In S24 of the Amazing Race, Brendon U-turns Dave & Conner, and everyone hates them for it. I don’t understand that. It’s a game, and everyone is trying to win that game. If they had some sort of alliance or understanding that they were not going to do that, then I would sort of understand—but only sort of, since if I were there, I would betray people, too. I would do what it takes to win. That’s what a game means. And if I saw someone do that, if I turn against them and create an alliance as a result of that, I wouldn’t do that because I took it personally, I would do that because it’s a good strategy.

It reminds me of chess. Before modern chess, there was romantic chess, where people were expected to make trades if they were offered, even if disadvantageous, and shocking and bombastic tactics were preferred over strategy and meticulous play. Games from this time were not very good for that reason. It was with the advent of Steinitz’s positional play that chess became about playing the moves that lead to checkmates, even if this meant refusing trades or doing things that were considered dishonorable, such as avoiding confrontation and playing defensively. This ushered in the most competitive era of the game that we still see today.

That’s the mindset that I would have if I ever joined the race. I would manipulate people and lie. I would set traps, to the extent that it was allowed. And if an old man was playing with us, I would certainly not U-turn him if only because the better idea would be to U-turn the stronger teams so that hopefully they become eliminated and stop being a threat. One thing I’d definitely want to do is being known as very honorable and helpful, so that in the last leg I could betray people. I would do that so I could win.

I know that in Survivor that type of deceptive play is more acceptable. Maybe I will watch that show next. I am watching onwards from Season 22, though, and maybe I will witness something like it at some point.

It bothers me when people do things like putting their emotions and preconceived notions before what is right or what should be done. Emotions and feelings are very important, and they are not something that we should dispense with. But there are situations where they should figure at the bottom. Thus Seneca sez: “Plus dolet quam necesse est, qui dolet antequam necesse est.”—He suffers more than necessary who suffers before it is necessary. And there is too much suffering that is caused by unnecessary emotions, customs, and preconceived notions.

I’m not talking about how we would be “more efficient” or “better off” without emotions. I am saying that, even when we could avoid suffering and nothing would be lost if we let go of those things, we do not. And there are a variety of reasons for this. For Lacan, it is called “substitute satisfaction.” Our symptoms are not pathological in themselves. They are in fact ways in which the human mind attempts to fix or soothe itself in response to some trauma. Thus, though we experience these emotions as negative, they are actually protecting us from experiencing something much more negative; they are protecting us.

In the case of Brandon & Dave, it was pretty apparent that their overreaction was “substitute satisfaction” from the fear of failure and maybe the sting of being disrespected, in that they feel entitled to always be favored because they are “good.” I know many people like this, and I think I see in them what I see in those people: People who are excessively pleasant not because they want to be good but because they believe that it is an ongoing transaction, whereby their constant kindness must be repaid in constant kindness towards them in return. And constant kindness on their terms, to their specifications.

A person I knew was like this. I’ll call her Enid. Enid was a good person, and she made a show out of being a good person. It was subtle, of course, and over the years the subtlety became more and more refined, so that one almost believed her. But she was not good because she understood what it meant to be good. She was good because she believed that it protected her; in reality, she was deeply insecure and paranoid. The problem was whenever there was any sort of pressure, she would play the victim: I’m a good person. Why are you taking that tone with me? Why are you doing that to me? Why must I do it? Why me? Poor me. I’m such a good person.

This means, though, that although she did good things when it was opportune for her, she failed to uphold the best version of being good, the very “pointed end” as it were of virtue: Sacrifice. If anything, she believed that people should make sacrifices for her. And whenever she needed to make a sacrifice, this was an insult to all her efforts. She went rabid with self-righteous rage. And when you show her how she is acting she says that this was because she was putting down boundaries, protecting her mental health, &c., &c. She was committed to the charade because she believed it protected her from criticism. If you end up criticizing her, instead of accepting it like a good person would, then she finds being good useless and discards it.

Once in a while my mother and I discuss the Bible. She is very religious. The other day she and my father got into a fight for whatever reason and I hear her say, “I was the one who bought everything in this house! I own everything!” And this annoyed me very much. I don’t think someone who devotes themselves to Jesus would ever say anything like that. The New Testament was very clear about this: Jesus knew, accepted, and had compassion for the fact that we are all sinners. And even as sinners he bowed his head and washed our feet, despite being our Lord and King. But what he hated—what he totally and absolutely hated—was hubris (cf. Eph 2:8-9; 1 Cor 1:28-29). We see this time and time again when those who humbled themselves were totally exalted, despite being the lowest sinners, despite being the most wretched in Judean-Roman society. And those who exalted themselves were not merely humbled but destroyed.

A truly good person would be better when challenged, when humiliated. Because that is the true measure of what it means to do the right thing. And it is hard. And ultimately none of us are truly good. Which is why I am suspicious of people who, though never saying it outright, act as if they were, or even possibly were.

This is how I look at it: God measures us according to the margin, to the difference. Good people doing good things do not count. And bad people doing bad things don’t count, either. Much of where we start is determined by the world, by worldly things and ideas. It is when we consciously act against our nature, through our own free will, that God notices; these are the things that matter. And so when someone is good as a matter of course, I do not think this means that they are necessarily good. It is when we are at the limit that we know who someone truly is.

I am suspicious of good people. And among the evil I feel a kind of camaraderie. We are all sinners. We are all sinners.