“When we’re free from self-deception, we see others clearly,” Theo said. “We understand and are responsive to the fact that they have needs and aspirations and fears and relationships that are as real and tangible as our own. We have an outward mindset.
“But when we are self-deceived, our view of others is distorted. As we discussed before, when we are inward toward others, they become objects to us, typically in three kinds of ways: as vehicles we can use to get what we want, as obstacles that are in our way, or as irrelevant to us.
“This objectifying view of others is evident in drastic and horrible situations, like abuse or neglect. But it also appears more subtly. We treat a cashier at the grocery store like some sort of food-scanning robot, or we try to butter someone up with insincere flattery. While each of these instances may look very different, they all share the same dehumanizing root of objectification.
“We know we shouldn’t see and treat others this way. But we do it all the time. So you can see why we seek justification within the alternate reality of our self-deception, right?”
“I dunno, Theo,” Tom said. “Isn’t it a bit strong to call it objectification if you’re just trying to get through the grocery line?”
“Have you had a customer service role before, Tom?” Kate asked.
“No, not really. My dad owned a small store I worked at before college, but I mostly stayed in the back.”
Ana chimed in, “I worked tables at a diner when I was in high school. Best and worst job I ever had.”
“Why’s that?” Kate asked.
“I really enjoyed the people watching, and it was fun getting to know some of the regulars. But…”
Ana’s face flushed, and she fidgeted with the edge of the table.
“Well, it wasn’t the greatest atmosphere. Some customers made offensive and inappropriate comments. I told my manager and shift lead at first, but they’d say things like ‘Don’t be so sensitive. This is how the world works. Just appreciate the tips.’”
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Ana,” Theo said.
“Yeah, me too,” she replied. “And I wish that job was the only place I’d seen it.”
Tom cleared his throat. “My daughter just applied for some part-time jobs as a food server. I’d hate if that happened to her.”
“No one should experience harassment or discrimination at work, or anywhere else for that matter,” Kate said. “And objectification is intrinsic to those kinds of mistreatment.”
“In response to your earlier question, Tom,” Theo continued, “I’d say no. I don’t think objectification is too strong a label to use when we see people only in terms of how they impact us. Anytime we choose to reduce another human to a two-dimensional character in our own story, it’s an act of objectification.”
“Of course, there are differences in degree and severity,” Kate clarified, “but it’s important to see the connection. Otherwise, it’s too easy to think the problem is only in other people or in extreme cases.”
Tom nodded.
“Like I mentioned,” Theo said, “we can have a sort of bout of self-deception, where a specific self-betrayal leads us to a distorted view of another person in a certain situation. But self-deception can also be a sort of chronic condition, and that happens as we adopt and carry with us false views of ourselves in relation to others.”
Kate nodded. “Our chronic self-deception takes one of two forms: we see ourselves as either better than others or worse than others. And while that may sound simple enough, seeing ourselves as better or worse than others distances us from the truth that others matter like we do. Both can be used to provide us with justification.”
“For example,” Theo said, “when I was inward toward Tracie, I found justification by viewing myself as better than her. I had important things to do the next day. And my job was important for our family. My sleep was clearly a higher priority than Tracie’s. At least, that’s what I was telling myself.
“I felt resentful about her slow response to our crying child, even though I was still in bed myself. And I had even uglier emotions too. I felt like I was entitled to totally uninterrupted sleep, like it was something Tracie owed me but didn’t deserve herself. And all these emotions signaled that I was seeing myself as better than Tracie.”
Tom was examining his thumbnail.
“But I could have also easily found justification by flipping the script and seeing myself as worse than Tracie,” Theo continued. “Any ideas what that could have looked like?” He moved to the whiteboard, drawing a new box with a line down the center.
“Well,” Ana said slowly. “Maybe you think you’re not great with the baby or you don’t know what you’re doing. You could worry you’ll just make things worse.”
“And if Tracie has to get up anyway, why bother?” Tom said. His voice held an edge that wasn’t lost on Theo, Kate, and Ana. “Everything she does is perfect,” Tom continued, “and she’ll probably let you know it.”
“Exactly,” Theo said, finishing this new diagram.
Figure 5: Distorted views
Ana looked troubled.
“On the surface, these two situations seem like night and day. But feeling better than others and feeling worse than others actually perpetuates the same dynamic. Both are ways of being inward and staying focused on ourselves. Both are lies we use to seek justification when we betray ourselves. And both warped views can follow us into different situations and be a type of chronic self-deception.”
“You’ve said that a few times,” Ana said. “I want to make sure I’m following. What exactly do you mean by ‘chronic self-deception’?”
“I mean that we carry around the false views of ourselves that we use to justify our self-betrayals. Then we no longer need a specific instance of self-betrayal to spark justification and self-deception. We experience all the negative symptoms of being inward because we are already inward. We carry the lie that we are better or worse than others with us into new circumstances as a false self-image that will keep us from seeing the people around us.”
“And that means we stop experiencing helpful senses toward them,” Kate said. “We can’t see their humanity because of the lies we bring into our interactions. Why would you stoop down to help someone you think is beneath you? Or, on the other hand, if you’re convinced other people are better than you, why would they need anything you could offer?”
“Ugh,” Tom said. “So this all means that I didn’t feel an impulse to help Pierre because I was already inward toward him?”
“I’ll let you speak for your own experiences,” Theo said, “but I wouldn’t be too surprised if self-deception was at play in your story. It sounded like you were happy about Pierre failing, even though it came at the expense of your own project.”
Tom opened his mouth, then sighed. “I guess it doesn’t make much sense looking back on it. Sitting back to watch Pierre flop made quite a mess of things.”
“Each of us can have a tendency toward seeing ourselves as better or worse than others depending on the relationship or circumstance,” Kate said. “But both positions are falsehoods. We may very well be better or worse than someone else in a given skill or capacity, but that doesn’t translate into being a more or less worthy human being. And we’re much more accurate at assessing abilities when our vision isn’t obscured by self-deception.”
“You know,” Theo said, standing and picking up a marker, “one of the easiest ways to spot these chronic self-deceptions is to pay attention to the emotions that usually accompany them.”
Theo drew two squares on the board and labeled one “Better Than” and the other “Worse Than.” “For example, if I see myself as better than others, I may feel entitled, mistreated, unappreciated, or resentful.” As he spoke, Theo added these to the “Better Than” box. “You can imagine the impatience and frustration I might experience. But what emotions might I feel if I carry a worse-than self-image?”
“Discouraged?” Ana said. “And maybe even jealous of people you see as superior.”
“Without question,” Theo said. “And for me, feeling powerless and resigned is a pretty telltale sign that I am seeing myself as worse than,” Theo said, completing the second box.
Figure 6: Better-than and worse-than emotions
“When I was in high school,” Tom said slowly, “my buddy’s mom died. And I didn’t have a clue how to talk to him about it, and I felt awkward, so I just didn’t say anything. I told myself I didn’t want to make it worse or something like that. But I still regret not reaching out when it mattered. I think that I was self-focused in a worse-than way.”
“Thanks for that example,” Theo said. “It’s not always easy to see or admit to our justifications.
“Now, there’s more to explore with all of this,” Theo said, “but I think it’s about time to break for lunch. Thank you for being here, Kate.”
“Thanks for letting me join in,” Kate said. “And,” she continued, turning to Ana and Tom, “it is so good to have both of you on the team. We are grateful you’re here.”
“Well,” Theo said, pushing his chair back from the table, “Tom and Ana, I’ll see you back here in an hour.”
As everyone stood, Kate turned to Tom. “Do you have a minute to chat?” she asked.