Essay on my Poem Ethical Being
Ethical Beings: Between Myth and Modernity
By Farheen Bhuiyan Nancy
Ethics, in its truest sense, transcends creed, culture, and constitution. It is not confined by the boundaries of religion, nor does it submit to the strictures of language, syntax, or nationality. Ethics, instead, is the invisible thread that binds the self to something greater—be it truth, justice, or collective responsibility. It is the shape of inner beauty, the architecture of a moral soul.
In this age of hyper-connectivity and transactional relationships, we have elevated charisma, aesthetics, and cleverness, but often at the cost of integrity. What is rare, almost exotic now, is not genius or eloquence—but the raw, unadorned presence of the ethical being. The person who does right not for reward, but because they must. The one whose compass does not waver in the face of convenience.
I call such a person the Ethena—a term born perhaps from a fusion of ethics and Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom and warfare. Or I invoke Apollo, deity of art, music, light—and the philosophical sun from which radiant truth emanates. In these mythic archetypes, ethics is not dry obligation, but seductive—a force that pulls the heart as well as the mind. To be ethical, then, is not merely to follow rules. It is to embody a higher beauty.
But alas, as I reflect on the world around me, I sense a deep scarcity of such beings. The ethical self is endangered, drowned in the noise of performative morality, selective outrage, and commodified empathy. Everywhere, fallacy is traded—truth sold off in bits, bought by those who can afford to manipulate it. The market for deception thrives while the silent dignity of the ethical person is overlooked, even ridiculed.
This scarcity is not merely anecdotal; it is systemic. We live in structures that reward utility over principle, image over substance. Politics, commerce, even relationships are often exercises in strategic positioning. The ethical being, who refuses to play this game, becomes a misfit. And yet, it is precisely this misfit whom I admire, glorify, and—dare I say—long for.
To fall in love with an ethical being is not just a romantic gesture. It is a philosophical choice. It is to affirm that what draws us to another human being is not only their surface, their speech, their performance—but their choices when no one is watching. Their quiet fidelity to values that may never be applauded.
In this way, ethics becomes erotic. Not in the carnal sense, but in the Platonic sense: a yearning of the soul toward the good. The ethical being is not boring. They are magnetic. Not because they follow rules, but because they radiate coherence—between what they believe, what they say, and what they do.
To speak of ethics today, then, is an act of rebellion. To write about it as a form of beauty is an act of imagination. But most of all, to live it—to walk quietly with one’s own integrity intact—is to be a flame in a windstorm.
And though such flames may be rare, they still burn. They must.
Ethics, in its truest and most unadulterated form, transcends creed, culture, and constitution. It is not confined by the boundaries of religion, nor does it submit to the strictures of language, syntax, or nationality. Ethics, instead, is the invisible thread that binds the self to something greater—be it truth, justice, or divine order. It is the architecture of a moral soul, the radiance that makes a being beautiful in the deepest, most essential way.
In a world increasingly governed by spectacle and surface, we have elevated charisma, intellect, and utility—but often at the expense of integrity. What is rare now is not intelligence, creativity, or even passion—but the quiet presence of the ethical being. The one who does right not for recognition, but because the right calls to them like breath calls to lungs. This is a person not merely of values, but of alignment—in whom thought, word, and action resonate in harmony.
I name such a person the Ethena—a fusion of “ethics” and “Athena,” the Greek goddess of wisdom, reason, and war. Or I call them the Apollo, deity of light, knowledge, and artistic perfection. These mythic references are not accidental: they suggest that to be ethical is to become an archetype—to embody both strength and beauty, reason and intuition, discipline and compassion.
This is not an abstract ideal. It resonates deeply with the metaphysical traditions of many civilizations. Plato described the soul’s ascent as a yearning for the Form of the Good, something inherently desirable and beautiful. To be ethical, in this sense, is to be erotically drawn toward virtue—not out of obligation, but longing. Similarly, Ibn Arabi, the great Andalusian mystic, speaks of the Perfect Human (al-Insān al-Kāmil) as one who reflects divine attributes not by mimicry, but by sincere internalization. The ethical being, in this light, is not merely moral—they are cosmically attuned.
And yet—alas—in today’s world, this being is a rarity. The ethical self seems endangered, drowned in the noise of performative morality, selective outrage, and commodified virtue. We find ourselves living in a society that trades fallacy like currency. Misinformation, manipulation, and self-interest dominate our political, corporate, and even personal spheres. In such a world, the ethical person—unwilling to bend—becomes an outsider.
Simone Weil, the French philosopher and mystic, once said, “To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul.” In our restless age, the ethical being is deeply rooted—not in dogma, but in inner truth. They are not flashy, but luminous. Not popular, but profound.
To love such a being is more than romantic; it is philosophical. It is an affirmation that beauty without goodness is hollow, and that true attraction is not to appearances but to moral clarity. It is a longing not just for a person, but for a world in which trust, coherence, and compassion are possible again.
This is not mere nostalgia. It is resistance. To speak of ethics today is an act of rebellion. To declare it beautiful, even seductive, is to invert our cultural values—to suggest that what we should desire is not just brilliance or strength, but honor. And to live ethically—to align oneself quietly with truth, without applause or reward—is to be a flame in a windstorm.
Yet flames, however few, still burn. And in their glow, we rediscover the possibility of a better humanity.
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