“There are times, sir, when men of good conscience cannot blindly follow orders.” ~ Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Star Trek
In the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, Captain Jack Sparrow zealously guards a broken compass, insisting that the compass will point the way to the holder’s true desires. We all know that’s not how compasses work, even magical ones, but it seems many are applying that faulty logic to decision-making these days. Positions are taken and decisions made based on what we want, for ourselves, period, as if we are the only ones who count in the equation (because, in our own minds, we’re right and most deserving, of course).
By definition, a moral compass is a set of internal beliefs about right and wrong that guides one’s decisions and actions. It’s based on our core values (which most of us can barely identify). Often, our moral compass is based on some kind of higher code, whether legal or spiritual. Think Star Trek’s Prime Directive: non-interference with other cultures and civilizations, even with good intentions. (I’ve got Star Trek on the brain this week because the very first episode aired on Sept. 8, 1966. The originals are still my favorites to watch.) In season after season, characters faced the dilemma of whether to violate the Prime Directive, and when they did, there was always hell to pay. Or at least an invasion of tribbles. Violating one’s moral compass comes with a cost, the kind you only find out about after the fact, when it’s too late to back out of the deal.
Consistently choosing the higher good is rarely a smooth road, either. Sometimes it’s easier to let people get away with bad behavior than it is to hold them accountable. Sometimes it’s easier to give ourselves a “pass” for our own misdeeds because we’re prone to justifying our own actions while simultaneously condemning others for theirs.
Watching people, especially those in positions of influence, perpetually get away with moral turpitude consequence-free has a negative effect on us individually and collectively. It’s like putting a rusty nail next to a compass, deflecting the needle away from true north. If they can misbehave and get away with it, the human ego reasons, then so can we. And that, dear readers, is how we end up with a busted moral compass that only shows us what we want to see.
We need to get rid of the rusty nails skewing the needle, and recalibrate to our core values, those lofty ideals that time after time drag humanity back from the brink of self-destruction.
