It is true, however, that the attempt to describe the social self and to analyze the mental processes that enter into it almost unavoidably makes it appear more reflective and “self-conscious” than it usually is. Thus while some readers will be able to discover in themselves a quite definite and deliberate contemplation of the reflected self, others will perhaps find nothing but a sympathetic impulse, so simple that it can hardly be made the object of distinct thought. Many people whose behavior shows that their idea of themselves is largely caught from the persons they are with, are yet quite innocent of any intentional posing; it is a matter of subconscious impulse or mere suggestion. The self of very sensitive but non-reflective minds is of this character.
CHAPTER VI
THE SOCIAL SELF—2. VARIOUS PHASES OF “I”
Egotism and Selfishness—The Use of “I” in Literature and Conversation—Intense Self-feeling Necessary to Productivity—Other Phases of the Social Self—Pride versus Vanity—Self-respect, Honor, Self-reverence—Humility—Maladies of the Social Self—Withdrawal—Self-transformation—Phases of the Self Caused by Incongruity between the Person and his Surroundings.
If self and the self-seeking that springs from it are healthy and respectable traits of human nature, then what are those things which we call egotism and selfishness,[[53]] and which are so commonly regarded as objectionable? The answer to this appears to be that it is not self-assertion as such that we stigmatize by these names, but the assertion of a kind or phase of self that is obnoxious to us. So long as we agree with a man’s thoughts and aims we do not think of him as selfish or egotistical, however urgently he may assert them; but so soon as we cease to agree, while he continues persistent and perhaps intrusive, we are likely to say hard things about him. It is at bottom a matter of moral judgment, not to be comprised in any simple definition, but to be determined by conscience after the whole situation is taken into account. In this regard it is essentially one with the more general question of misconduct or personal badness. There is no distinct line between the behavior which we mildly censure as selfish and that which we call wicked or criminal; it is only a matter of degree.
It is quite apparent that mere self-assertion is not looked upon as selfishness. There is nothing more respected—and even liked—than a persistent and successful pursuit of one’s peculiar aims, so long as this is done within the accepted limits of fairness and consideration for others. Thus one who has acquired ten millions must have expressed his appropriative instinct with much energy and constancy, but reasonable people do not conclude that he is selfish unless it appears that he has ignored social sentiments by which he should have been guided. If he has been dishonest, mean, hard, or the like, they will condemn him.
The men we admire most, including those we look upon as peculiarly good, are invariably men of notable self-assertion. Thus Martin Luther, to take a conspicuous instance, was a man of the most intense self-feeling, resentful of opposition, dogmatic, with “an absolute confidence in the infallibility, practically speaking, of his own judgment.” This is a trait belonging to nearly all great leaders, and a main cause of their success. That which distinguishes Luther from the vulgarly ambitious and aggressive people we know is not the quality of his self-feeling, but the fact that it was identified in his imagination and endeavors with sentiments and purposes that we look upon as noble, progressive, or right. No one could be more ambitious than he was, or more determined to secure the social aggrandizement of his self; but in his case the self for which he was ambitious and resentful consisted largely of certain convictions regarding justification by faith, the sacrilege of the sale of indulgences, and, more generally, of an enfranchising spirit and mode of thought fit to awaken and lead the aspiration of the time.
It is evident enough that in this respect Luther is typical of aggressive reformers in our own and every other time. Does not every efficient clergyman, philanthropist, or teacher become such by identifying some worthy object with a vigorous self-feeling? Is it ever really possible to separate the feeling for the cause from the feeling that it is my cause? I doubt whether it is. Some of the greatest and purest founders and propagators of religion have been among the greatest egotists in the sense that they openly identified the idea of good with the idea of self, and spoke of the two interchangeably. And I cannot think of any strong man I have known, however good, who does not seem to me to have had intense self-feeling about his cherished affair; though if his affair was a large and helpful one no one would call him selfish.
Since the judgment that a man is or is not selfish is a question of sympathies, it naturally follows that people easily disagree regarding it, their views depending much upon their temperaments and habits of thought. There are probably few energetic persons who do not make an impression of egotism upon some of their acquaintances; and, on the other hand, how many there are whose selfishness seems obvious to most people, but is not apparent to their wives, sisters and mothers. In so far as our self is identified with that of another it is, of course, unlikely that the aims of the latter should be obnoxious to us.
If we should question many persons as to why they thought this or that man selfish, a common answer would probably be, “He does not consider other people.” What this means is that he is inappreciative of the social situation as we see it; that the situation does not awaken in him the same personal sentiments that it does in us, and so his action wounds those sentiments. Thus the commonest and most obvious form of selfishness is perhaps the failure to subordinate sensual impulses to social feeling, and this, of course, results from the apathy of the imaginative impulses that ought to effect this subordination. It would usually be impossible for a man to help himself to the best pieces on the platter if he conceived the disgust and resentment which he excites. And though this is a very gross and palpable sort of selfishness, it is analogous in nature to the finer kinds. A fine-grained, subtle Egoist, such as is portrayed in George Meredith’s novel of that name, or such as Isabel’s husband in Henry James’s “Portrait of a Lady,” has delicate perceptions in certain directions, but along with these there is some essential narrowness or vulgarity of imagination which prevents him from grasping what we feel to be the true social situation, and having the sentiments that should respond to it. The æsthetic refinement of Osmond which so impresses Isabel before her marriage turns out to be compatible with a general smallness of mind. He is “not a good fellow,” as Ralph remarks, and incapable of comprehending her or her friends.
A lack of tact in face-to-face intercourse very commonly gives an impression of egotism, even when it is a superficial trait not really expressive of an unsympathetic character. Thus there are persons who in the simplest conversation do not seem to forget themselves, and enter frankly and disinterestedly into the subject, but are felt to be always preoccupied with the thought of the impression they are making, imagining praise or depreciation, and usually posing a little to avoid the one or gain the other. Such people are uneasy, and make others so; no relaxation is possible in their company, because they never come altogether out into open and common ground, but are always keeping back something. It is not so much that they have self-feeling as that it is clandestine and furtive, giving one a sense of insecurity. Sometimes they are aware of this lack of frankness, and try to offset it by reckless confessions, but this only shows their self-consciousness in another and hardly more agreeable aspect. Perhaps the only cure for this sort of egotism is to cherish very high and difficult ambitions, and so drain off the superabundance of self-feeling from these petty channels. People who are doing really important things usually appear simple and unaffected in conversation, largely because their selves are healthfully employed elsewhere.