Moral Inversion

Choosing trust in a world that wants you to choose fear.

Early Monday morning, a person entered our car and searched through it looking for items to steal. They didn’t find anything worth taking, but our neighbors weren’t as lucky. Several of them had things stolen from their vehicles.

We alerted the police and shared our video footage in hopes it would help track down the thief. And, as is common now, we posted the videos to our local Facebook groups to warn neighbors and see if anyone else had been hit.

It turns out the suspect may have broken into hundreds of cars, covering multiple miles from at least 3:30 a.m. to 5:30 a.m.

Most of the comments we received were supportive and helpful. People tried to identify the suspect and reminded others to stay alert.

But there’s a different kind of response that shows up too. “Maybe lock your doors and keep valuables out.” “When will people learn to lock their doors?”

Those types of comments got a lot of likes, and they’re not uncommon.

When our window was broken at Slice by Saddleback and the cash register stolen, people said we deserved it because we hadn’t left the till open to show there was no cash inside.

A few things are true here. Yes, we could have locked our doors. That’s correct.

But it’s also true that it’s not our fault someone tried to steal from us.

This is called moral inversion. It’s similar to the old lines like, “She shouldn’t have dressed that way if she didn’t want to get attacked,” or “You shouldn’t walk through that neighborhood if you don’t want to get robbed.”

It’s victim blaming. It flips the morality around. It implies that unless we secure every item and lock every door, we are responsible for the actions of people who break the law. That kind of thinking erodes trust.

And trust is what community depends on.

When I walk down the street with my kids, I trust that drivers won’t run us over. When I eat at a restaurant, I trust that nobody put something disgusting in my food. We rely on each other, every day, in thousands of small ways.

A world without trust is a world where we wall ourselves off from each other, where we assume everyone is a threat. That’s not the world I want to live in, and it’s not what I want for my family.

I want us to live in a high trust society where we believe in the goodness of our neighbors. I want to live in a world where our kids can ride their bike to school and eat halloween candy from their friends and neighbors.

I’m willing to take that risk because even though there are monsters out there, their numbers are small. And I’d rather live life giving the benefit of the doubt to the amazing people all around me, even the strangers, than assuming that everyone is a monster out to attack me.

Yes, I might get let down now and then. A window might get broken. Something might get taken. But if the cost of trust is an occasional setback, it’s still far cheaper than letting fear run my life.

A few bad nights aren’t worth poisoning all the good ones. I’d rather face the risk of a broken window than live with a broken worldview.