Two weeks ago, in celebration of Soren Kierkegaard’s birthday, I went on a posting spree of his quotes on my micro.blog. Among the many passages was a personal favorite from Works of Love:
“But he who gets busy tracking down hypocrites, whether he succeeds or not, should be certain that this also is not hypocrisy, for such investigations are hardly the fruits of love. He, on the other hand, whose life really bears its own fruit will, without wishing it and without trying, unmask or even shame every hypocrite who comes near him; but one who loves will perhaps not even be conscious of this.”
I have long desired to connect this with a quote from another writer, John Milton. In Paradise Lost there is a chapter where Satan disguises himself as a cherub and then sneaks into heaven with a surprising amount of ease. In order to explain this, Milton writes:
So spake the false dissembler unperceivd;
For neither Man nor Angel can discern
Hypocrisie, the only evil that walks
Invisible, except to God alone,
By his permissive will, through Heav’n and Earth:
And oft though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps
At wisdoms Gate, and to simplicitie
Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill
Where no ill seems
The word hypocrisy has its etymology in Greek theatre, literally referring to actors who would “pretend under a mask.” Although we often deploy the term to refer to someone who says one thing but acts contrarily, its broader use is for anyone who projects an image of goodness while simultaneously possessing ulterior motives.
What is so striking about these passages is how both men prescribe a similar approach to hypocrisy. Kierkegaard suggests that love excludes the capacity for suspicion since love always assumes the best in others. Milton feels that goodness and distrust are mutually exclusive, and that wisdom avoids seeing malevolence where there is none. But if suspicion and vigilance are off the table, what does that leave for a defense against deception?
Both authors would likely say that there is no real “defense” against hypocrisy. Pessimism and skepticism can, perhaps, be used to stall or block certain bad actors at certain times, but it could never be a perfectly hermetic seal against deception. Being taken advantage of is, in some ways, a table stake of existence. This sounds bitter at first hearing, but their approach is actually the antidote to nihilism when fully understood.
Years and years ago I learned the basics of lockpicking, which required a small crash course in the development of basic security systems: locks, bolts, tumblers, chains, etc… What fascinated me was the human ingenuity that existed on both sides of this arms race. As soon as a new lock is invented, it becomes an invitation for a clever thief to come and break it, which then spurs the need for a more sophisticated lock, which then becomes the aspiration for a more creative thief.
The same cat-and-mouse game is played with hypocrisy. Whether in business, dating, or friendship, wherever hypocrisy-hunting takes place, there also ensues an increasingly layered and maze-like set of formal and informal etiquettes, contracts, and psychological cold wars. Some of it is noise, some of it is signal. All of it is complicated.
The very nature of deception is that it is adaptive and elusive; there is no defense that is truly impregnable. That’s why Kierkegaard and Milton suggest that simplicity and non-suspicion are preferable modes of being and that believing the best in others, taking them at their word, and approaching neighbors with an open heart is actually the better way.
Naturally, this sets off alarm bells for people. It sounds naive at best and irresponsible at worst. Surely someone who isn’t guarded against hypocrisy would be taken advantage of at every moment and become homeless faster than one can say ‘sucker,’ right? Perhaps… but perhaps not.
To be sure, it is astounding what can be achieved through a sufficiently sophisticated deception. After all, what is a hypocrite if not a mirage and a shapeshifter? They can be convincing, attractive, repulsive, appealing, transient, adaptive, or stubborn. However, what a hypocrite can never be is singular—only truth is capable of being what it is. That’s what makes it truth.
This is why we have so many names for deception that involve addition: duplicity, being two-faced, speaking out of both sides of the mouth, etc… Because the one thing that deception could never achieve is simplicity. Simone Weil understood this and wrote thusly in Gravity and Grace:
One—the smallest of the numbers…. That is the infinite. A number which increases thinks that it is getting near to infinity. It is receding from it.
And while its true that our culture undervalues simplicity, we have more than a few examples in fiction that embody, and even exaggerate, this virtue. Inspector Clouseau, Mr. Magoo, and Mr. Bean, are great examples of what is essentially the same character. They are simpletons in every sense of the word, always out of step with the rhythms and conventions of modernity, yet still one step ahead of the deceivers, thieves, and robbers who try to take advantage of them.
The satisfaction we receive from watching these individuals expose hypocrites is the same triumph we feel when the Road Runner escapes Wile E. Coyote. It is the victory of austerity over cleverness, simplicity over scheming, and humility over genius.
A person who chooses to be simple, surrendered, and accepting is choosing a path that is both incomprehensible and intractable to the hypocrite, because the hypocrite has optimized for complexity, power, and force rather than simple, unassuming honesty.
And this here touches on the most important suggestion from Kierkegaard and Milton: that giving oneself over to pessimism is a worse fate than falling prey to deception. That participating in the cat-and-mouse of hypocrisy hunting is, in some ways, to emulate the hypocrite, because it requires that you assume a false front of acceptance, all the while holding reservations and devising strategies to protect yourself from other people.
This produces a hesitancy when it comes time to give away your heart—and even when you do, you do so with just a little less abandon. Indeed, little by little, you become a victim of a great crime—exactly what you hoped to protect against—but now you are the robber replacing your treasures with counterfeits!
By this, I mean you end up with suspicion in place of invitation, cleverness in place of connection, analysis in place of compassion, and jadedness in place of hopefulness. Holding onto what was meant to be given away, just to protect what you no longer have. This is life in defensive mode—always on the back foot and never experiencing that rush forward which is the birthright of everything that is hopeful and redemptive. Simplicity is simply a better way: the way of light, the way of relationship, the way of heaven. The way that protects what all the deception in the world cannot take from you.
Stay simple—and long live everything!
Bradley
About the Author:
Bradley Andrews is a hopeful rabble-rouser on a mission to inspire the world. Stay in touch with what he’s doing by subscribing to a weekly digest of his activity through micro.blog. This will send you writing, photos, and other curiosities that you are guaranteed to love.
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