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"But surely you know that good and evil are a matter of opinion!" The voice on the phone belonged to a senior editor of a large publishing house. It was an authoritative voice, very sure of itself, although respectful as it continued.
"Please understand. I personally find your books thoroughly entertaining and much more interesting than the pap we're all producing. But that's not the point. No large publisher can bring out a reading series with stories about good guys and bad guys - regardless of the scientific findings showing spectacular reading results. Of course children love your books. But they give the wrong picture of life. . ." My voice must have expressed astonishment. "Did I hear right? You said that good and evil are merely a matter of opinion, that there's no difference between good and evil. You couldn't have meant to say that! Of course there is. . ." The voice of the senior editor broke in, this time with definite condescension. "Now Dr. Fuller, you know perfectly well that what's labeled good or evil depends on who writes the history. It's all relative." "You must be joking! If someone were to kill you when you leave your office tonight, that would be an evil act. To say that it's all a matter of opinion - you'll scare the kids to death with that viewpoint, and me too. Surely you realize that no society can survive without an understanding of good and evil." We continued our conversation for a long time, but never resolved our disagreement. That conversation more than a decade ago, one of several, defined a policy that is still being implemented by major publishers. It explains much of what is printed in today's textbooks. As a child psychologist I am concerned about the apprehension and dread such a relativistic viewpoint of good and evil creates. It makes children with their linear logic wonder and fear, if hurting or killing is all right, what's to prevent someone from hurting me, or my Mom and Dad? Such fears are reinforced by the terrifying reality of the TV news with its daily scenes of violence and terrorism against innocent people. To counteract this terrifying reality, adults must express their concern, their horror, at acts of cruelty. Indignation when others are harmed reassures children. They gain security from knowing that there are principles that all of us are expected to live up to: that when someone fails to live up to these standards it means that they have committed an evil act. In the years since my conversation with the senior editor I have seen numerous children reassured and comforted by stories about good and bad guys - with the good guys winning of course. Ironically, it was the conversation with the senior editor, and similar ones with other large publishers, which set into motion events that were to prove the importance of such stories for children. My refusal to change the reading series to please the large publishers made it necessary to print the books on my own. I became a small publisher. Schools, learning centers, universities, and parents talked to me about their children and students, and the affect the books had on them. Also, while giving workshops and in-service training I saw how the stories, the ones the senior editor had objected to, were creating understandings that are essential to the mental health of developing minds. Children identified with the good guys and wanted to become more like them. Just like the students in our original research studies, students from all over the country found comfort and security by identifying with the doers of good deeds. Each 100 to 150 page book is a separate hilarious science fiction adventure with familiar characters reappearing. As the books progress, the level of the good guys' battle with evil becomes more advanced. In our research our students often described this conflict as similar to their own. Unexpectedly, court committed delinquents became especially engrossed in this aspect of the books. Reggie was the first such youngster to tell us that the stories made him "feel good." At age 14, Reggie had been institutionalized for armed burglary and arson. Because he was illiterate, we tried to break into his cycle of failure by teaching him to read. Since the series was just being created, we were unfamiliar with its affect. We had no expectations that the books might be therapeutic. So when Reggie told us that Timo, the main character of THE VOOROO WHO DID NOT UNDERSTAND HE WAS BORN TO BE BAD "is like me," we were puzzled. How could Reggie be like Timo, who, in 100 pages of adventuring learns to help others even when "there's no payoff?" Surely Reggie and Timo did not resemble each other. Or did they? So we asked Reggie what he thought had happened to Timo, and why he liked him so much. His answer was simple, and yet so adult. "Timo became more of a man." That's when we realized that Reggie's idea of manhood had undergone a radical change. Previously he had idolized the pimps and drug dealers of his neighborhood. Now he admired "good" men, and wanted to be one of them. The stories had made Reggie want to be a doer of good deeds - just like Timo in the story. Happy endings can become a reality even for the delinquents who are terrorizing, and are terrorized by our city streets. But it was not just the disadvantaged whose identity blossomed through the stories about good and evil. There was Bobby, aged seven, the precocious provocateur of his private school, who was about to be expelled. After a psychological consultation, his desperate mother raced him through the reading series so that he would be an adult reader in a matter of months. The reasoning was that once Bobby had access to the world of ideas his very active mind would stay out of mischief. Bobby and his mother succeeded in record time. But even before becoming an adult reader something very important happened. The school provocateur had become a storyteller. And like the books of the reading series his science fiction stories were tales about good and bad guys - with the good guys winning of course. More important, Bobby's stories were moral tales, reflecting the child's discovery that good and evil are important conceptualizations. He shared this discovery with his classmates - a very different form of sharing from his previous ones of spitballs, slingshoted paperclips and foul language. There was no more talk about his being expelled. Identification with the good guys, and the desire to be more like them produced strikingly positive personality changes in all our students. Jeffrey, who was retarded, and had been court committed for arson, described the affect thus. "When you try to be good, that means one less bad guy. Sometimes you make other kids good. It's like you make things happen. Not like before, things was always happening to you." With his new realizations, Jeffrey had become more outgoing, more sunny. For him the world had become less scary, a nicer place. He had understood that when you try to be a good guy, when you try to make this a better world, you are no longer helpless. You have gained at least some control over your surroundings. And being less helpless means that you can control the "baddies" in yourself. In the past he had experienced the frightening feeling of finding himself out of control. He did not want to re-experience the bewilderment in finding himself in destructive acting-out dilemmas. Children and the retarded can be very logical. They reason that if they can't control their own "baddies," then other people probably can't control theirs. And if people can't master their "baddies", then danger lurks everywhere. Restraining your own "baddies" means that the world can be made into a safer place. Further, as Jeffrey described it, "All the good guys get together so no bad guys win." This was his way of expressing the hope that was now his - a hope and yearning shared by most of us who enjoy stories of good winning in its battle over evil. Children the world over are frightened by evil. Which is why they are fascinated by stories that deal with this fear. They feel personally involved when evil is vanquished, when good triumphs. They have gained at least a partial control over a terror that threatens them with what psychologists call "learned helplessness." "Learned helplessness" occurs when one feels powerless to protect oneself or ones family from harm. But it is more than just a feeling. For "learned helplessness" produces damaging physical and emotional symptoms. In the laboratory, animals that cannot escape a noxious stimulus never mind how hard they try, eventually give up. They stop struggling. Even if the situation is changed, they don't seem to realize they can now escape. They have stopped trying. They have learned to be helpless. The corresponding human becomes depressed and loses interest in life; the reason for living is gone. Some become violent. "What's the use" say the emotions, and the physiology begins to shut down. We now see an appalling number of depressed children. They are the youngsters who believe that no matter what they do, it will make no difference. For them the good guys don't win - there are no good guys. To treat some of these depressed youngsters several mental hospitals have found an unexpectedly successful therapeutic tool. It is the very reading series the senior editor objected to more than a decade ago. Similar results were obtained by a juvenile court system in Kansas with young offenders who, like Reggie, thought that Timo had "become more of a man." The preoccupation of children with stories about good and evil represents a healthy preoccupation. It is the child's way of gaining control of himself and his world. Such control gives children the knowledge that they are not helpless, since they have controlled at least some of the "baddies" within. Amusing as it sounds, it is nevertheless realistic to say that discernment of right and wrong has a vital mental health function. The similarity in what is considered good or evil in our various human cultures is not accidental. Good and evil are concepts that represent the essential rules of behavior without which no society can survive. Just as children fear for their own survival when they lack a belief in right and wrong, so must a society. Our feelings of insecurity, that our own society is in danger of disintegrating because of lack of standards, are not unrealistic. The drug culture, the violence in our schools, are ample evidence that such apprehensions are well founded. But there is another reason for our children's preoccupation with stories about good and evil; there's another reason for their striving to understand what is right and what represents wrong. They are trying to establish an identity for themselves. Who they are, their identity, is linked to whether they are the doer of good deeds, to the sort of person they want to become. Cathy, one of our four-year olds was a beautiful representative of this developmental phenomenon. Shortly after Cathy began the series, Vad, the Robot from Mars, became her hero. She drew picture after picture of him. Of course being four they weren't very good pictures. Eagerly Cathy ran up to visitors telling them with wide-eyed excitement about Vad's exploits, and how he rescued and helped those in need. A few months later after she had reached the middle of the series (about the 5th to 6th grade level) her fantasies expanded. Now she was the rescuer, the helper of those in need. Her self concept was developing into an identity involved with good deeds. Although still only four, she knew the type of person she wanted to become. Needless to say, this attitude was eagerly encouraged by her parents.  In the years that have followed since my original conversation with the senior editor, I have seen again and again how stories of good and evil play an essential role in the mental health of children. There is a reason why these narratives appear in all cultures, in all religions. And there are powerful developmental reasons why children are fascinated by such fables. They help create the person the child will become. Quite by accident, it was my own reading system that showed me the power that tales of "virtue" have in creating responsible adults. |