What does it really mean when people say someone is “good deep down?”
“Filbert was a bit of a nut.” His wife would say that all the time with a chuckle. Usually she said this right after he pulled “one of his stunts.” It was not easy being married to Filbert, and her little pun was just one way she coped. When Filbert acted out, his friends would say, “that’s just Filbert being Filbert,” and offer a wry little laugh of their own.
The people who worked for Filbert generally feared him. For decades he had assured his entire building floor simmered in a state of anxious misery that occasionally boiled over into roiling terror. Filbert’s bosses tolerated his antics because he generally got his work done. Besides, they really weren’t much better. When they received complaints about his bullying or his casual racism or his persistent sexism, they alway pretended to take it seriously. Behind the scenes, though, they would laugh about Filbert being Filbert again before quietly pushing the complaining employee out the door with a modest severance.
Filbert being Filbert seemed like a permanent state of being, which is why it was so shocking when he died. It was sudden, a hit-and-run right in front of Filbert’s office building. Some speculated that it was a former employee bent on revenge, others figured the cosmos just wanted to exact a bit of long overdue justice. Whatever the case, the funeral was surprisingly well attended with many there to pay their respects and even more there to make sure the old coot was really dead.
What was confounding for some was how, during the ceremony, speaker after speaker would giggle awkwardly while detailing some memory of Filbert being horrible to people and then add, “but you always knew he was a good man deep down inside.” When they said that, his long-suffering wife would lower the tissue she was dabbing her eyes with, smile wanly, and give a slight nod. Every speaker said something along the same lines, including some who had suffered under him for years. Apparently no one wanted to speak ill of the dead man in front of his widow, extending a charity Filbert never would have offered during his life.
Still, some in the audience were disturbed by the whitewashing of his reputation. How could someone whose actions were so utterly malevolent have been good deep down?
It’s a valid question. How can you be good inside if you don’t behave that way? Is goodness a state of mind or an active pursuit? Simply put, can you be good without actually doing good? And what does it mean to “do good?”
That last question is a tough one and perhaps best left to theologians, philosophers, and Jolly Ol’ Saint Nick. At a minimum, though, doing good is sharing goodness with the world. It does not need to be as elaborate as serving meals at the local homeless shelter or giving half your money to charity. It can be as simple as demonstrating a generosity of spirit, offering a needed smile of support, or just being kind.
I would contend, though, that you can do good without being good. Plenty of people head to the homeless shelter every week to ladle out soup. Most of these people probably behave charitably as a matter of habit, but for some their altruism is uncharacteristic, a departure from their normal mode. Cruella during the week and Lady Bountiful on weekends. That arrangement does not strike me as fundamentally good. I have known and worked for people who would from time to time head overseas to conduct church-led humanitarian work in impoverished countries only to return and revert to being the same bullies they always were. Whatever pious warm-and-fuzzies they got from their generosity abroad certainly did not transfer home.
So, goodness, I say, is something you must routinely share with the world. I readily concede that no one is good at all times and in all actions, but being good means that sharing your goodness is the rule, not the exception. Jaunting off to Haiti for a week to help build a house does not offset 51 weeks of subjecting your employees and coworkers to mayhem.
But what of the late Filbert? Was he truly good? At his funeral, eulogizer after eulogizer said as much, but, then again, few funeral orators are honest enough to say, “the guy was an utter bastard, inside and out.” But what if they were right, that for all his bluster and bullying, Filbert held — deep down inside — a core goodness? Would that be enough to say he is a good man?
I already argued that to be good, you must imbue your actions with goodness and that it’s not just a matter of being good in your heart or in intent. I have also argued that to be good your good acts must be the norm and not an aberration. To be exceptionally good, though, does not require you to perform exceptional acts. It is enough just to regularly meet the world with goodness. Yes, sadly, that counts as exceptional.
If I am correct, then poor Filbert could not be a good man no matter what degree of goodness he hypothetically harbored in his heart. His eulogizers meant well, perhaps wanting to spare his widow the pain of hearing aloud what she obviously already knew, that Filbert was a rotten creep through and through.
Now what if he wasn’t behaving badly at work but also did not behave with routine goodness? For instance, as a boss what if he did nothing to hinder or to help his employees or protect them from other noxious executives? Could he be considered good then? I would say not. Neutrality is not goodness no matter how much goodness you may harbor in your heart. Worse still, sitting idly or passively too often gives license to those who are up to no good.
But let’s imagine Filbert was different at home than he was at work. That he treated his wife in a truly loving manner. Perhaps they had some kids over whom he doted, who felt loved and protected every day by their dear old dad. Would that familial affection offset the fact that Filbert made his employees cry simply for being unlucky enough to work for him?
No surprise here. I would argue that however much love Filbert showered on his family, it could never compensate for his professional persona as a certified asshole. You cannot compartmentalize true goodness.
Don’t Be Like Filbert
I guess there are some parameters or even rules to goodness. Doing good once in a while or in certain circumstances does not make you fundamentally good any more than harboring goodness in your heart but not showing it in your actions does. So, here is rule one of true goodness:
To be good, you must strive to do good all the time, not merely intend to be good, not mean well, but to actually, actively, and consistently try to do good.
Come to think of it, that’s the only rule.
Goodness is not something you conceal or hoard for yourself. It is not an intention or an aspiration. It is a practice.
If you feel a goodness in your heart but do not manifest that goodness in your actions, you are not really good. If you mean well, but others cannot perceive or experience your goodness on a regular basis, you are not really good. If you are good here but not there, you are not really good. You can do good anonymously and be a good person, but you cannot do good anomalously and be one.
So, now you know what goodness is like. Wanting to be good, imagining you are good, and being good deep down while not acting good is not goodness. It’s just wasted potential.
What does being good mean to you? How readily do you dismiss others’ (or your own) bad behavior because they “mean well?”
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Being Good Deep Down Is Bad—An Encore Presentation