My father has a concept that he likes to share with me often. He calls it the "jerk factor". It's quite simple: in any given circumstance, in the absence of rules, there is a subset of people in the population (the "jerks") that will abuse the lack of rules. This will lead to rules being established. If there are established rules, then the jerks will abuse any leniency in the rules. This will lead to the rules being tightened.

In short: most people are reasonable and exercise good behavior, but there is a small minority of selfish people who ruin having complete freedom for everyone else. Presumably, if you accept this premise, then all authority exists to keep this minority from hurting others, or themselves.

Many years ago, I read a book by noted skeptic Michael Shermer. In it, he claims that one of the harms wrought on society by organized religion is the externalization of evil. This is summed up in the dismissive aphorism that someone might offer after they've been caught doing something bad: "the devil made me do it". (It's been a while since I read the book, and the title escapes me, so apologies to Shermer if I'm doing his point injustice by oversimplifying.)

The danger is in the shirking of personal responsibility. It's not my fault! We point the finger at devil on our shoulder. I'm certainly not a perfect person; I understand that this little Lucifer has whispered in my own ear plenty of times and caused me to do stupid things, so I don't think this excuse is inherently evil. What I'd ask of anyone playing this card (including myself) is some assurance that they've learned to recognize his voice, so they can ignore it the next time he speaks up.

More recently, I learned that some religious people do the very opposite: they externalize the source of their own good actions. I read a nighttime prayer someplace last year (its source escapes me now) that goes something like this: "Lord, anything good I did today that served You came from You; thank You for guiding me. If I did anything bad, not in accordance with Your wishes, it was my fault. Please help me do better tomorrow."

This is more succinctly summed up in the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector praying in the temple: "The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people--robbers, evildoers, adulterers--or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.' But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, 'God, have mercy on me, a sinner.' I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God." (Luke 18:10-14)

The same danger exists here, but in the opposite direction: if you pray as the tax collector does, if you define yourself as a sinner, then you externalize all of the good you've done. Perhaps, to be more gentle on ourselves, they prayer should read: "Have mercy on me, a good person who sins."

Positive psychology distinguishes optimistic people from pessimistic ones very simply: optimists attribute their good fortune to their character and their bad fortune to their circumstances, while pessimists do the very opposite. Given this criteria, the risk of doing what the optimist does is becoming haughty; at the other extreme, the risk of doing what the pessimist does is becoming depressed. Either way, it's risky to define yourself as either absolute, and relegating the responsibility for your actions that are inconsistent with this absolute, to some external influence.

I try not to be a jerk. When I am one, I try to recognize it, and be less of a jerk the next day. My hope is that, on my deathbed, the voice of the jerk inside of me will have been reduced to little more than white noise.