When No One’s Watching… Who Are We Really?
- Martin Jarvis
- Jul 8
- 3 min read
There’s something about lying that cuts deep. Not the desperate kind, when someone’s cornered and panicked. That’s survival. No—what wounds the soul is the casual kind. The lies told out of convenience, ambition, ego. The lies told for profit when there's already more than enough. The lies told to win, no matter the cost.
What bothers me is how easily we accept it now—how normalized it’s become. We lie in politics. In business. In relationships. We lie when the truth would’ve cost us nothing but our pride. And if we’re honest, this isn’t new. It’s baked into the history of this nation—from slavery, to the betrayal and genocide of Native Americans, to countless acts of injustice cloaked in national interest or economic necessity. These weren't just political decisions—they were moral failures.
And I say this not to point fingers, but to open eyes. Because at its root, lying is more than just saying something false. It’s the gateway. It opens the door to all the other things—cheating, stealing, cruelty, greed, manipulation. It makes it easier to dehumanize, to dominate, to forget that we’re all just people trying to get through life with some measure of dignity.
But let’s not just talk about nations. Let’s talk about us. You and me. Because this is a human flaw, not just an American one. Maybe it comes from fear. Maybe from a deep sense of not being good enough unless we’re one step ahead—even if that means stepping on someone else.
Still, I believe there’s hope. History has seen its fair share of hopeless moments. And yet, the needle does move—but only when individuals begin to turn inward. When people dare to examine themselves honestly. When we stop pretending our actions don’t come with consequences. Because they do.
We’ve convinced ourselves that there’s no such thing as karma. That there’s no reaping for what we sow. That what goes around doesn’t come around. But if you really look—at your life, your children, your household—you might start to see the link between what we put out into the world and what circles back.
You cannot do evil and expect peace. And just as truly, you cannot consistently do good and not see goodness find its way back to you.
Look at what happens during disasters—like the floods out West. In those moments, people don’t ask for political credentials before lending a hand. They don’t care what color you are, what party you vote for, what you believe. They help because they’re human. Because that’s who we are without all the noise—without the greed and the selfishness and the justifications we make in quieter times.
It’s easy to divide ourselves when things are going well. But tragedy strips all that away and reveals what’s real. And what’s real is this: we are better when we care for each other. We are stronger when we stand together.
This isn’t just philosophy—it’s a charge. Because your children are watching you. Not just hearing your words, but absorbing your choices. They are becoming what you model, whether you mean to or not. You are the architect of their moral foundation. And the world they’ll grow into will be shaped by the truths—or lies—you live by.
So maybe it’s time we all started living like someone’s learning from us. Because they are.
Peace.
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