"On the Square" from First Things: The Era of the Narcissist

Have you ever noticed that no one today knows the names of the architects or fincanciers of medieval cathedrals, while the whole world seems to know that "this half-hour of the so-and-so show is brought to you by..."? We are a credit-seeking people, obsessed with the world knowing everything we've done. Without wanting to overy disparage the Facebook/Twitter phenomenon (which my wife and I are part of), one must admit that such social-networking technologies lend themselves uncomfortably close to putting oneself at the center of the internet spotlight (it's ironic that for anyone to see us there we've usually got to tell them to look otherwise we'd be missed in an ocean of other selves stepping into their own spotlights. Don't be fooled: the algorithms that FB and Amazon use to "suggest" people and items for your consideration have to be told to do so; otherwise you really would be lost in the ocean).

Over at First Things, Aaron Kheriaty has written a helpful review of sorts on a recent volume by Jean Twenge and Keith Campbell titled The Narcissism Epidemic addressing America's contemporary culture of narcissism. What follows are some helpful excerpts not from the book itself but from the article by Kheriaty:

In an early chapter, Twenge and Campbell use recent psychological research to deflate five common myths about narcissism. These myths are as follows: that narcissism is “really high” self-esteem; that underneath the facade, narcissists are insecure; that narcissists really are better looking or smarter; that some degree of narcissism is healthy; and that narcissism is nothing more than a bit of physical vanity. All rubbish, says the research. As for the first claim, “narcissists think they are smarter, better looking, and more important than others, but not necessarily more moral, more caring, or more compassionate.” As for the second (that narcissism is a defense against unconscious insecurity), “it turns out that deep down inside, narcissists think they’re awesome.” (This is one area in which the cultural narcissists studied in this book may differ from people with some forms of clinical narcissistic personality disorder. The personality disorder is typically characterized by extreme anger that masks grief of deep emotional wounds and self-doubt. Perhaps further research on severe cases will reveal important differences between the cultural narcissist and the clinical narcissist.)

As for the claim that some narcissism is healthy in a competitive society, the authors argue that “it would be better for everyone not to concentrate on self-feelings—positive or negative—quite so much.” The book’s language here runs against the grain of much conventional wisdom in modern psychology. The authors put the case this way: “Think about the deepest joy you experience in life—it doesn’t typically come from thinking about how great you are. Instead, it comes from connecting with the world and getting away from yourself, as when you enjoy time with friends, family, and children, are engaged at work, or do all-absorbing tasks such as art, writing, crafts, athletics, or helping others.” Twenge and Campbell are drawing here on research from the so-called positive psychology movement, which recently has attempted to shift the focus of psychological research away from disease and disorder to a study of the character strengths that make for happiness and human flourishing. In the process, this research program seems to have rediscovered the list of classical (and even Christian) virtues. Yes, forgetting about myself and giving myself generously to others is a prescription for happiness.

The narcissism epidemic is the common denominator underneath many contemporary trends—from grade inflation, to the crass and aggressive tone of so much entertainment, to birthday gifts for high school girls that stupefy the imagination. A friend who teaches at a Catholic high school in Orange County, California, confirmed Twenge and Campbell’s claim that breast augmentation surgery has become a common graduation gift from parents to their teenage daughters.

“Vanity of vanities, all is vanity,” saith the preacher. “Hell, yeah, I’m hot!” saith the Facebook home page. This is vanity on steroids, and it is becoming the norm. From whence will we find the cure for this disease? As the authors argue, we need to implement reforms in parenting styles, the media, education, economic policy, and the tone of political and social life. No one who reads this book can reasonably disagree with these prescriptions. But we need more. The virtue of humility is the real antidote, and Twenge and Campbell endorse this. But even among the noblest pagans such as Aristotle, humility was not included among the list of virtues. Humility is a distinctively Christian virtue, grounded in the doctrine of Christ’s kenosis. It is not triumphalism, but simply a fact of history: Christianity was the leaven that shaped a more humble and humane culture; gave rise to America’s founding values; and, ultimately, prevented us from worshipping ourselves. The cure? Either we will become the salt and light that purge and dispel the insipid narcissism that surrounds us, or our culture will continue to descend deeper into the loud, crass, and aggressive cult of self-worship.

Two things grabbed my attention. The first was the parallel I see between the authors' description of psychological health and the Bible's prescription of love as the greatest virtue: self-forgetfulness in the context of things greater than one's self. You cannot worship God or love people while consumed with what you see in the mirror.

The second was the interpretation of grade inflation, aggressive attitudes in entertainment (and, increasingly, in person), and age-inappropriate gifts (breast-implants for high school girls?) as symptoms of narcissism. I can't disagree. The common denominator between these (and other cultural phenomena) seems to be an inflated sense of self-worth. I'm stupefied at how often my students share with me what I can't say to them or call them or expect of them, etc. It's as if, upon entering my classroom, I unknowingly entered some kind of kingdom whose borders extend about as far as ear-shot.

An extension of this the expectation I encounter in the classroom and among so many educators that every assignment be graded and given credit (for simply being "completed", and not necessarily for "accuracy"). Or, that every effort be acknowledged and assigned some kind of merit. I have to observe that almost no where else in life outside the classroom (though this thinking, because classrooms are ubiquitous, seems to be infecting other arenas) is one's every move noted, evaluated by some criteria, and then duly celebrated. When did I last get credit for keeping my cool all evening on the night that I didn't get a brief nap? Who has the time to recognize all such virtues and vices? And who has the stamina to "stop" life in order to render such due recognition? Having learned that people respond to praise, we've quickly become obsessed with finding everything that's praise worthy and pointing it out to the world. We ought not be surprised to find that we crumble under such stress; I seem to recall something about God being the only one who could meet out such perfect justice, and that he promised he would. (Rom 2:6; Matt 13:24-30)

BHT