How Strong Are Your Ethics?

Sometimes, as we go about our daily lives trying to look after our families, the grander ideas are not thought about. Every now and then a conflict will arise between our ethics and our desires. This is when ethics may become expendable.

The strong forces that drive us – love, sex, money and power – tempt us to compromise or even do a complete U-turn. Personal relationships and careers are put on the line. Truth is a hard currency to deal in when there is a conflict of interest.

 

There’s three minutes to go and your team needs a winning goal. Do you take a dive to get a penalty kick? Will the glory be tainted by guilt? Sport is a minefield of ethical conundrums. For me, it’s still the beautiful game but marred by cheating and dissent. Children’s football matches echo what’s happening on Match of the Day. Role models are few and far between and it’s bad boy behaviour that gets the media attention.

 

Some would say that one’s loyalty should be to your teammates and the fans and this consideration is of a higher order, placing it in front of any other moral code. Well, isn’t that convenient. Thinking like that will bring selfish rewards, all dressed up in some warped rationale.

 

Bobby Moore led England to victory and was a national hero, not just because of the trophy but how he conducted himself. He won and lost with equal grace. In contrast I heard Roy Keane on TV the other day giving his insight as a pundit. Talking about a player on the losing side missing the chance to stop his opponent from scoring, he said, “he should have fouled him, he should have taken the yellow card”. The presenter, Adrian Chiles, did not pick him up on it.

 

Performance enhancing drugs seem to be endemic. How many of us sigh with cynicism when the latest track or swim or cycling record is broken. If I were holding my gold medal (it ain’t going to happen), I’d be thinking about the 10 year old kid in the stands who pasted my picture on his bedroom wall. Throwing matches and shaving points leaves a nasty taste in the mouth. Greed sometimes makes us cross lines we never imagined we’d cross.

 

You know the words – “what did you do today to make yourself proud?” Most of us shift the goalposts to varying degrees. Have you ever taken the credit for a colleague’s idea to get promotion? Do you hand it back when the shop assistant gives you too much change? Do you pilfer (notice how pilfer sounds less serious than steal) stationery or fiddle your expenses? Are you economical with the truth on your tax return?

 

But surely our leaders can give us inspiration? Yeah, right. We all know what’s been going on lately. We all know who could successfully hide behind a spiral staircase. It’s not just greasy pole climbing politicians that lie for a living. Some public relations and advertising people wear deceit as a second skin. They try to bamboozle us with unsubstantiated facts, half-truths and distorted visions of reality, all to sell a dream and false hope.  We work all week and we’re rewarded with bread and circuses. Don’t draw back the curtain; the wizard isn’t there.

How ethical am I? Well, that would be telling! Is the erosion of ethics getting worse? I think it’s too complex for a yes or no answer and there was never any golden age of innocence. Rather, lots of wrongdoing is covert now. Being the baddie has become more sophisticated. We know “the cost of everything and the value of nothing”. We win at any cost and we try to have it all at any cost. Does the human race have a collective portrait of a decaying Dorian Gray? If so, heaven help us because we all know what happened to him.

 

 

I Thought I Saw

Do you remember where you were, when you heard the news of John Lennon’s murder or the death of Elvis or Kurt Cobain? We are all meant to remember, where we were, when we hear of the passing of our heroes. And then, as the following poem illustrates, we see them … everywhere. And we are always, inevitably…wrong.

There have been weird sightings. With thanks to the genius of those below.

I thought I saw Elvis down the chip shop.

I thought I saw Nick Drake at the snooker hall.

I thought I saw Brian Jones in the playground.

I thought I saw Jimi Hendrix at the post office.

I thought I saw Buddy Holly on a double decker bus.

I thought I saw Kurt Cobain in the cinema queue.

I thought I saw Jim Morrison in Tesco’s.

I thought I saw Otis Redding at the petrol pumps.

I thought I saw John Lennon in the record store.

I thought I saw Janis Joplin in the launderette.

I thought I saw Freddie Mercury in the tenpin bowling alley.

I thought I saw John Bonham in the hardware store.

I thought I saw Ian Curtis in the car park.

I thought I saw Bob Marley in the football stadium.

I thought I saw Joe Strummer in the kebab shop.

I thought I saw Keith Moon at the church fete.

I thought I saw George Harrison in the transport café.

I thought I saw Roy Orbison at the zoo.

I thought I saw Mama Cass at the swimming baths.

I thought I saw Sid Vicious at the airport.

I thought I saw Jeff Buckley in the video store.

I thought I saw Marvin Gaye in the hotel lobby.

I thought I saw Ray Charles at the burger bar.

I thought I saw Kirsty MacColl in the queue behind Elvis.

 

But I was mistaken.

 

The Silk Map (a soldier’s tale)

Your heart is like a silk map,

Of the sort used by soldiers

Behind enemy lines.

No folds.

No creases.

No mark of any kind,

So no one knows your intentions

Or what you’ve left behind.

Neither friends nor enemies are identified.

 

You travel light, leaving no trace.

Footprints are blown away on the wind.

I wish to follow but cannot keep pace,

It is the heartless viagra canada leading the blind.

 

Storms and sunsets built on sand,

Leaving no impression,

Move quickly over borders with no name.

Lost and hungry and with no direction,

The wolves are happy that I came.

 

The fire I lit under your facade

Soon turned to ashes in your hand.

I gently roll our love away and pocket the remains.

No folds.

No creases.

No mark of any kind.

 

Virginia

Virginia Woolf  1882-1941

 

You went down to the river

With stones in your pockets

And did not intend to return.

The water took you back to the womb

And all you’d asked for was a room

Of your own

And some quiet,

No demons,

Words flowing on the page.

 

Stones in your pockets

To silence the voices.

 

The river does not argue

Or judge

Or suggest

Or put up a fight.

 

A room of one’s own,

Ideas,

Paper,

Peace.

 

Stones in your pockets,

The river offers

Silence,

Oblivion,

Release.

 

And women everywhere hang on every word

In a room of our own,

Ideas,

Paper,

Struggle,

Try to live up to.

 

But one morning.

You put your coat on

And never came back.

 

One morning,

The river covered you

And the words never fade,

Ideas,

Paper,

Afraid.

Stones in our pockets

Always weighing us down,

Ideas,

Paper,

Hope.

 

And that river runs forever,

Through all of our battles,

Some are lost and some are won.

Some of us sink and some of us are saved,

Words viagra pills floating on the page,

The words never fade.

 

Ideas,

Paper

And it’s done.

 

 

 

Heroes

 

(i) What We Were Told

 

The teachers smell of mothballs,

They’ve all shed their summer skins.

 

They grow coffee in Brazil.

The French took that hill.

 

I painted my still life apples

As best I could and made them

Look polished and rosy

But they all fell to the floor

And rolled out the door

Knocking the headmaster over.

 

So go ahead,

Be a hero,

Shout bang bang

And fall down dead.

They sent you home in a wooden box,

Closed your eyes, screwed down the lid.

You never got into the history books

But Nelson sees you with his one good eye

And gives a welcome for the war weary on high.

They never built a statue to you

For the pigeons to crap on,

Well never mind.

Ghandi is in heaven now and he is kind.

 

Your mother dusts your photograph

Every day and wonders where you are,

Doesn’t she know you’re in heaven now,

Drinking at the heroes’ bar,

Drinking at the nectar fountain,

Now you are content.

No bombs here but “I Love You Jesus” badges

And flowers pass for rent.

No countries here or flags to wave,

Everyone’s a real person,

Everyone is saved.

 

Heaven is a state of mind,

The gate is found within,

We shall all meet on the ledge

And sing “Jerusalem”.

Hell is a state of mind,

Brother against brother,

Hot fires burn your bones,

The Devil is what you see in the mirror,

The bats that fly in your nightmares,

The snake that bites between the legs,

The fly on the wall saw it all,

It dropped on its back and begged.

 

When death knocks on the door,

Shall we beg for more,

Not sure of the outcome,

The last parade, the lights fade,

When they draw the curtains,

Your fate is sealed,

The party’s over though you never dreamed,

You hear the rats on the roof,

The King’s horse on the hoof,

The hunting party is grinning,

They’ve bagged your soul.

 

(ii)  What We Know

 

The Girl with Kaleidoscope Eyes,

Rain, Steam and Speed,

Christina’s World

Under Milk Wood,

Dean Moriarty,

Steppenwolf,

Cal Trask.