P
Portofino
Guest
I know the type!
Here’s something you can try on him; the next time he talks in a way that is contemptuous of weakness, you can ask, “would you have contempt for weakness in yourself? Would you still have respect for yourself, if you showed weakness such as that? Is that why you’re so hard on others, because you could never forgive that in yourself?”
In my experience, contempt for weakness in others is often shame in weakness in oneself – turned outwards.
I think it is a general problem in our society, unfortunately. All of us want to feel good about ourselves (not bad about ourselves). Generally, there are two basic means of feeling “good about oneself” – one is goodness (e.g., kindness, generosity, peaceableness) and the other is strength (intelligence, good looks, wealth, education, physical prowess, success). All of these latter, for me, are manifestations of strength. They have to do more with strength and competence, rather than “moral worth.”
As I see it, when we are “not good” (unkind, cruel, selfish) we often feel guilty. Guilt is a painful emotion. However, when we feel weak, we are ashamed. Shame of weakness, for many, is an even more powerful emotion. Indeed, we’d rather experience the guilt of “not being kind” (as your friend is not kind) than we would want to experience the shame of being weak or vulnerable. Our society is unforgiving towards any manifestation of weakness – being poor, uneducated, unintelligent, unsuccessful, or otherwise incompetent.
This is a sad commentary of the weakness of Christ’s message in our culture, it seems. I even think of the film critic – say his review was “scathing; merciless; heartless; even downright cruel.” He might actually be proud of this, as it is a kind of power! But don’t ever say that his review was “unintelligent” (which is a form of weakess). He might spend days soul-searching and trying to figure whether, indeed, he is smart enough? Don’t say, either, that the writing was “flat” or “lacked flair.” This too means that the writing was weak. He would rather have strong writing that was heartless in its criticism, then weak or insipid writing that was kind and fair-minded.
The other example I tell myself is that, for a man of machismo, I sometimes think he would rather experience the guilt of killing someone, than the shame of crying in front of a woman or, for that matter, in front of another man. He can live with the guilt of killing someone, if necessary; but the shame of weakness, or of the feeling of weakness that would come from being in touch with his own emotions, would be unbearable.
Just something I’ve thought about, myself, since I do think that contempt for weakness is endemic in our society.
By the way, if the above suggestion doesn’t work, you can always tell him, “if you were really strong, you wouldn’t have such contempt for weakness in others” (I really believe this, and so did Spielberg, in contrasting Schindler–Liam Neeson–with Amon Goeth–Ralph Fiennes). The person who preys on the weaknesses of others–or who feels good about himself, at others’ expense–is himself weak and is trying to feel better about himself, at the expense of those who are weaker than he. Whereas a stronger, more noble character would be more generous, and would seek to protect the weak; to help draw them up, in order for them to be stronger.
The German writer Goethe had that kind of nobility of character, showing no discernible contempt for weakness – *noblesse oblige. * An even more dramatic example of supreme strength having no contempt for weakness–supreme strength, indeed–is that of Christ himself
