I’ve recently been accused of not being decent. On my online dictionary it’s defined as: conforming to the recognized standard of propriety, good taste, modesty, etc; in other words (or one other word), proper. It’s a surprisingly subjective definition in that not only does it depend on something that’s commonly (if not universally) accepted but also on our own preconceptions of what is acceptable and, to some extent, on context. It would be considered indecent to walk through the streets naked but minimal coverage would render that person acceptable on a standard British beach. On a nudist beach a fully clothed person could be considered improper whereas a partly dressed person might draw criticism in any of these contexts.

We sometimes ask, “What would be the decent thing to do?” and it could be the case that none of those being asked fulfils the criteria yet there is no presumption of condemnation that being indecent would suggest. Often when someone is told, “make yourself look decent” the assumption is not that they are indecent but that to present themselves in public in their current state would render them so. If we take it to mean ‘proper’ then we are either questioning the person’s suitability for a purpose or if they are the real deal. Is that person the proper candidate for a specific role and are they what they claim to be? To legitimately call someone ‘not decent’ either begs more questions or gives the accused just cause to offer a defence.

Being told you are not a decent person is quite unpleasant and I would suspect that even people with skins of the thicker variety would wince a little when being confronted with such a charge. One reaction is to justify one’s self but proclaiming, “I am a decent person” has a hollow and hypocritical ring to it. It seems as though we can add to our honour or remain anonymous but once our character is impugned we are indelibly marked. It seems to be peculiar to the human condition that praise is pleasant and motivating but transient and fickle. You’re only as good as your last success but mud sticks. The test of character is not how well you can wear praise but in being able to bear ignominy with dignity; also to be able to own criticism without accepting condemnation.

The very fact that to be decent requires us to conform to some arbitrary standard of behaviour (prescribed by society in a general or even intimate sense) means that we are not free to judge or justify our own decency or propriety. We must stand before our peers and make our case. As a species we are gregarious and no matter how much we claim not to care what others think we are, not one of us, an island; at least not without a bridge or shallow moat. The answer to shame is therefore not to burn our bridges but to build better ones. Not to retreat into hovels of despair or patch up the tears but to build new houses and weave new coverings. Despite its meanness and baying for blood, society is poorer for having victims and outcasts and as satisfying as it is to be judgemental it hurts the giver more than the receiver. Forgiveness may be a bitter pill to swallow but it brings healing and has a sweet after taste.

Be it Geronimo (thorn in the side of imperialist America) or Oscar Wilde (deviant, shunned by polite society) villains often become heroes in the end who, on balance, leave a legacy, which enriches more than their sins (perceived or real) impoverish. We need the moral courage to be open to the rehabilitation, not only of ourselves, but also those we deem to have acted improperly. It’s not for us to forgive those who have acted in such a heinous manner as to sever every connection with moral society but where there is a connection we have an obligation to reach out rather than pull away. We need to live in the hope that good will win in the end; not that the wicked are punished but that society is redeemed.