This essay is an effort to change the negative personal and social narrative about being selfish and, by that change, to reduce self-righteousness and increase courtesy among people. I speak for only for myself. This is a view, and a way, of life - a view and way which respects other views and ways. Thank you for allowing me to share it with you. I hope this provides at least food for thought.
Confession of a Selfish Man
If we knew how to improve human relations and communications, in families, communities, workplaces – even on the global stage – would we do it? Reducing self-righteousness would help and one way we can do that is to acknowledge, at least sometimes, being selfish.
I confess to being a completely selfish man. Moment to moment, I decide which of the options I perceive best serves my interests and values. My decision may be deliberate or reflexive, conscious or unconscious. Often, it has been foolish. But what I believe and what I do are my selfish choices. I could use some euphemism for “selfish,” but that would yield to the perception that selfishness is shameful.
Where does that perception come from? As babies, we are naturally, perfectly selfish. We cry when we are hungry, uncomfortable, frightened, or don’t get our way. As we grow, our abilities can become dangerous to our physical – or social – survival if unchecked. Parents and others begin to set boundaries: someone tells us “no!” – “don’t do that!” – “you have to do this!”
“Don’t be selfish!”
Soon we learn the shame of being called selfish and of feeling selfish. We learn, too, the power of calling another selfish – a power that depends on the implicit denial of our own selfishness. We learn to deny the obvious: except when addiction or mental illness interferes with free choice, it is up to each of us how we respond to the circumstances of our lives – how we spend our time and money, pursue our goals, and manage our fears, impulses and yearnings.
Exercising free choice is selfish by definition. Whether to vote, to help someone in need, to take a risk; whom we admire or serve, how we treat others, and whether we do what we said we would do – these are all choices.
Personal morality is the selfish selection of the values we claim, whether and how we adhere to them, and what we think and do when others – or we ourselves – act inconsistently with our values. There are countless dysfunctional, ill-mannered, unethical, and criminal acts every day, but it is their results, not the selfishness behind them, that make them so. There are also countless acts of kindness, generosity and heroism every day, and it is their results, not their selflessness, that make them so. Indeed, the essence of integrity is that it is genuine – that it is chosen, not driven by looking good.
Seeing our lives as a series of decisions for which we are responsible is both clarifying and liberating. In contrast to the heavy chain mail of self-protection and the cloak of righteousness, accepting that we are selfish is a light and comfortable garment. It reminds us to be sensible about our choices – to try to understand what is going on; to identify our options and their likely consequences; and to be honest about our values and priorities.
Besides immunizing me from the shame of being called selfish, my confession of selfishness leads to a kind of moral disarmament: how can I criticize others either for being selfish – or for striving to live unselfishly?
With the perception of my complete selfishness came, briefly, chagrin at the realization that my choices make me responsible for every deficit between my potential and my accomplishments. Oh well. Why focus on that? Why not focus on doing my best - and for what moment am I not prepared to do my best?
Choosing to do our best to be faithful to our values provides a sense of control and of purpose, and an internal gyroscope in aid of our purpose. Being responsible for the consequences of our choices, even in error and folly, we can choose to be our best selves because we get much more from doing so – including the vital satisfaction of contributing to others – than we would from denying our power over our lives.
The proverbial tree of the knowledge of good and evil turns out to be the tree of only the perception of the knowledge of good and evil: accepting our selfishness makes it easier to acknowledge that, beyond objective facts, and particularly concerning the meaning of facts, we speak not in pronouncements but in perceptions. Conversations become more interesting and the swift resolution of conflicts becomes more likely when, freed from feeling that we must appear unselfish – or that we can’t be selfish because we have a lock on the truth – we seek to understand others’ perspectives and to respond appropriately. The inner conflict from denial of the fundamental selfishness of our choices quiets, and compassion for the diverse and marvelous human family grows.
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