Questions that we can only answer under the firelight

“If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” (Rom. 12:18)

“For others, in spite of myself, from myself.” (Emmanuel Levinas) 

I recently received one of those beautiful letters from a friend that lifts your spirits and reminds you not only of the vital importance of friendship, but also that the world contains far more tender-hearted people than we might imagine. The letter, an email in truth, was sent to encourage me during this season of my journey. These wonderful words rich in compassion were to be understood as a sign of love and affection from a gentle and discerning soul. I reflected on this letter for some time and I have turned to it often, and to others of a similar humanity. What strikes me above all with such compassionate expressions of solidarity is something all of our true friends have in common, and this is not only the depth and elevation of their souls, but also their practice of giving others the “benefit of the doubt.” What is the benefit of the doubt? And what does it mean in the context of friendship but also in our broader communion with other people, or in other words, the Levinasian “Other”.

These oftentimes, life-giving words “the benefit of the doubt,” are, unless I am mistaken, a direct evolution from the legal principle “of reasonable doubt.” As flawed human beings ourselves we are severely limited to the truth, and could possess only a skewed perspective on reality. To give the benefit of the doubt will not rarely mean to dramatically change a life, to affect generations, and to even save a soul. It is to accept in ‘good faith’ that the other’s intentions were not malevolent or intended to cause harm, that whatever actions we might have misread as wrong were unintended or yes, even a mistake from a place of a momentary weakness or lapse of judgement. It is, of course, a lot easier for older souls to practise this precious charity on account of their familiarity of the human condition with all of its fragilities and contradictions. And the fact, that they too, have been the recipients of this grace, and are now paying it forward. One of the more significant reasons why this grace is withheld is its closeness to the ideal of forgiveness. Ordinarily, it can be difficult to distinguish between the two, though forgiveness is typically much harder, since it involves a reciprocal movement of humility and self-knowledge.

The benefit of the doubt might also challenge our own ethics, forcing us to confront uncomfortable truths about ourselves. This could in some instances prove frightening. We may come to believe that we are capable of what ‘bad’ we might suppose in others, and so we see in the other only that which we could perceive within ourselves. If we do not trust, we may begin to doubt our own capacity to be trustworthy. These are difficult questions that we can only answer under the firelight. What then are the enduring profits of presuming innocence and granting a second chance? In short, it can save a fellow human being from a lifetime of anxiety and anguish, and in some instances, as I have already written, literally save a life. An action of grace once seeded can bring delight to those who come after us and establish new friendships and communities of love; an action made in ‘bad faith’ can create enmities that once established will normally also replicate into the future. I must confess, despite my age and experience, I still cannot fully understand how someone can willingly punish another for a perceived wrong, knowing full well that in the end no good can ever come of it.

“As the Searcher of hearts, the Lord knows that men are liable to very frequent trespass, and that, having fallen, they often rise up again; therefore He has given us the commandment to frequently forgive trespasses, and He Himself is the first to fulfill His holy word. As soon as you say from your whole heart, ‘I repent,’ you will be immediately forgiven.” (St. John of Kronstadt)

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My own heart is a long way from perfect. I will stray and have strayed from my creed, the one I still dare to preach. I am still learning “the good” (the agathon), praying that as the days pass, I remove as many barriers as I can in the pursuit of this virtue. People are inherently compassionate and charitable, this too I have found, when you thirst and ask for a cup of water, by far the majority will offer you that cup. And if we might remember this truth, giving the benefit of the doubt, not forgetting how delightful it could be both to the one and to the other, the offering of this noble gift becomes much harder to withhold. If you could allow me one further point, especially for my younger readers, this does not mean to be naive to the darker aspects of the human condition. In time, you will come to recognise these landscapes of brokenness, and through them you will enter those deeper places where the harvest is more bountiful still, for you will be asked to practise even harder things. This is the road of Gethsemane, the journey into the profound mystery and movement of love and forgiveness. One of the greatest things we can do in this life, is to give hope to the “Other” and to release them from their anguish that they might not only flourish, but that they themselves will soon enough pay it forward. Invariably, it will also bring out the best in ourselves, we will come nearer to our true name. Yes, I am more and more returning to old places and familiar spaces, but it is in truth all I know that could be of any use.

Sworn in as a probationary constable September 1980

The NSW Police Force seemed the perfect career choice for the adrenaline charged eighteen year-old straight out of high school, a job which demanded high levels of fitness together with the promise of high octane excitement.[1] Growing up watching Crawford Production classics like Homicide and Division 4 and then afterwards drawn in by the glamour and brawn of Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry and Charles Bronson’s vigilantism, it made policing and the pursuit of criminals seem honourable and right. Later I would learn of the many flaws and inherent ambiguities that muddied the concepts of law and justice, and even further their blurred connection to ethics.[2] The media and Hollywood did their best to confuse these high ideals still more. My goal, though, having managed to score a respectable Higher School Certificate (HSC) was to eventually study at university. I wanted to learn the reasons for why ‘things were’ and to get at some clues as to why we ‘think’ the way we do. Even though at the time, my philosophical conception of these existential questions could only be described as extremely naive. But I still came to the early realization that my ‘personality type’ and policing would not sit comfortably together. I decided to change course. Less than a year after having been sworn in as probationary constable at the graduation ceremony in the old Police Academy on Bourke Street, Redfern,[3] I handed in my resignation and once more prepared myself for the life of a student. Except, I should say, for a very brief stint as a private investigator!

It was around this time too, the whys and wherefores I do not exactly remember [except to being drawn by the book’s cover of a man struggling under the weight of a huge rock], that I would come across Albert Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus (1942). I too, like countless other generations, would be forever hooked. The “absurd man” [A. Camus] versus the “Beyond-Man” [F. Nietzsche].

Freshly pressed and smart-looking in our dark blues and appointments,[4] class 168 which passed out that day included the current police commissioner Andrew Scipione whose gritty determination was there from the start (his shoes were always perfectly spit-polished) and one of my life-long friends Arthur Katsogiannis who has since risen to the rank of chief superintendent. There was also a future First Grade rugby league footballer in our class, and so too a long-legged Gail Petith the third runner-up from the 1974 Miss World pageant. The majority of our drill instructors (who were acting sergeants at the time) were veterans from the Korean and Vietnam conflicts. They were tough, gruff, and fair. We were a group of young men and women from as diverse a background as you could get, but we got along well and supported each other through what is called the initial training. Most of us I must confess did really awful at the firing range. Many of us had never held a gun before, let alone fired a pistol at a distance. In this instance the standard NSW Police sidearm the Smith & Wesson .38 calibre revolver. The real sharp shooters were from the country. They were also allowed to ride the horses. We did better at the Saint Ives police driver training course. Though once more, a large group of us did not fare too well speeding about playing ‘cops n’ robbers’ in the infamous “oil pan”.

As I started to adjust back into civilian life, for I had been a member of the NSW constabulary in what was then called the Junior Trainee program months before, I could never have guessed, that I would soon be spending some fifteen-years of my life as an undergraduate and postgraduate student. And the idea of becoming a university lecturer, let alone co-ordinating my own course, publishing essays, and writing books, was beyond any reasonable imagination.[5] Ironically, not too far from the police academy was the place where a little over five years later I was to begin on the other much more life defining journey. The seminary which had yet to be established and to whose pioneering group of students I would belong, would in comparison make the hard months preparing to become a police officer [and even later where I would serve in the Cypriot National Guard] an afternoon stroll in the park.[6] Yet nothing is ever wasted of our life experience. A brief interlude or a long happening can be of equal value. All things and all encounters bring along their own special significance and fortune.

I have now for a long time accepted as true and considered it a vital component of our learning-process something which the German-Swiss poet and novelist, Hermann Hesse (recipient of both the Nobel and Goethe Prize), expressed in arguably one of his finest works, Siddhartha (1922)[7]:

“I have always believed, and still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.”

[1] http://www.police.nsw.gov.au/about_us/history

[2] A recent paper published in the Oxford Journal of Legal Studies by T.R.S. Allan, “Law, Justice and Integrity” is well worth the visit: http://www.laws.ucl.ac.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/Law-Justice-and-Integrity-TRS-Allan-2010.pdf

[3] In 1984 the NSW Police Academy relocated from Redfern to its current location in Goulburn: http://www.police.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0009/159480/PW_20_07_09-LR.pdf

[4] These were the Revolver, Baton, and Handcuffs.

[5] http://works.bepress.com/mgmichael/

[6] http://www.sagotc.edu.au/

[7] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siddhartha_(novel)