Intentions and Actions

The Bisohop and Jean Valjean 

I have had to apologise many times in my youth.

A friend once complained that I had been rather rude to him. In those days, I had no idea that people were so very sensitive. I was insensitive, in other words. “Rude? Me?” I was perplexed, genuinely. “I had no intention of being rude. I’m sorry.”

“That’s quite comforting,” he said. “Unfortunately, I was on the receiving end of your intention.”

I recall the episode years later.

The point does matter. I had been judging myself by what was happening inside my head, while my friend had been judging me by what had happened to him. In my version of the incident, I was a perfectly decent guy who had merely been misunderstood. In his version, my action revealed my insensitivity.

When we judge ourselves, we put our intentions in the witness box. When we judge others, we put their actions there.

In other words: For ourselves, we say: Judge me by what I meant. For others, se say: Judge them by what they did.

The most uncomfortable truth: Both sides may be partly right. Intention does matter. Remember the bishop in the story of Jeal Valjean in Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables?

Valjean, as a convict, is treated as a dangerous animal by everyone. After his release, the bishop gives him shelter. Valjean steals the bishop’s silverware and is caught by the police. The bishop saves him, however, by telling a lie. The bishop tells the police that he had gifted the silver to the man.

The bishop’s intention matters enormously here. The lie he tells saves the soul of a person.

Actions tell us what happened. Intentions tell us what the action meant. The theft acquired a totally different meaning just because of the bishop’s intention.

I used to tell my students repeatedly to judge a character in their stories by their motives rather than by their actions. Doctor Sadao, in the story titled The Enemy by Pearl S Buck, would be a traitor to his nation if we judged him by his action of saving the life of an enemy soldier and also letting him escape. But when we understand his motive (intention) rooted in deep humanity, the meaning of what he did changes. The meaning of patriotism too changes!

We need to exercise great caution here, however. Intentions do not always excuse actions. Sometimes they condemn them.

I’m tempted to mention what the Chinese government did a six-year-old boy and his family. Back in 1995. The Dalai Lama recognised the boy as the reincarnation of the 10^th Panchen Lama. He would be the next Dalai Lama. But the Chinese government wanted their own man to be the next Dalai Lama. So they took the boy and his family into custody. Later, another boy was declared the Panchen Lama. The Dalai Lama’s own choice has never been publicly seen since.

Intentions and motives are quite complicated the moment you enter the political milieu.