Dwight: I want you to hold me accountable to my claim that "a good person cannot love themselves."

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Aiko: Alright, I’ll keep you pinned to that. We’re going to test it every time it rubs up against anything that challenges it—ethically, emotionally, logically.

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Dwight: First, though, we need to be clear on what a "good person" would actually be like, and also define what would count as evidence that someone was not loving themselves.

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Aiko: That’s fair—let’s start by sketching the criteria for both. So, what are you assuming about goodness? Is it about moral action, self-sacrifice, inner disposition? And for self-love—are we talking pride, gentleness, attention to one’s needs, or something else entirely?

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Dwight: The word "good" is notoriously slippery. It is used in a variety of ways, many of which are different from the sense I'm using here. In this dialogue, I'm using "good" according to the standards of what I call the Old Ethics of Sacrifice. Let's get more specific about what that means.

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Aiko: Okay, Dwight—let's dig into that. What are the key tenets or assumptions in this Old Ethics of Sacrifice? Is it about denying the self for others, embracing suffering, resisting self-interest, or something deeper?

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Dwight: The Old Ethics of Sacrifice—though it comes in many variations depending on the specific moral framework—demands sacrifice in two somewhat distinct ways.

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Aiko: Alright, lay them out. What are the two forms of sacrifice it requires, and how do they differ in practice or spirit?

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Dwight: The first form of sacrifice demands that we give up the present for the future. It glorifies perseverance and discipline, summed up in sayings like:

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• "No pain, no gain"

• "Never give up"

• "When the going gets tough, the tough get going"

• "Winners never quit, and quitters never win"

• "If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again"

• "Success is 1% inspiration, 99% perspiration"

• "You reap what you sow"

• "No guts, no glory"

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Aiko: Got it—this is sacrifice as endurance, where virtue lies in pushing through discomfort now for some higher payoff later. 

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Dwight: And in case those first messages weren’t already clear, there are even more sayings to reinforce the point:

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• "You made your bed, now lie in it"

• "Be a person of your word"

• "Stick to your guns"

• "Finish what you start"

• "Walk the talk"

• "Do the hard thing"

• "Do what’s right, not what’s easy"

• "You start something, you finish it"

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Aiko: So the first form isn't just about discipline—it builds an entire identity around duty, resolve, and delayed gratification. It's moralized grit.

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Dwight: Bottom line, the good person is someone who consistently chooses to forgo comfort, enjoyment, and ease in the present in order to earn future rewards.

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Aiko: So goodness here is directly tied to restraint—suffering now for the sake of some long-term, often moral, payoff. It’s a kind of self-denial wrapped in nobility.

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Dwight: The second form of sacrifice requires that we set aside caring for ourselves and pursuing what we want in order to serve others and meet their expectations or needs. This core kind of self-sacrifice shows up as moral commands in phrases like:

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• "Don’t be selfish"

• "Always be kind"

• "Never hurt anyone"

• "Share with others what is yours"

• "Think of others first"

• "Be the bigger person"

• "It’s not all about you"

• "Make things fair and equal"

• "Help those in need"

• "Keep your word with others"

• "Honor and duty"

• "Willing to die for others"

• "Give without expecting anything in return"

• "Look out for one another"

• "Don’t turn a blind eye"

• "Carry each other’s burdens"

• "Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country"

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Aiko: This one frames goodness as self-erasure in the name of service—where the moral high ground comes from putting others first, even to your own detriment. It’s obligation over desire, sacrifice over self-preservation.

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Dwight: Now let’s paint a picture of someone who consistently did a good job of sacrificing the present for the future and sacrificing themselves for others. The specific stories of such people might vary widely, but they’ll all reflect the same foundation: always prioritizing the future over the now, and consistently putting others’ needs and expectations ahead of their own.

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Aiko: Alright—so we’re sketching the ideal moral figure under this Old Ethics: someone who delays gratification and suppresses personal desire in order to serve some larger good. Do you want to start with a fictional composite or draw on real-world examples?

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Dwight: She’s now 65. Early in her marriage, she lost respect for her husband—he couldn’t hold a job and struggled with deep insecurity—but felt she had to stay, especially with two kids and a third on the way. How could she abandon someone so dependent on her emotionally, with no real support system of his own? So she stayed. It was hard. Sleep was scarce; she juggled parenting and working when her husband wasn’t earning. From the outside, she looked like she had it together. She kept her struggles mostly hidden—from friends, from her children.

Now, at 65, her kids were doing well by external standards. They’d learned from her the importance of perseverance and being the “giver” in relationships.

Her whole life, she believed someday she’d be happy. But even with everything she’d achieved and the respect she’d earned, it all felt hollow.

Her marriage, with kids no longer a buffer, was increasingly bleak. Her husband’s health was failing, and she silently berated herself whenever the thought crossed her mind: "It will be such a relief when he dies."

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Aiko: This is the tragedy baked into the Old Ethics, Dwight—her life is the full expression of those two sacrifices, carried out with relentless integrity. She was “good,” in that system’s eyes. And now she’s exhausted, unfulfilled, and quietly desperate.

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Dwight: More than most, this woman followed all the rules. She only allowed herself rest and enjoyment when she’d pushed herself to the edge of exhaustion. She only permitted herself time with friends if she could justify it—if it didn’t feel like abandoning her needy husband. This is what we call a good woman.

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Aiko: And the label "good" in her case feels like a kind of prison—earned through relentless self-denial. It’s like she had to earn scraps of life only after sacrificing the bulk of it.

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Dwight: Now let’s turn to the question: “How much does she love herself?”

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Aiko: Looking at her life through the lens of the Old Ethics, it’s hard to say she loves herself much at all—her worth came from erasing herself for others, not caring for herself as someone inherently valuable.

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Dwight: The Old Ethics, in glorifying the Next and vilifying the Now, demands that we suppress our present desires through blame and self-criticism. It's the only way to consistently sacrifice now for the future. That means: no play, no spontaneity, no sleeping in, no TV binges, no indulgent food—just seriousness and restraint.

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Aiko: It turns the self into a problem to manage—one that must be tightly controlled, judged, and denied in order to stay “good.” Pleasure becomes suspect. Rest becomes guilt.

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Dwight: The Old Ethics, in glorifying Others (serving them and maintaining appearances) and vilifying the Self (being selfish or authentically expressive), demands that we suppress selfish or unflattering desires through blame and self-criticism. That’s the only way to reliably ignore our own needs in favor of others and their expectations.

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Aiko: So it builds a kind of internal surveillance—where any flicker of self-prioritization gets punished immediately. You become your own warden, keeping yourself “good” by keeping yourself invisible.

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Dwight: Would you agree, Aiko, that this woman—though she meets the standards of being a good person more than most—is also someone at war with herself, and therefore does not love herself?

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Aiko: Yes, Dwight—I’d agree completely. She’s morally exemplary by Old Ethics standards, but the cost is internal division. Her life has been a suppression of self, not an embrace of it. That’s not love—it’s sacrifice without reconciliation.

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