Most of us come into this world with roughly the same facial equipment: two glossy headlamps placed on either side of a central promontory that juts above a gaping cavity that we can open and shut at will. We all possess, to greater or lesser degrees, two streamlined swatches of fur above the headlamps, two rows of ivories planted inside the gaping cavity and two ornamental fins (one on each side of the head) for optimal auditory reception. Above it all looms a broad and relatively featureless wall of skin and bone called a forehead; at the base, a rounded knob known as a chin. That’s pretty much the extent of it, other than our thatch of hair with its optional decorative uses. 

It never fails to amaze me that such a limited collection of basic facial landmarks can produce such infinite and amusing results. We see people whose faces give them the look of angels, trolls, cats, camels, bears or bulldogs. A pleasing configuration of eyes and lips can make us jettison our better judgment and lure us to bliss or doom -- sometimes both. We attribute much expressiveness to the eyes, but the ocular organs themselves are no more emotive than a pair of marbles. It’s the real estate immediately AROUND the eyes that generally reveals the inner life with such harrowing fidelity. We can discern skepticism or snobbery, earnestness or irony, from the attitude of the eyebrows alone. The bags under Bill Clinton’s narrowed eyes spoke more about his aggressive hedonism than an army of Gennifers and Monicas ever could. The territory around Lincoln’s eyes revealed wit, common sense, infinite patience and the unmistakable burden of tragedy. A touch of rueful humor emerged from the weary eyes that Rembrandt painted as he gazed into the mirror late in his life.

It was George Orwell who wrote the famous adage, ‘At fifty, every man has the face he deserves.’ It’s an outrageous generalization, of course, but like most good generalizations it stops us in our tracks. We wonder if there’s something to the notion that we create our own faces, that they become topographical maps of the lives we’ve led. It seems plausible enough: we can usually spot a class clown or a technogeek by the  details of his face. Doesn’t it make sense that as we age, the emerging folds, bags, lines and wrinkles would disclose our virtues and peccadilloes in even greater detail? Our faces should embody our thoughts and experiences the way shoe leather conforms to the peculiar shape of our feet. We’ve all seen mature faces that communicate kindness, pride, arrogance, dignity, lust, eccentricity, insecurity or pain -- sometimes all at once. Orwell’s generalization seems to stand up to the test of reality -- until I think about a few notable exceptions (and it’s the exceptions that throw the inevitable wrench into good generalizations). 

Take Stalin, for example. The longtime Soviet dictator owned a jovial face with the eyes of a purring cat and a sweeping mustache that seemed to conceal a warm and perpetual grin. He was also personally responsible for the premature deaths of more than twenty million of his comrades. Chairman Mao had the round and benign countenance of a Buddha; meanwhile, millions suffered and died as he deliberately tossed a wise and ancient culture into the dustbin of history. Even Hitler at fifty possessed a pleasant enough face -- animated and youthful, with regular features and the hint of a twinkle in his clear eyes. He looked every inch the upright and inspirational scoutmaster. For that matter, have you ever seen a picture of Saddam Hussein in which the Iraqi potentate looked unfriendly? Nearly every poster, every photo, every TV clip has always shown him with a broad and magnanimous smile on his suntanned face.

Now let’s look into the face of Osama bin Laden. Here is a man whose smooth features radiate an otherworldly serenity, wisdom and grace. You can discern spiritual enlightenment in the depth and tranquility of his eyes; the natural expression of his mouth suggests ease and self-mastery, freedom from Western neuroses. (Compare the twitching mouth of Nixon, or LBJ’s haggard scowl.) Osama bin Laden could pass for Jesus Christ’s darker brother. Yet we’re looking at a man who pulled off perhaps the most heinous single stunt in recent human history. We’re looking at a villain who snickered not only at the victims of the twin towers, but at his ability to dupe young terrorists into sacrificing their lives for his cause. Why doesn’t his face convey evil to our gullible eyes? How could a prince of darkness look like a prince of peace? 

Here’s my own theory: when we behold grace and serenity in the faces of the world’s great evildoers, we’re actually detecting their profound sense of self-fulfillment. An evil man who has committed an evil deed will feel as deeply satisfied as Michelangelo completing the Sistine Chapel ceiling -- even more so, because true artists continually struggle with the impossible demands of their own perfectionism, and you can see the tension in their faces. Not so with the tyrant or the megalomaniac or the terrorist lord who rains destruction upon the innocent. Such men exult in their power over the weak and unsuspecting, and their power infuses them with a peace that certainly passeth our understanding. You’d have to ask the CEO of a large corporation to explain the peculiar happiness that comes with power. (I’ve noticed that most CEOs seem to radiate serenity, at least in the photos that appear in their companies’ annual reports.) 

So let’s not be disturbed if we look into the face of evil and see a flickering light that reminds us of goodness. And as for Orwell’s dictum about fifty-year-olds having the faces they deserve, remember that Osama bin Laden still has a few years to go before he reaches that milestone. A lot could happen to his face between now and then.

Cynic's Pick of the Week

The young American who was found fighting on the side of the Taliban has gained far more fame for his treachery than any of the victims of the September 11 attack. For that matter, he's gained far more fame than your Cynical Guy. A sad commentary on who gets to be a celebrity in our culture, isn't it?