On Psychological Egoism—A Reflection
Monday, September 13, 2010 at 7:23pm
September 14, 2010
The usual education of young people is to inspire them with a second self-love (La Rochefoucauld, par. 261).
There was a time when should I be trapped in a personal state of malaise I could find an outlet in going to the places, working the jobs, and being close to the people who fulfill my emotional needs. In the surge of pleasure that accompanies the act of satisfying my needs, I’d feel myself overtaken by an incredible sense of love, or emotional attachment—attachment to whomever it is that shows me the affection that I seek, whether it be romantic or platonic.
There is no passion wherein self-love reigns so powerfully as in love, and one is always more ready to sacrifice the peace of the loved one than his own (La Rochefoucauld, par. 262).
Sadly, now, that sense of fulfillment no longer seems to apply. Because I know now that the feeling is fake. It is not love at all, but a state of perpetual immaturity. No different than infatuation.
The principle contributes nothing to the establishment of morality, because making a man happy is very different from making him good, and making him prudent and sharp in seeing what is to his own advantage is far from making him virtuous (Kant, 38).
In the end, I am reduced to the conclusion that I am and always have been, a selfish being. Feeling alone and unloved until such a time that all my desires are met, and then am as high as a kite. It is all based on the reward, on pleasure. In all this time, I realize that I have very little understanding of how anyone who I have convinced myself I care about think or feel. I know very little of what is going on in people’s daily lives and my memory of what they tell me is faulty, as my own concerns have monopolized my mind’s concentration. And the enchantment I have felt—the infatuation, if you will—dissipates at such a point when it either reaches the apex, when fantasy and reality merge, or when its object indicates that it is no longer willing to provide me with the desired affection.
In the human heart there is a perpetual generation of passions; so that the ruin of one is almost always the foundation of another (La Rochefoucauld, par. 10).
For the past nine months I have taken new medicines as a habit. I have the benefit of for the first time being able to work productively at any form of labor within my capacity uninhibited by the demands of lingering emotional needs. The drugs have inhibited that part of the brain responsible for them. I have done more research, gained a greater self-awareness. I supposed this is maturity.
The passions are the only advocates which always persuade. They are a natural art, the rules of which are infallible; and the simplest man with passion will be more persuasive than the most eloquent without (La Rochefoucauld, par. 8).
There are many benefits in the practical sense—I’ve gone on for so long, allowing feelings to become obsessions—very self-destructive obsessions, costly to me and potentially threatening my relationships with others. I have on numerous occasions pushed away friends and provided leverage to my enemies, some of whom reside within my extended family. My aunt, predator that she is, has recognized and prepared for the moment that I, in my emotional attachment and need gave hostages to fortune. It has been with relish, she has taken the opportunity to exploit my weakness and to hurt me, to break me at her twisted whim.
Also riches joined with generosity is power, because it procures friends and servants; without generosity, not so, because in that case the friends and servants don’t defend the rich man but rather regard him as prey (Hobbes, 39).
These last few months on the meds have been a void, a life where emotion no longer applies. It is truly the loneliest feeling. As one confidant has aptly suggested, “it is like losing an old friend.” Obsession may have complicated my life significantly, but life without it is unfamiliar and confusing. I feel alone and removed from feeling, because the root of every emotion I have felt has been selfishness. I can state definitively that I have never loved, I have only needed.
Moderation in emotions and passions, self-control, and calm deliberation not only are good in many ways but seem even to constitute part of the person’s inner worth, and they were indeed unconditionally valued by the ancients. Yet they are very far from being good without qualification—·good in themselves, good in any circumstances·—for without the principles of a good will they can become extremely bad: ·for example·, a villain’s coolness makes him far more dangerous and more straightforwardly abominable to us than he would otherwise have seemed. (Kant, 5)
The commonly held misconception about selfishness is its association with malicious intent. On the contrary, its true basis is on emotion and the delusion of altruistic intent, psychological egoism and false love.
Enough for one night’s confessions…
From Stockholm, Sweden.
This is Joe the Mailman
Kant, Immanuel. Groundwork for the Metaphysic of Morals.
Retrieved September 6, 2010 from the World Wide Web:
http://www.earlymoderntexts.com/pdf/kantgw.pdf
Hobbes, Thomas. Leviathan: Part 1: Man.
Retrieved September 6, 2010 from the World Wide Web:
http://www.earlymoderntexts.com/pdf/hobbes1.pdf
De La Rochefoucauld, Francois Duc.
"Reflections Or, Sentences and Moral Maxims."
Retrieved September 6, 2010 from the World Wide Web:
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/9105/9105-h/9105-h.htm
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