Friends. Looking back on my years as a magistrate, I can offer the following insight into human nature: honesty boxes are a gateway drug to a life of petty crime. The whole concept of the honesty box is an oxymoron; a temptation to the weak. They create the conditions for dishonesty.
In a wonderful, imaginary world, humanity would show basic decency and charitable intentions towards fellow citizens; we could all be trusted. Magistrates would rarely be required. And, in truth, many do strive towards this ideal. But life is full of people taking more than their fair share of sweeties out of the communal jar.
Honesty boxes make it easy to learn to steal small amounts of things and get away with it. And stealing small amounts can become a bad habit in which the rewards do not justify the risk. The habit may escalate and may need to be addressed by our present company.
I’m not talking here of the undeserving rich who grab-and-go with impunity. It’s the little people who find small opportunities to help themselves, but who may lack the imagination to commit more enriching crimes. It’s the spirit of the honesty box – small gain for small effort.
For me, it began in the infants school. All those goody boxes lined up waiting for lunch time; all those tempting little chocolate bars inside-who would notice if the odd one went awol? No one seemed to mind or make a great fuss.
And there was a woman in the next street who put bags of apples and strawberries for sale just outside her gate along with a box inviting payment. Nobody noticed a few strawberries gone, or a missing apple.
I’ve studied honesty box operators in some depth. There are those who steal a whole item, a punnet of fruit, half a dozen eggs, a jar of honey. There are also those who appear to pay for their goods but put a fraction of the cost in the box. Either way, these are not victimless crimes, but neither are they the way to riches.
I’m glad to say my honesty box abuse habit was broken early when a teacher caught me helping myself to pencils in her stationery cupboard. Her public shaming and letter to my parents left me so mortified that I still recall the humiliation.
It’s all a bit sordid when you think of it -the pettiness of it all, the paltry gain for risk of ruined reputation.
This is why I plan to spend my retirement years designing a perfect crime. Experience will help with the research and I hope to leave behind the mundane culture of the abused honesty box.
I may not become rich from the proceeds of crime, but I hope a publisher will appreciate the pleasures of a well written, ambitious criminal tale.
To felons I urge ‘go big, forget petty, stop messing with church honesty boxes. It’s boring’.
Goodbye to you all and many thanks for your fellowship in crime.
