Perfection
I read an article recently in Time Magazine about websites that promote acceptance of anorexia nervosa, the potentially fatal disorder of self-starvation. Being the husband of a woman who struggled for decades with this debilitating condition, I was curious to learn what the authors of these websites, called “pro-ana”, think about what it is that drives so many people like themselves to abstain from eating in order to lose weight on a permanent basis. What caught my eye was the phrase, “A decision to pursue perfection.” The idea of perfection is an old one in Western thought and is to be found in the ancient Greek philosophy of Plato, and in the monotheistic religions of Judaism, Christianity and Islam. It is, I think, an idea that has produced more harm than good; but in order to argue this point I must first contrast it with another idea often associated with it, that of improvement. At first glance it may appear that improvement naturally leads to perfection; but I think that improvement and perfection are the products of two entirely different psychological tendencies. Improvement When we seek to improve something we know that certain limitations are placed upon us. For instance, I may seek to improve my speed as a runner, knowing that this will decrease the distance I may be able to run. We may collectively seek to lower unemployment, knowing that this may cause inflation. The idea of improvement, therefore, demands respect for what is possible in a world we are not permitted to control as if it were an extension of ourselves. Improvement calls for compromise and an awareness of limits. Knowledge of how far improvement may go is productive of physical and emotional balance. Perfection We may understand perfection by considering what would happen were it to be realized. A good tennis player is one who seeks to improve as an athlete in order to more fully enjoy the sport; but a perfect tennis player-one who never loses so much as a point-would soon stop playing for lack of competition. Who would want to play against someone who always wins? All the excitement and suspense of the game would be lost. The game of tic tac toe only remains a game until we have figured it out, after which it ceases to be a game. It would be the same for the game of chess if a super intellect found a way to win every game, effectively solving chess and destroying it as a pastime. The perfect body that never looked unattractive, aged, weakened or became ill would be so far removed from the processes of life that it would cease to be alive. We may think that we love that which we seek to perfect, but the reality is that the attainment of perfection would lead to the annihilation of that which we profess to love. Improvement is an expression of our desire to be continuously engaged with what we enjoy, whereas perfection, when taken seriously, is more an expression of our desire to permanently rid ourselves of a deep-seated conflict we are emotionally unable to face. One leads to tolerance, balance, forgiveness and productivity while the other leads to fanaticism, obsession, intolerance and, in the end, self-destruction. The Caregiver and The Stern Father I suspect that the pathological compulsion for perfection has roots that spring from a deep layer of what Jung called our collective unconsciousness, a force that intermingles with and shapes our own unique and individual development. We have touched on the idea of perfection in the religious traditions of the West, where God is seen as either the supreme creator of life and the fount of its divinity or as the ultimate judge of who will suffer for every transgression of divine law. In 1741 Jonathan Edwards delivered a sermon that so traumatized his poor New England congregation that it has remained famous ever since. It contains, in language capable of reducing the sturdiest of us to jelly, one of the clearest examples of The Stern Father ever thundered from a pulpit and seared into paper. “They are already under a sentence of condemnation to hell. They do not only justly deserve to be cast down thither, but the sentence of the law of God, that eternal and immutable rule of righteousness that God has fixed between Him and mankind, is gone out against them, and stands against them; so that they are bound over already to hell.” If this is reality, then tolerance, leniency and mercy are the greatest and most ghastly jokes ever played upon poor suffering humanity by our animal nature; for in a world governed by The Stern Father there is no room for anything less than perfection, and we are only saved from never ending condemnation and torment by the most capricious of divine wills. But now consider an entirely different sentiment that comes to us from the same nation and only a few years removed from Edward’s famous sermon. Here is a passage from Nature by Ralph Waldo Emerson. “In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befal me in life,-no disgrace, no calamity…which nature cannot repair.” In another essay Emerson dryly remarks, “I like the silent church before the sermon begins, better than any preaching.” For Emerson the world is harsh; and he will not sugar coat the trials of existence with contrived sentimentality. And yet, however difficult life is on earth, it is not directed by a force that stands outside of us the better to judge our flaws and shortcomings, for our soul is only the expression of what Emerson called “The Over-Soul”. “We live in succession, in division, in parts, in particles. Meantime, within man is the soul of the whole; the wise silence; the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related; the eternal One.” People at an early age begin to be shaped by different and opposing models of how they must regulate their behavior and develop moral character. At a point in our maturation we internalize, to some degree, models approximating either the Caregiver or The Stern Father; and for most of us, perhaps, the final model that emerges is a fluid, complex mixture of both. Which model we choose to contemplate and enlarge in our consciousness may have much to do with whether we look within ourselves for improvement or perfection. There is no doubt in my mind that the persistent hunger for improvement reflects what is most poignantly beautiful about human nature; for however heroically we labor to find something better for ourselves and society, we may come to know and accept the fact that the enterprise will never entirely succeed, may backfire, or may even be doomed from the beginning. And yet how majestic and inspiring it is nonetheless: to maintain health and a pleasing appearance even though we must age; to study that which we can never master; to stand for justice in a world that will never be just; to love however unworthy we are of it; to live in joy despite every pain and disappointment. The monument to perfection has its allure but look long and with care; for far above the herd of ordinary mortals he stands in triumph, proud, unyielding and alone, gripping the invincible sword of victory and pressing its point at the base of his own throat.