We are all murderers and prostitutes - no matter to what culture

Hear now the words of R. D. Laing, a physician of the mind and a prophet of hidden truths, who declared: “We are all murderers and prostitutes—no matter to what culture, society, class, or nation one belongs, no matter how normal, moral, or mature one takes oneself to be.” At first hearing, these words sound harsh, even scandalous. Yet they carry within them a deep wisdom, for Laing was not accusing each man and woman of literal crime, but of sharing in the corruption and compromises of human existence. He reminds us that no one stands entirely pure; that in every soul lies both guilt and surrender, both violence and betrayal.

To call us all murderers is to say that we are complicit in the destruction of life—sometimes by action, sometimes by silence, sometimes by the systems we support without question. The soldier who takes up arms is a murderer; but so too the citizen who benefits from wars fought in distant lands, wars that secure resources or wealth. Even when our hands are clean, our comforts may be stained. Laing’s accusation pierces through the illusion of innocence, showing that in a broken world, neutrality often means complicity.

And to call us all prostitutes is to reveal how often we sell pieces of our soul—our labor, our integrity, our very bodies—to survive within the demands of society. The worker who despises his job but must endure it for money, the artist who betrays her vision to please a market, the citizen who yields truth for the sake of safety—all are engaged in subtle forms of prostitution. Laing tears away the masks of respectability, showing that the compromises forced upon us by class, culture, and nation often strip us of purity, even as we claim to be moral and upright.

History gives us many mirrors of this truth. Consider the Roman Empire, where senators and citizens alike enjoyed the spectacles of the arena. Thousands of slaves and gladiators died for entertainment, yet the crowd roared in delight. Were they not all murderers, even if their hands never drew the blade? Consider also the rise of colonial empires: merchants and rulers enriched themselves while entire nations were enslaved. Yet the ordinary citizen at home bought cheap goods without question. Thus, across centuries, ordinary life has been intertwined with hidden violence and exploitation.

Laing’s words also strike against hypocrisy. Many proclaim themselves moral, civilized, and mature, but his teaching reminds us that beneath the surface, we are all tangled in the same web of corruption. Pride in class, nation, or morality cannot erase this truth. To admit that we are all murderers and prostitutes is not to despair, but to face reality with honesty. Only then can transformation begin. The greatest danger lies not in imperfection, but in denying it, for denial blinds us to the need for change.

The lesson, O listeners, is to embrace humility. Do not raise yourself above others by claiming greater morality or greater innocence. Recognize the compromises and complicities of your own life, and let that recognition soften your heart toward others. When you see the beggar, the criminal, or the broken, remember Laing’s truth: their struggles are not alien to you, but mirror your own. To condemn them is to condemn yourself; to show compassion is to begin healing the world.

What then must you do? Be watchful of the systems you serve. Ask yourself: what do I support through my silence, through my purchases, through my obedience? Be mindful of what you sell of yourself, and guard your integrity as fiercely as you can. And when you fail—as all do—face it not with self-deception, but with courage, honesty, and the will to do better.

Thus remember Laing’s words: “We are all murderers and prostitutes.” They are not curses, but mirrors. They show us who we are, so that we may stop pretending, and begin the long work of becoming whole. For it is only when we confess our shared corruption that we may rise together toward compassion, justice, and a society more worthy of the human spirit.