I don’t want to succumb to a total doomsday scenario, but recent months have made me fear that the world has completely lost its moral compass. Part of the world, at any rate, and unfortunately precisely that part which has a significant influence on the rest. I am, of course, referring to the leaders of the largest nations and their entourage, though I certainly wish to include a few of our own political leaders in that. They have exchanged the moral and ethical narrative for another: a story of profit and the survival of the fittest. 

Our morals are shaped by the stories we share. It has always been that way. They provide direction and meaning. Until about fifty years ago, these were mainly religious and ideological stories. Humanity uses them to pass on information from generation to generation, from group to group. Valuable information that helps us shape our lives and organise them properly. Wisdom from which we learn and which enables us to give meaning and make sense of things. Or – however strange that may sound in the present day – to survive. After listening to stories, we are able to distinguish good from evil, recognise danger and love those who deserve it. They provide a sense of security.

At least in a world less complex than today’s. You may well draw a parallel with the religious stories that have provided guidance for centuries. I was brought up in a religious household myself, albeit in a fairly liberal environment, and I still remember how wonderful it felt to gain clarity by having a passage from the Bible read to me every day and going to church every Sunday. I was convinced that if I just did the right thing, I would end up in a good place, at least after my death.

That also led to a huge sense of guilt when, at the age of eight, I got up early one Saturday morning to secretly spread butter on a rusk with my sister, then pour half a packet of chocolate sprinkles over it and quickly devour that mountain of sprinkles by licking them up. At that moment, desire won out over the conviction that I ought to do the right thing, as often happened later in my life. But afterwards I was certain that heaven was further away than ever, and perhaps that is why I have remembered this story to this very day. Even though I no longer believe in the existence of paradise, this was, strictly speaking, my first fall from grace.

I am referring here to religious stories, but that does not mean these are the only stories that have left such a mark. Ideological stories, whether or not linked to religion, historical stories, folk tales, urban legends and even individual family stories played at least as significant a role.

That time, however, is behind us. For although a section of the population still claims to believe, there is a larger section that now considers itself secular. And is therefore looking for new stories to provide direction. That is often where the problem lies. For which stories are suitable for that purpose?

A few drift off into spiritual realms, but a much larger proportion are swapping collective narratives (for indeed, that is what ideological and religious narratives are too) for individual ones, not infrequently based on neo-liberal principles that are more concerned with the well-being of the ‘self’ than that of others. If you add to that an unhealthy dose of narcissism – a narcissism I believe I recognise in several leaders – then you have a recipe for a thoroughly antisocial narrative that harks back to the age-old law of the jungle. Or the person with the loudest voice. Me, me, me, and the rest can go hang.

I am inclined to call this immoral. But perhaps I am wrong. Is this the new morality, the new narrative, and must we simply get used to it?

Somewhere, I hope not. Because although we may be critical of all those narratives that have shaped us and our worldview over time, they have also brought us a great deal of beauty. A society of peaceful coexistence, a society that, fortunately, I still encounter quite often.

Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t think I want to go along with the new moral narrative. We have the choice to follow the stories we find important, guiding and meaningful. The stories currently coming from the mouths of a Trump and his entourage, a Putin and his entourage, and Wilders and his entourage – and perhaps also from a Jetten and his entourage – are not the stories on which I wish to calibrate my moral compass.

So, in complete contradiction to how I began this long blog post, I’d like to conclude with: the moral of this story is … that we are free to continue following our own story, free to refuse to go along with stories that others wish to impose on us, and even free to refuse to engage with them at all. Long live our moral compass!