Do Bad Guys Exist?

Or Do Good People Do Bad Things?

You pass thousands of people on the streets of New York everyday, so you don’t notice most of them. But some of them stand out—and it’s usually the angry ones.

One Saturday morning, we were walking our girls to their softball game in the park, and saw a guy speaking angrily on the phone. His emotions were mild and controlled enough that it felt safe to pass by him. But he was definitely upset. As we passed him, he said into his phone, “Well I don’t give a f***. F*** them and f*** you too.”

Our girls are still young and innocent, but they’re also born and raised in NYC. They’ve learned to recognize colorful language when they hear it.

As soon as we were out of earshot, our younger one said, “Mom, he said a bad word!”

“Yes,” we agreed. “A very bad word.”

“Why did he say it?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied, but wanting to be honest. “I’m guessing he was upset about something.”

She thought for a moment, processing this information. And then she asked: “So if he said a bad word, does that mean he’s a bad guy?”

Oh shit, I thought. Thank God I didn’t say the S-word out loud though. What would my daughter have thought of me?!

The answer to her question was both obvious and profound. Of course he wasn’t a bad guy for saying a bad word. People’s goodness isn’t defined by what they say. Our goodness is inherent.

Or is it?

Someone’s not bad just because they say or do something inappropriate.

But can we say they are bad in that moment?

People are ultimately good.

But what about people who do horrible things?

It’s a fine line, you might say. People who think or say bad things aren’t bad, but people who hurt others are bad, you might say.

But where is that line, I wonder, and who determines it?

I wonder how my daughter would have seen this person before she learned the concepts of good and bad: good guys and bad guys, good words and bad words. What would she have thought about this person as she passed him on the street as a 2-year-old? My sense is that she wouldn’t have made that distinction. He just is, in the same way that everyone just is.

We learn these distinctions, we’re socialized into them. How else would she come to understand that four letters, when put together, make a sound that’s socially unacceptable. And certainly being able to navigate the world around us requires some level of discernment. It’s important that she has some sense of dichotomy: for starters, what is safe, and what is unsafe.

I also understand that at a young age, as our brains are developing, we tend to see the world as black and white. Is this right or wrong? Is this person good or bad? In this sense, her question about the man we passed was perfectly normal and appropriate.

And yet, the way children think can also reveal so much about us and our own shortcomings. And here’s what struck me in this moment: Aren’t we all struggling with this question in our own ways? Where’s our maturation in how we understand the people we encounter?

I’ll be the first to admit that this is one of the hardest questions for me. It’s among the most difficult questions of our times. If people are inherently and ultimately good—as many of us believe they are—then how do we account for people who do bad things? Or, to put it more specifically, as someone did at an event that I was speaking at the other day, “This is all fine and good. But I really can’t see goodness in some of these narcissistic politicians.”

I hear versions of this question constantly all around the country. And I don’t quite know if I have solved this question for myself. As much as I’ve practiced and as much as I’ve tried, some people are total jerks, and it’s hard sometimes to feel grace for them.

Here’s the best thing I know: We don’t learn to climb by starting with Mount Everest. We start smaller, on walls or on rocks, focusing on our technique. Over time, we develop skills and facility to move beyond the basics. And even then, we continue working, developing, building strength and confidence, knowing that we are progressing in our journeys.

Eventually, we might get to Mount Everest. Or maybe we don’t. Not every climber is capable of getting there. And that’s okay. We can still look back and see how far we’ve come—and we can also appreciate the journey along the way.

But without trying, without ever taking that first step, or making that first climb, and without regular intention or practice, on what basis do we think we we’ll make any progress at all? Isn’t it more likely that we would remain stagnant, stuck in our black and white thinking that people who do bad things are bad people? And wouldn’t this continue our cycles of despising others and hating ourselves?

My daughter wasn’t trying to be profound in asking if this man was a bad guy—at least I don’t think she was. But God Almighty, she struck a chord inside of me, and I’m thankful she did.

I want to start climbing mountains. Don’t you?