Most of us, as we near retirement, reflect back on our lives. We look at the personal and career choices we made, the opportunities we missed, and whether our own ethics played a role in the directions we took. We all have a moral compass and a personal code to follow. We also have the ability to lie to ourselves to justify our actions. Most lies are harmless and, in some ways, a mechanism of self-protection. This can be important for maintaining a healthy mind and soul. 

I often wonder about truly evil people—those whom the collective world agrees are pure evil. Do they ignore facts? Do they tell themselves bigger lies? Possibly the most evil figure by collective world standards was Adolf Hitler. I recently toured Nuremberg and visited sites like Zeppelin Field and Congress Hall, where he held massive rallies. Most people followed blindly, but some resisted and paid a price. I would bet that Hitler felt not only justified but morally righteous in his actions. 

Small Lies and Everyday Ethics

In 1975, I was a teenager working part-time at a gas station. Our employer paid employees ten cents for every can of oil we sold. To encourage sales, he put up a tote board tracking each employee’s performance. I routinely came in last place by a wide margin. I checked the oil level on every car I serviced. Eventually, I had to ask what I was doing wrong. 

That’s when I learned about the trick known as “short-sticking.” This involved intentionally inserting the dipstick just short of fully seated, which produced a reading showing the engine was a quart low every time. I questioned whether adding too much oil could hurt the engine. The typical response was, “Not my problem.” I couldn’t bring myself to do it and was proud that I didn’t—but that pride was shaken a bit fifty years later. 

Family History and Moral Courage

My wife is from the Austrian-Swiss border region, from a large family with a long history. Some family members served in World War II, including in the German Wehrmacht. Their stories were remarkable, especially to an American whose own family served on the other side in the European theater during the same time period.

But their family history goes even deeper. A great-uncle, Carl Lampert, was a priest in the 1930s. On my current visit, I saw posters advertising a documentary about his life at local theaters and museums. I assume it coincides with his January birthday and reflects the fact that he is on a path toward becoming a Catholic saint. 

Carl Lampert’s short life was incredible and humbling. He was deeply devoted to helping people who spoke out against the Nazi regime. He was warned to stop, even the Vatican in Rome asked him to stand down. He did not. Eventually, the Nazis sent him to hard labor at the Dachau concentration camp, from which he was released in 1944. 

After his release, his phone was tapped as he continued his mission, even helping Jewish citizens escape. He was arrested again, and this time the Nazi Party put an end to what they saw as their “Priest Lampert problem.” He was publicly executed by guillotine in the center of his town. He could have stayed silent. He could have protected himself. Instead, he continued, fully aware of what might happen. 

My pride in not “short-sticking” customers pales in comparison to what Uncle Carl did. 

What Would We Really Do?

People like him can make the rest of us feel less noble, less heroic. Yet we need to know his story, because corruption, inequity, and injustice are all around us. Most of us do very little—or nothing—because of self-preservation. What makes people like Priest Lampert put their lives on the line to protect others? 

I suspect many of us believe we would have stood up to the Nazis if we had lived in that time. But would we? It’s easy to make that claim when you are safe and it isn’t real. It’s an entirely different matter to put your life on the line. I’ve seen workplace bullies and watched others cower under their threats just to keep a job.  

Unfortunately, the Priest Carl Lampert exhibition opens on his birthday and I fly back to America the day before. I would have loved to see the exhibit and pay him the respect and honor he deserves. 

The world is still full of bullies, greed, and injustice. We all believe we are right and find ways to justify our actions. People like Carl Lampert help put things into true perspective. We would all do well to remember people like him—and the sacrifices they made—to make the world more humane and civilization more civil.