Integrity: am I doing it?

I have been feeling very reflective the last week or so. I’ve read some interesting books and articles, revisited some of my travel journals and pictures, and have taken a good hard look at my life and life in general. You all know I have an arsenal of stories just waiting to be told, but this week I really wanted to write about something of substance. I always have a lot on my mind (which is sometimes good and sometimes bad) but I don’t usually share the deeper things mostly because I’m not sure who’s interested in hearing them and then I get self-conscious when I just put them out into oblivion without getting any sort of response. Anyway, I was going through some stuff I wrote during my last semester of grad school and found this piece in there. I’ve decided to forego any misgivings about sharing my deeper thoughts and put this out there because I think it's an interesting topic and because I'm anxious for others' feelings and thoughts.

This rumination was sparked by a conversation I had with some friends on a hike about a year and a half ago. We were arguing about the President's "real" agenda behind the war in Iraq (a heated discussion for sure) which eventually led to a discussion on foreign oil. Not knowing very much about the specifics of foreign oil, I found my mind wandering a bit. I wondered if we will ever be able to elect someone who doesn't have an agenda to increase their power at the expense of others. Will we ever have a leader whose agenda involves doing what is right no matter the cost? I think it would be very difficult for many reasons, one of which includes an inconsistent idea of right and wrong. I feel most would agree that integrity involves something along the lines of "being honest" or "obeying one's conscience," but the specifics can be a gray area; the person who offers a scathing rant on the most recent deception in the political arena might also be the same person who knowingly walks away with ten cents more change than deserved. I think the argument might revolve around asking when an action constitutes a breach of one’s integrity. Or considering how much one transgression of integrity affects the world. Does it depend on the gravity of the infraction? I read somewhere a quote attributed to Confucius. I like it; the sentiment rings true to me. It says,

To put the world right in order, we must first put the nation in order; to put the nation in order, we must first put the family in order; to put the family in order, we must first cultivate our personal life; we must first set our hearts right.

The idea that the smallest decisions in one’s life can affect a much bigger picture is both humbling and daunting.

I have always tried to be an honest person. When I was younger, it was definitely to the detriment of my popularity. Though it hurt sometimes to be ridiculed for my honesty, I valued the virtue above all else. I thought I had mastered it along with integrity. I encountered a situation during my sophomore year of college that taught me otherwise.

I took an introductory religious studies course from Dr. Mueller, a well-respected lecturer at SDSU, known for his engaging style and tough exams. I was enthralled as we studied Buddhism, Hinduism and Confucianism. When it came time for the tests my enthusiasm for the topic made studying easy. The tests, however, were not: three to five pages of short answer questions with points assigned according to how thoroughly the question was answered. As an undergraduate I was concerned to the point of obsession about my grades. I had emerged from high school as one of the valedictorians (a shared honor at my school) and had planned on maintaining as near-perfect grades as I could during college (darn astronomy...). Consequently, I stressed endlessly about tests. I also liked Dr. Mueller and studied hard not only to do well but because I genuinely enjoyed what I was learning.

I survived the first test and did surprisingly well. Exhausted but happy, I felt a bit more comfortable knowing what his tests were like and how to study for them. I moved onto the next round of material and tested well again. Then we got to a unit about which I was a bit apprehensive: Christianity. I considered myself a very knowledgeable Christian, but not a knowledgeable Catholic. I was desperately afraid of failing (which for me really means a B- or lower), of unconsciously mixing Mormon and Catholic doctrine. I participated extensively in class and studied harder for that test than any other previously.

Despite my efforts, trying to keep all the Catholic doctrines straight as well as historical figures in their proper chronological order left me feeling I had surely done poorly. I had to wait over a week to discover my fate.

The day finally came and Dr. Mueller returned all of the exams but my own. He asked that I walk with him back to his office to discuss my grade. I felt dread--pure dread--as I joined him on his walk down the metal staircase, down the hall past all the music majors in their practice rooms, finally arriving at his office. On the way, he asked me how I thought I did on the test. I knew it; I had bombed, and this little walk was his way of telling me, away from the rest of the class. I thought wildly that he would give me another chance given my excellent record in his class. I took a deep breath and was honest with him; I felt I had not done well. He asked me to be more specific, to guess my grade. I gave him a score somewhere in the high B range (although I was sure it was closer to the C range). By that time we had reached his office door. With one hand on the knob he then presented me with a choice: I could either take the grade I earned or the grade I guessed. I hesitated only for a moment; I took the grade I guessed. I justified it in those two seconds that it didn't matter what grade I had received; if I didn't understand the material perfectly, I deserved a high B. When I gave him my answer, he merely put his key in the lock, opened the door and walked straight over to his desk. He pulled my test off the top of a pile of papers, handed me the paper and said, "Well, that's unfortunate." There on my test in red pen was written my score: 116/117. I had received a near-perfect score. I had missed one point. I had received the highest grade in all of his classes and the highest grade he had ever given on this test. I almost cried in relief and disbelief. Horror washed over me as I realized I had just agreed to take a high B when a near-perfect score was staring me right in the face. I am ashamed to admit that I should have felt horrified for another reason entirely and yet I didn't. Not then anyway.

He ultimately gave me the score I had received and I left his office feeling tremendous relief. In the months following that experience, I liked to tell myself that he wanted me to see how much confidence I lacked in my abilities as a student. I thought maybe he cared enough to teach me to relax and trust that I was smart. However, after discussing the matter with a friend, and after another (more vicious) encounter with Dr. Mueller about a year later, I became convinced of something else. Dr. Mueller knew I was a Mormon, a devout Mormon, and he wanted to see how my religion would interact with my clearly stated desire for good grades. I think he thought he knew me and wanted to see how deep my religion ran.

The thing is I thought I knew me, too. I didn't even consider it a true breach of my integrity until I recounted what I felt was the humor and relief of the situation to a friend, much older and more experienced in life. He didn't laugh at the interaction but instead looked at me very seriously and told me he was disappointed in the way I handled the situation. He told me that my integrity should have guided me to take the score I had earned; that would have been the honest thing to do. I was ashamed and hurt to think that my professor had been testing my integrity and that I had failed – a virtue I once thought of as one of my strongest.

It took me a while after my friend's chastisement to decide whether to be upset at Dr. Mueller's tactic or grateful for his little experiment. I think I felt both emotions for a long time. He exposed some gaps in my integrity, but I didn't appreciate being exposed so maliciously. I more than passed the test administered to the rest of the class, but failed the test that I came to realize mattered more. I was more afraid of failure that would result in a poor grade on my transcript. I should have been worried about the poor mark on my character. I have reached a point now where I am wholly grateful for this experience. It has, over the years, taught me to be less concerned with the world's judgment of my success and to be more concerned with progressing in my own time and season, honestly and with the Lord's guidance and direction. But I must admit I cannot think of this experience without a pang of shame and a resolution to never repeat it.

Some reading this might think I'm being unnecessarily hard on myself, but I don't think I am. Integrity is something this world is severely lacking. How different would the world be if people only took what they earned, if they returned every bill they were given in error at the store? How would politics be different if every figure governed their lives with their "hearts right"? What would the world picture look like then? Is it possible to change? Confucius suggests that it is possible to change by starting with ourselves and working up to our families, then to our nation, and then to the world. But I worry that fear might keep this from becoming an actuality. "Fear of what?" one might ask. This question is best answered by describing a game I both loathe and love, called "Win as Much as You Can."

"Win as Much as You Can" is played as follows: Four people or four groups play and every person/group is given a piece of paper. Each group is to write down either an X or a Y at the beginning of each round and receives points based on the collective result. The game is scored as follows: XXXX = Everyone loses 1 point; XXYY = X wins 2, Y loses 2; XXXY = X wins 1, Y loses 3; YYYX = X wins 3, Y loses 1; YYYY = Everyone wins 1. The game operates on trust; all participants discuss beforehand what they will agree to put down but in the end each player enters their choice privately, revealing his or her choice only after everyone has written it down. If everyone agrees to put down a Y (and everyone actually does it), everyone wins 1 point. However, if everyone but one person puts down a Y, the person who puts down an X gets the maximum number of points one can gain in a round (3), and everyone else loses 1 point. Usually, once people are burned by a rogue group member who puts down an X after everyone has agreed on Y, it is difficult to get the group to agree to the Y strategy again; no one wants to be the one to put down a Y because unless everyone puts down a Y, the Y's always lose. Sometimes groups try the Y's again, but deception and suspicion has already entered the group; no one wants to be the trusting sucker. However, on the flip side, if no one trusts one another and everyone puts down an X, everyone loses a point and no one gains anything. Rarely does a game actually get played all the way through because group members end up yelling at each other and many refuse to continue playing.

I hate the contention the game creates, but it is fascinating to watch it play out. My mom would make her seminary students play it every year as her object lesson on the united order. A rare group would catch on and gladly mark down all Y's. More common were the games with partnerships aimed at winning as much as they could, laughing gleefully when they had successfully duped the other players. Integrity was non-existent; they were winning while sending the rest of the group into negative scores. Eventually the game would deteriorate into players abstaining or everyone putting down X's because it didn't matter if they lost anymore points. Hope was eventually lost for the entire game.

There are those who argue that competition and hierarchy is what drives invention and growth. I don’t know if I agree with that, but even if I did, does competition always have to involve a compromise of integrity? Why does progress always mean someone is ahead of another? What is so bad about everyone working together to become better? I'm not saying that order and authority are not necessary. I think there definitely has to be a governing body, but let that body be loving and genuinely interested in the building up of a nation or a kingdom for the sake of its strength, not to build an elite class that either laughs gleefully at duping the trusting souls or ignores them in apathy. Maybe it is naïve of me to think we can change the current state our world is in, a world where currently many talk about putting down a Y but are being dragged down by those secretly putting down an X. I wonder if we are at or near the point where everyone puts down an X (or abstains) because it appears we can't lose anymore than we already have. I wonder sometimes if hope will ever be revived, if integrity will prevail, if selfishness will ever be put aside.

I have to say, even though I wonder at times, the majority of the time I choose to be an optimist in this regard. I believe that day will come, but I think it will start quietly, in our own homes. I think it will spread to our neighbors, if we will share our experiences and hopes with them. All it takes is a few strong individuals to inspire many to live better, to give others the strength and courage to change and to be different than the majority, at least for a little while.

I hope I continue to stretch myself to have experiences that expose my weaknesses so that I can make them stronger and in turn help my future children, who in turn may influence those around them.

And now I'm not sure how to end this. It feels trite any way I've tried. So I'll just say, "the end." And I'm curious for your thoughts. And I promise a good story will be posted later in the week.