When I was 21-years old, I went to Israel for a year. Through an unplanned series of events, I ended up working for a private detective agency as an undercover agent. Yes, really. My job was to pose as an American volunteer on various kibbutzim (collective living communes) and discover whether the residents, mostly younger members, were using and/or distributing narcotics. It was a pretty cool job, I thought, and I was sure it was right up my alley, as I'd grown up wanting to work for the CIA. Turns out, I was well suited to the task and good at the work. But something wasn't right. Although it took longer than it should have to realize the problem —because I didn't really want the answer.
You see, in order to do my work, I had to lie to people I came to like and respect. And a couple of times, I had to betray their trust and report on illegal—although not necessarily immoral—activities. At first, I was conflicted and confused. But finally, I was able to ask myself a question young Sophia understood well before I did: who did I want to be? Did I want to be a liar, even if it was professionally sanctioned and lying meant I was just doing my job? Did I want to turn on people with whom I'd shared meals? People who confided in me and let me into their lives (although unwittingly under false pretenses)? The answer to all of these questions was a clear "no." But that clarity took some time to manifest.
When we allow our desired identity to dictate our behavioral choices, we can usually achieve our moral goals. If we want to be women and men of integrity, by my definition, we must strive to be honest, generous, tolerant, compassionate and kind. We don't lie, cheat or steal. We are not mean. Our word is worthy. Our commitments have weight. We do not cheapen ourselves by approaching life as a dilettante. We are clear about our own values and we live them. But none of this is easy. And often, it's not much fun.
As I’m reading about the scrupulous Sophia, I'm watching one of my sons struggle to figure out what Sophia is so sure of. He has a girlfriend he really likes, but I don’t. I think she’s throwing off his moral compass, because, from my (admittedly biased) perspective, her actions have led my son to do some things I wish he hadn't. So I asked him the same questions I ask myself with respect to all of my relationships: do you like who you are in relation to this person? Are you happy with the choices you're making as a result of your involvement with him or her?
These are questions we all have to answer for ourselves. Honestly. Because it's one thing if my son decides to lie to me about this girlfriend and his relationship with her; it’s another issue entirely if he's lying to himself. All of us lie to ourselves at times, but I’ve found I’ve become more self aware with age. I was all about the rationalizations when I was younger. I find it harder to fool myself these days.
All of us want what we want when we want it. And it's a major bummer when our moral codes interfere with our perceived pursuit of happiness. But one thing I've learned since I was 21 is that the pursuit of pleasure and instant gratification is not the same thing as happiness. I don't believe we can be truly happy when we are morally bankrupt, or even just deficit spending. And our underlying unhappiness comes out in all sorts of ways—including bad moods and self-destructive behavior. Somewhere, we know right from wrong, even when we don't admit it to ourselves. Even when the bush is merely smoking.
It would be great if all of us had internal moral compasses that pointed toward True North without fail. And if we demanded that our values align with our personal Polaris at all times. And if we agreed on common values. Alas, I've not encountered these conditions on this plane of existence. Maybe in the next world. Or an alternate Universe.
For today, I'll continue to admire paranormal fantasy heroines like Sophia, and continue to strive to make the best choices I can, based on the person I want to be. And I'll try to teach my children to do the same, although I understand that exhorting my son to be more like Sophia is not a winning parental strategy, so I’ll probably restrain myself. The truth is that we all stray sometimes from the moral straight and narrow because True North is not always visible.