I have a confession to make. I am guilty of terrible crimes. My public face – decent, caring, compassionate – is a sham, a hollow mask which conceals a crawling, squirming, grotesque monstrosity you would hate to hallucinate in your deepest and darkest nightmares.
- I have voted for people who have betrayed humanity.
- I have worked for employers who refuse to contribute to the well-being of the wider society to which they belong.
- I have quietly pocketed my share of the spoils.
- I have bought products from organisations who lie and cheat their way through the world.
- I look forward to a pension bloated by financial investments in dubious, amoral and even illegal activities.
- I have turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to countless sins and abuses committed in my name.
Thank you for listening. Just by bearing silent and non-judgmental witness, you have managed to lift my burden of shame.
As a matter of fact, I feel much better now. A trouble shared is a trouble halved, they say, or else quartered or maybe eighthed or perhaps sixteenthed …
It may even be that my sense of culpability has been spread so microscopically thinly that there is actually no vestige left of personal responsibility for anything at all … anywhere … ever …
Did I just say that out loud?