Even to know when to abandon conscious efforts at problem solving and turn the task over to the subconscious, to know when to allow conscious thinking to stop, requires a process of thought.
The problem and the challenge are that we are not programmed to think automatically just because thinking is a necessity of successful existence. This brings us to the central issue: the choice to think.
To use our consciousness appropriately in any given situation is, as I have said, neither “instinctive” nor automatic. We are not wired so as always to choose awareness over blindness, knowledge over ignorance, fact over delusion, truth over falsehood. The design of our nature contains an extraordinary option—that of seeking awareness or avoiding it, seeking truth or avoiding it, focusing our mind or unfocusing it. In other words, we have the option of subverting our means of survival and well-being.
It is at this most fundamental level that the issue of honoring the self first arises: Shall I assert consciousness or flee from it? Shall I take responsibility for consciousness or pretend no such responsibility exists?
This freedom is in a sense discontinuous with the rest of the biological world, where everything seems to happen by automatic patterns and rhythms. In human beings, both life and consciousness reach their most highly developed form. Going beyond the sensory-perceptual mode in which consciousness of the external world regulates behavior, human behavior ascends to the conceptual mode—to the level of abstractions, principles, explicit reasoning, propositional speech, and self-consciousness.
Now we are at the heart of the matter: the self-conscious level of organismic self-regulation. On the sensory-perceptual level of consciousness that human beings share with animals, awareness is the controlling and regulating goal of an automatic integrative process, by nature’s programming. But on the higher levels of consciousness, on the conceptual plane, the exercise of mind is volitional, which means it is our responsibility.
We activate and direct the process by setting the goal—awareness—and that goal acts as the regulator and integrator of our mental activity (much of which happens, needless to say, at the subconscious level).
For example, I wake up in the morning, go to my desk, and am confronted with a vast array of papers, notes, research materials. I sit down, dimly aware that my mind is far from fully in focus. I look at my work and think to myself, “Get going.” In other words, I establish the goal of awareness by telling myself, in effect, “Grasp this. See where you left off, re-create your context, grasp what the situation now requires—and proceed.” I activate the appropriate mental state.
Since I discuss this issue in considerable detail in The Psychology of Self-Esteem, it is not necessary to repeat all the details here. Instead, I will confine myself to some necessary amplifications and clarifications.
In my earlier book I implied that the choice of awareness means the choice of a highly focused form of consciousness. In fact, sometimes our choice is a more diffuse form of awareness, but if the intention is contact with rather than evasion of reality, I describe that state of mind, too, as focused. *
To be in mental focus does not mean that we must be engaged in the task of problem solving every moment of our waking existence. We may choose to meditate, for example, emptying our mind of all thought to make ourselves available to new possibilities of relaxation, rejuvenation, creativity, insight, or some form of transcendence. This can be an entirely appropriate mental activity—in fact, in some contexts, a highly desirable one. And of course there are still other alternatives to problem solving, such as creative daydreaming or abandonment to erotic sensation. In matters of mental functioning, context determines appropriateness.
The possibility of choice in this area is what generates the need for self-esteem. And the kinds of choices we make determine the kind of self-esteem we possess.
We can choose not only to avoid the effort of purposeful awareness in general but to avoid specific lines of thought that we find disconcerting or painful. Perceiving qualities in our friends, our spouse, or ourself that clash with our standards, we can surrender our mind to blankness or switch it hastily to some other concern, refusing to identify the meaning or implications of what we have noted. Dimly apprehending, in the midst of an argument, that we are being ridden by unexamined feelings and are maintaining a position for reasons other than those we are stating, reasons we know cannot bear close scrutiny, we can refuse to pause on this knowledge, refuse to integrate it; we can push it aside and continue to shout with righteous indignation. Grasping that we are pursuing some course of action in blatant defiance of reason, we can cry to ourselves, in effect, “Who can be sure of anything?”—and continue on our way.
In such cases, we may be doing more than defaulting on the responsibility of making awareness our goal. We may be actively seeking unawareness as our goal, practicing evasion in a context where awareness clearly is needed.
Sometimes the awareness we are evading is that we are not translating our thinking and knowledge into action, as if to imply that as long as we are “thinking,” we do not have to do anything—a viewpoint that clear thinking can hardly sustain.
A woman, for example, becomes aware of the fact that she has treated her daughter unfairly and cruelly in some matter. She knows that she has left her daughter hurt and bewildered. The woman “thinks” about her own behavior—about its reasons, and about the necessity of behaving differently in the future—yet she does nothing. She is dimly aware that she does not find it easy to admit she has made a mistake. “I’m thinking about it,” she keeps telling herself. She does not speak to her daughter of what she is aware of or what she is experiencing; she pretends their situation is normal. She does not confront her daughter, and she does not confront her own resistance to confronting her daughter—all the while insisting that she is “still thinking.”
Since evasion is so important to the issue of self-esteem, I need to stress that it pertains specifically to situations of avoiding awareness where we perceive that clearer awareness is possible to us and decline to pursue it. If we do not choose to think about some issue that does not seem relevant to our interests or needs or context, we are not practicing evasion. If we do not think about some issue because we do not know how to start or where to go, or if we do not think about some issue because we genuinely believe our effort will be futile, we may not be practicing evasion.
The choice to think is truly heroic in some cases. For instance, if we choose to think and we come up against facts we cannot handle, what then? If we choose to think and our thinking leads us to conclusions that threaten to disrupt the routine of our life, what then? If we choose to think and our conclusions lead us far from the mainstream beliefs of others, what then? If we choose to think and we begin noticing traits and characteristics of ourselves we do not admire, what then? If we choose to think and we see what we do not wish to see, what then? Or what others do not wish to see—what then?
Temptations to avoid thinking exist in abundance. But that does not invalidate the fact that thinking is our basic means of survival and that we must choose to think. We possess freedom of will.
While the doctrine of psychological determinism, which denies free will, has enjoyed a long and influential vogue in psychology, it has never possessed a strong scientific or philosophical foundation. It rests on a series of misconceptions, non sequiturs, and contradictions that I explore in The Psychology of Self-Esteem.
Psychological determinism denies the existence of any element of freedom or volition in human consciousness. It holds that in relation to our actions, decisions, values, and conclusions, we are ultimately and essentially passive; that we are merely reactors to internal and external pressures; that those pressures determine the course of our actions and the content of our convictions, just as physical forces determine the course of every particle of dust in the universe.
Aside from other objections that may be raised, determinism contains a central and insuperable contradiction—a contradiction
implicit in any variety of determinism, whether the alleged determining forces be physical, psychological, environmental, or divine. The determinist view of mind maintains that whether an individual thinks or not, takes cognizance of the facts of reality or not, places facts above feelings or feelings above facts—all are determined by forces outside his or her control; at any given moment or situation, the individual’s method of mental functioning is the inevitable product of an endless chain of antecedent factors.
We are neither omniscient nor infallible. We must work to achieve our knowledge. The mere presence of an idea inside our mind does not prove that the idea is true; many ideas that are false may enter our consciousness. But if we believe what we have to believe, if we are not free to test our beliefs against reality and to validate or reject them—if the actions and content of our mind, in other words, are determined by factors that may or may not have anything to do with reason, logic, and reality—then we can never know if our conclusions are true or false.
Knowledge consists of the correct identification of facts; and in order for us to know that the contents of our mind do constitute knowledge, in order for us to know that we have identified the facts correctly, we require a means of testing our conclusions against reality and checking for contradictions. This means is the process of reasoning; it is thus that we validate our conclusions. But this validation is possible only if our capacity to judge is free—that is, nonconditional.
Free will—in the widest meaning of the term—is the doctrine that human beings are capable of performing actions that are not determined by forces outside their control, that we are capable of making choices that are not necessitated by antecedent factors. The specific concept of free will being developed here differs from other theories in that it locates our freedom specifically in the choice to seek or avoid awareness.*
Freedom does not mean causelessness; this point must be stressed. A volitional choice is not causeless. It is caused by the person who makes the choice, and the choice entails an enormity of issues:
Focusing versus nonfocusing.
Thinking versus nonthinking.
Awareness versus unawareness.
Clarity versus obscurity or vagueness.
Respect for reality versus avoidance of reality.
Respect for facts versus denial of facts.
Respect for truth versus rejection of truth.
Perseverance in the attempt to understand versus abandonment of the attempt to understand.
Loyalty in action to our professed convictions versus disloyalty (this is the issue of integrity).
Honesty with self versus dishonesty.
Self-confrontation versus self-avoidance.
Receptivity to new knowledge versus closed-mindedness.
Willingness to see and correct mistakes versus perseverance in error.
Concern with congruence versus disregard of contradictions.
Reason versus irrationalism; respect for logic, consistency, coherence, and evidence versus disregard.
From the time that a child acquires the capacity for conceptual functioning and self-awareness, he or she becomes increasingly aware—implicitly, nonverbally—of a responsibility for the regulation of mental activity. The above list covers the issues that that regulation concerns.
While focusing is not synonymous with reasoning, we can see how central the role of reason and rationality is. Reason is the faculty and process by which human beings integrate data given or present in consciousness, in accordance with the law of noncontradiction. By this definition, free will entails the choice to be rational or to be irrational—which ultimately means the choice to respect reality or to defy it.
Our freedom is neither absolute nor unlimited, however. There are many factors that can make the appropriate exercise of our consciousness easier or harder. Some of these factors may be genetic, biological. Others are developmental. The environment can support and encourage the healthy assertion of consciousness, or it can oppose and undermine it. We will consider the role of the environment at a later point.
Within the mind itself, there may be obstructions to thinking. Subconscious defenses and blocks may make us oblivious even of the need to think about a particular issue. Consciousness is a continuum; it exists on many levels. And unresolved problems at one level may subvert operations at another. For example, if I block my feelings about my parents—if I cut off access to those feelings through denial, disowning, repression—and then try to think about our relationship, I have disconnected myself from so much pertinent material that I can easily become muddled and discouraged and give up.
Clearly, the desire to be more aware does not guarantee that the results of our efforts will be successful. We are free to try; there is never a guarantee of success. If there were such a guarantee, fewer people would avoid the responsibility of thinking. Uncertainty is built into the very essence of our existence, and it is this uncertainty and freedom that create the need for self-esteem.
Self-esteem, we have seen, is the integrated sum of self-confidence and self-respect. Our need for self-esteem is our need to know that the choices we exercise are appropriate to reality, appropriate to our life and well-being. It is our need to know that we have made ourselves competent to live. Since reality continuously confronts us with alternatives, since we must choose our goals and actions, since we are constantly obliged to make decisions concerning our interactions with the environment, our sense of efficacy and security requires the conviction that we are right in our method of choosing and of making decisions; right in our characteristic manner of using our consciousness; right in principle, appropriate to reality.
Self-confidence is confidence in the reliability of our mind as a tool of cognition. Self-confidence is not the conviction that we can never make an error. It is the conviction that we are able to think, to judge, to know (and to correct our errors)—that we are genuinely committed to perceiving and honoring reality to the fullest extent of our volitional power. To doubt the efficacy of our basic means of survival is to be interrupted or paralyzed (to varying degrees) in our efforts to cope with the challenges of life—thus condemned to feelings of anxiety and helplessness; thus sentenced to feelings of being less than fit to live.
Regarding our need for self-respect: as we develop, as we progressively become aware of our power to choose our actions, as we acquire our sense of being a person, we experience the need to feel that we are right as a person, right in our characteristic manner of acting—in a word, that we are good. We learn the concept from adults, but the need is inherent in our nature. A child may not be aware of the relation of the issue of being right or good to the issue of life or death; a child may be aware of it only in relation to the alternatives of joy or suffering, self-delight or self-repudiation. To be right as a person is to be fit for happiness; to be wrong is to be threatened by pain. To be worthy as a person is to be worthy of joy; to be unworthy as one is to be unworthy of the other.
Inherent in our existence as human beings are such questions as: What kind of entity should I seek to become? By what principles should I guide my life? What values are worthy of pursuit? I say “inherent in our existence” because the concern with right and wrong is not merely the product of social conditioning, as behaviorists have tried to persuade us; a concern with morality or ethics arises naturally in the early stages of our development, much as our other intellectual abilities develop, and progresses in step with the normal course of our maturation.41,60
We cannot exempt ourselves from the realm of values and value judgments. Whether the values by which we judge ourselves are conscious or subconscious, rational or irrational, consistent or contradictory, life serving or life threatening, every one of us judges him- or herself by some standard. And to the extent that we fail to satisfy that standard, our self-respect suffers.
We are the one species that is able to form a judgment about what is best for us to do—and then proceed to do the opposite. We are the one species free to disregard
our own knowledge or to betray our own values. The concept of hypocrisy is not applicable to lower animals; neither is the virtue of integrity. In order for us to understand our need for the experience of personal worth, it is essential to grasp this fact.
As we shall discuss later, parents and the family environment play a significant role in the development of a child’s values, self-concept, and self-esteem. And while it is false to hold that a child’s self-esteem is merely a reflection of the appraisals received from others, I do not wish to deny that those appraisals constitute an important part of the child’s life experience, with consequences for the child’s psychology.2,82
A human being needs self-respect, needs the experience of worthiness, fully as much as he or she needs self-confidence. We must act to achieve our goals—and in order to act, we must value ourselves as beneficiaries of our actions. To fight for our happiness, we must consider ourselves worthy of happiness. Lacking the sense of that worthiness, we will fail in those acts of self-assertion that our well-being requires. In key areas of life we will be interrupted or paralyzed (to varying degrees)—condemned to feelings of being inappropriate to life.
We make ourselves worthy of living by making ourselves competent to live. If we default on the responsibility of thought and reason, if we turn our backs on reality and facts, thus undercutting our competence to live, we will not retain a sense of worthiness. If we betray our integrity, if we betray our moral convictions, if we turn our back on our own standards, thus undercutting our sense of worthiness, we do so by evasion; by the refusal to see what we see and know what we know, we commit treason to our own (correct or mistaken) judgment, and thus we do not retain our sense of competence.
This judgment passed on our mental behavior is typically experienced as an assessment of our “essence.” Behavior at this level of intimacy is experienced as “who I am.” It is experienced as almost inseparable from an individual’s sense of self. Whereas it is relatively easier to perceive external behavior as an expression of self but not identical with self, internal behavior—choices and mental operations—is normally intrinsic to the self-experience.
Honoring the Self Page 3
