When I was growing up, there’s one thing I never wanted to be: a traitor. Judas Iscariot. Marcus Brutus.

There is a spirit to being a traitor. And a loneliness.

The foundation is lying. Building relationships you plan to ruin—or have to ruin. In some situations, it’s because of pressure or torture. In others, because you change your beliefs.

A Truly Good Traitor

Feels both sides. Is comfortable on both sides. And everyone hates them.

The military is black and white about this. You are on one side, and if you turn against the military, you’re at the top of the execution list. And for good reason.

Same goes for gangs. Nobody in them likes a “fed.” And so traitors are tortured, killed, and disgraced long past death.

But people outside those gangs cheer for the “fed.” Which brings me to my next point:

Every Traitor Has a Justification

Brutus justified his betrayal by saying it was for the good of Rome:

“Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.”

Yes—that line is the perfect window into the traitor’s mind. It’s clean. Noble. Devastating. And it raises the question that sits at the heart of betrayal:

What do you do when loyalty to one thing means disloyalty to another?

Brutus didn’t betray Caesar because he stopped loving him. He betrayed him because he believed his higher loyalty belonged elsewhere. That’s what makes the quote so chilling—it’s not driven by hatred, but by conflicted devotion.

And this is how I felt when I left the FLDS.

I didn’t leave because I stopped believing. I left because staying would’ve killed what was left of me.

I didn’t betray the people. I betrayed the silence they demanded.

Not that I loved my former life less, but that I loved truth, or freedom, or myself—more.

Sometimes turning traitor is right. It’s unfortunate. It sucks. But what if it is right?

Not That I Loved Them Less

(Poem)

Brutus was right.

The knife cuts deepest

when it’s held by a hand that once reached for you in love.

I did not raise it in rage.

I did not strike to wound.

I stood where they stood,

and I still chose the turning.

Not that I loved them less—

but that I loved

something more.

The good of Rome.

Or what Rome meant to me—

truth without chains,

faith without fear,

a soul that doesn’t shiver in silence.

They will not understand.

They will say I betrayed them.

But they do not know

what it costs to betray what you love.

To walk away

not with a smirk,

but with salt on your face

and tremble in your hands—

because part of you stays,

in the room you left,

forever kneeling at a throne

you can no longer serve.

Betrayal for Profit

Is something God hates. Every honorable man hates. And the universe hates.

When you betray a friend—or more importantly, a brother—so as to ruin him for your own profit, that is disgusting.

This is the more common traitor, and it’s why they are so hated.

Then there are those of true character, who have conflicting moralities.

Betrayal Can Be Depressing

Often traitors change the course of history—or don’t. But most felt both sides of the equation.

Betrayal for self-profit is something a person’s conscience will struggle with.

But moral dilemmas are different.

And while few men can clear themselves by explanation, many men can fully comprehend why they took those actions.

To them, it was noble. To them, it was right.

But for those who win—

they always have to wonder: was it a sin?

They felt both sides. The pain was deep.

And many a night, they could not sleep.

What’s right is wrong, and wrong is right.

Morality isn’t always shone under light.

Some cheer and their actions praise,

but in my bosom, only more questions were raised.

Conclusion

Every traitor needs to have their betrayal okay in their own mind. Or more—beyond okay. They need to really believe they are right. Suffering under evil is too much for most. But some people are truly evil.

For most, it turns into a righteous cause. For some, this blinds them to any good in the other side. For others, it rips their spirit, knowing the person they betrayed had so much good.

Basic betrayals are so evil and despicable—betraying a friend for self-grandeur and profit. Other betrayals are hardly disloyal, but they are—and it’s something every good person hates doing.

But they have to.

Because it’s right.

Or is it?

You would also enjoy this article titled: The Dark Truth I Discovered When I Had Nothing to Die For

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