“Et tu, Brute?” It’s hard not to think about the worst of human nature when it constantly surrounds us. On the world stage, war, manmade disasters, genocide, display the nadir of humankind. But for those of us not facing day-to-day danger, betrayal, in its many shades, must be amongst the worst of our experiences.
But what makes it so eviscerating? That this injury doesn’t come from those we consider shady (and therefore, sensibly avoid) is what makes its impact so devastating. Whilst ‘better the devil you know’ may be the principle on which we elect our politicians, when it comes to duplicity in our personal lives, if it has to happen at all, most of us would rather it was served up by strangers! When our politicians promise us the earth but once elected, feather their nests instead, we aren’t especially perturbed because we didn’t ever believe them (why we still vote for them is a whole other column)! Because betrayal isn’t betrayal unless it comes from those in whom we’ve reposed our trust. This unkindest cut of all results from being shafted at close quarters, while in a metaphorical embrace, as with Julius Caesar and his (fr)assassin Brutus.
Blindsided by their double-dealing, we are left reeling not only from the pain, but the shock of the startling source of our harm. If you’ve lived some years on this earth, you know there’s never any dearth of unkindness from strangers (and the occasional, heartwarming solidarity too). Unless there’s lasting.
