The Joy of Cruelty

Bryan! Are you insane?! Are you sick? Are you twisted? Are you sick and twisted? Let’s find out.

I have been cruel. I’m not happy about it now and haven’t been for decades. But in those moments, I felt powerful. I was encouraged by the people I was with. I felt a certain validation from them that I was starving for.

If I had the power to take back actions, the two that come to mind immediately are my acts of cruelty. Those moments of power have matured into decades of regret.

I’ve heard that there are ways of leaving regret behind while still acknowledging the past. Maybe. For me, I am grateful for my regret. I’m glad that it hinders repeating this kind of behavior. I never want to be cruel again.

I wrote this essay a month ago and decided not to post it. I thought it was too raw. I was also embarrassed by describing the two incidents, in detail, where I committed my cruel acts. So, I have amended it and left them out. If you're curious, let’s have coffee and talk about it.

Let me tell you how this essay started. I have not been able to substantiate this, so my thoughts are a reaction to the possibility of this story. For all I know, it didn’t happen. However, the potential of this story is being acted out daily now.

The rumor: Late in January, ICE agents came to the Orcas school district with the intent to roam the hallways and look for immigrants to detain with the intent to deport.

I’ve made calls to several people to try and confirm this. People who would know say that this report is accurate. People who would know would say it didn’t happen. So, again, what inspires this essay is not fact but the idea that something like this could happen.

My reaction was mixed. I was sad, I was horrified, I was angry, and I felt powerless.

In high school, my driving instructor and wood shop teacher was Mr. Wills (I think, but it’s been fifty years, so maybe I’ve got that wrong). What is important to know about Mr. Wills is that he was a kind man who was working in the manic climate that is high school. He was patient, insightful, intelligent, and, as I pointed out, kind.

On one occasion, I witnessed his reaction to cruelty. He got angry. This was completely unlike him, and it remains a powerful moment for me. In hindsight, I see now that I was grateful to have someone stand up in the face of cruelty.

In spite of my own acts of anger, I’ve never liked being around anger. There is an obvious cognitive disconnect there. I’ve been the angry man. I’ve been the frightening man. Actions taken in that state are the other things I regret, and in part because of Mr. Wills, I strive for kindness now.

My father was a complicated man. Thirty years after his death, my relationship with him remains complicated. His genes and the examples he set may be where my anger stemmed from. In his later years, he overcame his anger and began to exist in the world motivated by compassion.

I wasn’t there, so this story was relayed to me, and I can’t remember by whom. It goes like this. My father is in Safeway getting groceries, as one commonly does. He is in the middle of an aisle, and at the end of the aisle is a distraught mother with an even more distraught little girl sitting in the shopping cart. The mother was clearly at the end of her rope and was now screaming at the child to stop wailing. The yelling wasn’t effective, so she slapped the child. As she brought her hand back to repeat, my father stepped in and gently held her raised hand. She turned to him, furious. He looked her in the eye, and, acting out of his hard-won compassion, he asked, “Is that enough?” The woman broke down sobbing. Is this what happens when a demon is exorcised?

Now, as the days go by, unlike the rumor above, there are true stories of cruelty. Random firings on a massive scale. Illegal actions affecting the general well-being of the country I call home and terrifying daylight abductions done in the name of immigration control.

I don’t think that, regardless of how these things are framed, they are somehow ushering in a golden age. Both my cognitive and gut responses are that these actions are motivated by unleashed cruelty.

I was talking to one friend about the high school. In a text message, she asked the question, “When did we become so cruel?” I asked that same question to a man who helps me stay on the rails. His response was, “We’ve always been this cruel. It’s just on your doorstep now.”

I’ve always avoided demonstration. I don’t want to get in trouble. I don’t think Mr. Wills was afraid. The best I can imagine is that he acted out of a need for justice. Not retribution, but the need for well-being.

As I said before, my father was a complicated man. But in this one moment, he was acting on his new understanding of the world. If the idea was to stop the escalation of harm, his intervention did that. It is likely that these men were not perfect men, but these moments inspire me today.

There is cruelty happening now. For those perpetrating, I believe there is a sense of power and validation. The Joy of Cruelty.

Thank you, Mr. Wills, for your example of anger. Thank you, Otis Benepe, for your example of compassion and intervention.

I was told that courage is action in the face of fear. As is intended by our current government, I am experiencing a level of fear and confusion that I didn’t think was possible. Action in the face of fear. I am counseled by Mr. Wills and Mr. Benepe, that anger and compassion can coexist. I’m frightened and confused, but there are actions to take.

I’m advised that community is going to be more vital now than ever. I’m advised to engage in personal activity that gives me a solid base to operate from. I’m advised to be visible, to raise my voice. As difficult as it will be, I am moved to offer compassion to those acting out of confusion. Life is different now, that’s for sure.

Courage–action in the face of fear.