Inbau & Reid, Criminal Interrogation and Confessions, 1962.
In the interrogation room, the truthfulness of the subject is naturally in question. The man who proclaims his honesty (when it is not otherwise challenged) is probably not being honest. When dealing with someone who tells you he’s honest, keep a hand on your wallet.
Likewise integrity. If you have integrity, people will know it without being told. If they don’t or if you aren’t, telling them won’t convince them. In fact, if people don’t know you to have integrity and you claim to, they will (appropriately) question why you should think it necessary to protest. The more offended noises you make in response, the more their questions will seem justified.
In the same way that unprovokedly proclaiming one’s own integrity calls into question that integrity, so does righteous concern over one’s honor and dignity reveal a lack of honor and dignity.
Honor and dignity are not something that someone else can take away. If you have honor and dignity, it doesn’t matter what people think of you. Dignity and honor are in how you behave, not how people see you. If you’re upset that someone might be depriving you of either, you’ve already lost—no, surrendered—it.
Yet people die over honor and dignity—or over the perceived loss of honor or dignity. That’s what road rage crimes are often about—loss of control, perceived loss of dignity, escalation (“I’ll show him!”), wrinkled sheet metal, gunplay. In a flash one person has gone from