A Good Man is a Very Dangerous Man

“The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong,” said Mahatma Gandhi. This is often explained with the idea that true forgiveness requires immense inner strength, courage, and maturity. The weak don’t have this inner strength. The weak will give in to moral expediency. Therefore, forgiveness is an attribute of the strong.

Most explanations stop right there. This is why so many were shocked when Jordan Peterson said a good man must be dangerous. Even many good men simply hadn’t thought out what builds such strength—perhaps they simply assumed it is genetic or inherent to character, as social scientists so often tell us today.

Others, of course, rose loudly up against the truism that strength of character must be earned as they did not want to grapple with it intellectually or to validate it by talking about it; after all, a really strong man is indeed dangerous (as is, in different ways, a strong woman) and many self-described feminists today do not want men or women to be strong.

Regardless, anyone who thinks for a few minutes about this must come to terms with the idea that strength is grown from facing hardship. It comes from standing up to chaos to bring order. It comes from taking hits but still staying in the fight. It comes from hard training both psychologically and physically.

I grew up boxing in a tough gym. Floyd Patterson’s boxing gym—located in a barn next to his house. The weak either got strong or they quit—most quit. They would be there one day and take a hit to the liver or head and then they just would not come back.

I am now in a karate dojo with my son. It is not as hard as that boxing gym was, but it is real and it demands honor. Honor requires strength of will, which builds character.

None of the boxers I knew were bullies. None of the senseis I know now are bullies. Being a bully is a sign of inner weakness. All of the senseis I know have developed quite confidence. They know they can handle themselves. They don’t get into fights. They don’t look weak. They don’t act weak. They are therefore not preyed upon. They walk through life with their shoulders back and their heads held high. If a time did come for them to act, they would. I can’t think of any one of them who would not be able to forgive.

Still, they are dangerous. All of them know how to hurt someone quickly and effectively. Any man paying attention can feel the danger in these fighters. They could explode into practiced action—a left hook, a spinning back kick—in a flash. They don’t, but they could.

If even an older man wants to break away the weight the common American diet has layered upon them, if they want to get away from the managed decline the U.S. healthcare system gets rich on, and if they want to shrug off the burdens on actual physical and inner strength that other industries pretend to sell them, then they need to find something that pushes them physically—preferably something with an honor code built in. Dojos can be great for this—if you can find one with adult classes. But so can other physical hobbies. A hiking or running group, a weightlifting class, a cycling club … whatever gets you going. As you struggle to get in shape and to compete or keep up, and thereby overcome your weakness, you will become dangerous, too.