. of malt liquor, sitting in the cooler right next to me, and rushing up behind the fellow, smashing him in the head. I didn’t do it, because I was a coward of convenience at that moment, not so much better than the thieves of convenience at that moment.

I was still living in Boston, and still working for the Church, when the priest sex abuse scandal became public knowledge. Many of us had seen it going on for years, but those who spoke out were swiftly cast down. Then the whole scheme unraveled, and there was a sigh of relief. Perhaps there could finally be some justice.

Indeed, it was gratifying to see some of the wrongs righted. Yet at the same time, I saw how the response to one wrong was grotesquely transformed into a whole new set of wrongs. Some of those I knew to have been guilty, by action or inaction, because I had seen it with my own eyes, jumped on the bandwagon, and completely avoided any blame. Others took advantage of the situation by accusing those who were innocent to make a profit for themselves.

Such situations are hardly uncommon, where we use the sins of others as a cover for our own. Something wrong perversely becomes right, and we are even rewarded for our vices, because there are too few people left to hold the line. Unpleasant truths are smothered by the popularity of comforting lies.

Boethius has gone on for some time here, but we must always keep in mind the essence of his agony: why does wickedness grow stronger by being rewarded, and why does righteousness grow weaker by being punished? Why does it seem that people don’t often become intoxicated and infected by compassion?

Written in 6/2015