To err is human, or at least it used to be. We can all make mistakes at some point, make simple mistakes that are easy to forgive, or big mistakes, the “blunders” that will accompany us throughout our lives. Nobody is perfect, we all fail sometimes (or several times).
The error is inherent to the human being, it is even useful for intellectual and scientific development. For example, the “trial and error” method, which is a method for solving problems or proposing new solutions, applying different variants and discarding those that do not work. The mistake can be, then, an opportunity to learn, to move forward.
To err is human, it is a (negative) potentiality of each individual. Even if we strive, we will not always be able to foresee or prevent that, in the immediate or mediate future, the consequences of our actions are unfavorable, different from our original purposes. As a society, we must assume that each person can be negligent or reckless, and correct or even penalize those who are wrong.
There are serious errors, which seem inexcusable, that result in culpable crimes; Errors that are difficult to compensate or justify, which deeply lacerate third parties. And there are small, everyday errors that sometimes go unnoticed. In any case, they are opportunities to grow, to not fail again, to be better. To do this, obviously, we must be aware that we are wrong, that we do wrong.
To err is human, but what is not intrinsically human is the ability to understand that what we did was a mistake, that we could have acted differently, that our conduct, without intent or premeditation, resulted in harm or harm to others or to oneself. Those of us who witness this error, those of us who suffer from it, have to draw attention to it, we have to point out the error and propose its amendment. And that the sanction, if it deserves it, is not only a punishment, but a way of educating (us).
The error of others is always easier to point out than your own error. Faced with someone who falls into disgrace, someone who “makes a mistake”, we often become an implacable inquisitor: we let fall on that person all the crushing force of our unquestionable morality, the overwhelming weight of our reproach. The mistake of others can comfort us or even make us feel powerful.
To err is human and, therefore, as in that phrase attributed to Che, the only logical thing is to try to erase the mistake and not the man (or woman) who commits it. Especially if that person who made a mistake is a partner in the fight, if that person is not an ally of the many enemies and tyrants who attack good people. It is necessary to say everything about the error, “its den” and “its dark paths”, as Martí wrote, but it is useless that in this saying we attempt against the human being who is behind that error, a human being like us, a being human in our same trench.
In the face of error, there is a tendency to stone (not exactly in a literal sense, although it has been the case). We must refrain from succumbing to this tendency, even though there are, on occasions, that we have to nail “with fury of a slave hand on his opprobrium to the tyrant.” To the partner, to the ally, to the one who is on our side, let us not forgive the mistake, let us not be indulgent, but let us not make his mistake an example or an invitation for baseness.
Let us understand that at some point we could take the place of the one who is stoned today, because to err is human. And from the error none of us will escape. Erase the error and not the human being, let’s do that, although it is always easier to cast the first stone.
(Taken from Granma)