Article
Character
Culture
Film & TV
5 min read

Deceit is integral to success in Destination X

Travel and trickery make for a miserable journey
A composite images show a map of Europe with Destination X contestants pictures above.
BBC.

Like me, you may have recently been watching Destination X, where 13 contestants compete to win £100,000 by guessing where the coach they are travelling on has stopped. Blocked from seeing out of the windows and given just a few clues to their locations, the contestants have to work out where they are. Similar to Traitors, it tries to give reality TV a respectability while also providing the gossipy drama that underpins the format.  

Opportunities for extra clues are possible, with contestants competing against each other to receive them. Only some of the competitors are allowed to view the extra clues. This secret knowledge quickly causes thirteen pretty nice contestants to mistrust, lie, suspect, accuse, and keep secrets. After three new players are added in, there is a clear divide between the ‘OGs’ and the rest. It reminded me of Lord of the Flies, with alliances, rivalries, and judgements of player’s usefulness taking scarily little time to flourish. 

The breaking of societal expectations to be truthful, reliable, and work for the common good is perhaps the appeal of these shows. The Judeo-Christian Ten Commandments still underpin the Western world, and lying, greed, and selfishness are all still denounced as wrong by mainstream ethics. There is an enormous amount of talk in Destination X, as there is in the Traitors, about ‘playing the game;’ legitimising breaking normal behaviour in order to win the competition. We watch on, enjoying the chance to wonder how we would manage in a world where lying, cheating, and manipulating is expected and encouraged by the rules of the game. 

The thing is, breaking these rules seems to make everybody so miserable. In the first episode, Deborah won a big clue, chose only to share it with one teammate, and was so burdened by the guilty secret that she lost the first location test and left the game immediately. In another episode, some OGs win a challenge and choose to deliberately misinform the others, including the rest of their gang. When the disinformation is revealed, and directly causes the exit of another OG, the sense of guilt as others realise the deception is plain to the viewer. Time after time, players begrudge ‘the game’ for the lies they are telling- but it is their own decision to keep the secrets to themselves. 

Perhaps the most striking thing is how quickly people lose track of the artifice of the game, and how integral to their reality their deceit has become. Towards the end of the series, as the money gets closer, the contestants harden further towards each other, and deception seems to come more easily. Perhaps this is why the guilt makes them miserable- with a little encouragement, their sense of right or wrong has disintegrated into instinct for survival. 

The people that seem to be having the best time on Destination X are Daren and Claire, perhaps the two players who are happy to trust their colleagues the most, and lie to them the least. Both of them do better in the competition than other contestants who embrace a selfish and cynical approach. 

Obviously these shows are games, and the contestants exit to their normal lives and resume being nice people. But they reveal a deeper truth that living cynically does not make a person happy. Although lying, cheating, and making the most of advantages might bring wealth, success, power, fame, and so on, living selfishly only makes a person miserable.  

People who lie or cheat may seem to get ahead, but it only poisons their heart. 

This reveals our design as humans to be communal, selfless beings. Describing the state of humanity before evil entered the world, the first verses of the book of Genesis describe a generous care between the first humans and their world. The very first books of the law in the Old Testament continually exhort God’s people to show love to their neighbour and compassion upon foreigners and the poor. 

Jesus used to have this great phrase for those who would follow his teaching for a selfless life. He said that they would inherit ‘life to the full,’ or ‘life that is truly living.’ It was his conviction that simple acts like telling the truth, desiring others to prosper, and being generous were the way to a content and satisfied life.  

But the kicker in Jesus’ teaching was not just that the person would receive a more satisfied life, but that each act would make the person more Godly. These acts stack together- to make a life of generosity rather than selfishness that nourishes our humanity- but also to form us towards being a better human. It creates a virtuous circle. A good act leads to a purer heart which leads to another good act. St Paul terms this ‘going from glory to glory’ in one of his letters encouraging a congregation to do just so. This circle deepens the contentment in the ‘life that is truly living’ that Jesus promises- living as God created humans to do reaps the relational, communal satisfaction that God intended the human experience to contain. 

It works the other way too. People who lie or cheat may seem to get ahead, but it only poisons their heart. Becoming de-sensitised to their acts, further selfishness follows. Each act separates them further from the human experience they were designed to enjoy, and dissatisfaction follows. Often this is exacerbated by more attempts to cover the feeling with selfish ambition. 

People who treat the real world like competitors treat Destination X, as a game to be won, with prizes that come at the cost of disinheriting others, may find wealth or power. But they will not find the contentment of life to the full that the way of Jesus offers and their humanity craves. 

Whilst we sit at home enjoying players’ ability to break cultural taboos and suffer the emotional consequences, we might reflect that it is better to be content than victorious- and miserable. 

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Review
Books
Character
Culture
Football
3 min read

This football autobiography deserves its status as a Sunday Times bestseller

A refreshingly honest confession from Big Dunc

Henry Corbett, a vicar in Liverpool and chaplain to Everton Football Club.  

  

A footballer is interviewed on the side line.
Ferguson at Everton.
Pete from Liverpool, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

Duncan Ferguson was sent off as a Premier League player for Everton eight times. On his own admission he drank too much alcohol, misspent his earnings to the extent that he had to declare himself bankrupt, and deeply regretted holding a grudge against the Scottish Football Association that meant he only played seven times for Scotland. By following his father’s advice to “throw the first punch” he ended up in Barlinnie prison.  

Confessing those mistakes in his new autobiography, Big Dunc, makes for a compelling read. It’s not surprising that the book has topped the Sunday Times best seller list for weeks and sits front and centre at Waterstones in Liverpool. Ferguson – who played for Dundee United, Glasgow Rangers, Everton, Newcastle and Scotland - is brave with his admissions. Not many autobiographies would be so honest. And confession has been good for sales. 

But then, honest confession has always made a good story. A glance through the Gospels and Paul’s letters shows the apostles Peter and Paul being very willing to confess their faults. Peter is told “Get behind me, Satan” by Jesus. He impulsively cuts off a servant’s ear. He denies knowing Jesus to an inquiring bystander. Immature, daft, and actions he later regrets, yes. The apostle Paul calls himself the “chief of sinners.” He confesses to persecuting zealously the Church before his conversion. Autobiographies that confess to mistakes, weaknesses and shortcomings are far more helpful – and relatable - than those that seek to airbrush any such blunders out of the picture. It helps, of course, if you also scored 106 goals in 360 appearances.  

Just as appealing is the fact that the book is also about change and reconciliation. These days, Ferguson is off the alcohol. “I wanted to be a better person, a better father,” he writes. He has coached young players back at Everton and seeks to help them avoid the mistakes he made. His father’s advice to be loyal was good advice that he followed. He has taken on two very difficult manager’s jobs. He has apologised to people he had fallen out with; relationships have been healed and a fresh start offered. 

Big Dunc is also a love story - in fact two love stories. The first is with Everton and the Everton supporters. Even in his wildest, most regretted moments, Ferguson connected with his fans. When he was in Barlinnie prison for 44 days he received around 10,000 letters from Evertonians and he tried to reply to them all. If he was ever in a Liverpool pub or club he would enjoy the company of fans. Whether he was visiting Alder Hey Children’s hospital, a youth club, or a supporter he’d heard was in need, he was always up for a photo or an autograph. His treatment by the authorities, whether the law in sending him to prison, or the Scottish FA in banning him for more matches, struck a chord with Evertonians who also knew about injustices in life. And he was a centre forward, a number 9, and supporters love a centre forward who leads the line, scores goals and wears his heart on his sleeve, even if he does maddeningly get sent off and too often carried an injury not always unrelated to lifestyle. 

The second love story is between Ferguson and his wife Janine and their three children. “They saved me”, he writes. The book ends with “Take care, God bless, Dunk” and then this acknowledgement: “Thank you to my wife, kids and family for putting up with me and for supporting me through the good times and the bad times. I love you all.”  

So there is a positive ending. Honest confession, change, reconciliation, love and a good ending. It deserves to be a bestseller.  

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This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

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