Betrayal and the discipline of vigilance

There is a unique kind of pain that betrayal brings. It is unlike any wound you get from life’s usual struggles. It cuts differently, not because of the act itself but because it comes from someone you trusted. If you expected it, you would brace yourself, shield your heart and prepare your mind.

- BY MISTER ANGKAS GEORGE ROYECA

But betrayal rarely announces itself. It arrives quietly, with a smile, with a handshake or with years of shared history. That is why it hurts so deeply. It is not the knife in your back that destroys you, but the shock of discovering it was held by someone you once embraced.

I have had my share of such experiences. In business, in politics, in friendships, in places where loyalty was assumed but not always honored. Each time, I would ask myself, why does it hurt this much? And the answer is always the same. Because I never saw it coming. Because I chose to trust blindly. Because I believed that history and good intentions were guarantees of loyalty.

But they are not.

Blind trust is dangerous. The weak extend it freely. They see smiles and they believe them. They hear sweet words and they take them as truth. They cling to memories and assume they bind people forever. And when betrayal comes, as it often does, they collapse. They break.

The strong approach trust differently. They do not close themselves off from people, but they give trust with caution. They observe. They pay attention not only to words but to actions. They test loyalty in small ways. They prepare, even silently, for the day a friend may turn into an enemy. When betrayal finally arrives, as it sometimes must in life, they are not destroyed. They are confirmed. They nod quietly and say, I suspected as much.