I see bullies attacking others to regain some sense of control, and I dislike them for it. But I know that I do the same, even if only in my imagination: I label these people as simple thugs and bullies; chimps and walruses.

Why?

Because it makes me feel that I am somehow different. I tell myself that even if I had experienced childhood and early adulthood in their shoes, I would be able to resist the spell of the mob; the lure of power games; the allure of violence. But of course, in reality, I would not.

I look around and I see unkind and uncaring people. It annoys me that they think only of how they themselves will get through the day, and how others will view them. But I am ashamed of the times when I have chosen to ignore people when they most needed help – when I took the attitude that “They will sort it out for themselves”, even when I knew that they were already hanging from their last thread.

I regard as cowardly those who stand back when people are being victimised or bullied. But I myself have allowed peer pressure to restrain me. When deep down I knew that I should take a visible stand, I chose not to.

I hear people making judgements about others – pushing them down, categorising them, and creating distance between themselves and the people that they are judging. But I know that when I focus my attention on the misdeeds of others… their ugliest characteristics… it helps me to believe that I am good.

Perhaps this is human nature: to recognise our own faults in others before we are quite ready to acknowledge them in ourselves…