Hypocrisy Unmasked

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Hypocrisy Unmasked: Dissociation, Shame, and the Ethics of Inauthenticity, by

Ronald C. Naso
Hypocrisy Unmasked
Dissociation, Shame,
and the Ethics of Inauthenticity

Ronald C. Naso, Ph.D.

JASON ARONSON
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Naso, Ronald C., 1954–

Hypocrisy unmasked : dissociation, shame, and the ethics of inauthenticity /
Ronald C. Naso.
p. cm.— (Series in theoretical, clinical, and applied psychoanalysis)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-7657-0677-5 (cloth : alk. paper)—ISBN 978-0-7657-0679-9 (electronic)
1. Hypocrisy. 2. Integrity. 3. Authenticity (Philosophy) I. Title.
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 Hypocrisy (hypokrisis, Gr.)

1.  The acting of a part on stage, feigning, pretence

2.  To answer, to play a part, pretend
3.  To decide, determine, judge (Oxford English Dictionary, 1:509)
 Contents

Preface ix
Introduction 1

Part I:  Topographies of Transgression

  1   The Paradox of Hypocrisy 17
  2   The Call of Conscience 39
  3   Perversion and Moral Reckoning 61

Part II:  The Ethics of Inauthenticity

  4   Compromises of Integrity 85
  5   Beneath the Mask 105
  6   Youthful Indiscretions 121

Part III:  From Hypocrisy to Moral Ambiguity

  7   Dissociation and Self-Deception 147
  8   Multiplicity and Moral Ambiguity 169

Conclusion 195

vii
viii Contents

Bibliography 209
Index 217
About the Author 221
 Preface

H ypocrisy encompasses a diverse collection of behaviors ranging from

the benign to the egregious, unified by deception and dishonesty.
Although exceedingly difficult to define precisely, the agent so character-
ized is presumed never to say exactly what he means. The hypocrite is
fundamentally not the sort of person who can be trusted or depended on.
Given the opportunity, he exploits good will and seeks to aggrandize
himself, often at the others’ expense. As a result, while there is much in-
sight to be gained from the examination of individual instances of hypoc-
risy, the hypothesis advanced in this book is that the concept eludes strict
behavioral description. In the end, it is as much a term of moral criticism
as it is anything else. To be sure, this criticism is sometimes well de-
served.
Yet, closer examination of the grounds for such criticism reveals hypoc-
risy to be ethically and interpersonally complex. Hypocrisy is nourished
by ambiguity and the relative opacity of other minds. For example, al-
though the hypocrite deceives, he does not necessarily perfect his decep-
tion by lying; sometimes this is accomplished simply by telling the truth.
He exploits the other’s belief that he “really” means or intends something
other than what he says. Or, less obviously, his actions follow from uncon-
scious motives that make it possible for him to be taken in by his own
deception. A brief example from the existential literature illustrates the
latter idea whose implications will be developed in greater detail later in
this book.
Jean-Baptiste Clamence, the protagonist of Camus’ The Fall,1 cultivates
relationships with others, winning their respect with apparent thought-

ix
x Preface

fulness and good deeds. He is genuinely helpful and, as a result, appears

deserving of the admiration he receives. However, after an event prompts
him to reflect on his life, he comes to a very different view of his behavior
than he held at the time of its occurrence. He concludes that his good
deeds were motivated by vanity rather than altruism. His loving acts
concealed a deep-seated contempt for others. He was a hypocrite by any
definition—any definition, that is, other than his own. For, when he car-
ried out these acts, he did so authentically. True, he was aware of the
pleasure he felt in acting virtuously; but to feel pleasure about what one
does is not necessarily to act hypocritically. He noticed those less fortu-
nate than himself, felt moved by their circumstances, and took it upon
himself to lessen their suffering in various small ways. From the stand-
point of the past, he did not act selfishly or with malice aforethought. He
did not knowingly behave contrary to his values or deceive others to ad-
vantage himself. But, he also did not examine his motives. Only when
examined from the perspective of the present does he draw different con-
clusions about them. Thus, whatever guilt he bears coexists with the in-
nocence of self-deception. Is moral criticism less justified when hypocrisy
is so clearly a product of self-deception?
At a minimum, Camus’ portrayal of Clamence illustrates the relevance
of time and of the multiplicity of one’s engagements to evaluations of
hypocrisy. With respect to the former, one cannot be certain about the
other’s motives in the present. One’s judgments are necessarily provi-
sional and must await some assessment of whether the agent does what
he has promised to do. More than this, one will want to know how the
agent has fulfilled his obligations. The quality or character of his actions
form an important basis for one’s judgments about hypocrisy. Has he
acted honestly and with integrity or selfishly, even cynically? Surely it is
a key feature of hypocrisy that the individual does not behave consis-
tently across relationships. He seems to weigh the potential risks and
benefits of his comportment, making the likelihood of transgressions dif-
ficult to predict.
Time plays an equally important role in self-assessment and in deci-
sions about what one ought to do. One’s judgment frequently changes
over time, in light of unforeseen circumstances and consequences that
cannot be anticipated in advance. Consistency can be problematic when
conditions change.
There are yet other complications. One is likely to regard transgressions
less harshly when the agent acts on the basis of mistaken beliefs; he may
sincerely believe that he acts virtuously, utterly self-deceived about his
deeper motivations. This is the paradox Camus’ portrayal of Clamence
throws into relief. It can be formulated affirmatively by the assertion that
deception (or self-deception) is a frequent, if regrettable, means for
 Preface xi

achieving worthy goals. Hypocrisy coexists with the virtues of authentic-

ity and truthfulness. In the end, neither the consequences of actions nor
their felt sincerity are determinative. This is the key insight of the post-
modern perspective. Multiple and conflicting motives as well as the in-
herent uncertainty of knowledge claims make hypocrisy difficult to un-
derstand, let alone criticize. It consistently exposes an overriding concern
with reputation and the wish to appear morally better.
It is interesting to contrast the earlier connotations of hypocrisy with
that of late classical and modern usage. For example, in early Greek
drama, hypocrisy described the playing of a role. The actor does not actu-
ally murder, betray, or love, but adopts a role in which he appears to do
these things. His finely crafted work of deception achieves its full effect
despite the audience’s recognition of his deceptive intention. It fails in the
absence of a shared sense of pretense and willing suspension of disbelief.
To be effective, the “performance must be credible. . . . [It must be a] . . .
good deception,”2 capable of moving the audience to new experience by
virtue of something both actor and audience know to be literally untrue.
Psychologically, it rests on a “sensitive and intricate contract”3 between
them that cannot be broken without the latter feeling mocked and
thwarted from full participation in this magnificent game of pretence. It
depends on the actor adopting a role in which a distinction between the
worlds of appearance and reality is shared.
If hypocrisy did no more than mark the separation of appearance and
reality, it would stand as a brilliant human achievement. However, it
would be an achievement indistinguishable from any other work of the
imagination, since the latter is always defined in part by its contrast to the
real. Its earliest, nonpejorative usage hinged precisely on the ability of all
parties to separate the worlds of the real and of theatrical appearance.4
Can the origins of hypocrisy’s moral reprehensibility be located in actions
that exploit to one’s advantage circumstances in which appearance and
reality cannot be clearly distinguished?
Szabados and Soifer trace the negative valence of hypocrisy to transla-
tions of the Old Testament dating back to the third century B.C.E.5 In these
translations, the Hebrew word hanef is rendered in Greek as hypokrisis.
Although subsequently appearing in English versions as “Godless per-
son,” hypocrisy retained the sense of being something more than one who
pretends to worship God. It connotes a “crooked or deceptive heart.”6
This connotation has persisted. To support their thesis, these authors note
that the expression “godless in heart”7 appears in ancient Greek as
hupokritai karia, thus establishing a link between hypocrisy and character.
Shorn of its religious connotations, hypocrisy increasingly reveals some-
thing about identity rather than simply about individual acts. In this way,
it anticipates the idea of a private self and of one’s role as a mask.
xii Preface

The writer wishing to examine hypocrisy must remain sensitive to

these connotations and prejudices. He must endeavor to carefully decon-
struct rather than perpetuate cultural stereotypes and uncritical ways of
thinking. Yet, accomplishing this task requires him to strike a balance
between perpetuating misconceptions and speaking clearly and precisely
about the phenomena under investigation. This is particularly important
with a concept so deeply embedded in human discourse that it is often
regarded as existing independent of it. However much it challenges defi-
nition, conventional wisdom about hypocrisy suggests that one knows it
when one sees it.8 But, to take this position is to beg the question that this
book endeavors to interrogate. Because ethical life is inherently ambigu-
ous and leaves one without clear guidance for resolving complex moral
problems, I shall argue that hypocrisy is anything but a uniform phenom-
enon that can be clearly defined, identified, and judged. Instead, it is a
form of compromise intrinsic to relationships with others and, as I hope
to show, to oneself. Unfortunately, as much as I would like to avoid using
the word “hypocrite” in describing this spectrum of behaviors, I have not
found an acceptable substitute that conveys this complexity. “Hypocriti-
cal individual” and “the individual who engages in hypocrisy (or hypo-
critical) acts” are infelicitous. I have thus opted to use the term “hypo-
crite” when grammatically appropriate with the understanding that, as
used herein, it implies nothing more than “one given to such actions.” Its
inescapably negative connotation constitutes a major theme of this book.

Acknowledgments

Chapters 1, 5, and 7 contain revised portions of various papers I have

written that have appeared elsewhere. These include: “Immoral Actions
in Otherwise Moral Individuals: Interrogating the Structure and Meaning
of Moral Hypocrisy,” Psychoanalytic Psychology 23 (2006): 475–89; “In the
‘I’s’ of the Beholder: Dissociation and Multiplicity in Contemporary Psy-
choanalytic Thought,” Psychoanalytic Psychology 24 (2007): 97–112; “Be-
neath the Mask: Hypocrisy and the Pathology of Shame,” Psychoanalytic
Psychology 24 (2007): 113–25; “Book Review: Prologue to Violence by Abby
Stein,” Psychologist-Psychoanalyst 27, 52–59; and “Further Thoughts on
Dissociation,” Psychologist-Psychoanalyst 28, no. 2 (2008): 29–30. I wish to
thank the publishers for permitting me to reproduce them here.
I would like to thank Julie Kirsch, editorial director at Jason Aronson,
as well as Abigail Graber and Julia Loy, for allowing me the opportunity
to get my ideas into print. I owe a special debt of gratitude to Dr. Jon Mills,
Imago series editor, who recognized that I had a book to write before I did,
and who has helped with this project in more ways than he will ever
 Preface xiii

know. I look forward to continuing the friendship that has developed as

a result of our collaboration. I also extend my heartfelt appreciation to Dr.
Steven Fox, my friend and colleague for over twenty years, for reviewing
an earlier version of this manuscript and for his sage advice. But, more
than anyone, I would like to thank my wife, Jeanne, whose patience, en-
couragement, advice, and criticism made the writing of this book possible.
It takes a very special person to allow her spouse the freedom to pursue
his interests in a sustained and intense way. I feel blessed to have found
my soul mate. Last (but never least), I dedicate this book to my four sons,
Sean, Michael, Stephen, and Ryan, who have taught me the meaning of
unconditional love.

Notes

  1.  Albert Camus, The Fall (Paris: Gallimard, 1957).

  2.  Peter Hall, Exposed by the Mask: Form and Language in Drama (New York:
Communications Group, 2000), 17.
  3.  Hall, Exposed by the Mask, 17.
  4.  Hall, Exposed by the Mask.
  5.  Bela Szabados and Eldon Soifer, Hypocrisy: Ethical Investigations (New York:
Broadview Press, 2004).
  6.  Szabados and Soifer, Hypocrisy, 20.
  7.  Job 36:13.
  8.  Szabados and Soifer, Hypocrisy.
 Introduction

T his book explores the motives, meanings, and mechanisms of hypocrisy.

It begins with a detailed survey of the extant psychoanalytic literature
on this topic, examining a multiplicity of perspectives in an effort to gener-
ate a comprehensive psychodynamic account. The arguments put forth
challenge two principal assumptions: first, that hypocrisy expresses devi-
ant, uncontrollable impulses or follows from superego weakness; and, sec-
ond, that it can be understood solely in terms of intrapsychic factors, with-
out reference to the influences of the field. Neither assumption accords
moral agency the respect it deserves, either because it conceptualizes hy-
pocrisy as a pathology like perversion; attributes it to weakness of will, a
form of moral condemnation cloaked in medico-psychiatric terms; or re-
gards it as an unmediated effect of sociocultural forces. The hypocrite is
portrayed alternately as a victim of deviant impulses, as lacking the moral
strength to resist them, or as an unmediated creation of his social milieu. In
each, he is a victim rather than the author of his thoughts, feelings, and
behaviors. His thoughts think him; his impulses define him. The postclas-
sical perspective views hypocrisy in terms of unconscious fantasies that
reassure the agent that his transgressions are revocable. Reassurance is in-
versely proportional to the felt need to scrutinize actions or their likely
consequences. These thematic strands need to be woven into a single tap-
estry that restores the human capacity for self-governance and adaptation
to its rightful place, while also recognizing the “grip of the field.”1 To grasp
its truth, hypocrisy must be seen as dynamic and contextual.
Reformulation is necessary because hypocrisy involves more than ef-
fective management of unacceptable impulses. It requires an appreciation

1
2 Introduction

of the central role played by conflicts and compromises among intrapsy-

chic, interpersonal, situational, and cultural/linguistic forces. Rangell
notes that compromises of integrity (Cs of I), of which hypocrisy is a
paradigm case, are conditioned on opportunism and chance.2 The agent’s
intentions are crucially important, but emerge fully only within an exis-
tential context. Hypocrisy highlights choices made in situations where
one’s desires differ from those of others and where the consequences of
actions cannot be anticipated completely. It draws attention to the moral
principles that count in decision-making rather than the myriad ways in
which behavior is rationalized. This is not to say that choices are calcu-
lated or even entirely conscious, but that, in hypocrisy, the capacities for
sophisticated judgment and the assessment of moral implications are dis-
connected.
Ultimately, hypocrisy poses the question of whether and to what degree
individual interests can be reconciled with those of the group or commu-
nity. Freud famously juxtaposed these interests, believing that individuals
behave selfishly when left to their own devices, pursuing gratification at
the expense of others. Instinctual renunciation is necessary in order to
reap the rewards of civilization. Freud insightfully concluded that, as a
consequence, pleasure can be pursued only indirectly and in disguised
form. This premise is remarkably consonant with the state of nature de-
scribed by Hobbes almost three centuries earlier that linked the concept
of the individual with power-seeking and narcissism.3 Hobbes regarded
the latter as natural inclinations resulting in thoroughly self-serving ac-
tions restrained only by powerful authority. Because hypocrisy so thor-
oughly expresses the willingness to exploit others, it is almost universally
condemned.
This view expresses only part of the problem of hypocrisy. However
much the individual is motivated by self-interest, he nevertheless is situ-
ated within a world of obligations and imperatives. From this perspec-
tive, the problem of hypocrisy is not that it aims at selfish pleasure, but
rather that the exclusive pursuit of pleasure corrupts the values upon
which morality is conditioned. Narcissism entails disengagement from
moral authority. Only a disengaged agent pursues self-interests without
concern about what is fair, just, or honest.
The likelihood of hypocrisy increases in relationships where coercion
is impractical or swiftly punished. The complexity and importance of
one’s engagements alters how one handles them and, as a result, casts
otherwise morally reprehensible behavior in a different light. Consider
how one is continuously confronted by competing interests in public
life. Practical resolution of such conflicts requires compromise. Har-
mony is unlikely to be restored when one of the parties believes it has
been treated unfairly. For this reason it is important to identify common
 Introduction 3

interests that form a basis for cooperation and the fashioning of practi-
cal solutions. To remain rigidly fixed in one’s position is stressful and
disruptive, even if that position is a principled one. Ultimately, inflexi-
bility reflects hubris, a preference for placing one’s interests before
those of others; even the interests of the community are better served
by rational compromise. In other words, antihypocrisy, too, can express
narcissism. A brief example inspired by Szabados and Soifer illustrates
this point.4
The executive director of a community health center desperately needs
to raise one hundred thousand dollars in order to meet next year’s operat-
ing budget. Without it, the agency will be forced to close its doors. As the
deadline draws near, the director learns of an eccentric hedge fund man-
ager who might be persuaded to contribute this sum, but who has a repu-
tation for donating money only to individuals sharing his conservative
views. As it turns out, this man is an outspoken opponent of abortion
rights, a position with which the director strongly disagrees. During their
meeting, the director conceals her principled support of abortion rights in
the hope of soliciting his contribution.
How does one understand the behavior of the executive director?
Given her views on abortion, she clearly acted hypocritically. Her actions
departed significantly from inner beliefs and convictions. Moreover, this
departure was calculated to create a particular impression in the hedge
fund manager’s mind. Yet, to condemn her actions without evaluating
them in light of her motivation to fulfill her fiduciary duty to the agency
fails to appreciate the complexity of the issues involved. If one universal-
izes the definition of hypocrisy to include any and all disguised depar-
tures from moral standards, then her hypocrisy was clear and unconscio-
nable. One might conclude that closing the agency was preferable to
compromising her personal beliefs and principles. Indeed, from a third-
person perspective, one could claim that her motives were simple: no
agency, no job. However, if her actions are interpreted as expressing her
deep commitment to the agency’s mission, one might be persuaded to
judge her hypocrisy less harshly. For example, when the director contem-
plated concealing her views, perhaps she decided that this moral breach
was an acceptable price to pay to achieve a worthy goal. From a utilitarian
perspective, her willingness to compromise furthered the interests of the
agency and of the community. It served the greater good. And this, after
all, is how she understood what she was hired to do. From her perspec-
tive, her decision averted disaster and perpetrated minimal harm. It is but
one example of how judgments of blameworthiness are influenced by
context and purpose. Cooperation in matters where interests intersect
often pays off in the long run by lessening harm to or conflict among the
parties.
4 Introduction

Caveat Auditor

One is likely to find hypocrisy in personal relationships more objection-

able and worthy of condemnation. Personal relationships place greater
demands on the parties to maintain high standards of trust and sincerity.
The human capacity for reflective self-awareness and the recognition of
disparities between self-perception and how one is perceived by others
places additional burdens on moral standards. As a subject, I recognize
that I am to myself something other than what I am to you. You, in turn,
are something other to me than what you are to yourself. We both are
aware that our perceptions overlap, but are not identical. I must present
myself authentically if I wish you to know me in the way that I know
myself. I must avoid duplicity and comport myself in a way that is true to
who I am. This does not make me responsible for the conclusions you
draw freely about me, independently of my will. But the accuracy of your
perception is conditioned in part on my truthfulness. The possibility of
authentic relationship is grounded in the assumption that I speak hon-
estly and will honor my commitments, unless I give you good reason to
believe otherwise. I make the same assumptions about you.
The hypocrite trades on these assumptions by simulating sincerity
rather than committing himself to it. He takes advantage of the other’s
good will. Although his actions do not necessarily harm others directly,
betrayal of trust in itself perpetrates harm. It is small comfort to the in-
jured party that this harm was unintended or a by-product of the hypo-
crite’s desire to appear morally better. Hypocrisy is not reducible to un-
awareness or the gaps between self-perception and reputation. It is a
deception aimed at satisfying the need to be liked, admired, and per-
ceived as morally better, a need that underscores the vital importance of
one’s standing in the other’s reflective gaze. It is a means of managing
one’s reputation in a complex social world and of monitoring others’ reac-
tions to one’s handling of obligations. The unique combination of needi-
ness and the reluctance to make necessary sacrifices leads the hypocrite to
embrace and find unconscious reassurance in the idealized image he cre-
ates in other minds. The mirroring of this image supports a reparative
fantasy insulating him from the retraumatization of shame. The hypocrite
feels driven to deception by the wish to escape a profound sense of unlov-
ability, and engages in a strategy perverting the possibility of love or au-
thentic engagement. Projective identification fuels enactments, recreations
of relationships with morally compromised parental figures whose love is
conditioned on the adoption of a particular role.
As a child, the hypocrite experiences parental interest as linked intrinsi-
cally to a role significantly at odds with self-experience. He feels deeply
connected to loved ones only when he transforms himself unconsciously
 Introduction 5

into the object of their affections. These early relationship patterns persist
into adulthood in dissociated form, emerging in unexpected relational
breeches threatening shame and retraumatization. Shame avoidance com-
bines with a willing suspension of moral reckoning to produce the hypo-
crite’s gambit. However much the hypocrite desires to be known, honesty
and commitment threaten to shatter core fantasies about who he is and,
perhaps more importantly, beliefs about his capacity to engage and hold
the other’s interest. Thus, in an interesting reversal of what fundamen-
tally defines hypocrisy—the intention to deceive—the psychoanalytic
perspective implies a dynamic that unfolds under conditions of ambigu-
ous agency.

Mask and Metaphor

Masks invite multiple interpretations because, like metaphors, they point

to meanings beyond themselves. On the one hand, they are deeply em-
bedded in local traditions, reflective of beliefs specific to time and place.
This is no less true of an African ceremonial mask than of a modern dra-
matic one. On the other hand, masks are vehicles for new meanings in-
spired by empathy and the capacity for reflective thought. Merging self
and role, masks are transformative and comprehensible only to a mind
capable of taking itself as an object and of holding multiple perspectives.
The capacity to decenter from the immediacy of experience makes it pos-
sible to appreciate ambiguity. Berger portrays the tension between self
and role by defining the latter as a “typified response to a typified
expectation.”5 More than its immediate connotation of responsiveness to
group expectations, he emphasizes its significant impact psychologically
on the role player.
The psychological effects are not merely behavioral because roles evoke
patterns of feeling, believing, and thinking. They are adopted with vary-
ing degrees of voluntariness and self-consciousness. The physician-to-be
may have been responsible, compassionate, and helpful to others before
receiving formal medical training, willingly devoting himself to the wel-
fare of others. Adopting the role of physician, however, strengthens these
dispositions and, in turn, causes him to think and feel differently. For ex-
ample, he may have enjoyed helping others in the past, but finds that he
no longer is motivated purely by pleasure. Caring for others can be pain-
ful; it certainly involves sacrifices, sometimes putting his personal health
at risk. Seeing himself as a physician, he regards these risks and benefits
alike as secondary to his duty. In other words, he no longer acts narrowly
on personal preference or desires, but in conformity with the obligations
engendered by his role. However much roles involve conformity to ex-
6 Introduction

pectations, pushing the agent psychologically in the direction of the role

adopted, they are also powerful expressions of agency and self-meaning.
Group expectations strongly mediate self-experience, but do not define it
completely; they provide inducements and discouragements for action
and meaning.
The fact that one simultaneously inhabits different roles does not di-
minish this point. The inherent multiplicity of masks signals the need to
consider both what they reveal as well as what they conceal. To be sure,
they are rich in meaning, but what they communicate hinges on the dis-
course of the other in the broadest sense of this term—of the roles, norms,
existential circumstances of the conversational participants, as well as the
ever present possibility of ironic juxtaposition and nonliteral meaning.
The mask is a signifier inviting interpretation and construction. It invites
reflection on the imaginative space created between the wearer’s inten-
tion and the other’s discovery.
The mask discloses additional tensions between the capacity for re-
flective thought and for moral disengagement, allowing one to act with-
out compassion and without a sense of personal history. When one no
longer envisions oneself as projecting into the future, only the immedi-
acy of the here and now remains. Double standards are the product of
this dissociation rather than the unique province of criminality. They
reflect forms of self-deception in which one is concerned with neither
the consequences nor the moral implications of one’s actions when de-
tection is unlikely.

Overview

Part I of this book concludes that hypocrisy expresses desires that are selec-
tively uncensored by conscience. Rather than amoral, the hypocrite is a
utilitarian of the sort described by Nietzsche who praises selflessness in
others in order to further his own goals. He “recommends altruism for the
sake of its utility,” consistently exploiting others’ goodwill to achieve selfish
ends. An astute observer of hypocrisy, Nietzsche noted that such individu-
als find it “easier to cope with a bad conscience than to cope with a bad
reputation.”6 They act to maximize pleasure. This view is expressed most
clearly by Rangell who conceptualizes hypocrisy as a compromise between
forbidden wishes and moral standards. The call of conscience is muted by
corrupt identifications that release the individual from moral obligations.
Chapter 1 introduces the concept of moral hypocrisy and evaluates four
possible psychoanalytic explanations of it. This chapter engages the work
of Batson, whose research on moral hypocrisy identifies multifactorial rela-
tionships among motives, internalized moral standards, and behavior.7 To
 Introduction 7

be sure, analytic writers recognize this complexity, but prefer explanations

that regard inner morality as (consciously or unconsciously) undermined
by self-interests. Heightened narcissism and a propensity for fantasy enact-
ment attenuate the impact of reality. Batson’s research does not dispute the
importance of self-interest so much as it accords disavowal a primary role
in moral lapses. Moreover, once it is parsed from the cumbersome assump-
tions of drive theory, disavowal may be seen as naturally inclining one to-
ward moral disengagement. Always responsive to particular situations, the
content of disavowal is not preordained or accurately described as an effect
of inner motivation. Batson argues that the hypocrite discounts salient
moral principles and fails to compare his behavior with normative moral
standards. To avoid discrepancies productive of anxiety, Batson’s subjects
frequently rely on disavowal and rationalization.
Chapter 1 raises two additional issues: First, given narcissism’s preemi-
nence, from whence does moral feeling arise? Is morality merely the result
of learning, reflecting the influences of family, extra-familial relationships,
and culture or does it betoken something about human nature that under-
girds one’s openness to influence? Second, in clinical disorders like perver-
sion, desires are acted on in clear violation of prevailing norms without
shame or guilt. If guilt is truly the legacy of one’s ancestral past, built in to
the very fabric of one’s being, how is it so readily discounted?
Chapter 2 takes up the first of these questions, examining what it means
to have moral feeling. Hypocrisy’s exquisite sensitivity to norms is one of
the primary reasons that it is distinguished from psychopathy. Psychoana-
lysts generally follow Freud in linking moral feelings to the establishment
of the superego, an agency of the mind resting on the regularity of two key
experiences: fear of punishment and identification with authority. I shall
argue that neither of these provides sufficient conditions for the establish-
ment of conscience, whether regarded as a species of belief or desire. Nei-
ther, that is, explains the transition from behavioral conformity to moral
sentiment. Each offers reasons for moral sentiments, but fails to explain
morality’s binding authority. The moral agent does not merely wish to do
no harm, but believes restraint to be obligatory. In the absence of extenuat-
ing circumstances, he believes he deserves punishment for failing to honor
obligations. Explication of this unique aspect of conscience requires updat-
ing Freud’s phylogenetic speculations with pertinent findings from the
fields of attachment theory and evolutionary psychology.
Chapter 3 examines the concept of perversion, focusing on how it sta-
bilizes tensions between desires and normative constraints. More than a
deviation of sexual aims and objects, perversion reflects a stance permit-
ting selective transgression. The pervert acts on wishes that the neurotic
cannot comfortably entertain. Yet, unlike the psychopath, the pervert’s
morally questionable actions never ignore social conventions and seem to
8 Introduction

coexist alongside inner convictions and values. They are thus difficult to
characterize solely in terms of impulsiveness or the absence of superego
integration. Perversion offers a means of understanding transfigurations
of value, one implicating the persistence of infantile sexual and aggressive
trends as well as the early relationships encouraging self-deception. It is
the latter that will be emphasized; so, too, will the hypocrite’s resentment
and refusal to acknowledge or respect any real limits on his desires. Like
the pervert, the hypocrite imagines that he can avoid and undo the con-
sequences of his actions.
The three chapters comprising part II of this book focus on the subjec-
tive experience of the hypocrite, using a variety of examples to explicate
his vulnerability to transgression. These chapters discourage condemna-
tion and rely on a psychodynamic understanding to show that hypocrisy
is a mode of cognition that renders one vulnerable to transgression. It sug-
gests that these transgressions are best regarded as compromises among
the totality of forces in the individual’s life—fundamentally, an effort at
adaptation, however much it may appear to be misguided.
Chapter 4 offers a detailed account of Cs of I, a syndrome developed by
Rangell over thirty-five years ago. Although broader than the concept of
hypocrisy, the syndrome speaks insightfully to derailments of moral valu-
ing. Dialogue with Rangell is necessary as he is one of the few psycho-
analysts to treat the subject of hypocrisy directly, without collapsing it
into the categories of psychopathy or narcissistic personality disorder. He
envisions Cs of I as diagnostically nonspecific, which is to say that he
observes them in individuals whose psychological functioning ranges
from normal to psychotic. Specifically, Rangell argues that contradictory
moral standards often coexist, such that one’s behavior never completely
accords with one’s values. He links this condition to the corrosive effect
of narcissism in which the pursuit of power, prestige, and a willingness to
exploit opportunity are primary. Importantly, he notes the cardinal role of
morally flawed authority figures who are perceived by the impression-
able hypocrite-to-be as sanctioning moral lapses. His emphasis on rela-
tionships with early identification figures links Rangell’s observations
with those drawn from the psychoanalytic research on perversions. Iden-
tification undermines appropriate monitoring of social reality and critical
judgment. Although not explaining hypocrisy in its entirety, Rangell of-
fers a fascinating account of the conditions favorable to its development
and makes a key contribution to psychoanalysis by deploying the concept
of compromise in a textured and complex way.
One important function of hypocrisy is to prevent unexpected exposure
to dissociated, shameful aspects of self. This is the central thesis devel-
oped in chapter 5. As before, hypocrisy is described as serving multiple
purposes, but fidelity to moral standards is not primary among them. The
 Introduction 9

hypocrite is concerned above all else with gratifying immediate relational

needs to be loved and admired, and to conceal his defects and deficien-
cies. Shame is a dreaded emotion that he takes extraordinary measures to
avoid. Effective avoidance diminishes the realities of separateness and
loss as well as the threat of interpersonal harm. Shame is so dreaded that
it inspires the wearing of masks and undermines moral reckoning. More
broadly, it exposes the frailty of honesty as a virtue and the ever-present
threat of deception, both of self and others. Effective for the purposes of
conflict resolution and reputation management, the core problem of hy-
pocrisy is that it precludes the accurate appraisal of moral worth, privileg-
ing appearance over reality.
Chapter 6 examines instances of hypocrisy in children and adolescents.
This phenomenon is perhaps more accurately characterized as proto-
hypocrisy given children’s cognitive, developmental, and emotional im-
maturity. Yet, it is also the case that deception and dissimulation are readily
discerned across a spectrum of childhood problems from academic under-
achievement and innocuous excuses used to avoid shame to plagiarism and
substance use. Each involves a partitioning of consciousness and a selective
discounting of reality. Hypocrisy is a far more likely outcome in those who
have not developed a healthy and age-appropriate respect for the truth.
Part III situates hypocrisy within a postmodern framework that regards
self-deception and dissociation as constitutive of human subjectivity.
Chapter 7 explores the concept of dissociation and its various clinical
meanings. Two prominent understandings of this defense are analyzed in
detail. The first, associated with the work of Stern, aligns dissociation
with unformulated experience. It asserts that the subject is never in a posi-
tion of knowing what he purports not to know. Bromberg champions a
second position in which one’s intrinsic multiplicity is thought to engen-
der conditions in which one self (or self-state) knows what another does
not.8 Each of these views may be understood as a form of self-hypocrisy,
a failure of self-honesty and an inability to maintain consistent standards.
Dissociation facilitates, but does not cause hypocrisy. It is a necessary con-
dition for the kind of moral disengagement that makes hypocrisy possi-
ble. However, neither dissociation (except perhaps in its most extreme
and pathological forms) nor repression removes the burden of personal
responsibility completely. Each in its own way reflects the ongoing ten-
sion between knowing and not knowing, between truth and honesty. The
degree to which one relies on deception to negotiate this tension consti-
tutes a vitally important dimension of one’s identity.
Chapter 8 examines the possibility that hypocrisy is conditioned by am-
biguity rather than irrationality, incoherence, or antisocial consciousness.
This inference is linked to the absence of conclusive grounds for its con-
demnation, underscoring the importance of anchoring moral criticism of
10 Introduction

hypocrisy in the purposes it serves and the frameworks of meaning in

which it is embedded. Simply put, the chapter concludes that hypocrisy is
neither vicious nor virtuous a priori. Its relative worth emerges only within
the story of an individual life, a story that references the unique motives
and circumstances of a particular individual at this time and in this place.
To be sure, the hypocrite demonstrates a deeply troubling incapacity for
moral engagement. He moves seamlessly between disparate moralities
without any discernable experience of contradiction. In the modernist per-
spective, hypocrisy always implicates conscious dissimulation; in a post-
modern one, it is intrinsically linked to self-deception. To be morally en-
gaged is to take this stand or adopt this point of view as opposed to others.
One makes a commitment on the basis of particular reasons, which are
themselves the product of various influences. Like the relationship between
figure and ground, perspectives highlight selective elements of the field,
determining what can be perceived and known. This is the deeper problem
that dissociation poses for human choice. Perspectives illuminate and con-
ceal. They expose areas of uncertainty and forces that can neither be antici-
pated nor controlled. Under conditions of moral ambiguity, hypocrisy as-
serts the self’s irreducibility either to unconscious intrapsychic forces or to
those of the field. It paradoxically reflects and destabilizes these forces in an
ever-expanding effort to balance the demands of reality and self-interest.
For whom does the hypocrite wear the mask? Asked in this way, this
book concludes that is worn for multiple objects, including the self, as
well as for multiple reasons. The mask offers a means of recreating highly
desired, special relationships in which love was conditioned on confor-
mity to parental desires and false-self-relating. This is the deeper tragedy
of hypocrisy and the source of its (self-)destructive course. Love is forever
linked to inauthenticity; inauthenticity is the cost of insuring the other’s
continued interest. Genuine engagement is feared because separateness
and difference are associated with abandonment. More profoundly, the
possibility of detection and shame pose a constant threat to self-continuity,
to the illusions that define him and leave him always vulnerable to the
shattering confirmation of unlovability.
The dynamics of hypocrisy resonate deeply with postmodern thinking.
They urge attention to the grip of the field, particularly its influence on
establishment of identity and moral beliefs. Appreciating these influences
does not require one to conceptualize the self as completely decentered or,
for that matter, to regard one’s choices merely as their effect. To be sure,
individual instances of hypocrisy rarely provide a roadmap to inner in-
tentions. Human aims are diverse and clinical thinking must take account
of the broader perspective in which these aims (as well as one’s thinking)
are embedded. Yet, hypocrisy returns one again and again to what human
agents make of these influences. However much the hypocrite is shaped
 Introduction 11

by them, his interpretations and actions fashion them into something

more than they were before. This is the overarching perspective within
which all of the material in this study coheres. Rather than a lapse, hypoc-
risy is a completely contextualized, agentic expression. It is an effort at
adaptation that comes at the expense of values, albeit carried out under
the guise of sincerity and moral rectitude. Given the ambiguous stan-
dards and competing demands of ethical life, vulnerability to hypocrisy
is intrinsic and unavoidable. Whether conceptualized as a compromise,
double standard, or as a paradigm case of outright deception, hypocrisy
is ubiquitous and worthy of sustained reflection.
In order to better orient the reader, I offer one final note about the struc-
ture of this book. Although the chapters may be read independently of
one another, each advances four interrelated themes. These may be sum-
marized as follows: first, dissociation and disavowal are the core mecha-
nisms of hypocrisy. Together with rationalization, they represent neces-
sary conditions for its occurrence and for the striking degree of moral
disengagement so characteristic of this phenomenon.
Second, although hypocrisy and perversion are clearly distinguishable,
the discontinuities in moral valuing observed in the latter provide a win-
dow on what I have termed the ethics of inauthenticity: the striking ca-
pacity for fraudulence and relative comfort with disparities between what
is practiced and what is preached in otherwise moral individuals. Perver-
sion highlights one possible motive for such behavior, lending eviden-
tiary weight to the notion that pleasure can be taken in coercion and ma-
nipulation. More than this, the pervert takes solace in the fantasy that he
is never completely bound by norms or social reality. Hypocrisy similarly
reflects a transfiguration of values, even when it does not express sadism
or provide sexual pleasure. In it, inner morality makes accommodations
in the interests of shame avoidance and to ward off feelings of unworthi-
ness. At bottom, perverse defenses exist only by virtue of antinomies be-
tween desire and normative constraints, an intrinsic tension that is provi-
sionally stabilized by deception.
Third, understanding the transfiguration of values observed in hypoc-
risy will require careful examination of the hypocrite’s early relationships.
Both perversions and Cs of I illuminate how, as children, these individu-
als are idolized. At an early age, they are singled out as special and
unique; they learn that love is conditioned on occupying a role and main-
taining a persona that has special meaning for their parents. Idolization
traumatizes in its own right, but, when perpetrated by corrupt identifica-
tion figures, it produces vertical splits within the hypocrite that cause him
simultaneously to inhabit two disparate moral universes—one public and
requiring conformity, the other private and permitting selective disregard
of moral constraints.
12 Introduction

Fourth, rather than a pathology, hypocrisy is more usefully regarded as

a mode of engagement constituted by compromise and selective percep-
tion. It is an interpersonal problem-solving strategy observable across the
entire spectrum of human functioning, from normality to gross psychopa-
thology, emerging in circumstances in which aggression and other forms
of coercions are inexpedient or likely to be detected and swiftly punished.
Ultimately, it rests on the belief that self-interests and morality cannot be
reconciled and, through deception, never really have to be. In a sense, it
expresses the hope that one can have one’s cake and eat it too. For this
reason, hypocrisy’s adaptive as well as its narcissistic and dissocial pur-
poses must be brought forth interpretively.
The deeper ambition of this book is to situate these psychoanalytic
ideas within a broader philosophical context sensitive to postmodern
thinking. Although receptive to postmodernism, psychoanalysis appears
all-too-willing to abandon the notion that there are rational means for set-
tling ethical disagreements and, more importantly, for preferring some
ways of life to others. Were it otherwise, there would be no grounds for
evaluating hypocrisy, morally or clinically. The postmodern turn sensi-
tizes one to the notion that moral evaluation is possible only from a per-
spective, one that is inherently ambiguous and profoundly shaped by
history and tradition. Rarely does perspectivism provide one with the
facts so treasured by the modernist mind.
I suggest that taking the notion of epistemic uncertainty seriously
commits one to the position that hypocrisy is neither vicious nor virtu-
ous in itself. It must be evaluated not only on a case by case basis, but
also in a way that is sensitive to prevailing ideologies, practices, and the
agent’s multiplicity of motives.9 In taking this position, I pursue an in-
terpretation that perceives a deep continuity between the ethical theo-
ries of Aristotle and Nietzsche.10 Admittedly, this interpretation will not
overcome the objections of the committed (uncompromising) relativist.
However, my goal is far more modest: I argue only that one does not
need to know the truth in order to understand when the agent evades
meanings that ought to be considered by someone committed to fairness
and honesty. I rely primarily upon psychoanalytic insight to explicate
the motives for such evasion. Although appreciating the postmodern
critique of epistemology, I shall steadfastly resist the temptation to re-
duce agency to an unmediated effect of the field. Within psychoanalysis,
the relational school is to be credited for exploring the implications of
this way of thinking. Particularly in chapter 8, I explore the significance
of this perspective for moral valuing through the work of Sue Grand.
More than any contemporary relational theorist, she tackles the ambigu-
ity of agency and ethics of inauthenticity in a courageous and informa-
tive way.
 Introduction 13

One implication of Grand’s work is to reassert the importance of tradi-

tion in ethical life and to appreciate that the challenges faced by the agent
need to be conceptualized as more than conformity to rules or impera-
tives. What she articulates within the analytic setting is the analyst’s com-
mitment to excellence, to practicing his or her craft in a way that is not
merely technically correct or consistent with prevailing practices, but also
creatively fashions them in accordance with his or her values and per-
sonal style. Her position exposes the human tendency to hold others to
higher standards than one holds oneself. Striking about Grand’s account
is her struggle as an analyst (and one is tempted to say as a person) to live
an exemplary life, to hold herself to the very same standards of honesty
and authenticity she wishes to inspire in her patients. She provides a vivid
portrait of self-deception, underscoring the inescapable tension between
knowing and not knowing and, therefore, the inevitability of hypocrisy.

Notes

  1.  Donnell Stern, Unformulated Experience: From Dissociation to Imagination in

Psychoanalysis (Hillsdale, NJ: Analytic Press, 1997), 191.
  2.  Leo Rangell, The Mind of Watergate: An Exploration of the Compromise of Integ-
rity (New York: Norton, 1980).
  3.  Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan (New York: Oxford, 1962).
  4.  Bela Szabados and Eldon Soifer, Hypocrisy: Ethical Investigations (New York:
Broadview Press, 2004).
  5.  Peter Berger, Invitation to Sociology: A Humanistic Perspective (New York:
Anchor, 1963), 95.
  6.  Frederich Nietzsche, The Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York:
Random House, 1974), 1:21, 52.
  7.  C. Daniel Batson, Elizabeth Thompson, and Hubert Chen, “Moral Hypoc-
risy: Addressing Some Alternatives,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 88
(2002): 330–39.
  8.  Philip Bromberg, Awakening the Dreamer: Clinical Journeys (Mahwah, NJ:
Analytic Press, 2006).
  9.  The work of Alasdair MacIntyre has been particularly influential in my
thinking on this point. The reader is encouraged to consult his seminal work After
Virtue (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame, 1984).
10.  This reading contrasts strongly with the one provided by MacIntyre that
juxtaposes these two great philosophers. He is particularly critical of Nietzsche’s
nihilism, opposing it to tradition, which plays a central role in the Aristotelian
framework. I think this view underestimates the degree to which Nietzsche was
urging a return to ancient forms of thought. In particular, it ignores his desire to
recall the tragic consciousness that animated Greek paganism and the work of
early tragedians like Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. He held the tradition
of the hero and the values of the strong (master) in high esteem.
 I

Topographies
of Transgression
 1

The Paradox of Hypocrisy

J ohn is a forty-three-year-old businessman who entered treatment at the

urging of his wife, Liz, who was troubled by his lack of sexual desire.
The son of immigrant parents, John was raised in a working-class neigh-
borhood in the Bronx and graduated from a public university before mak-
ing his way into the business world. Personable, although somewhat
formal, John exudes confidence and calm. He owns a sprawling home in
an affluent suburban town, takes lavish vacations all over the world, and
comports himself with an insouciance born of old money. But there is
more to this man than his apparent wealth: he reads widely and collects
fine art, wine, and rare coins. Over the years, he has held leadership roles
in several charitable organizations and enjoys a reputation for being hon-
orable, scrupulous, and easy to work with. John has come a long way
from his humble beginnings.
However, John keeps his roots as well as his inner life hidden. He
shows little affinity for others except when their interests coincide with
his own. He and his wife socialize regularly, but one does not get the
sense of closeness or intimacy in any of these relationships. Dinner and
cocktail parties are part of his routine, neither onerous nor stimulating.
Liz senses his detachment, but, from his description, appears inured to it
by virtue of her own emotionally stilted New England upbringing. John
often quotes his wife reassuringly as saying to him: “Johnny, I know
you’re not doing this maliciously.” He recognizes the importance to her of
perceiving him as well-intentioned, yet invests little emotionally into the
relationship beyond generic good will. He takes her assessment of him at
face value, as evidence that he is in fact a “good guy.” He enjoys the meals

17
18 Chapter 1

Liz dutifully prepares and serves each evening, but has come to expect
them. Upon finishing his meal, he immediately busies himself with his
affairs while she retires to her room to read. There is virtually no further
interaction between them. John has little interest in love making. Sexual
contact between them is rare and something Liz must arrange weeks in
advance.
Circumstances change when John’s wife discovers his misappropria-
tion of her trust fund. Despite his wife’s ensuing depression, he shows
remarkably little concern about his actions. In a treatment session follow-
ing Liz’s discovery, he says, “I never gamble more money than I can af-
ford to lose.” He did not anticipate losing all of this money. He explains
that he intended to increase the fund’s value, never quite acknowledging
the emotional impact of his betrayal. This is all the more significant be-
cause, although John takes great pride in the myriad symbols of his suc-
cess, it turns out that this fund is not legally under his control. He has
accumulated surprisingly little wealth of his own; whatever success he
enjoys is attributable directly to his mother-in-law’s generosity. Truth be
told, John is an underachiever who has had at best a modest career. Only
as the focus of the treatment shifts increasing to these incongruities and
their meaning does John confide his current involvement in an extra-
marital affair spanning several years. Although infrequent, the trysts are
passionate and intense.
The disparities in John’s life are striking. He lives a gentrified life that
is not at all of his own making. He enters treatment to mollify his wife
without any intention of forsaking his secret life. He comports himself like
a person of integrity while gambling away his wife’s money. He inspires
others’ trust only to betray it by his deceptive actions. Yet he attributes
these problems alternately to circumstances beyond his control or lapses
in judgment. Since the consequences are unintended, he does not quite
grasp their moral import. He knows what he has done and, when pressed,
admits to having recognized his current situation as a possible outcome.
He simply regarded it as extremely unlikely. In any case, why upset his
wife with the details of his actions when they were remediable without
her knowledge? Whatever initial sense of conflict and shame he felt soon
disappears. It is difficult to reconcile the ego-syntonicity of these trans-
gressions with his otherwise moral demeanor.
Like perversions, hypocrisy involves actions that curiously escape in-
ternal censorship and allow the deceptive pursuit of satisfactions about
which the neurotic dares only fantasize. The facility with which this is
accomplished suggests that its mechanism is different from repression.
This chapter will argue that it is better described by the concept of dis-
avowal, a defense originally formulated by Freud to explain how trau-
matic perceptions, linked to castration fears, are warded off in fetishes.
 The Paradox of Hypocrisy 19

Rather than disguising unconscious wishes, Freud imagined that anxiety-

provoking perceptions are actively kept apart, leading the pervert to ex-
perience them as alien or imposed. Because they are so easily discon-
firmed by experience, perverse defenses are less stable than repression.
They rest on a literal split in the ego that permits contradictory attitudes
to “persist side by side . . . without influencing each other.”1 Contempo-
rary theorists use the terms “disavowal,” “splitting,” and “dissociation”
interchangeably when referring to nonrepressive defenses. These terms
imply neither compromised reality-testing nor relative failure of integra-
tion/differentiation among representations of the same object. Instead,
they denote circumstances in which one consciously holds (or is capable
of holding) two attitudes toward the same perception.
This chapter focuses on the role played by the mechanisms of dis-
avowal and dissociation in hypocrisy. It examines the work of Renik and
Grossman in detail, two theorists who reinterpret disavowal as a mode of
perception that attenuates reality.2 In this view, moral lapses represent
fantasy enactments that do not adequately take account of potential con-
sequences. These ideas will be distilled into four hypotheses and evalu-
ated on the basis of empirical findings. Through a careful examination of
Batson’s work, this chapter concludes that there is broad support both
clinically and empirically for the claim that disavowal and dissociation
are necessary conditions of moral hypocrisy.3 It also argues that moral
hypocrisy is distinguishable from antisocial behavior.

What Is Moral Hypocrisy?

In its broadest sense, hypocrisy denotes insincerity or pretense among

thoughts, beliefs, values, and actions. It reflects any behavior in which one
does not practice what one preaches. However, moral hypocrisy has a
more restricted meaning. Specifically, it represents “a motive to appear
moral in one’s own and others’ eyes, while, if possible, avoiding the cost
of actually being moral.”4 Behaving in a way that appears consistent with,
but in fact is contrary to, one’s moral standards is the sine qua non of this
phenomenon.
Moral hypocrisy may be distinguished from three important concepts:
integrity, antihypocrisy, and antisocial personality. Integrity stands in op-
position to hypocrisy. It implies consistency among diverse beliefs, val-
ues, and actions. At one level, the person of integrity resists corruption by
maintaining values under the pressure of various influences, both internal
and external. He experiences the temptation to do what is forbidden, to
act contrary to what he holds to be right and just in circumstances in
which the likelihood of detection is small, because he does not fail to no-
20 Chapter 1

tice opportunities that might advantage him. Yet, however much he may
wish to do otherwise, he stands his ground. He does not yield to his emo-
tions, even when they involve disappointment, loss, and trauma.
But, integrity implies something more than invariance and immutabil-
ity. It reflects the capacity both to stand firm in any circumstance or situ-
ation and to continually reshape, refine, and adapt one’s stance to more
effectively manage adversity. Because the guidance of conscience is vari-
able and sometimes contradictory, integrity allows one to meet situations
of conflict and ambiguity with conviction and steadiness. Fundamentally,
integrity “permits a greater toleration of tension and of diversity.”5 It
resonates with the Aristotelian concept of virtue as a practiced habit of
mind that remains open to, but separate from, the world, allowing one to
choose the mean between the extremes of excess and deficiency.
Like the person of integrity, the antihypocrite6 also resists corruption, but
accomplishes this by an intolerance of moral ambiguity and relativism. If
the hypocrite’s morality is mercurial and driven by self-interest, the anti-
hypocrite’s is fixed and uncompromising. It is not that he valorizes rigidity,
but places moral purity above all other considerations. Steadfastness some-
times is a virtue and, therefore, is to be commended. The antihypocrite is
unlikely to fall into the pattern identified by Johnson and Szurek as produc-
tive of “superego lacunae.”7 Specifically, he is unlikely to transgress or to act
contrary to his principles by misinterpreting parental ambivalence (or
moral ambiguity) as tacit approval. He therefore appears less vulnerable to
giving in to temptation or to acting without deliberation.
Compromise, however, is more problematic for the antihypocrite. He
confuses it with capitulation and muddled thinking. He is unmoved by
the need for practical, expedient, inherently imperfect solutions to prob-
lems in living. It is a stance ill-suited to fashioning solutions for conflicts
containing legitimate, but competing interests. In family as well as in
public life, competing interests are the norm and rigidity of judgment
thwarts effective resolution. Great harm can be done under the guise of
moral certitude.
What unites the person of integrity and the antihypocrite is their shared
commitment to a normative value system. While they differ in the degree
to which they believe moral principles can be adapted to unique situa-
tional demands, both are relatively incorruptible. Even when integrity is
conceptualized as a dimensional variable, both oppose behavior that ex-
ploits and manipulates others. It is precisely this characteristic of incor-
ruptibility that is missing in the antisocial personality. The psychopath
behaves dishonestly because he lacks any commitment to honesty as a
value.8 He recognizes moral standards, but is unmoved by them.
Also noteworthy is hypocrisy’s relationship to sincerity. At first glance,
one immediately assumes the hypocrite to be insincere as well as dishon-
 The Paradox of Hypocrisy 21

orable. But closer examination of his comportment sometimes shows ex-

actly the opposite to be the case. At the moment he speaks or acts, the
hypocrite may feel fully committed; he speaks from his heart as it were. A
number of writers suggest that it is precisely his sincerity that leads others
to believe him.9 This is not simply the performance of an accomplished
liar, but reflects some capacity for concern, compassion, and empathy. The
hypocrite connects with others and identifies with their suffering. Prob-
lems arise outside of these moments of connection, when he must negoti-
ate conflicts of interest on the basis of convictions rather than unlinked
moments in which he glimpses the other’s perspective. Under pressure,
what is sought is not consistency among identity, commitments, and ac-
tions, but its appearance. Interpersonal comfort and appearance matter
most. Even his apparent altruism often amounts to little more than an ef-
fort to enhance his status and therefore is appropriately criticized.
The complexity of motives involved in hypocrisy is very much in keep-
ing with postmodern sensibility. The hypocrite’s behavior rarely serves as
a reliable guide to inner intentions, but rather expresses diverse aims that
leave the observer always uncertain about its meaning. What unifies hy-
pocrisy as a concept is the consistent pursuit of self-interest under the
guise of moral rectitude. Understanding hypocrisy requires sustained re-
flection on what the terms “morality” and “value” really mean.

Perversion and Hypocrisy

Early on, Freud recognized that perversions significantly challenged his

structural theory.10 To regard them as continuations of primordial sexual
aims and objects was one thing; explaining their coexistence alongside
seemingly established moral standards was another. How can impulses
be gratified directly, without disguise? In a repression-based model of the
mind, the solution is straightforward: one acts freely on desires when
deficient in moral feeling and unconcerned about consequences. But, the
reality of perversion is discrepant with this caricature. Many so-called
perverts are moral individuals who lead normal lives when examined
from a perspective that does not assume nonstandard sexual preferences
to be unworthy of respect. Thus, understanding how forbidden wishes
are gratified without guilt involves some acknowledgment of the incon-
sistency surrounding moral judgments. Variable are the particular beliefs
and judgments that characterize and carry weight in perverse decision-
making. Freud utilized the concept of disavowal to explain partitioning of
ideas, beliefs, and actions. He regarded it as a defense directed against
perception. Contrary to traditional defenses like repression which con-
strain and disguise impulses, disavowal alters appraisals in order to di-
22 Chapter 1

minish the impact of uncomfortable realities. It is intrinsically neither

exceptional nor pathological. All individuals discount threats and untow-
ard possibilities in their lives. They do not so much repress as disengage
from contradictions among desires and moral principles. However, when
disengagement precludes integration of mental contents or, more signifi-
cantly, facilitates unconscious enactment, the consequences can be seri-
ous. Dissociation focuses on the latter circumstance, encompassing de-
fenses like disavowal. It undermines the capacity to entertain multiple
perspectives and thus facilitates actions unfettered by experiences of
anxiety, shame, or guilt.
Three theorists have been instrumental in sundering the concept of
disavowal from infantile sexuality. The change pivots on the idea of
“character perversion.”11 Arlow uses this term to delineate three sub-
types—the unrealistic character, pathological liar, and prankster—none of
whom are psychotic or unable to test reality. Compromised by castration
fears, these individuals employ a nonrepressive strategy to ward off
anxiety and to gratify forbidden impulses. Most often it involves adopt-
ing a playful stance toward reality that minimizes troubling perceptions
or discounts them entirely. Pretense wishfully colors the evaluations of
such individuals and constricts the range of what they experience. It in-
spires what Greenacre evocatively called “infarction[s] in the sense of re-
ality”12 and, I believe, reflects what contemporary psychoanalysts have in
mind when they speak of dissociation. For example, the pathological liar
holds the view that “if I am successful in preventing others from seeing
the truth then I need not fear it.”13 Clouded perception lessens the need
for censorship. It also increases the likelihood of transgression by foster-
ing illusions that render moral considerations irrelevant to the agent’s
immediate circumstances. Moral standards are transformed in the same
way that reality is, an occurrence Arlow understands in terms of the su-
perego’s having been “subverted by anxiety.”14 Whether one speaks of
disavowal or more broadly of dissociation, the result is the same: wishful
imaginings hold court, with an accompanying suspension of judgment
and propensity for action. Distinctive about Arlow’s formulation is its
insistence on the link between character perversion and castration anxi-
ety. In male patients, for example, Arlow regards it is a response to the
traumatic perception of female castration. The narrowing of conscious-
ness that is the sine qua non of disavowal engenders and perpetuates the
reassuring fantasy of the phallic female that protects against castration
fears. Arlow thus identifies individuals for whom reality never quite sinks
in. They appear to inhabit the shared world of others, but in selective
circumstances experience it in a profoundly different way. Although dif-
ficult to establish conclusively, Arlow draws attention to how the playful
manipulation of reality compromises moral reckoning.
 The Paradox of Hypocrisy 23

Renik expands Arlow’s concept to explain transference-

countertransference impasses in which the patient uses the analyst as a
fetish.15 Fetishes characteristically blur distinctions between reality and
fantasy, allowing patients to maintain cherished illusions and ward off
intolerable feelings that, for Renik, are not necessarily linked to castration
anxiety. Fetishes “relieve all sorts of troublesome concerns” by providing
“an unusual degree of conviction about the reality of a reassuring idea
that is achieved when a particular material object (the fetish) is actually
present.”16 What distinguishes them from other fantasy constructions is
that their effectiveness depends on the physical presence of the fetish
object. The fantasy is neither unconscious nor does it replace veridical
perception completely. It is “maintained alongside reality with equal con-
viction.”17 Thus, Renik expands disavowal to include denials of traumatic
perceptions and “less complete avoidances in which some component of
a perception may enter consciousness, but as an ‘unreality.’”18 Disavowal
subsumes splitting of the ego and unconscious fantasies that achieve
some degree of consciousness. It is of a piece with dissociation.
Of particular relevance to hypocrisy is Renik’s linking of the inability to
distinguish reality from illusion to chronic, characterological superego
deficits. Rather than narrowly protecting against castration fears, he no-
tices failures to “persevere in the pursuit of truth in the face of unpleasur-
able affect”; the patient takes “the path of least resistance.”19 Renik thus
emphasizes both incapacity and unwillingness in his account, suggesting
a degree of agency that cannot be explained entirely by unconscious fac-
tors. He asserts that the patient generally understands what the moral
choice should be, but lacks an integrated perspective and value system.
Without inner integration, moral lapses tend to be chronic and, hence,
pathological. Lack of perseverance nevertheless constitutes a core dimen-
sion of the problem.
Renik conceptualizes fetishes more generally as a specific mode of cog-
nition that maintains the patient’s beliefs and fantasies about the analyst
in the face of disconfirming evidence. They encompass experiences in
which illusion and the capacity to test reality coexist. Moral lapses occur
when the patient pre-reflectively avoids painful truths and their accompa-
nying affects, even when this means behaving in a way that is at odds
with his moral standards.
Grossman expands on the moral implications of disavowal in his no-
tion of “the perverse attitude toward reality.”20 The perverse attitude is a
state of mind that allows the patient to hold contradictory ideas or atti-
tudes “without feeling the obligation to reconcile the two. . . . [T]he per-
ception is available; but it does not have the evidentiary value to influence
the cherished belief.”21 Grossman alters the original meaning of splitting
of the ego as used by Freud,22 which is retained in the writings of Arlow
24 Chapter 1

and Renik, from a phenomenon permitting contradictory attitudes to-

ward traumatic perceptions to the persistence of unconscious fantasy
alongside veridical perception. No longer is reality regarded as having
been replaced by fantasy; the patient accurately perceives the real, but
with its force suspended.
For illustrative purposes, Grossman offers a vignette from the analysis
of a probation officer who inappropriately touches a female client while
struggling, in his treatment, with the fantasy of molesting young girls. As
the incident unfolds, the man recalls thinking that he might get in trouble,
but reports that he “turned down the volume on reality.”23 Although con-
scious, the potential consequences of his actions were rendered less real
and therefore dismissible. Structurally, the inhibitory functions of the ego
and, by implication, the prohibiting functions of the superego were un-
dermined, allowing direct gratification of a forbidden wish.
Grossman’s view extends the idea that disavowal obscures perception
of reality, but in a way that does not diminish the capacity to test reality.
What transpires is closer in meaning to Hartmann’s concept of value-
testing than it is to reality-testing. For Grossman, the patient fails to test
fantasies; he embraces reality as he wishes it to be rather than evidencing
an inability to determine what is factually true. This is achieved by nar-
rowing the perceptual field, substituting a part for the whole of the expe-
rience. What is critical is that disavowal deletes a “disturbing meaning or
consequence from a perception, without altering the perception itself.”24
Although consistent with the notion that disavowal wards off threatening
perceptions, Grossman sunders any intrinsic link to castration anxiety or
to the sexually charged perceptions privileged by Freud. Grossman
broadens the meaning of perception to include the consequences of fanta-
sized actions. This means that moral standards, the perception of others,
as well as foreseeable consequences all may be affected. The person not
only keeps contradictory ideas separate from each other, but also feels no
“obligation” to reconcile them; one “evades” rather than represses wishes
and meanings.25 For Grossman, the problem is “the degree of license to
disavow, alter, or ignore what is in front of one’s eyes.”26 His view articu-
lates the fundamental moral problem of disavowal.
While the cases described by Renik and Grossman arguably meet the
diagnostic criteria for perversion, they more importantly highlight per-
ceptions in which the other’s humanity is deformed; as an object of desire,
he or she can be treated as a thing. The patient exploits others and experi-
ences shame or guilt. Strikingly, neither of the “moral” emotions inhibits
perverse behavior. Shame is experienced later, subsequent to the (sexual)
pleasure that follows from manipulation and triumph. While motivated
by internal concerns and needs to enhance cohesion, perversion always
implicates and involves others. It is inherently interpersonal.
 The Paradox of Hypocrisy 25

Research on Moral Hypocrisy

Batson and his coworkers examined hypocrisy from a different perspec-

tive. In a series of empirical studies, they asked subjects to assign them-
selves and a fictitious partner either to a reward (raffle ticket) or nonre-
ward (dull lecture) task.27 Participants were told that their decisions were
private and their partner would believe decisions were made unbiasedly
by means of a coin toss. Batson reasoned that introducing an element of
ambiguity into the selection process ought to have no impact if subjects
are motivated primarily by moral principle. That is, whether or not the
partner knew how assignments were made should not alter applicable
standards of fairness. If participants were motivated to do what is right
and fair, if their morality was internalized as it were, task assignments
should be distributed equally. Participants simply would follow the ex-
aminer’s recommendation to toss the coin.
Interestingly, despite several variations on independent variables in this
study—including one in which selections were made while facing a mirror—
assignments never approximated an equal distribution. Two behaviors were
consistently observed: First, 70 to 80 percent of participants assigned them-
selves to the reward task. Second, and more strikingly from the perspective
of moral valuing, only 10 percent rated their behavior as morally responsi-
ble. In other words, they recognized and acknowledged the discrepancy
between their actions and moral standards. One might describe their actions
in terms of capitulation to self-interest. They acted immorally despite know-
ing better, perhaps providing the examiners with evidence of superego
weakness, even pathology. But they did not act hypocritically. Why? Be-
cause, although violating standards of fairness, they did not deceive others
into thinking they were morally better. Their duplicity was not directly or
obviously motivated by the need to be perceived as principled.
To address the distinction between hypocrisy and norm violations more
precisely, Batson conducted a second study that made procedural fairness
(coin toss) salient by providing direct instructions to participants as how
they ought to comport themselves in the interests of fairness.28 They also
gathered ratings on several aspects of moral reasoning and judgment,
including social responsibility, ascription of responsibility, justice per-
spective, and relationship-care perspective.29 These changes and addi-
tional information permitted them to test two alternative hypotheses:
first, that moral hypocrisy resulted from inadequate learning or the ambi-
guity (as opposed to the low salience) of moral standards; second, the
moral hypocrisy effect was limited to or more likely in individuals rated
low on measures of moral responsibility.30
Not surprisingly, those individuals electing to not toss the coin as-
signed themselves to the reward task more frequently (.80 to .90) and
26 Chapter 1

rated lower than controls on a combined index of personal moral respon-

sibility (PMR). They clearly pursued self-interest, wanted the reward, and
evidenced little concern about violating standards of procedural fairness
to bring about the desired goal. Clinically speaking, they behaved in ac-
cordance with their desires and on the basis of what one would predict
from findings of superego weakness.
More surprising were the results obtained when PMR was the covari-
ate. Although positively correlated with procedural fairness (coin toss),
PMR was negatively correlated with the fairness of actual task assign-
ments. Despite high PMR scores, 85 to 90 percent of high scorers never-
theless assigned themselves to the reward task, regardless of the outcome
of the coin toss. In other words, PMR was strongly associated with deci-
sions to toss the coin, but not with actual task assignments. Such indi-
viduals used an unbiased selection procedure and strikingly disavowed
its results. “[T]hose with a greater sense of moral responsibility did not
show signs of greater moral integrity; they showed signs of greater
hypocrisy.”31
Batson draws four broad conclusions from this research: First, moral
hypocrisy is equally distributed across gender. Second, increased self-
awareness does not in itself lessen hypocrisy. Hypocrisy is decreased only
when self-awareness is accompanied by salient moral standards. Specifi-
cally, unless the morally correct choice is made salient shortly before
decision-making, increased self-awareness has little impact. Third, when
behavior conflicts with moral standards, it is the latter rather than the
former that are likely to change. This finding is completely consistent
with almost fifty years of research on cognitive dissonance.32 Rather than
changing their behavior, participants reinterpreted their self-interests as
moral or, more ominously, moral decisions as immoral. Fourth, even
when individuals made the morally correct choice, their actions may not
have resulted from the stimulation of moral integrity, but from the need
to reduce the dissonance created by awareness of a behavior-standard
discrepancy. That is, those motivated by moral hypocrisy sometimes be-
have morally as the least costly way to appear moral.33

Evaluating Four Psychoanalytic Hypotheses

To be sure, narcissistically infiltrated identifications preclude integration

of good and bad representations. Because they engender intolerably
negative feelings, “bad” affect experiences are projected outward onto
others who are perceived as fearsome and persecuting. By contrast,
“good” representations are incorporated into an ever-expanding concept
of self, positively in terms of self-esteem when based on realistic assess-
 The Paradox of Hypocrisy 27

ment, negatively when unrealistic and grandiose. Kernberg reasons that

the incorporation of the positive aspects of the superego weakens internal
morality. Specifically, he describes a process in which split off, negative
representations are not fully integrated with positive ones as bringing
about a conflation of self and ideal. This undermines the establishment of
conscience and normative values. Without integration of “good” and
“bad,” one becomes a kind of God, a creator of value who need not an-
swer to others or to prevailing norms. The narcissist honors only those
principles that serve his interests. Others are experienced as external and
as potentially limiting his freedom. Why refrain from that which gives
pleasure when it is pleasure that is valorized?
That the subject possesses two affectively polarized and unintegrated
representations of significant others bespeaks significant psychopathol-
ogy and compromised reality-testing. It is one thing to attribute this
conflation to the perceptual immaturity of the infant; it is quite another
to assert that this transpires in mature adults. This point merely reiterates
the need to be clear about the levels of personality organization in which
one is likely to observe such striking disparities in cognitive and emo-
tional processing, and to distinguish them from more integrated indi-
viduals who engage in hypocrisy. On the basis of this distinction, there
appears to be no necessary connection between moral hypocrisy and
pathological narcissism; nor is it appropriate to attribute this behavior a
priori to borderline personality organization or narcissistic personality
disorder. However, the absence of a necessary connection between hy-
pocrisy and these clinical diagnoses does not preclude the lesser claim,
articulated by Rangell, that ego interests, broadly conceived, play an
important role. This claim, along with three additional hypotheses, is
evaluated below.

1. Moral Hypocrisy Is a Form of Narcissism

Narcissism is regarded by most psychoanalysts as a motivational force
capable of causing moral lapses as well as hypocritical actions. For many
analysts, hypocrisy or any immoral action is unthinkable in its absence. In
this view, hypocrisy comprises a subset of the larger class of narcissistic
aims distinct from libidinal or aggressive ones. However, the meanings of
narcissism and its aims are quite diverse, ranging from the “solicitation of
the affection and assistance of others with minimal return of affection and
assistance” to actions motivated by power, ambition, and opportunism.34
Thus, the evaluation of this hypothesis is inextricably linked to one’s
definition of narcissism. Outside of psychoanalysis, for example, four fac-
tors have been identified in the narcissism construct: leadership/authority,
superiority/arrogance, self-absorption/self-admiration, and exploitive-
28 Chapter 1

ness/entitlement, only the last of which correlates with pathological nar-

cissism.35 Narcissism varies from a normal personality trait showing a
positive correlation with independent measures of self-esteem to a char-
acteristic of severe psychopathology.36 This diversity creates difficulty for
those wishing to attribute causal or etiologic significance to narcissism. A
lesser, but more defensible claim holds that hypocrisy offers a way to se-
cure rewards without great personal cost in individuals for whom tribute
and recognition are important. Hypocrisy therefore is consistent with
narcissistic motives when the latter are construed as reflecting self-ab-
sorption, self-interest, and the inordinate need for attention and recogni-
tion rather than as a separate developmental line or drive.
However, narcissism is less likely it is to explain the complex dynam-
ics of hypocrisy when viewed as a drive or force with direction rather
than in terms of its meaning for a particular individual. Recall that my
patient John evidenced some of these characteristics when he chose to
conceal his marital infidelity and questionable financial decisions. He
lied to avoid discomfort, the denigration he anticipated upon discovery,
and the obligation to act responsibly. Following Renik and Grossman,
one might hypothesize that his discomfort was so great that he dis-
avowed the likely consequences of his actions. Concerns about detection
certainly entered his mind, but he acted with seeming impunity because
he discounted the possibility of detection. It is as if he responded to the
question, “Aren’t you afraid you’ll be caught?” with “That’s ridiculous!
It will never happen.” In other words, the implications of his actions and
their possible consequences37 were never seriously entertained38 and
thus had no force.
Does this interpretation adequately describe John’s behavior? Does it
provide a complete description of the motivations most salient to his
actions? That John discounted a perception derivative of frustrated nar-
cissistic aims was certainly one motive for deceiving his wife. He put his
feelings and interests first, concerned primarily with what he wanted.
But these were not the only considerations relevant to how and why he
chose to act as he did. Equally important was his concerted effort to ap-
pear to be conforming to expectations. He did not deceive merely to
commit his “crime,” but to do so while also maintaining his status in the
eyes of others. He wanted to gratify his needs and reap the rewards of
his feigned compliance. Faced with a situation in which he had to
choose between gratifying forbidden wishes and acting in a way worthy
of love and respect, he chose the former, hoping that his deception
might remove the need to make any real sacrifice at all. He evidenced a
failure of courage, a refusal to face the barriers, both internal and exter-
nal, to responsible action. Crucial, then, was not simply his narcissism,
but his hypocrisy.
 The Paradox of Hypocrisy 29

Logically, the claim that hypocrisy is a form of narcissism validly can be

falsified, modus tollens, by the identification of a single instance of non-
narcissistic hypocrisy. So-called victim hypocrites represent just such a
counterexample.39 Consider the example of a gay college football player
who conceals his unconflicted sexual proclivities for fear of recrimination.
Jason is comfortable with who he is, but accurately perceives that many
of his teammates are homophobic. He concludes that any disclosure of his
sexual orientation will jeopardize his standing with them and with the
coaching staff. As a result, he is understandably disinclined to make any
such disclosure. One might regard him as secretive, even deceptive in not
allowing others to know him as the person he really is, but he has not
acted in a manner appropriately described as hypocritical.
Imagine that in the course of socializing with his teammates one eve-
ning, Jason and his buddies observe two men holding hands affection-
ately, engrossed in conversation. This situation creates quite a stir among
the group of young men whom Jason is with, eliciting a torrent of hateful,
menacing, homophobic remarks. Feeling extremely uneasy, Jason also
makes disparaging comments about homosexuality, motivated solely by
the desire to maintain his cover. How is one to judge Jason’s disparaging
remarks? It is clearly hypocritical of him to deceive others into thinking
that he shares their beliefs and to reap the rewards of this deception. In a
sense, his actions also serve his interests. But reducing his choice exclu-
sively to an expression of narcissism fails to explain one vital aspect of his
motives: his wish to avoid unfair treatment. To be identified as a gay man
on this football team will have disastrous consequences for him person-
ally and as a player. While avoiding discrimination certainly serves self-
interest, it is confusing clinically, logically, and morally to call it narcis-
sistic or to align it with the concept of pathological narcissism. This
perspective ignores the fundamental importance of context, the circum-
stances in which his deception occurs. It fails to attach weight to other
motivations operating in this and similar situations. Neither does narcis-
sism account for the differences Batson observes between experimental
and control groups. Because group assignments are randomized, it is un-
likely that differences in narcissistic pathology among participants ex-
plain the moral hypocrisy effect. For these reasons, narcissism, whether
conceptualized as an impulse or ego interest, is best conceptualized as a
relevant, but insufficient explanation of moral hypocrisy.

2. Moral Hypocrisy Results from Superego Weakness

In this view, the superego is characterized alternately as weak, over-
whelmed by conflict, overpowered by wishes, or undermined by anxi-
ety. The concept of superego weakness explains a variety of behaviors
30 Chapter 1

resulting from a breakthrough of impulse. For example, it explains the

actions of a principled vegetarian, Victor, who, overcome by the aroma
of freshly cooked meatloaf, eats it despite recognizing that it violates the
principles he otherwise holds.40 His actions bespeak both akrasia and
hypocrisy because they violate deeply held values. By contrasting two
variations on this example, Szabados and Soifer illuminate several con-
ceptual puzzles that follow from reducing hypocrisy to superego weak-
ness.41
Suppose that Victor is upset about his violation because it departs
from his internal standards. He truly believes that the wholesale slaugh-
ter and suffering of animals is unconscionable. He feels guilty, uncom-
fortable, and disappointed in himself for having eaten the meatloaf. By
contrast, Henry, also a vegetarian, takes great pride in being perceived
as an advocate of animal rights and is critical of people who do not live
up to his standards. Unlike Victor, Henry waits until the other guests are
out of the kitchen and helps himself to the meatloaf. His discomfort
emerges only when his transgression is detected. Ashamed as he stands
before them, he explains his lapse in way that suggests he more con-
cerned with appearance than “with his internal moral standing.”42 Al-
though both individuals evidence akrasia, Henry’s behavior is calculated
to enhance his image. Rather than reacting with anxiety and discomfort
over an impulsive action, Henry demonstrates a calm, deliberate strat-
egy of deception.
Because there are numerous options available to Victor and Henry for
handling these lapses, how they resolve them holds great relevance clini-
cally. Superego weakness explains in a general way why both individuals
violated their standards. In each case, they were unable to resist tempta-
tion and thus evidenced similar degrees of inhibitory weakness. How-
ever, to explain why Henry takes additional deceptive measures to main-
tain his appearance, one must consider the particular circumstances in
which he finds himself and the additional beliefs he holds that are motiva-
tionally relevant to his choices. This takes one beyond the idea of impulse
conceptualized in terms of the flow and inhibition of energy. Henry is
likely motivated by shame-avoidance and an overarching concern about
his status in the eyes of others. By contrast, Victor, like the research sub-
jects who choose not to toss the coin and rate the morality of their actions
negatively, neither deceives nor attempts to appear morally better than he
is. His motivations are more transparent and, in fact, are more completely
explained by reference to “superego weakness.”
To repeat, while explaining the pursuit of self-interest, the concept of
superego weakness elucidates deception only when it is interpreted as
reflecting something more than the capacity to inhibit impulses. Specifi-
cally, it must include the agent’s reasons and beliefs that preclude the
 The Paradox of Hypocrisy 31

flexible evaluation of all relevant variables rather than attributing his

decision-making to an impersonal (and hypothetical) agency that is re-
garded simply as “strong” or “weak.” The latter characterizations are
metaphoric, misleading, and, I submit, question-begging. Batson’s re-
search suggests that moral weakness does not explain the behavior of
individuals who ignore the results of procedural fairness, yet view their
behavior as morally correct. If morally compromised, why toss the coin at
all? Batson’s findings thus present puzzles difficult to solve by reference
to superego weakness. It is not that the concept is irrelevant or lacks any
clinical utility, but that it is not well-suited to address the problem of am-
biguity and inconsistency among moral standards. It thus provides a
general explanation of transgressive behavior at best. The randomization
of group assignments in Batson’s experimental design makes superego
weakness an unlikely independent variable. Given the design of these
studies, it is more likely that superego weakness was evenly distributed
among the experimental and control groups. Rangell’s formulation of Cs
of I stand up reasonably well to Batson’s findings, suggesting that the
moral hypocrisy effect expresses internal, perhaps unwitting, compro-
mises among various factors.

3. Moral Hypocrisy Is Inversely Proportional to

Moral Responsibility/Integrity
This assertion rests on the idea that superego integration precludes im-
moral behavior. Integrity, by definition, means resistance to corruption. It
is something one either has or has not achieved. To suggest anything
other than an inverse relationship between moral hypocrisy and integrity
is contradictory on its face.
If integrity is conceptualized as a virtue that one possesses to varying
degrees and is more discernible in some contexts rather than others, sin-
cere commitment to a normative value system ought to lessen the likeli-
hood of hypocrisy. However, formulated in this way, the very opposite
seems to be the case.43 Perhaps the most striking finding in Batson’s entire
research program is that higher levels of moral responsibility correlate
with a greater incidence of hypocrisy. Specifically, those individuals rat-
ing higher on an index of PMR make greater efforts to appear moral.
Similarly, under conditions in which moral salience and self-awareness
are increased, moral behavior is not necessarily explained by the stimula-
tion of moral integrity, but by the fact that being moral is sometimes the
most expedient way of appearing moral. Thus, as here defined, hypocrisy
is understandable only if one recognizes the relative presence and author-
ity of moral standards. Hypocrisy requires and is sensitive to moral valu-
ing and, hence, is readily distinguishable from psychopathy.
32 Chapter 1

4. Descriptively, Moral Hypocrisy Entails Disavowal/Dissociation

The findings of Batson and his colleagues are consistent with the notion
that hypocrisy represents a compromise among conflicting perceptions or
beliefs. His findings accord with Festinger’s model which notices that dis-
sonance among cognitions fuels efforts to restore consistency and with the
view of the superego as an amalgam of identifications, beliefs, and edicts
lacking overall integration.44 Indeed, Arlow’s perspective rather easily
accommodates the fact that, even in hypocrisy, one is conforming to some
moral standards while violating others. Rangell’s more recent statement
on hypocrisy also accords with this view.45 The hypocrite lives a contra-
dictory existence in which “both arms of conflict are gratified . . . [and]
. . . the mores of civilization are treated as though they are being followed,
whereas in reality a separate code of conduct reigns.”46 Compromise en-
ables deception of self and others while permitting contradictory sets of
ideas to remain conscious. Hypocrisy may be limited to one area of life
with others left relatively unaffected. If recognized at all, the moral impli-
cations of hypocrisy are more readily discounted because the individual
perceives himself generally as decent and honest. These findings also of-
fer independent support for Rangell’s general formulation of Cs of I.
Similarly, the work of Batson highlights the inconsistent guidance of
conscience and complexity of motivations that characterize moral conflict
and compromise. If they are correct in postulating moral hypocrisy as a
motive, then individuals are more likely to engage in behaviors that create
the appearance of morality and, to borrow Grossman’s terms, maintain
cherished beliefs about their integrity, even when their behavior departs
from their moral standards. Individuals deceive themselves (and/or oth-
ers) by disavowing this discrepancy. Although not consistent with any
particular etiology, these findings support the usefulness of the concepts
of disavowal and dissociation in the explanation of moral hypocrisy. This
conclusion is particularly important because it is observed in the absence
of severe psychopathology.

Psychoanalytic Reality

Freud carefully distinguishes reality-testing from moral judgment, limit-

ing the former to the ego and the latter to the superego’s function of cen-
sorship. Clinically, reality-testing is assessed by identifying the presence
of first rank symptoms and/or grossly inappropriate affect, behavior, and
thought content. In addition, the patient must be able to empathize with
the clinician’s point of view in order to account for any evidence of such
findings.47 Although psychoanalysts conceptualize the reasons for and
 The Paradox of Hypocrisy 33

meanings of these findings differently, they universally regard them as

diagnostically probative. In the absence of specific findings, reality-testing
is said to be maintained. Most importantly, none of these findings directly
implicate superego functioning.
Superego integration is evaluated in terms of the degree to which the
patient “identifies with ethical values and has normal guilt as a major
regulator . . . abstain[s] from the exploitation, manipulation, or mistreat-
ment of others; and . . . maintain[s] honesty and moral integrity in the
absence of external controls.”48 The psychopath, for example, does not
misconstrue moral standards or necessarily confuse inner reality with
perception. He violates the rights of others because he does not recognize
them as possessing any binding authority over him. In a deeper sense,
antisocial behavior depends upon the ability to test reality effectively and
the relative absence of shared values.
Grossman argues that one engages in immoral behavior when one
judges the likelihood of detection to be small. “Turning down the volume
on reality” allows one to treat “unwanted perceptions as if they were not
real despite knowledge to the contrary.”49 The important distinction is not
between fantasy and reality, but between “tested reality and untested
fantasy.”50 Like Winnicott’s idea of illusion, Grossman regards these fan-
tasies as unconscious. On this reading, hypocrisy reflects a “disordered
conscience that allows the subject to act as if he were unable to distinguish
fantasy from reality.”51 He can test reality, but protects himself from dis-
turbing emotions by not doing so.
When the probation officer in Grossman’s example inappropriately
touches his female ward, he gives inadequate evidentiary weight to the
consequences of his actions. He disregards the idea of detection despite
knowing the truth to be otherwise. Grossman is correct in identifying a
reality issue here—namely, evaluating the likely consequences of behav-
ior. However, by linking disavowal and splitting inextricably to reality-
testing, Grossman places himself in the unenviable position of having to
explain why this patient disavows a perception that accurately represents
reality. That is, given the circumstances, the officer may be correct in con-
cluding that he is unlikely to get caught. If this is the case, what possible
motive would he have for disavowing a perception that gives him license
to gratify his wishes? The answer to this question can only be a moral or
ethical one. Reality-testing alone does not explain his actions.
On closer examination, the unconscious and untested fantasies Gross-
man offers as examples are neither unconscious nor untested. The proba-
tion officer consciously imagines the molestation, considers its conse-
quences, and thus tests their reality. If any of these were unconscious,
presumably defenses other than disavowal and dissociation would be
deployed. Instead, he disavows the consequences and fondles the adoles-
34 Chapter 1

cent. Reality-testing is maintained throughout, but without concern about

moral implications. Grossman accurately underscores the failure of con-
science, but views it in terms of superego weakness. That is, the forbidden
wish or unconscious fantasy overwhelms the officer in the same way that
the aroma of the meatloaf overwhelms Victor. To paraphrase Grossman,
by not considering the implications of his fantasy, the probation officer
more readily enacts his fantasy of molesting the girl. Veridical perception
is disavowed in the service of unconscious fantasy, allowing the patient to
avoid facing painful truths.
But, inasmuch as it may be gleaned from Grossman’s vignette, this in-
terpretation runs afoul of the facts. Not only is the officer’s fantasy tested,
but, even if it were not, Grossman’s description still fails to specify the
unique feature of the officer’s actions: deception. More than superego
weakness, the probation officer’s actions underscore his hypocrisy. After
all, he did not simply gratify a forbidden wish. He did so in a way that
was intended to appear moral. His fantasy was enacted so as to make the
touching appear inadvertent rather than intentional and to allow him to
appear to those around him to be morally better than he is. Although the
degree to which his personal standards of conduct were violated cannot
be determined, his actions represent an excellent example of the “motive
to appear moral in one’s own and others’ eyes while, if possible, avoiding
the cost of actually being moral.”52 What is disavowed is not perceptual,
but moral. Moreover, it is a double deception in which he hides his trans-
gressions both from others and from himself.
In the end, Renik and Grossman make an important contribution to
psychoanalysis by radicalizing the relationship between character perver-
sions and moral lapses as well as immoral behavior. However, the claim
that disavowal of reality and/or the failure to test unconscious fantasies
explains moral lapses is at best only part of the story. By contrast, there is
strong support for the notion that what is disavowed is the salient moral
principle or, as described by Batson, the behavior-moral standard com-
parison. Awareness of this disparity provokes anxiety and triggers dis-
sociation. Essentially, both behavior and moral standards are conscious,
but the degree and implications of the disparity between them is dis-
avowed.
Additional defenses maintain this misperception. While disavowal has
received the greatest attention historically, rationalization also plays a
prominent role. The little league board members who espouse a rule
change particularly advantageous to their children on the grounds that it
is for the greater good rationalize their selfish intentions on the basis of
their positive consequences. They may be only dimly aware that their ac-
tions are self-serving. But there can be no doubt that the deeper implica-
tions of Batson’s views resonate deeply with Rangell’s thinking. Specifi-
 The Paradox of Hypocrisy 35

cally, Batson may be interpreted to say that hypocrisy is a compromise

among various internal and situational factors as well as a compromise
offering the “least costly” alternative in the long run.
Grossman’s emphasis on the relative failure to test reality with regard
to the consequences of fantasy enactment displaces attention away from
the real problem: deception of self and others facilitates wish gratification
while allowing the patient to reap the rewards of appearing moral. Renik
is right in claiming that the patient does not want to face painful truths.
Such individuals want to avoid the turmoil created by the clear vision of
violating their beliefs. Lifting the mask reveals a stark contrast between
real and idealized self-images that, in turn, precludes the pursuit of self-
interest without anxiety. Now, however, they are precluded from wish-
fulfillment not by the fear of detection or of something external, but by
awareness of their own moral principles. The results of this more pene-
trating examination of (moral) motivations and the stripping away of il-
lusions that it engenders prompt disavowal.
In conclusion, moral hypocrisy represents an effort to appear morally
better through deceptive actions that violate one’s own moral standards.
It reveals a double standard toward a (parental) object in which the hypo-
crite deceives the very people upon whom he or she depends for genuine
expressions of love and recognition. Disavowal operates to facilitate belief
in these responses as well as to affirm identity and permit contradictory
perceptions to coexist. Although pursued deceptively, relationships para-
doxically engender experiences which, through self-deception, are believed.
Thus, the hypocrite both deceives and is deceived. The hypocrite’s gambit
forecloses shame experiences by strengthening belief in the expurgated
evidence of his misdeeds. Hypocrisy therefore implies a relationship to an
internalized other in which one wishes both to be seen and not to be seen,
to penetrate without being penetrated. These contradictory wishes are
sustained by dissociation.
This chapter has identified two interrelated mechanisms operating in
hypocrisy. The first, inspired by the psychoanalytic study of perverse de-
fenses, emphasizes disavowal and dissociation. It is by virtue of these
defenses that the hypocrite facilely discounts the implications of what he
does. The second feature of hypocrisy pertains to the manner in which it
effects a compromise among competing influences, both internal and situ-
ational, in which conscience gives in. The latter focuses attention on two
key elements of moral hypocrisy—that it is both moral and hypocritical—in
order to capture its deceptive doubleness and general preservation of
moral feeling. In the next chapter, I will elaborate on this preservation of
moral feeling which makes hypocrisy an ineradicable feature of the hu-
man condition, part and parcel of the individual’s embeddedness in sys-
tems of values that are shared and largely obligatory. However much his
36 Chapter 1

actions may seem to suggest otherwise, the hypocrite never stands out-
side of morality. In fact, his actions makes sense only as an effort to
achieve what he selfishly wishes within a framework that maintains con-
nection with the other’s humanity.
That the hypocrite wishes to avoid detection and punishment is only
the beginning of a complex story. Clearly he is someone for whom call of
conscience is muted. He hears, but is not summoned; he is called to ac-
count by others, but inconsistently by the self. His concern about reputa-
tion and status distinguishes him from the sociopath and discloses a
unique moral sensibility, coupled with a troubling capacity for moral dis-
engagement. He wants to reap the rewards of his deceptions without suf-
fering the discomfort that honoring commitments entails. He thus betrays
others’ trust, exploits their goodwill, and undermines the possibility of
intimacy and mutuality. Later, I will argue that an ethical stance of inau-
thenticity is the endpoint of a life dominated by dissociation and shame
avoidance.

Notes

  1.  Sigmund Freud, “An Outline of Psycho-Analysis,” in The Standard Edition of

the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, ed. and trans. James Strachey in
collaboration with Anna Freud, assisted by Alix Strachey and Alan Tyson (Lon-
don: Hogarth Press, 1940[1938]), 23:203. Hereafter The Standard Edition of the Com-
plete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud is cited as Standard Edition.
  2.  Owen Renik, “Use of the Analyst as a Fetish,” Psychoanalytic Quarterly 61
(1992): 542–63, and Lee Grossman, “The Perverse Attitude to Reality,” Psychoana-
lytic Quarterly 62 (1993): 422–36.
  3.  C. Daniel Batson, Elizabeth R. Thompson, Greg Seuferling, Heather Whit-
ney, and Jon Strongman, “Moral Hypocrisy: Appearing Moral to Oneself Without
Being So,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 77 (1999): 525–37.
  4.  Batson et al., “Moral Hypocrisy,” 525.
  5.  Erik H. Erikson, Identity, Youth, and Crisis (New York: Norton, 1968), 81.
  6.  Ruth W. Grant, Hypocrisy and Integrity: Machiavelli, Rousseau, and the Ethics
of Politics (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997).
  7.  Adelaide M. Johnson and S. A. Szurek, “The Genesis of Antisocial Acting
Out in Children and Adolescents,” Psychoanalytic Quarterly 21 (1952): 323.
  8.  Otto F. Kernberg, Severe Personality Disorders: Psychotherapeutic Strategies
(New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1984).
  9.  Clancy Martin, The Philosophy of Deception (New York: Oxford, 2009).
10.  Sigmund Freud, “Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality,” in Standard Edi-
tion, vol. 7 (1905).
11.  Jacob Arlow, “Character Perversion,” in Currents in Psychoanalysis, ed. Ir-
ving M. Marcus (New York: International Universities Press, 1971), 317.
12.  Phyllis Greenacre, “The Impostor,” Psychoanalytic Quarterly 27 (1958): 362.
 The Paradox of Hypocrisy 37

13.  Arlow, “Character Perversion,” 325.

14.  Arlow, “Character Perversion,” 333.
15.  Renik, “Fetish.”
16.  Renik, “Fetish,” 544, 545.
17.  Renik, “Fetish,” 549.
18.  Owen Renik, “An Example of Disavowal Involving the Menstrual Cycle,”
Psychoanalytic Quarterly 53 (1984): 527–28.
19.  Renik, “Fetish,” 551.
20.  Grossman, “Perverse Attitude,” 422.
21.  Grossman, “Perverse Attitude,” 427–28.
22.  Freud, “Outline of Psycho-Analysis.”
23.  Grossman, “Perverse Attitude,” 422.
24.  Grossman, “Perverse Attitude,” 427.
25.  Grossman, “Perverse Attitude,” 427, 428.
26.  Grossman, “Perverse Attitude,” 428.
27.  C. Daniel Batson, Diane Kobrynowicz,  Jessica L. Dinnerstein,  Hanna C.
Kampf, and Angela D. Wilson, “In a Very Different Voice: Unmasking Moral Hy-
pocrisy,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 72 (1997): 1335–48, and Batson,
“Different Voice.”
28.  C. Daniel Batson, Elizabeth R. Thomson, and Hubert Chen “Moral Hypoc-
risy: Addressing Some Alternatives,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 88
(2002): 330–39.
29.  For social responsibility, see Leonard Berkowitz and Kenneth Lutterman,
“The Traditionally Socially Responsible Personality,” Public Opinion Quarterly 32
(1968): 169–85; for ascription of responsibility, see Shalom H. Schwartz, “Words,
Deeds, and the Perception of Consequences and Responsibility in Action Situa-
tions,”  Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 10 (1968): 232–42; for justice
perspective, see Lawrence Kohlberg, “Moral Stages and Moralization: The Cogni-
tive-Developmental Approach,” in Moral Development and Behavior: Theory, Re-
search, and Social Issues, ed. Thomas Lickona (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston,
1976); and for relationship-care perspective, see Carol Gilligan, In a Different Voice:
Psychological Theory and Women’s Development (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univer-
sity Press, 1982).
30.  Batson, “Some Alternatives.”
31.  Batson, “Some Alternatives,” 330–31.
32.  Leon Festinger, Theory of Cognitive Dissonance (Stanford, CA: Stanford Uni-
versity Press, 1957).
33.  Batson, “Different Voice.”
34.  Roy Schafer, Clinical Application of Psychological Tests: Diagnostic Summaries
and Case Studies (New York: International Universities Press, 1948), 48, and Leo
Rangell, The Mind of Watergate: An Exploration of the Compromise of Integrity (New
York: Norton, 1980).
35.  Robert Emmons, “Narcissism: Theory and Measurement,” Journal of Person-
ality and Social Psychology 52 (1987): 11–17.
36.  Robert Emmons, “Factor Analysis and Construct Validity of the Narcissistic
Personality Inventory,” Journal of Personality Assessment 48 (1984): 291–300.
37.  The meaning, I believe, Grossman intends by the term “fantasy.”
38 Chapter 1

38.  What Grossman means by the term “tested.”

39.  Eva F. Kittay, “On Hypocrisy,” Metaphilosophy 13 (1982): 277–85.
40.  Dan Turner, “Hypocrisy,” Metaphilosophy 21 (1990): 262–69.
41.  Bela Szabados and Eldon Soifer, Hypocrisy: Ethical Investigations (New York:
Broadview Press, 2004).
42.  Szabados and Soifer, Hypocrisy, 280.
43.  Batson, “Moral Hypocrisy,” and Batson, “Some Alternatives.”
44.  Jacob Arlow, “Problems of the Superego Concept,” Psychoanalytic Study of
the Child 37 (1982): 229–44, and Heinz Hartmann, Psychoanalysis and Moral Values
(New York: International Universities Press, 1960).
45.  Leo Rangell, “A Psychoanalytic View of the Impeachment Process,” Psycho-
analytic Dialogues 10 (2000): 309–13.
46.  Rangell, “A Psychoanalytic View,” 311.
47.  Kernberg, Personality Disorders.
48.  Kernberg, Personality Disorders, 21.
49.  Lee Grossman, “‘Psychic Reality’ and Reality Testing in the Analysis of
Perverse Defences,” International Journal of Psycho-Analysis 77 (1996): 512.
50.  Grossman, “Psychic Reality,” 509.
51.  Grossman, “Psychic Reality,” 513.
52.  Batson, “Moral Hypocrisy,” 525.
 2

The Call of Conscience

H ow do individuals act immorally with so little apparent discomfort?

The previous chapter noted that John seemed unperturbed by his
transgressions as well as by the disparities in his life, comfortably inhabit-
ing two distinct moral universes—one shared and consensually validated,
the other unshareable and, to a significant extent, unknowable to him.
Although this book is dedicated to deconstructing these modes of
thought, making sense of hypocrisy requires reflection on a more funda-
mental question: namely, what causes human beings to be moral in the
first place? What brings it about that human beings have moral feeling at
all, let alone beliefs whose authority is binding? To respond appropriately
to this question involves a critical examination of Freud’s perspective, one
that continues to represent the conceptual starting point for virtually all
contemporary treatments of moral development, however much it has
been attacked and amended. This chapter does not dispute Freud’s cen-
tral thesis—that morality is an emergent property of inescapable con-
flict—so much as it questions his explanation of its obligatoriness. Freud
grounded conscience in primordial ambivalence, instigated by the mur-
der of the primal father. Although no longer taken seriously, remarkably
little attention is paid to why this speculative hypothesis was necessary in
the first place. Why didn’t Freud argue more simply that repression and,
hence, conscience followed directly from parental and social pressures?
Briefly put, why did he resist an explanation in terms of social learning
theory? The answer is that such explanations left the door open to his-
torical and cultural variability. Freud sought to minimize the threat of
relativism by explaining human morality in universal terms. He believed

39
40 Chapter 2

that anchoring morality in historically real events, unconsciously trans-

mitted over many generations, immunized it from relativism. He believed
that moral dispositions lay dormant within the individual, awaiting acti-
vation through experiences of attachment and punishment. Moral sensi-
bility was insured by one’s ancestral legacy.
One can pose this question differently by asking why and under what
circumstances an individual subscribes to standards that disadvantage
him? The question is not so much why he conforms to or endorses them,
but why he would feel obligated to do so and deserving of punishment
should he fail. This question is not unique to Freud or psychoanalysis,
but one that any account of morality’s origins must grapple with. It is to
Freud’s credit that he faced this challenge head on. With the help of
Lamarck, he believed he could anchor morality in historically real
events and explain the preservation of its conclusions. Although never
rejecting Freud’s phylogenetic speculations, Melanie Klein sought to
ground moral feeling in the child’s earliest anxieties. She argued that
guilt emerges from conflicts between love and hate that are only indi-
rectly linked to the actual behavior of caregivers. Most significant was
Klein’s anticipation of the central role of attachment in human concern,
a groundbreaking concept that Bowlby later described as an indepen-
dent drive.1 Only with the emergence of attachment theory was it pos-
sible to speak of altruistic inclinations that coexist with, rather than
conceal, sexual and aggressive ones. The irreducible nature of attach-
ment and other prosocial inclinations is supported by recent findings
from evolutionary psychology. Jointly, these data provide a framework
within which hypocrisy may be said to preserve as well as exploit emo-
tional attachments.
The following chapter provides the groundwork for a perspective that
regards human beings as thoroughly embedded in a moral universe
from the start. Indeed, to have an identity at all means to stand in rela-
tionship to others. One must not only be aware of others, but also, to
varying degrees, share their aspirations and concerns at a basic, pre-
reflective level.2 It is argued that these shared concerns distinguish the
moral hypocrite from the sociopath. More important, they lead to the
conclusion that moral sensibility is an emergent property that is inade-
quately understood either as a chance event or as completely voluntary
and a matter of individual choice. Morality implicates evolved disposi-
tions to attachment, cooperation, and trust that are observable in both
humans and subhuman primates. These sociobiological data fortify
Freud’s intuition that evolution plays a crucial role in moral life, though
not in the way he imagined. This perspective also serves as an important
corrective to his narcissism thesis, qualifying the meanings and limita-
tions of self-interest in the human condition.
 The Call of Conscience 41

Origins

Like Hobbes, Freud imagined that one acknowledges and respects others
because one must. Self-interest is the irreducible motive of all human be-
havior, an idea originally interpreted in the terms of the pleasure associ-
ated with the discharge of inner tension. First and foremost, others are
experienced as objects that gratify or frustrate instinctual needs; they are
not regarded as individuals in their own right, deserving of respect. Given
this, only the prospect of harsh and reliable punishment discourages ex-
ploitation and insures compliance with moral standards. Altruism is an
epiphenomenon, at best a fleeting one following instinctual satisfaction
or, alternatively, a form of behavior aiming circuitously toward this end
when direct paths to gratification are foreclosed.
Freud harbored few illusions about man’s intransigence. He put little
faith in inclinations for cooperation in the absence of tangible rewards. On
the contrary, men are creatures

among whose instinctual endowments is to be reckoned a powerful share

of aggressiveness. As a result, their neighbour is for them not only a po-
tential helper or sexual object, but also someone who tempts them to
satisfy their aggressiveness on him, to exploit his capacity for work with-
out compensation, to use him sexually without his consent, to seize his
possessions, to humiliate him, to cause him pain, to torture and to kill
him. Homo homini lupus.3

“Man is a wolf to his fellow man.”4 Driven by self-interest and lustful

aggression, he is by nature opposed to restraint and self-sacrifice. Freud
regarded man as blind to his deeper motives, as inherently immoral as
he is self-deceived. Ironically, civilization and social harmony promote
or, more precisely, demand repression. The larger interests of the com-
munity are at odds with individual satisfaction. This juxtaposition
means that renunciation can never be complete. If they are to be sus-
tained, social arrangements must provide a modicum of (disguised)
gratification. Whereas Hobbes envisioned the social contract as mutu-
ally beneficial and, hence, desirable, Freud discerned the seeds of re-
sentment and neurosis in renunciation.
Hobbes’s state of nature has a deeper relevance for Freud’s thinking. It
portrays man as isolated and alone, without the benefits accorded to mem-
bers of human communities. In his natural state, man makes no promises
and enters into no contracts. He is obliged to no one. He inhabits a world
in which “the notions of right and wrong, justice and injustice, have no
place”5—strikingly reminiscent of the world of the pre-Oedipal child and
its ethos of primary narcissism. Helpless and frightened, the child seeks out
others to meet his needs. Perception of others is filtered through the lens of
42 Chapter 2

desire. His concerns are not moral. Questions about what is right, honor-
able, or fair do not arise in his mind. Given that perceptions, motives, and
consciousness are organized narrowly around pleasure and survival, the
universality of moral feeling requires explanation.
Even when not interpreted literally, Freud’s concept of primary narcis-
sism highlights the child’s limited capacity for veridical processing, his
vulnerability to confusing thoughts with deeds, and to a crippling sense
of guilt. In this respect, guilt is as irrational as the instincts. Both are ines-
capable and, in a sense, live him rather than reflecting how the individual
chooses to live. Yet, however irrational they may be, Freud returns again
and again to the importance of rational compromise for a mind fractured
and divided from within. No matter how deeply narcissism taints the
child’s interpretations, it stands dialectically in relationship to a reality
whose force that can neither be transcended nor annulled. His depen-
dency on caregivers confronts him with the fact that his well-being hinges
on their altruism. He cannot compel caregiving, a realization that shatters
his illusions of omnipotence and requires that he comport himself with
greater prudence. Compromise is not only advisable, but necessary.

Fear of Punishment

Whether fearing caregivers, authority figures, or the angry mob, the indi-
vidual is inherently disadvantaged, the child completely outmatched.
This is why conformity is the only rational alternative to fear. Yet, eliciting
conformity from a resistant subject is not at all the same as transforming
a narcissistic and polymorphous perverse being into someone for whom
moral considerations carry weight. Hobbes harbored no illusions about
this impossible project. Portraying man as living in perpetual fear of oth-
ers, he took it to be self-evident that individuals are only as moral as they
have to be. Left to their own devices, they seek power and advantage,
perpetuating the stance that inspired insecurity in the first place. To para-
phrase Hobbes, no covenant is secure if not backed by the sword. In the
absence of harsh authority, standards of conduct will be recognized, but
not honored.
Freud agreed that coexistence depends on the threat of retribution. Not
love, but fear mandates renunciation. If civilization lessens fear, it accom-
plishes this by insisting on conformity and self-regulation. By meeting his
obligations, the individual is less vulnerable to retaliation; however, given
his inherent egoism, obligations are at best inconsistently honored in the
absence of fear. For Freud, the transition from the (actual or fantasized)
aggressiveness of the authority to the fear of the superego is critical. The
establishment of the superego rests on a redirection of aggression toward
 The Call of Conscience 43

the self, however much its directives are experienced as standing above or
separate from the self. More than a structure or organization of human
institutions, civilization is a dynamic process that exploits man’s instinc-
tual aggressiveness to further prosocial ends. Ironically, it establishes
conscience by encouraging deployment of his innate aggressiveness
against himself. Parental reinforcement and the possibility of disguised
gratification further the civilizing process.
Less clear is how fear is reliably transformed into a sense of obligation
and experienced as moral anxiety. By moral anxiety, Deigh describes a
state of subjective distress prompted by the violation of a moral principle.6
Freud distinguished this experience both from fear and remorse, empha-
sizing two principle dynamics propelling the individual toward internal-
ized morality. First, he understood moral evaluation as an emergent
property inseparable from the network of relationships linking the child
to caregivers and authority figures. “Good” and “bad” have no meaning
a priori; their meanings rest on the child’s experiences with others, espe-
cially on his evaluation of his standing in their eyes. “Badness” is not
consistently interpreted in terms of what is dangerous or threatens one
survival; as a value, it is just as easily associated with experiences of plea-
sure. If values do not follow from experiences of danger or pleasure,
Freud surmised the work of an additional motive

easily discovered in [the child’s] helplessness and his dependence on other

people. . . . [I]t can best be designated as fear of loss of love. If he loses the
love of another person upon whom he is dependent, he also ceases to be
protected from a variety of dangers. Above all, he is exposed to the danger
that this stronger person will show his superiority in the form of punish-
ment. At the beginning, therefore, what is bad is whatever causes one to be
threatened with loss of love. For fear of that loss, one must avoid it.7

Freud’s reluctance to sharply distinguish moral values from adaptive

interests does not mean he regarded them as necessarily aligned. For ex-
ample, he recognized that children sometimes act contrary to their self-
interests in order to preserve parental love. The complex linkages between
motives, thoughts, and actions suggest that these relationships fluctuate
and are vulnerable to influence as well as to corruption. Minimally, this
means that neither fear of punishment nor loss of love implicates morality
as a system of binding obligations. Guilt depends on such a system.
Second, Freud explains the internalization of aggression, on the one
hand, as a continuation of the child’s instinctive aggression that never is
relinquished completely; and, on the other hand, as a product of resent-
ment over being forced to sacrifice and conform. Interestingly, once ag-
gression is internalized, it matters little which of these hypotheses are
correct: both engender dissocial sentiments that cannot be hidden from
44 Chapter 2

conscience in the way they can be hidden from others. Fear of detection is
marginalized by an aggressive conscience that insists on compliance and
does not distinguish between thoughts and deeds. For Freud, moral vigi-
lance transforms self-experience, penetrating the child’s perceptions and
evaluations completely.
Upon reflection, Freud responds only partially to the question of why
the authority’s aggressiveness is internalized. That conformity is the only
rational response to uncertainty and fear does not explain why the child
believes he deserves punishment. Freud sought an explanation that could
be universalized and would insure moral feeling in all possible cases. He
was not satisfied with explaining the child’s endorsement of parental
standards or his desire to bring his behavior into conformity with them.
He wanted to explain how and why moral beliefs carry weight.

Identification

To answer this question, Freud examined mechanisms other than those

prompted by fear. He noticed that individual morality is deeply influ-
enced by the feelings and opinions of others, particularly the parents, and
that the child condemns in himself what he imagines others would con-
demn in him were they privy to his thoughts. Whether the superego ex-
presses the aggression of the authority or resentment toward it, the child
is inclined to adopt the other’s point of view by virtue of his strong emo-
tional attachment. In other words, Freud discerned a mechanism operat-
ing in this transformation that is not a product of the child’s fears. He fa-
mously emphasized the libidinal aspect of this attachment and its
association with experiences of satisfaction and frustration.
In its simplest form, identification denotes the processes of imitation and
observational learning. It engages one both cognitively and emotionally.
Though not requiring conscious mediation, it is mentally complex and
rarely reflects an uncritical appropriation of what is observed. It is better
conceptualized as a multifactorial selection procedure or set of procedures
that organize observations around particular concerns or purposes. Identi-
fication brings one closer to others emotionally and makes what is learned
more fully one’s own. The adolescent playing the air guitar as he listens to
his favorite band is not merely imitating behavior. He imaginatively places
himself in the lead guitarist’s role. Through enactment, he experiences him-
self somewhat differently than before. Identification offers the opportunity
to experiment with new identities, to occupy them from the inside as it
were. Though sometimes blurring boundaries between self and nonself, it
is not typically associated with compromised reality-testing. It ought not to
be linked necessarily to primitive forms of identification that protect the
 The Call of Conscience 45

individual from fear, loss, and fragmentation. The latter are atypical in-
stances of a vital and adaptive human capacity.

Compliance and Complexity

Within psychoanalysis, there has been far greater interest in identification

as a process linked to internalization and reverie than to imitation.8 Inter-
nalization is regarded as critical to the establishment of conscience, espe-
cially to the capacity for guilt—the sine qua non of moral experience.9 The
distinction between the two is illustrated by the situation of Jeff, a market-
ing consultant faced with the challenges of running his own business. As
a self-employed businessman, he pays his taxes quarterly, something he
was not required to do when he worked in a large advertising agency.
What he imagined would be a mere bookkeeping task has become a
nightmare because of the unpredictable cash flow of his fledgling busi-
ness. He bridles with resentment at the thought of making these pay-
ments when he thinks about how his tax dollars are being used. Although
he feels the requirement is unjust, he pays his taxes faithfully.
Imagine that Jeff’s resentment leads him to accumulate reasons to op-
pose this requirement. Over time, his opposition grows increasingly prin-
cipled in the sense that it no longer merely reflects his personal unhappi-
ness with finding the money to pay his estimated taxes, but involves new
concerns and convictions that are universalizable and less obviously
linked to his narrow self-interests. Jeff does not oppose taxation in any
form, nor does he wish to be exempted from this requirement unfairly.
Rather, he believes that no citizen should be required to pay for nones-
sential services or precluded from determining how his tax dollars are
allocated. As a principled pacifist, for example, Jeff strongly objects to
supporting an active military and funding the war in Iraq.
Jeff’s principled objection to taxation makes the question of why he
pays taxes both interesting and problematic. Although recognizing his
legal obligation, he believes it to be unfair. The only reasonable expla-
nation for his behavior is that he fears the consequences of refusal. He
does not want to be prosecuted and punished. Therefore, he complies
with the government’s demand despite arguably good reasons for do-
ing otherwise.
Jeff’s situation provides a paradigm case of behavioral conformity. He
complies out of fear, feeling no inner sense of obligation, hearing no call
of conscience urging him to do the right thing. If he hears any voice at
all, it is one that mocks him, thinking him a fool. The same point can be
made differently by asserting that any behavior following from fear
rather than from moral standards is deficient in virtue.10 In this view,
46 Chapter 2

virtue is a property of personality as a whole, sensitive to norms in a

way that behavioral conformity is not. It is not behavior, qua behavior,
that matters most, but the qualities of character that inspire it and that
lead the agent to think and act in particular ways.11 Problematically, this
view appears to assume the very hierarchy of values it purports to es-
tablish. By definition, virtues like honesty and truthfulness seem to re-
quire a greater degree of self-regulatory capacity and internalized stan-
dards. To be sure, there are differences between the individual who
comports himself on the basis of moral principles and one who is con-
strained only by fear. However, it is unlikely that these differences are
best framed in terms of cognitive complexity or the degree to which
motivations are elaborated in fantasy. For example, Nietzsche argued
that punishment often sharpens the senses and enhances consciousness of
rules, consequences, and context. Behavioral conformity can be every bit
as complex and context-sensitive as internalized morality born of posi-
tive identifications. Alternatively, fantasy often is counterproductive. It
can undermine capacities for moral deliberation, self-regulation, and,
ultimately, adaptation. If Jeff (consciously or unconsciously) imagined
that the IRS would react to his refusal like his loving parents who treated
his transgressions as boyish mischievousness, he would feel little fear
and, as a result, would be more likely to violate the law. As meaning-
making creatures, human beings continually weave fear experiences
into their beliefs about moral standards. There is no doubt that internal-
ized morality is essential and more reliable than fear-based conformity.
However, this does not render the latter less cognitively complex or free
from the processes of reverie.

Identification in Social-Cognitive Theory

Because exposure to proficient models provides opportunities to observe,

rehearse, and consolidate various competencies, Bandura views identifi-
cation as cognitively complex and deeply embedded in affective life.12
Competencies are desirable for many reasons; certainly they are necessary
from an adaptive standpoint, which is why Bandura regards identifica-
tion as intrinsically motivated. Simply put, one is drawn to strategies that
further confidence and survival.
Bandura conceptualizes moral motivations in a similar way. They are
not fixed dispositions or prewired “pushes” from within. Nor need they be
consciously formulated to have powerful effects. They are deeply rooted
in relationships as well as organized and reinforced by culture. Identifica-
tion is one of the primary ways to learn about the various roles available
within a culture. Through it, the child does not merely mimic behavior, but
 The Call of Conscience 47

learns about parental attitudes, sensibilities, and the specific conditions

that make their responses relevant and effective. He also develops a sense
of the larger moral framework in which parental judgments are embed-
ded. Parents model not only what to do, but also how to think. Most impor-
tant for Bandura is that the child’s inferences are neither fixed nor follow
directly from selective reinforcement. Like other adaptations, they are con-
tingent on living conditions and individual circumstances; they are called
forth by particular situations, for particular purposes. Effective strategies
are conditional. Even unambiguous observational learning is reshaped in
the process of practical, real-world problem-solving.
Awareness of prevailing norms does not remove the challenge of op-
erationalizing their guidance into practical solutions that facilitate the ef-
fective management of adversity. Effectiveness is not an abstract concept,
nor is it a function of purely internal factors. It depends on the agent’s
ability to take account of all relevant variables—internal, affective, inter-
personal, and situational—as best he can. These will necessarily encom-
pass internal and affective as well as interpersonal and situational vari-
ables. All must be evaluated and weighted.
Bandura encourages one to think about strategy generation as a capac-
ity that rests upon exquisite attunement to domain and situation. One is
accustomed to thinking in terms of the latter. Situational problem-solving
inspires questions like “where should the shortstop throw the ball if it is
hit directly to him with a man on first base?” Or, “What should the base
runner do on a wild pitch?” The relationship between hit location and
runner present “situations” which admit of different solutions, some ra-
tionally—perhaps, objectively—preferable to others. By contrast, domains
describe the overarching frameworks in which situations are embedded.
In the example above, the domain is the game of baseball. Domains refer
to any sphere of activity, influence, system of relationships, or concerns.
They encompass relationships among constituent elements, but, like ge-
stalts, the elements cohere in a way that provides them with a unique
ontological status. Baseball is distinct from soccer, football, softball, etc. Its
structure determines the questions that can arise and the range of accept-
able responses.
To see how the notion of domain is relevant to moral questions, con-
sider how the meaning of fairness changes when formulated alternately
within the spheres of football and warfare. Each generates a different
view of permissible actions, goals, strategies, as well as the grounds for
evaluating relative success or efficacy. When thought about in this way,
the concept of fairness looks less like an objective property of moral
propositions. This perspective also supports Bandura’s notion that inter-
nal motivation—for example, the wish to be fair—has limited predictive
validity because it is continuously mediated by considerations specific to
48 Chapter 2

domain and situation. It always implicates an agent actively making

sense of his world from a particular point of view.
The fact that the child’s thinking is embroidered with fantasy does not
diminish its complexity and how deeply perception of parental efficacy
shapes inner motivation and confidence. The child is likely to emulate a
parent who effectively utilizes available resources to manage adversity,
however the latter is defined. “Competent models transmit knowledge
and teach observers effective skills and strategies for managing environ-
mental demands.”13 Identification enhances perceived self-efficacy and is
highly predictive of subsequent performance.
Juxtaposing Bandura and Freud leads to a greater appreciation of how
their thinking enriches the concept of identification. Identification fortifies
emotional attachments as well as enhances the child’s sense of predictabil-
ity and control across a variety of domains and situations. Identification
with proficient models provides the child with strategies for managing
threats more confidently. It lessens fear by permitting him to occupy differ-
ent roles psychologically and to experiment with new problem-solving
strategies. Importantly, Bandura argues that the confidence it inspires does
not depend on the actual outcome, but on the individual’s perception of his
efficacy. What counts in Bandura’s estimation is the agent’s belief in his
ability to generate appropriate responses to adversity. By distinguishing
generative capacity—the ability to assemble relevant skills and organize
them into executable strategies—from successful outcome, Bandura under-
scores the importance of the character of parental behavior in situations
where stressors cannot be removed. In much the same way that an attorney
presents the best defense possible for a client whose guilt is incontrovert-
ible, generative capacity and outcome are correlated, but not identical. By
modeling strategies that lead to greater control and predictability, parents
provide valuable information about how authority figures, both loved and
feared, behave across a variety of situational circumstances. They also
model a way of comporting oneself—a characteristic stance assumed in the
face of adversity—that, from an Aristotelian perspective, betokens virtue.

Instinct, Obligation, and Concern

A more robust perspective on identification renews interest in whether

the child’s fear of punishment from and attachment to his parents are suf-
ficient conditions of moral feeling. It is important to stress that what is
sought are the sufficient conditions of moral sentiments, those leading to
a sense of obligation in the child. Posed in this way, one cannot respond
affirmatively. Fear of punishment increases the likelihood of moral behav-
ior, but brings the child no closer to internalized standards. Behavioral
 The Call of Conscience 49

conformity need not involve moral conviction, nor do the child’s emo-
tional attachments and identifications engender experiences of binding
authority, however much they may offer reasons for following rules. De-
sire is different from obligation; the inclination to please those he loves
and respects can, and often does, change. To reiterate Bandura’s point,
moral beliefs are specific to domain and situation. As such, moral desire,
qua desire, may be outweighed by other, more pressing desires.
Recognizing that fear and identification were necessary conditions at
best, Freud introduced a third and more controversial thesis.14 Looking
beyond the child’s relationship with his parents to man’s ancestral past, he
imagined that the father of primitive times was a violent figure who kept
the most desirable resources—the fertile females of his clan—for himself,
driving off his sons as they approached sexual maturity. He portrayed the
father as obsessed with dominance and power. Disenfranchised, filled with
hatred and rage, the sons murdered him, managing collectively to actualize
a wish that could be entertained individually only with terror.
Freud attached great weight to the psychological consequences of the
sons’ murderous act. The deed done, their hatred sated, and their identi-
fication with the father complete, “the affection which had all this time
been pushed under was bound to make itself felt. . . . A sense of guilt
made its appearance.”15 Strongly influenced by Darwin, Freud offered
this mythopoetic tale as an explanation of morality’s force. He believed he
had discovered the origins of ambivalence and guilt in a historically real
event. What remained unexplained was how the moral import of this
deed was reliably transformed into a disposition within individuals of
subsequent generations who neither recalled nor repeated it. He averred
that “the elimination of the primal father . . . left ineradicable traces in the
history of humanity; and the less it itself was recollected, the more numer-
ous must have been the substitutes to which it gave rise.”16 Three years
later, he reiterated this point: “The conscience of mankind, which now
appears as an inherited mental force, was acquired in connection with the
Oedipus complex.”17 No longer dependent on evidence of a relationship
between harsh parental authority and the severity of the child’s superego,
Freud reasoned that the power differential between the child and parent
recapitulated the historical circumstances of our distant ancestors which
were dominated by the fearsome father. Occasioned by contemporary
events, the child’s sense of guilt owed its force to the ambivalence experi-
enced by the brothers who, banded together, murdered their father. Just
as ontogeny recapitulated phylogeny, Lamarckian ideas fortified his the-
sis and, he believed, immunized it from relativism. The harshness of the
superego was preordained. “In the beginning was the deed.”18
The problem Freud faced was not an exclusively psychoanalytic one. It
was in fact a far broader sociobiological one involving the question of
50 Chapter 2

how traits that do not serve immediate self-interests—morality represent-

ing but one of many such traits—prevail when they are unlikely to be
favored by natural selection. Forty years earlier, Darwin made the follow-
ing observation: “It must not be forgotten that although a high standard
of morality gives but a slight or no advantage to each individual man and
his children over the other men of the same tribe . . . an increase in the
number of well-endowed men and an advancement in the standard of
morality will certainly give an immense advantage to one tribe over
another.”19 In other words, Darwin envisioned natural selection as a pro-
cess operating both within and between groups, making it possible for
traits disadvantageous to individual survival to be advantageous to the
group or species. Aware of this hypothesis, Freud did not find it appeal-
ing. Why? Because it conceptualized altruism and cooperation as primary
motives, irreducible to sex and aggression. To be sure, Freud was not
alone in neglecting the importance of between-group selection. Only re-
cently have sociobiologists endorsed the hypothesis that altruistic groups
out-compete selfish ones, notwithstanding the impact of selfishness at the
individual level.20 Importantly, proponents of this thesis do not conclude
that between-group trumps within-group selection. Rather, they more
modestly contend that both forces operate continuously and at all levels
of evolution, contributing differentially to adaptation and survival. Wil-
son and Wilson attribute the emergence of homo sapiens to a momentous
shift toward between-group selection made possible by the integration of
verbal communication with moral traits like cooperation, altruism, and
some division of labor based on a sense of shared purpose and the need
for security.21 Not only do moral traits effectively serve group interests,
but they also minimize the individual costs of social control and the main-
tenance of structured communities. Sociobiologists view man as naturally
inclined to moral feeling and to drawing moral conclusions from influen-
tial models and traditions. However, contra Freud, they link these traits to
enhanced survivability as opposed to fears of punishment or, worse still,
the inheritance of acquired characteristics.
Klein pursued a different solution.22 Without rejecting Freud’s Lama-
rckian speculations, she sought to explain moral experience in terms of
instinctual conflict, believing the latter provided sufficient grounds for
ambivalence and guilt. She regarded moral sensibility as originating in
early inabilities to reconcile love and hate toward internalized representa-
tions of (rather than actual) caregivers. In what is now recognized as a
dissociative model of the mind, she believed that destructive wishes are
partitioned from loving ones and projected into caregivers in order to
maintain inner equilibrium. To claim that good experiences of being held,
fed, and nurtured are kept in mind alongside feelings of deprivation,
misattunement, and abandonment is one thing; to explain how these ex-
 The Call of Conscience 51

periences are integrated is another. According to Klein, the child’s efforts

at integration are undermined by his experiencing his hatred as literally
harming loved ones. He interprets maternal misattunement in the only
terms available to him: as a consequence of his destructiveness. Aggres-
sion does not reside anonymously in the world, but is inescapably per-
sonal. “No danger-situation arising from external sources could ever be
experienced by the young child as a purely external and known danger.”23
Klein interprets the child’s anxiety as a form of love and as an indicant of
the mother’s value. The child feels concern rather than hatred when acti-
vated by negative affect and thus suffers depressive anxiety and guilt.
Guilt does not arise from the wish to destroy something dangerous and
inimical to his existence; nor does it follow from the violation of a rule or
moral standard. Guilt arises only when the hated object is at the same
time recognized as the object of his love. Guilt is the product of this con-
flict and associated phantasies rather than of actual transgressions.24 The
child “feels compelled under the strain of greater suffering to deal with
the painful psychic reality. This leads to an over-riding urge to preserve,
repair, or revive the loved objects.”25 The reality to which Klein refers is
the child’s recognition that the object of his hatred is the same person
upon whom his survival and satisfaction depend. Guilt requires integra-
tion in the presence of love and hate; the child must believe that the
mother’s destruction (in phantasy) is at once an act of self-destruction.26
Depressive anxiety always references harm to good objects; “good” is a
subjective evaluation closely associated with pleasurable affect and no-
ticeably unlinked to norms or cultural influences.
Like Freud, Klein believed the child moves toward others primarily to
reduce drive tension. Puzzling to those unfamiliar with her work is how
human concern emerges within this framework. Her attention to the
emergence of concern foreshadowed the contemporary emphasis on at-
tachment. But the darker resonances of Thanatos remain. Klein never en-
tertained the possibility of drives other than sex and aggression. These
instincts constituted the biological, psychological, and interpretive bed-
rock of motivation. Ultimately, the child seeks pleasure and loves those
who reduce his unpleasure. All relational configurations express narcis-
sism because they bring pleasure to the subject regardless of whatever
else they may do. From the perspective of narcissism, there is no more
fundamental or compelling reason for human action or concern.27

Attachment

If Klein built a conceptual bridge between drive and attachment theories,

Bowlby may be said to have crossed it by formulating the parent-child re-
52 Chapter 2

lationship ethologically as a behavioral system.28 Behavioral systems are

not incompatible with drives; instead, they offer an alternative to regarding
the latter as a sufficient condition of behavior in various animal species,
especially in primates. However much instinctive behavior may be modu-
larized and self-regulating, it is also always the product of adaptation to
ever-changing environmental circumstances. Prewired dispositions play a
vital role in what one does, but rarely “cause” human choices.
Bowlby defined attachment as proximity-seeking behavior whose
purpose is to protect offspring from danger. Importantly, he regarded
this aim as a sufficient condition of attachment behavior. In other words,
one need not look for other, presumably deeper sources of attachment.
An oft-cited instance of attachment behavior is the phenomenon of im-
printing. Few undergraduate social science majors will forget the video
footage of Dr. Lorenz followed by a gaggle of geese. Striking about this
behavior is its occurrence in the absence of reinforcements (e.g., food) or
associated drive reduction (e.g., diminution of hunger). Substantially
independent of immediate self-interests or the provision of nourish-
ment, it is conceptualized as an evolved disposition increasing the likeli-
hood of survival by encouraging proximity-seeking in early life. To be
sure, the object of these efforts is the mother who also provides food and
protection. Herein lies its evolutionary advantage: caregivers offering
protection are likely to provide other forms of care necessary for sur-
vival. Lorenz’s work demonstrates that attachment and other drives are
at once dissociable and irreducible. Similarly, Fonagy argues that attach-
ment behavior is inspired more generally by the need for felt-security
engendered by proximity to caregivers.
In the Kleinian perspective, the child’s immersion in fantasy under-
mines the capacity to distinguish thoughts and deeds. The child is so
thoroughly engaged with internal objects that the mother’s actual behav-
ior is only indirectly related to what transpires psychologically in his
mind.29 In a sense, the mother never quite exists as a real person. Klein is
committed to this position because it immunizes her thesis from the fatal
objection that, in reality, the child cannot harm his parents. He depends
on them entirely. More than this, the child’s confusion of thoughts and
deeds goes only so far in explicating guilt experience. Guilt crucially de-
pends on the capacity to evaluate actions against a background of stan-
dards that are both salient and obligatory. Often, it reflects an accurate
assessment that a departure has occurred.
Contemporary Kleinians envision aggressiveness toward caregivers as
activating separation anxiety. The latter makes destructive wishes intoler-
able. To the extent that the child’s frustration is integrated intersubjec-
tively by virtue of the parent’s mentalizing stance, the child will not be
driven to dissociate. Mentalizing provides him with opportunities to ob-
 The Call of Conscience 53

serve proficient models of human concern while activated by anger and

inner tension, experiencing its soothing effects from his first-person per-
spective. Attunement to his burgeoning subjectivity is one of the primary
reasons that he does not treat others as objects.
“One of the key evolutionary functions of early object relations . . . [is] to
equip the very young child with an environment where the processing ca-
pacity for the understanding of mental states of others and the self can fully
develop.”30 Accurate and sensitive emotional mirroring by parents plays a
vital role in the development of the child’s identity. Misattunement trauma-
tizes and promotes false self-development because the child cannot match
what is mirrored with inner experience. Antisocial tendencies emerge from
inadequate attachment and affective mirroring that never allow the child to
know himself or to be who he is. An identity that is imposed must be dis-
sociated from a pre-reflective sense of self, with dire consequences for the
representation and regulation of emotions like shame and guilt.
Nowhere is the assumption of man’s intrinsic hedonism more problem-
atic than in the domain of caregiving. Construed literally, it threatens the
very possibility of species survival. Were caregiving purely a matter of
parental interest, nothing more than a desire sundered from any instinc-
tive inclination to provide protection, children would be unlikely to sur-
vive, let alone flourish. Caregiving cannot be left to chance, which is to
say, to parental self-interest or to desire more generally.31 Ethologically, its
consistency in humans and subhuman primates implicates evolved dis-
positions that can be implemented with minimal learning.
Consider the tenacity of parental attachment in circumstances where
children fail to live up to expectations and standards. Gombosi describes
the suffering of parents of autistic children who must make the “gut-
wrenching” acknowledgment of this diagnosis and face the daunting
process of providing them with loving care.32 Parents face “the death of
their hopes and fantasies of having the child they expected and learn to
take care of, and love, the corpse of their dreams.”33 Others similarly iden-
tify symptoms of posttraumatic stress in parents of children diagnosed
with phenylketonuria.34 Although parental expectations, beliefs, and or-
ganizing fantasies are shattered, caregiving continues. Trauma challenges
and alters the parent’s internal working model, but does not sever attach-
ment; the parent finds ways to adapt to the ever-changing needs of her
child. This is so precisely because parents are not motivated exclusively
by self-interest. To paraphrase Mitchell, the parent cannot help but re-
spond in some fashion when her child is sick or imperiled. There is no
neutral position to assume.35 The parent’s perception of threat to her child
poses a problem quite different from the regulation of self-esteem and ag-
gression observed in narcissism. It challenges her to identify and manage
potential dangers as manifested uniquely in each situation.
54 Chapter 2

The Relevance of Evolutionary Psychology

Attachment theory offers a compelling counterexample to the assumption

that human nature is irreducibly self-interested. The meaning of self-in-
terest changes dramatically when one moves from the domain of indi-
vidual psychology to evolution. Genetic adaptation involves the repro-
duction of many different versions (phenotypes) of the same genotype.
Some will produce more offspring, increasing their likelihood of survival.
Often described euphemistically as genetic selfishness, the different sur-
vival rates among phenotypes—even the fact that organisms survive at
the expense of others—express no psychological motives. Adaptation in-
volves interactions among chance events and the inner design of living
organisms over many generations. As noted earlier, contemporary evolu-
tionary thinking suggests that selfishness trumps altruism within groups,
but disadvantages between-group competition. Species survival depends
upon natural inclinations toward attachment, altruism, and cooperation,
all of which may be conceptualized as the ground of moral sensibility.
Evolutionary psychologists contend that these same inclinations pro-
mote the regular creation and use of social arrangements. They do not
mean by this that human behavior or morality is genetically programmed
or preordained. At the phenotypic level, plurality and diversity abound.
But some traits enhance survivability and are therefore more advanta-
geous. For this reason, one may claim without contradiction that there are
heritable neural mechanisms for moral judgment, enabling capacities to
reflect on right and wrong and to utilize such reasoning in a way that
governs behavior, without committing one to the position that these
mechanisms determine moral content or the outcomes of these living ex-
periments. The two ideas are logically independent. Capacity is hard-
wired and the product of evolution; moral content implicates social learn-
ing, reflective thought, and relative independence from drives. Human
caregiving is an example of an evolved disposition that is continually
shaped by learning and expanded by human adaptation.
Before closing this chapter, four additional findings are noted that more
aptly contextualize the concept of narcissism. First, contrary to Freud’s
genealogical speculations, it is unlikely that early man lived in groups
dominated by a brutal leader. A more plausible scenario is that the earliest
human ancestors lived in small bands of approximately thirty members
who survived by foraging as nomads.36 Foraging communities are highly
mobile and cooperate in hunting and food gathering activities. Their sur-
vival depends on social arrangements that suppress undue competition
and discourage the emergence of dominant males.
Second, Boehm argues that pan paniscus and pan trogolodyte, which jointly
comprise the Chimpanzee genus, live within social hierarchies uncon-
 The Call of Conscience 55

trolled by alpha males. They rely upon social (group) mechanisms rather
than punishment and retaliatory aggression for conflict resolution. These
species consistently evidence two types of behaviors with distinctively
moral resonances: consolation and reconciliation/pacification of conflict.
For example, monkeys and apes are sensitive to the physical and emotional
needs of others, and help those in need by sharing food, resolving conflicts,
and consoling other members of the community.37 In addition to the com-
plex cognitive processes involved, de Waal stresses the sense of mutual
obligation underlying behaviors like food sharing.38 Chimps recognize the
distress of other animals and routinely share food with undernourished or
gravely ill animals. This behavior cannot be explained on the basis of ca-
pitulation to or fear of more dominant peers; nor is it linked to protection
of kin or to efforts to enhance individual status, all key Freudian assump-
tions.39 It is more parsimoniously explained by evolved dispositions favor-
ing cooperation about long-term goals and ultimately linked to survival.
Third, reciprocity implies a proto-social contract in which parties (tac-
itly) agree to behave in a certain way. It involves memory, behavioral
consistency over time, as well as an ability to make judgments about right
and wrong. Absent capacities to generate contracts and monitor obliga-
tions, higher order behavioral systems collapse. Alexander describes so-
phisticated instances of reciprocity and social regularity among chimpan-
zees in which some community members receive special compensation
based on social status and reputation.40 de Waal has observed subordinate
male chimpanzees groom dominate males in exchange for undisturbed
mating sessions. Grooming behavior is especially noteworthy because it
occurs in situations unconnected with mating. It appears that our nearest
kin on the evolutionary ladder recognize the importance of “scratching
the other’s back.” Reciprocity rests on confidence that others will recog-
nize obligations and respond in kind; obligations must be honored by
both parties in order to be sustained. These behaviors are highly selective,
embedded in particular social contexts, and generally unconnected to im-
mediate individual gain.
Fourth, Boehm argues that inclinations toward conflict-avoidance pow-
erfully influence efforts to form communities and to solve problems as
they arise. He identifies joint or coordinated responses to antisocial/
predatory behavior of individual members in various species. Sometimes
this involves forming coalitions that identify and punish perpetrators. For
example, female chimps will band together to control dominant males,
even in captivity. Their cries discourage predatory behavior, putting ag-
gressors on notice that further aggression will meet with swift, violent
sanctions. These responses are coupled with strong affective arousal, par-
ticularly anger and fear. Praise for desirable behavior also is observed,
with the salutary effect of restoring social harmony.
56 Chapter 2

Most important about the behavior of subhuman primates in each of the

aforementioned instances is its independence from motives serving imme-
diate self-interests. To be sure, the concept of narcissism explains individual
responses to palpable threats; it falters when applied to group behavior and
to the mobilization of affect and coordinated responsiveness. Clearly some-
thing of a proto-moral nature transpires in subhuman primates. Although
not rising to the level of ideals or thoughts that can be symbolized linguisti-
cally, proto-moral communities demonstrate mutual concerns and pursue
joint purposes. These concerns involve a sense of right and wrong, and a
commitment to social conflict resolution, without requiring a formalized or
developed morality. Altruism is instinctive rather a product of reflection.
But that is precisely the point: our nearest relatives on the evolutionary lad-
der are inclined to behave “morally.” There is no reason to deny this pre-
paredness in ourselves, however much it is open to influence and far more
dependent on learning and deliberation.
Evolutionary thinking strongly supports the idea that morality is an
emergent property shared by humans and nonhuman primates. Taking it
seriously requires a paradigm shift in the conception of the individual as
a self-contained, isolated entity who exists apart from his social environ-
ment and his complex networks of interrelationships, practices, and tradi-
tions. The individual does not choose to live with others; rather, he is
unthinkable apart from his relationships and from the practices and tradi-
tions that shape and, in turn, are shaped by him. Human adaptation de-
pends on a readiness to form beliefs, sometimes accurate and veridical,
sometimes not. Communal living imposes conditions on individual mem-
bers, both by modeling behavior that is expected and increasing the cost
to those who would act exclusively from self-interest. In so doing, it estab-
lishes a hierarchy of values that cannot be understood apart from the
broader interests of the human community. Narcissism and attachment,
selfishness and altruism, are the conjoined twins of the human narrative.
From the classical perspective, conscience rests ultimately on the inter-
nalization of parental authority. Internalization is in turn the product of
three interlocking dynamics: the child’s fear of punishment; his relation-
ship with idealized, attachment figures upon whom his survival depends;
and cognitive immaturity, one of whose consequences is the confusion of
thoughts with deeds. Although contributing to the establishment of con-
science, Freud noticed that these dynamics do not explain the consistency
of morality or the universal prohibitions expressed by the Oedipus com-
plex. To attribute these observations to social learning would open the
door to relativism, something Freud was not willing to do. So he relied
instead upon a form of moral (and historical) realism to explain ambiva-
lence and guilt. Without rejecting these assumptions, Klein diminished
their importance by anchoring ambivalence in instinctual conflict. Both
 The Call of Conscience 57

theorists sought an ultimate ground for morality that would underwrite

the universality of guilt.
There is broad support for the idea that fear of punishment plays a vital
role in human communities. Evolutionary psychologists believe that it
suppresses conflict and is favored by between-group selection. Thanks to
the human capacity for language, aggression is easily identified and com-
municated to others, greatly facilitating coordinated responses that are
minimally burdensome for any individual. Inclinations to altruism are
balanced by the ability to withhold cooperation from nonreciprocators
(cheaters/free-riders) or to punish them. What is important is that neither
attachment nor evolutionary theorists diminish the motivational impor-
tance of narcissism. Indeed, their thinking supports the notion that both
inclinations are present from the beginning. Behavior is the product of a
multiplicity of influences and motives and the psychologist must try to
understand them as fully as possible.
One advantage of an evolutionary perspective is its ability to speak about
morality nonreductionistically. True, this perspective emphasizes adapta-
tion; but it does so without taking any position on the relative advantages
of one morality over another. Properly understood, it asserts only that there
are heritable inclinations toward moral behavior. It places them on par with
the motives of sex and aggression. All are components of the intricate tap-
estry of human motivation. Natural selection inclines the individual toward
cooperation, sensitizes him to social criticism, and prompts the adoption of
moral beliefs. Psychological explanations address the reasons for their es-
tablishment, why individuals and groups regard this action rather than
another as right or just. In other words, whereas evolution explains their
presence and form, psychology speaks to the motives for and content of
moral beliefs. Freud has much to say about these reasons even without re-
course to the ancestral past (at least in the way he imagined) or to our genes.
In the end, they reflect the intersecting dynamics of social experience, be-
liefs, local traditions, circumstances, and agency.
The evolutionary perspective also serves as a reminder that dispositions
and motives tell only part of the story of human adaptation. Understanding
human behavior requires careful attention to individual circumstances, to
the opportunities, choices, and range of responses available situationally,
historically, and culturally. With respect to hypocrisy, this means that un-
derstanding is unlikely to be advanced when concepts like narcissism and
superego weakness are severed from their lived context. From an evolu-
tionary standpoint, hypocrisy is as much a distinctively human achieve-
ment as any other, one possible only within communities that value coop-
eration and interpersonal trust. Only within a system of social arrangements
is it possible to speak insightfully about the motives for transgression. Only
here does the context of transgression emerge clearly.
58 Chapter 2

Despite its utility, morality is a double-edged sword, prompting conflict

and defense as well as cooperation. Binding ideals and commitments entail
sacrifices that are burdensome and diminish pleasure. Not all individuals
handle the resulting conflict in the same way. In perversion, for example,
morality is not repudiated in its entirety; it is instead compromised by lust-
ful motives to triumph, dominate, control, and extract revenge. Under the
impact of these motives, the pervert places greater value on his pleasure
than on conformity and restraint. That he accomplishes this without acti-
vating repressive defenses is the core concern of the next chapter. Under-
standing what transpires psychologically to effect this transformation is of
vital importance to the study of hypocrisy and will lead to consideration of
the hypocrite’s earliest relationships and identifications.

Notes

  1.  John Bowlby, Attachment and Loss: Loss (New York: Basic Books, 1980).
  2.  This perspective is elaborated by Charles Taylor in Sources of the Self: The
Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989).
  3.  Sigmund Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents, in Standard Edition (1930),
21:111.
  4.  Freud, Civilization, 111.
  5.  Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan (New York: Oxford, 1962), 115
  6.  John Deigh, The Sources of Moral Agency: Essays in Moral Psychology and
Freudian Theory (New York: Cambridge, 1996).
  7.  Freud, Civilization, 124.
  8.  Roy Schafer, Aspects of Internalization (New York: International Universities
Press, 1968).
  9.  Schafer distinguishes sharply between internalization and behavioral con-
formity. The former is cognitively and emotionally complex, reflecting an adap-
tive process in which regulatory characteristics of the other are taken over by the
self and made one’s own. It thus implies the establishment of internal psycho-
logical structures or modularized capacities that Schafer believed were absence in
behavioral conformity,
10.  Although it has changed substantially from the time of its initial articula-
tion, I believe this is one way that Schafer’s view might be characterized.
11.  This perspective recalls the ethical thought of Aristotle and especially post-
Aristotelian ethics of virtue, a point that will developed in greater detail later in
this chapter.
12.  Albert Bandura, Self-Efficacy: The Exercise of Control (New York: W. H. Free-
man & Co., 1997).
13.  Bandura, Self-Efficacy, 88.
14.  Sigmund Freud, Totem and Taboo: Some Points of Agreement between the Men-
tal Lives of Savages and Neurotics, in Standard Edition, vol. 13 (1913).
15.  Freud, Totem, 143.
16.  Freud, Totem, 155.
 The Call of Conscience 59

17.  Sigmund Freud, “Some Character-Types Met with in Psycho-Analytic

Work,” Standard Edition 14 (1916): 333.
18.  Freud, Totem, 161.
19.  Charles Darwin, The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex (New
York: Appleton, 1871), 1:166.
20.  Elliott Sober and David S. Wilson, Unto Others: The Evolution and Psychology
of Unselfish Behavior (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1998).
21.  David S. Wilson and Edward O. Wilson, “Rethinking the Theoretical Foun-
dation of Sociobiology,” Quarterly Review of Biology 82 (2007): 327–48.
22.  Melanie Klein, “A Contribution to the Theory of Anxiety and Guilt,” Inter-
national Journal of Psychoanalysis 29 (1948): 114–23.
23.  Klein, “Anxiety and Guilt,” 39.
24.  Klein and subsequent theorists have retained this spelling in order to em-
phasize the psychotic-like quality of infantile experience. Phantasy occurs largely
at an unconscious level and fuels primitive defenses like projective identification.
By contrast, “fantasy” refers to all varieties of dream-like imaginings, both con-
scious and unconscious.
25.  Klein, “Anxiety and Guilt,” 35 (italics mine).
26.  There is a further point to be made here: Klein’s insensitivity to norms prob-
lematizes guilt experience when transgressions do not involve harm to loved
ones.
27.  Alasdair MacIntyre, “Egoism and Altruism” in The Encyclopedia of Philoso-
phy, ed. Paul Edwards (New York: Macmillan, 1967), 2:462–66.
28.  Bowlby, Attachment.
29.  Klein conceptualized internal objects as psychical representations of the
instincts.
30.  Peter Fonagy, Gyorgy Gergely, Elliot Jurist, and Mary Target, Affect Regula-
tion, Mentalization, and the Development of the Self (New York: Other Press, 2002),
256.
31.  Juan Manzano, F. Palacio Espasa, and Nathalie Zilkha, “The Narcissistic
Scenarios of Parenthood,” International Journal of Psycho-Analysis 80 (1999):
465–76.
32.  Peter G. Gombosi, “Parents of Autistic Children: Some Thoughts about
Trauma, Dislocation, and Tragedy,” Psychoanalytic Study of the Child 53 (1998):
259.
33.  Gombosi, “Parent of Autistic Children,” 259.
34.  Bruce Lord, Colin Wastell, and Judy Ungerer, “Parent Reactions to Child-
hood Phenylketonuria,” Families, Systems, and Health 23 (2005): 204–19.
35.  Stephen A. Mitchell, “The Wings of Icarus: Illusion and the Problem of Nar-
cissism,” Contemporary Psychoanalysis 22 (1986): 107–32
36.  Christopher Boehm, “Conflict and the Evolution of Social Control,” in Evo-
lutionary Origins of Morality: Cross-Disciplinary Perspectives, ed. Leonard D. Katz
(Bowling Green, KY: Imprint Academic Press, 2002), 79–102.
37.  Jessica C. Flack and Frans B. M. de Waal, “‘Any Monkey Whatever’: Dar-
winian Building Blocks of Morality in Monkeys and Apes,” in Evolutionary Origins
of Morality: Cross-Disciplinary Perspectives, ed. Leonard D. Katz (Bowling Green,
KY: Imprint Academic Press, 2002), 1–30.
60 Chapter 2

38.  Frans B. M. de Waal, Chimpanzee Politics: Power and Sex among Apes (New
York: Harper and Row, 1982).
39.  Susan Perry and Lisa Rose, “Begging and Food Transfer of Coati Meat by
White-Face Capuchin Monkeys,” Cebus capucinus: Primates 35 (1994): 409–15.
40.  Richard D. Alexander, The Biology of Moral Systems (New York: Aldine de
Gruyter, 1987).
 3

Perversion and Moral

Reckoning

F ar more than a contract into which one enters voluntarily or on the

basis of one’s preferences, morality originates in evolved tendencies
that promote species survival in the long run. To reiterate the point made
in the previous chapter, moral content is neither genetically transmitted
nor the product of natural selection.1 Rather, natural tendencies to cooper-
ate, trust, and help others are constitutive of the human condition, com-
prising vital elements of the framework within which traditions and be-
liefs are fashioned. Evolved dispositions to moralize experience are one
aspect of the agent’s continuous engagement in the world and reworking
of what he observes and learns.
From a psychological perspective, morality reveals a dual structure: it
imposes obligations that restrain and therefore alienate one from one’s
innermost desires; and it simultaneously brings about conditions whereby
one gratifies these desires. How can the same behavior satisfy and frus-
trate desire? The inconsistency of moral beliefs led postclassical analysts
to regard the superego as inherently conflicted, never fully reconciling the
contradictory imperatives collected there. In perversion, moral ambiguity
allows the individual to gratify forbidden wishes without rejecting pre-
vailing norms entirely. Better put, it allows him to violate norms that he
only inconsistently endorses. After all, to transgress is not necessarily to
reject morality entirely. Rather, like other forms of compromise, it bal-
ances the forces of desire and obligation. In perversion, desire undermines
restraint and inclines the agent to experience his actions in a new light. To
describe what transpires in terms of repression fails to notice the remark-
able transfiguration of values central to the perverse turn.

61
62 Chapter 3

The pervert, like the hypocrite, acts where others exercise restraint, do-
ing precisely what others feel is wrong or forbidden. But conceptualizing
his behavior purely in terms of deviance raises as many questions as it
answers. Primary among these questions is why some standards are re-
spected, some commitments sustained. Given its variability, in what does
the perversity of perversion consist? Can it be defined in terms of behav-
ior and its consequences or does it reflect something about character and
personality as a whole? Inspired by Darwinism, Victorian sexologists re-
sponded to these questions by endorsing a deviance model. Perversion,
they asserted, departed from the natural order, defined in terms of what
they deemed to be the proper aims and objects of the sexual instincts.
What made perversion perverse in other words was its failure to serve
reproductive goals. Freud emphasized this idea in his first theory of per-
version, noting the continuity between infantile sexual trends and adult
perversity. In a kind of embodied synecdoche, perversion constituted a
means-ends reversal that substituted early sexual aims and objects for
mature, natural, reproductive ones.2 Absent any inherent linkage to li-
bido, these elements were regarded as “soldered together” in a striking
rupture of the relationship between signifier and signified.3 Once intrinsic
and fixed, this connection was reinterpreted as arbitrary, playful, and in-
finitely variable. Although emphasizing disavowal in his second theory of
perversion, Freud never relinquished the deviation thesis, supporting
Davidson’s claim that perversion reveals socially determined and histori-
cally specific beliefs however much it is conceptualized as a psychopa-
thology. So thoroughly is it shaped by ideology that Davidson regards it
purely as a cultural-linguistic creation, a product of power.
This chapter examines whether and to what extent the notion of devi-
ance as well as of uncontrolled, aberrant desire illuminates the phenom-
enon of hypocrisy. At a minimum, the arguments put forth suggest that
hypocrisy is incomprehensible apart from the prevailing understandings
that define it. Because full consideration of its implications extend beyond
the scope of this book, Davidson’s work is used to sharpen understanding
of the split subjectivity of the hypocrite constituted by tensions between
desire and morality, between how he is seen and how he sees himself. It
is argued that these influences and motives, together with the choices he
makes in particular circumstances, comprise the hypocritical stance. Al-
though agreeing that it is no mere disturbance of instinct, the following
discussion does not endorse Davidson’s conclusion that perversion is
therefore nothing more that the product of discursive operations. Clinical
experience strongly suggests otherwise. Instead, the moral transfigura-
tion observed in perversion—what, in a sense, makes perverse enactment
possible—reveals characteristic motives and defenses critical to the un-
derstanding of hypocrisy. Ultimately, the study of perversion highlights
 Perversion and Moral Reckoning 63

wishes to recreate idolizing relationships that provide comfort at the ex-

pense of authentic self-experience.

Some Preliminary Considerations

Conceptualizing perversions as continuations of infantile sexuality was

not without its problems. Primary among them was its inauguration of a
view of perversion as normative, the condition from which normality
deviates.4 Although recognizing perversion’s embeddedness in cultural
forms, Freud negotiated this contradiction by making a special pleading
in which perversity inheres not in

the content of the new sexual aim but in its relation to the normal. If a perver-
sion, instead of appearing merely alongside the normal sexual aim and ob-
ject, and only when circumstances are unfavourable to them and favourable
to it—if, instead of this, it ousts them completely and takes their place in all
circumstances—if, in short, a perversion has the characteristics of exclusive-
ness and fixation—then we shall usually be justified in regarding it as a
pathological symptom.5

Freud hoped to retain his theory of infantile sexuality and Darwinist

assumptions by understanding perverse trends as developmental and
transitory rather than fixed or exclusive.
Of course, exclusivity and fixity are not sufficient conditions for perver-
sion. One need look no further than heterosexual practices to see that
neither characteristic raises questions about perversion.6 This is the
deeper point of Davidson’s criticism. Judgments about deviance implicate
beliefs and norms; they are not assertions whose propositional content is
apt for truth. Following Foucault, Davidson argues that the appropriation
of Darwinist ideas by the nineteenth-century medico-psychiatric commu-
nity created a unique conceptual space for perversion. More radically, he
claims that there were no perverts (in the contemporary meaning of the
term) prior to this ideological shift. In other words, he denies its status as
a clinical disorder altogether, viewing it entirely as a product of a discur-
sive operations, an exercise of power in which one group endeavors to
regulate the private pleasures of another. In doing so, he pushes the Ni-
etzschean criticism of morality to its limit. Morality is no longer simply a
self-alienating denial of life, but an exercise of a will to power whose
source cannot be identified. He conceives of power as agentic, but non-
subjective; it is conceptually separable from the individual it occupies,
acting in and through him.
Despite its cogent indictment of discriminatory practices, Davidson’s
position undermines any therapeutically viable notion of agency by con-
64 Chapter 3

flating nonstandard (or, for that matter, nonperverse) sexual practices with
the deeply disturbing behavior of a Jeffrey Dahmer. By reducing it to a lin-
guistic function, he rejects the notion of perversion as a clinical pathology
and discounts forms of suffering that cannot be traced to language games.
Fascinating about moral beliefs is their “trump status.”7 They are experi-
enced as absolute, their authority nonnegotiable. In slightly different terms,
they restrain those who might otherwise assert themselves or threaten the
hegemony of prevailing norms on the basis of inconclusive evidence. Belief
implicates preferences and states of mind; it should not be confused with
conclusions warranted by evidence.8 From the standpoint of ethical life,
beliefs as well as morality more generally may be vicious or virtuous. Judg-
ments of their value rest on their motives and the uses to which they are
put. Even wishes to dominate and control must be contextualized in order
to be evaluated appropriately. For Nietzsche, perversion ultimately reflects
that which robs the self of vitality and distinction.

The Classical View

Clinically, Freud linked perversion to what he believed is a universal fear

of castration in boys. Parental demands engender resentment and fear
which, Freud believed, focused quite literally on threats to the child’s
bodily integrity. Castration anxiety is not symbolic, but concrete and over-
whelmingly real. That the source of this fear is a loved one does not di-
minish its intensity because the father, as a prohibiting authority, also is
resented terribly. Why did Freud privilege castration anxiety? Because it
buttressed the connection between fear and his theory of infantile sexual-
ity, a fear now rendered more credible by the child’s discovery of the
penis-less female and direct parental threats. These observations seemed
to corroborate his initial theory of perversion, as he imagined the findings
from his consultation with the parents of Little Hans also had done.9
Other interpretations of Freud’s data are possible. Consider the inter-
locking claims that castration anxiety is ubiquitous and etiologically suf-
ficient for the development of perversions in boys. Taken together, these
premises lead validly to the conclusion that all boys ought to develop
perversions as adults. Of course, Freud recognized that this claim was not
supported by prevalence rates for perversion in the general population.
Perversion as a clinical/diagnostic entity was and is relatively rare. He
thus couched his conclusions in a more tentative way:

Probably no male human being is spared the fright of castration at the sight
of a female genital. Why some people become homosexual as a consequence
of that impression, while others fend it off by creating a fetish, and the great
 Perversion and Moral Reckoning 65

majority surmount it, we are frankly not able to explain. It is possible that,
among all the factors at work, we do not yet know those which are decisive
for the rare pathological results.10

Because no two children face this threat in exactly the same way or to
the same degree, castration anxiety represents only a single thread in the
tapestry of perverse experience. This conclusion is fortified by the ab-
sence of any psychological equivalent for this experience in females.
Linking castration anxiety to repressive defenses and the establishment
of guilt should result in women evidencing moral defects more fre-
quently than men. Contemporary theorists rightly reject this gendered
assumption and replace it with the idea that perversions more broadly
deny differences of all kinds.
The association of repressive defenses with neurosis also has been in-
terpreted to mean that the latter is psychologically more complex than
perversion. One variation on this thesis appears in Schafer’s distinction
between behavioral conformity and guilt or internalized morality.11 Be-
cause it expresses unbridled, dissocial impulses, perversion is rarely ob-
served in higher (read: more complex and integrated) levels of personal-
ity organization. Both perversion and perverse defenses are thought to be
incompatible with a rich, creative, and principled life. Selective areas of
personality may be relatively well-developed or reflect unique individual
talents, but the capacity for deep and lasting relationships almost always
will be compromised.
At the clinical level, perversion and neurosis are not so easily distin-
guished. The fact that norms are rarely disregarded in their entirety calls
attention to one of perversion’s main functions: protection from experi-
ences of trauma and helplessness. Denial allows fantasies to remain untest-
ed.12 One imagines that one’s desires will be satisfied, one’s goals attained,
however unrealistic or improbable they may be. In this interpretation, per-
version is a habitual response to desire, a form of compromise involving
one’s personality as a whole. To regard it exclusively as an expression of
desire or as a failure of inhibition is ill-advised because, at bottom, perver-
sion implicates contextualized beliefs, standards, and goals.

Sex and Pleasure

Freud understood sexuality broadly in terms of thoughts or actions ori-

ented to pleasure and to life. It was discerned in virtually any human ac-
tivity and interest. In his earliest formulations, it subsumed aggressive-
ness insofar as the exercise of power and dominance frequently is
accompanied by pleasure and excitement. Because it did not need to be
66 Chapter 3

consciously experienced or avowed, Freud readily identified hidden plea-

sures in a wide range of mentation and behavior.
Jureidini cautions against the view that pleasure is inherently sexual.13
Of course, pleasure can be sexual in nature, but the point he wishes to
make is only that pleasure is not necessarily sexual. He offers the experi-
ence of self-mastery as an example. One imagines that Bandura would
agree with Jureidini’s analysis and propose the affects associated with
perceived self-efficacy as another. More broadly, pleasure accompanies
the dissociative narrowing of experience that occurs in play and other
activities that are engaging or intensely absorbing.14 It is neither defensive
nor inherently pathological. Eating, computer gaming, exercise, competi-
tive sports, and reading are other examples of activities that provide
pleasure of a nonsexual kind.
To illustrate the difference between sexual and nonsexual pleasure, con-
sider the attorney overflowing with excitement after collecting a huge fee
for services he did not perform. Simply put, he takes pleasure in bilking
his clients. He creates an atmosphere of trust in order to more effectively
exploit them. If all pleasure is sexual, the pleasure he feels must also be
sexual, whether it follows from the fulfillment of a forbidden wish or more
directly from his sense of triumph over castration fears. Is this attorney’s
experience best or fully described in terms of sexual pleasure? Is its sexual
aspect what is most ontologically real and distinctive? One consequence of
answering this question affirmatively is that his experience will be indis-
tinguishable from any other form of pleasure. Framed in these terms,
pleasure by any other name must be sexual pleasure.15 One consequence
of this equivalence, however, is to render unnecessary and uninformative
any further characterization of it as perverse. Why? Because this inference
rests on the interlocking assumptions that (a) human behavior is inher-
ently pleasure-seeking; and (b) all pleasure is sexual in nature. The univer-
sal wish for sexual pleasure is not only motivationally salient, but is also
assumed as true and knowable a priori. For this reason, labeling the attor-
ney’s actions as perverse criticizes rather explains them.
These ideas are further illuminated by considering the circumstances of
a second attorney who honestly earns his fee. He takes pleasure in exercis-
ing legal skills he has cultivated over a professional lifetime. It is in return
for this expertise that he justifies his fees. In contrast to his dishonest col-
league, he takes pleasure in activities linked directly to self-mastery, com-
petence, and self-efficacy. His pleasure is not contingent on exploitation; it
is not a requirement of his satisfaction that it come at the expense of another.
These differences are invisible in a perspective that focuses exclusively on
pleasure. They betoken very different motivations and characters.
In its broadest sense, perversion is discerned only against a back-
ground of limits or norms. It is a complex mental structure involving
 Perversion and Moral Reckoning 67

planning, vigilance, and evaluation. That the agent experiences what he

does with an irresistible urgency, followed by relief when the deed is
done, does not diminish this complexity. Kernberg more specifically re-
gards perversion as unfolding within different levels of personality or-
ganization, which is to say that he envisions perverse trends as continu-
ously modified by moral and reality considerations within personality
as a whole. More than a clinical pathology, perversions reflect the qual-
ity of one’s relationships as well as the strategies relied upon to reduce
inner conflict.

Psychological Rebellion and Diminished Agency

Perversion’s normativity has inspired a trend among analytic theorists to

regard wishes to rebel against and triumph over restraints as motivation-
ally decisive.16 In this interpretation, perverse defenses are not exclusively
denials of castration anxiety, but discount troubling perceptions of all
kinds. Perversion is a protest reflecting a reorganization of desires and
values. It is an especially expedient strategy for the individual who feels
unable to cope with early trauma, misattunement, and coercion perfected
under the guise of idolizing parental love.
Postclassical writers struggle with a broader interpretation of perver-
sion that does not rest upon deviations of infantile sexuality. For example,
Chasseguet-Smirgel argues that perversion originates in anal sadism,
trading metaphorically on the analogy between destructiveness and soil-
ing to support her inference. This perspective posits anal sadistic wishes
as what is most ontologically real in perverse subjectivity. Perverse values
are built upon the foundation of anal sadism; developmental fixation
causes peremptory wishes to soil, harm, and destroy.
However much Chasseguet-Smirgel’s choice of the Marquis de Sade
reinforces the hypothesis that perversion obliterates values, her conclu-
sions rest on what can only be described as an exceptional case. Perver-
sion sometimes involves a wholesale transformation of values, but only
rarely so. Few individuals live their lives in complete opposition to pre-
vailing norms. Rather, similar to the hypocrite, the so-called pervert lives
an outwardly ordinary life, generally conforming to rules, often a reliable
friend and neighbor. His sexual proclivities are private and invisible; they
do not disrupt his thinking or judgment in a general way. Because trans-
gressions are selective, they are easily rationalized, their implications
concealed from the self. To say these meanings are unconscious does not
capture the unique quality of perverse subjectivity in which intentions are
experienced as external to the will. The pervert feels driven to action, a
victim of his desires. Sometimes the pull to action is so irresistible and at
68 Chapter 3

odds with moral valuing that he cannot align what he does with what he
intends and, importantly, with who he experiences himself to be.
Clinically, the externalization of desire betokens dissociation, a coping
mechanism increasing the likelihood of poor decision-making and disas-
trous consequences. Dissociation precludes consideration of alternatives
to transgression and undermines the ability to evaluate their implications,
morally or otherwise. By linking the corruption of values to perverse sce-
narios of early life, Chasseguet-Smirgel also illuminates the dynamics of
hypocrisy in a way that does not necessarily depend on infantile sexuality.
To be sure, Chasseguet-Smirgel privileges the eroticization of early expe-
riences in the perverse turn. But her findings are consistent with an alter-
nate reading in which the child satisfies early attachment needs by dis-
connecting himself from any true or authentic experience of self. Safety
and love are linked to inner loneliness and self-alienation. Increasingly,
the child experiences himself exclusively as an object of parental desire, a
perspective that compromises capacities for mentalization and, accord-
ingly, for relationships with other subjects. “Perversion is an effort to
penetrate, to control . . . yet stay away and not let oneself ever be pene-
trated.”17 Sometimes partially, sometimes symbolically, it resurrects sce-
narios in which inauthenticity, the precursor to transgression, plays a
significant, but disguised role.
Despite its merits, Chasseguet-Smirgel’s account provides only a par-
tial explanation of perversion. There are two primary reasons for this
view. First, because it concerns itself primarily with sadism, Chasseguet-
Smirgel’s account appears most relevant in clinical disorders where ag-
gression is a prominent feature. This is all the more true when aggression
is conscious and observable as opposed to unconscious and inferred. She
provides a less compelling account of homosexuality, for example, and for
nonstandard sexual practices that occur within higher levels of personal-
ity integration and intimate relationships in which boundaries are well-
defined and mutually established. Second, the aggressivity of perversion
may well reflect a nonpathological reaction of individuals who feel they
can never fully be who they are without fear of recrimination. Rather than
caused by anal sadistic wishes, their sexual preferences are interpreted as
aggressive and pathological by the majority uncomfortable with depar-
tures from sexual norms. Following the thinking of Davidson, moral
criticism masquerades as clinical diagnosis. Like the gay football player
described in chapter 1 who hides his sexual preferences from his team-
mates, such individuals are likely to feel resentment as well as fear. Thus,
what has been characterized as eroticized hatred may in fact be an artifact
of a group projective identification that vilifies minority preferences and
places them in an adversarial relationship with the majority. This is not to
say that perversion cannot be pathological—certainly it can be and some-
 Perversion and Moral Reckoning 69

times is. Rather, this argument urges a more restricted definition of per-
version as well as a sharp distinction among the concepts of perversion
proper, perverse trends, perverse defenses, and perversity. To regard non-
standard preferences as transgressive a priori is to moralize them.
Stoller endeavors to rescue the concept of perversion at the clinical level
by noting its rigidity and repetitiveness.18 He argues that these features
are observable in the pervert’s overarching concern with triumphing over
and controlling others. Through projective identification, the pervert
identifies with the response evoked by his coercive efforts, experiencing
them entirely as the other’s own, his involvement in engendering them
jettisoned from awareness, his desire dissociated. The pathological se-
quence begins with intolerable inner tension that is relieved through
various enactments. Bion believes this strategy succeeds only at the ex-
pense of a capacity for normal pleasure experience, undermining the abil-
ity to hold emotional experiences of any kind.19 Because experiences of
pleasure and pain depend equally on the integrity of personality, Bion
reasons that the individual who cannot endure the latter also cannot “suf-
fer” the former.20 These capacities are linked, the former providing a psy-
chological buffer against the latter. Bion thus sees agency compromised
by ego weakness. Perversion conceals in the heat of desire a glance into
the abyss of fear and self-hatred. Dread effectively forecloses meaning
and obliterates, sometimes temporarily, sometimes chronically, any inter-
est in reflection. The pervert is to varying degrees both unable and unwill-
ing to face the truth.

Eroticized Hatred

For Stoller perversions are enactments of revenge that transform child-

hood trauma into triumph. It is not simply that some perversions express
hostility; nor does Stoller confine hostility to those forms that can be con-
sciously known. Rather hostility is a primary motivation, on par with li-
bido and narcissism. He identifies it in a wide range of behaviors and at
various levels of awareness. Sadism’s privileged etiologic role is concep-
tualized in terms of a “triad of hostility: rage at giving up one’s earlier
bliss and identification with mother, fear of not succeeding in escaping out
of her orbit, and a need for revenge for her putting one in this predicament.”21
To repeat, Stoller does not advance the lesser claim that these dynamics
are associated with perversion, but that they instantiate it.
Richards accords a central role to hostility in female perversions as well,
illustrating this thesis through a critical examination of her work with a
college student facing expulsion from her dormitory and school.22 One of
the primary reasons for these threatened disciplinary actions was that the
70 Chapter 3

patient did virtually no school work. She experienced extreme difficulty

completing tasks and unsurprisingly earned poor grades. She endlessly
imposed on her teachers’ kindness, asking for their understanding (and
time extensions), only to miss the newly negotiated deadlines and violate
her agreements. Never did she express remorse.
The patient enraged her roommates by monopolizing the use of a
shared telephone. Unresponsive to their efforts to reach a compromise,
seemingly oblivious to their feelings and concerns, she used the telephone
to call her mother for reassurance and support at all hours of the day and
night. The frequency of her calls and insistence that her mother be avail-
able had the effect of holding the latter hostage. Richards learned that it
was not uncommon during these long phone calls for the urge to urinate
to become painfully disturbing and for the patient to experience the sub-
sequent emptying of her bladder with a sense of intensely pleasurable
relief. Importantly, the patient made no connection between urination and
what Richards surmised was sexual pleasure.
Because the telephone symptoms occurred only with the patient’s
mother, Richards interpreted them as soothing separation fears. Her anxi-
ety was palpable, despite the fact that the actions she engaged in to quell
these feelings were controlling, intrusive, and upsetting to others. To facili-
tate the transference, Richards proposed that the patient call her instead.
She agreed to check her messages once per day. These actions diminished
the frequency of the patient’s calls and conflict with her roommates, but
shed no further light on the symptom and had little impact on her overall
poor functioning. Only several months later did its meaning becomes clear.
Desperate to speak to a female friend, the patient convinced the woman’s
roommate to give her the phone number of the boyfriend with whom the
friend was staying by telling her it was an emergency. She called very late
in the evening, beginning the conversation with her usual complaint of
pain. Incensed by the intrusion, the friend said angrily: “What are you,
some kind of a pervert? You want to get in bed with us, or what?”23 Upon
hearing the comment, the therapist immediately recognized the sexual
pleasure the patient derived from this behavior. From Richards’s perspec-
tive, what made this behavior perverse was not sexual pleasure per se, but
the latter’s link to coercion. Perversion involves taking pleasure in anoth-
er’s suffering. It is inherently sadistic. Eroticized hatred degrades or de-
forms the other and is thus distinguishable from separation anxiety and the
defenses typically deployed to avoid it.24
Like Stoller, Richards regards hostility as central to perversion and links
it to the deceptive (and sometimes dissociated) effort to place the other
under one’s control. Against the view that perverse behavior reflects a
continuation of infantile impulses, Richardson implies that the patient
adjusts her efforts to control the other on the basis of some recognition
 Perversion and Moral Reckoning 71

that overt manipulation will likely lead to detection and resistance. Like
hypocrisy, perverse enactments require evaluation of the other, of social
reality, and careful concealment, all of which must be split off from con-
scious intention. Self-deception increases the likelihood of pathos or at
least creates enough doubt about intentions that abandonment and retri-
bution are forestalled. This does not exclude the possibility that the pa-
tient’s behavior also quiets separation fears.
Transvestism strengthens Stoller’s thesis by reiterating sadism’s central
role. The transvestite controls and manipulates others, albeit by different
means. It proceeds by illusion, creating false impressions in the other’s
mind and appropriating what is created. Coercion deprives the other of
her freedom; in this instance, her freedom to form an accurate and unma-
nipulated perception of the transvestite. The deceiver is empowered at
the other’s expense. Arlow asserts that the pleasure of transvestism con-
sists in uncovering the deception; it is complete only at the moment that
he reveals his true gender to the unsuspecting victim—the other’s dis-
comfiture is its essential feature.25
Kernberg suggests that the patient’s capacity to contain aggression sets
perverse trends apart from frank psychopathology. Containment effec-
tively distinguishes nonstandard (and nonpathological) sexual practices
from perversion proper. At higher (neurotic) levels of personality organi-
zation, he conceptualizes perversion in classical terms as a fixation to
partial drives, a “denial of castration anxiety by means of the enactment
of a pregenital sexual scenario as a defence against oedipal genital
conflicts.”26 Kernberg restricts his definition to enactments involving
sexual practices, thus avoiding confusion of perversion proper with per-
verse defenses. He combines Freud’s two theories of perversion, viewing
it both as a fixation to/continuation of infantile sexuality—what R. Stein
refers to as a “means-ends reversal”27—and as a product of dissociative
defenses against castration anxiety. Potency and sexual maturity activate
castration anxiety because they are experienced as fulfillments of Oedipal
wishes. “All sexual interaction becomes a symbolic enactment of the pri-
mal scene.”28 One is tempted to say that perversion expresses the emo-
tions of fear, shame, and guilt more powerfully than aggression. It is not
incompatible with intimate, monogamous relationships so long as there is
a shared understanding of its limits and boundaries.
When sexual aims and objects are no longer intrinsically linked, the
boundary between normality and perversion becomes ambiguous. Stoller
views all manifestations of hostility as largely equivalent whereas, in neu-
rosis at least, Kernberg believes they are recruited in “the service of love
and eroticism.” At higher levels of personality organization, aggression is
modulated and controlled; it is expressed safely and exclusively within an
atmosphere of intimacy and mutual identification. By contrast, Stoller
72 Chapter 3

does not consider the character or dimensionality of aggression. It is ei-

ther present or absent. Nonaggressive departures from normative sexual-
ity are considered nonperverse “variants” rather than perversions.29

Hostility or Moral Disengagement?

Both Stoller and Richards emphasize the joint operation of aggression and
sexuality in perversion. Although weighting the relative contributions of
these motives differently, each envisions them as mutually influencing,
bringing it about that aggression and harm are experienced as pleasur-
able. They portray the dissociated passion of perversion in terms of con-
flicts among powerful instinctual forces. Chasseguet-Smirgel radicalizes
these views by claiming that the pervert “sets out, consciously or uncon-
sciously, to make a mockery of the law by turning it ‘upside down.’”30 She
describes his deepest ambition as the creation of an “anal universe” that
obliterates all normative values, barriers, and distinctions.31 Destruction is
the foundation upon which he fashions a new and entirely self-serving
moral order. Fantasy and sham replace values that were once grounded
in a natural order and consensually validated norms.
By subverting reality in accordance with desire, the pervert avoids feel-
ing trapped in an unbearably helpless position reminiscent of what was
experienced in his earliest relationships. When desire and fantasy are
unchecked by reality, the felt need for moral reckoning is diminished. The
pervert lashes out in resentment, taking from others what he believes will
not be freely given. He refuses to face the consequences of his actions and
feels justified in his refusal. In this scenario, disavowal no longer defends
exclusively against castration anxiety, but fuels an unrealistic sense of
mastery. “The neurotic attempts conciliation of his being with his seem-
ing, whereas the pervert contents himself with make believe.”32
To say that perversion seeks to reduce the moral order to excrement is to
speak metaphorically. But the metaphor is in some respects quite apt. It
reveals a perverse pact in which the pervert, in concert with attachment
figures, invalidates reality. He creates his own rules “in order to validate
and vindicate their mutual weakness and indulgence.”33 Clearly, reality
cannot be ignored completely. Obliteration of the moral order is impossible;
wholesale denial is approximated only in the most malignant pathologies.
Thus, it is more accurate to regard perversion as preserving morality by
situating itself dialectically in opposition to it. It is unthinkable in the ab-
sence of a moral order. This tension is missed when perversion is aligned
with evil. For Chasseguet-Smirgel, evil is objective and absolute in the sense
that it exists independently of norms or perspectives. However, few indi-
viduals or actions are evil absolutely or to the same degree. The term is
 Perversion and Moral Reckoning 73

typically used to characterize behavior deemed to be morally despicable,

meaning that perverse behavior will change as norms do.34
Jureidini challenges the idea that perversion expresses aggression or
hostility any more than neurosis does, utilizing obsessive compulsive
disorder as an example. Who would argue that obsessive-compulsive
symptoms do not express hostility or express it any less significantly than
perversion? He argues that the concept of eroticized hostility rests on an
overly broad concept of aggression that conflates instances of actual harm
with adaptive behavior. It also confuses interpretations of unconscious
aggression with overtly coercive actions. For example, the child who
tosses her ice cream after being persuaded by her male companion to al-
low him a taste might be described as behaving masochistically. Accord-
ing to Jureidini, however, her action also is interpretable as expressing
“protest at male domination,” problematizing the claim that it is moti-
vated exclusively or predominantly by hostility.35 Jureidini underscores
the importance of attending to the context of behavior and remaining
open to the patient’s perspective and circumstances. What appears to be
sheer destructiveness can conceal higher purposes.
Less visible in psychoanalytic accounts is the role played by moral dis-
engagement, a frequent consequence of dissociation. One acts or refrains
from acting on desires, never feeling obliged to evaluate their right- or
wrongness. To put the matter in a slightly different way, one regards one’s
actions as reflecting nothing more than one’s inclinations or preferences
at a particular point in time. Imagine that Harry wishes to do something
praiseworthy, such as telling the truth. Whenever possible, he wants to
comport himself honestly in his interactions with others. As a partner in
an accounting firm, this inclination generally serves him well and has
earned him the respect of his peers. He is regarded as trustworthy and
dependable. Because of this, a senior partner informs him that his friend
is in danger of being fired. Harry learns about this only because the part-
ner is unaware of the relationship between him and his imperiled friend.
The partner is seeking Harry’s support in the firm’s plan to dismiss him,
wanting to insure that the employee has no legal basis for challenging this
decision. Harry knows this man is the sole wage earner with a wife and
three young children for whom this precipitous firing will be devastating.
Harry considers warning his friend, which would allow him the opportu-
nity to find other employment. But he has no desire to take any risk. In-
terestingly, he is neither risk-avoidant nor fearful; he simply is not in-
clined to take any action. Moreover, since inaction involves him in no
dishonesty, he feels no conflict about his decision. He has no second
thoughts. Whatever discomfort he feels about withholding this informa-
tion when having lunch with his friend or when their families socialize
together is outweighed by his desire for comfort. Shorn of the notions of
74 Chapter 3

commitment and obligation, morality devolves into a hierarchy of prefer-

ences that allow matters of importance to be ignored.
Harry’s moral disengagement is portrayed straightforwardly in this ex-
ample in terms of imperatives indistinguishable from desires. Indeed one
might describe the former as a species of the latter. Harry acts in accordance
with his preferences with minimal concern about the degree to which his
behavior accords with prevailing norms. The issue isn’t his awareness of
norms—he seems to recognize them and how they are interpreted by oth-
ers—but his profound insensitivity to them. He does not model his behav-
ior on what honest or virtuous individuals do in similar circumstances. He
doesn’t care. Stoller, for example, formulates this absence of concern and
insensitivity to norms as an unconscious enactment of a revenge fantasy.
Moral disengagement is thus a by-product of aggressive wishes and efforts
to recreate and triumph over danger. By definition, perversity entails disen-
gagement because it treats others as less than fully human. Stoller empha-
sizes the aggressive aspect of this treatment and the motivational states
underlying it; he does not entertain the notion that moral disengagement
might reflect nonaggressive motives. He does not distinguish between in-
tended/foreseeable consequences and inadvertent ones.
Perversion enlarges the understanding of hypocrisy by demonstrating
how dissociation and moral disengagement undermine moral reckoning.
By discounting normative standards, both facilitate exploitation. Whatever
its motivation, moral disengagement effectively reduces tensions. One need
no longer fear exposure or feel the pain of uncomfortable truths. Perversion
makes it possible to transgress without feeling responsible. Dissociation
and rationalization jointly support a mode of cognition in which moral
authority is diminished. It is perverse in the original sense of the term, truly
a turning away from the good.36 Unlike hatred and hedonism that are emo-
tions of engagement, moral disengagement reflects profound detachment
and a relative absence of human concern. The latter condition is far more
frightening and dangerous. At its extreme, disengagement makes possible
the Nazi atrocities, the slaughters at Darfur, acts of terrorism, and indiffer-
ence to the torture of political detainees. These are not actions carried out
by individuals who are necessarily consumed by hatred. Whatever hatred
they feel is dissociated and reversed. Indeed, the worst atrocities are com-
mitted in the name of love or more simply when individuals simply go
about their “business,” disengaged from the humanity of their victims.

Perverse Object Relationships

Psychoanalytic writers suggest that poorly differentiated and eroticized

mother-child relationships set the stage for the development of adult per-
 Perversion and Moral Reckoning 75

version. Exquisitely sensitive to separation anxiety and fears of abandon-

ment, the pervert-to-be feels safe only in relationships whose boundaries
are ambiguous. Lifelong vulnerability to precipitous abandonment is the
price paid to enjoy the illusion of security. As a child, he was traumatized
by parental abandonment precisely as he reached physical and sexual ma-
turity. Based on historical reconstruction, Stoller concludes that trauma
warps the development of appropriate gender identity and promotes femi-
nine identifications that undermine the male child’s efforts toward auton-
omy. Intense separation anxiety precludes realistic assessment and the es-
tablishment of a reliable representation of the mother, leaving him in a
triangulated situation that reanimates “actual historical sexual trauma
aimed precisely at . . . [his] sex (an anatomical state) or gender identity
(masculinity or femininity).”37 Perversion transforms past trauma into
“pleasure, orgasm, victory.”38 The association of these events is no coinci-
dence. The child’s emerging sexuality precludes healthy separation because
it engenders tension in his mother She no longer feels comfortable continu-
ing the relationship in its previous form. In a perverse, disavowed pact
between mother and child, these experiences catalyze a dynamic of close-
ness, castration/loss, and triumph. Perverse scenarios recreate traumatic
separations and fantasies of undoing them, accomplishing through present
imaginings what was impossible in the reality of the past.
Stoller regards perversion as the quintessential act of revenge against
the abandoning maternal figure. Its success depends upon a sequence in
which danger is first recreated and then undone. Without peril, there is no
sense of triumph or omnipotence in which to dwell. Exhilarating highs
are possible only when threatened by shameful lows. Indeed, the latter
are powerfully motivating. Shame and intolerance of inner tension fuel
hostility, devaluation, and rationalization. For Stoller, revenge, restitution,
and domination all aim at power.
Chasseguet-Smirgel also sees the origins of hostility in the mother-child
relationship and believes perversion re-creates elements of past relation-
ships. However, she notices an aspect of these relationships that in fact
made any resentment of the father unnecessary. In a sense, the child’s
triumph already was complete; his mother gave him every reason to be-
lieve that he satisfied her completely and that he had nothing to fear from
his father so long as he remained a devoted object of her desire. Swept up
in these centrifugal forces, he gradually came to view his father through
his mother’s eyes as weak and inadequate. This perception buttressed his
omnipotence and sense that he could do no wrong. The coexistence of
grandiosity and shame is perversion’s legacy, subverting reliable self-
assessment and inner conviction. The pervert basks in the glow of a fan-
tasy that gratifies incestuous wishes directly, the threat of shame and guilt
temporarily foreclosed.
76 Chapter 3

By extension, Chasseguet-Smirgel suggests that the hypocrite values ac-

tions differently in order to fashion special relationships in the present. The
desire for such relationships is thus accorded great weight. He wants to feel
loved in spite of what he does in the same way he felt loved unconditionally
by his mother. Of course it is only in fantasy that her love was uncondi-
tional, a fantasy that ignores the conditionality of what was offered and the
traumatizing effects of abandonment. He willingly transforms himself
through dissociation into what he believes will secure this feeling, with lit-
tle regard for moral principles. However, rather than claiming that the
hypocrite is amoral, it is more accurate to say that he habitually (and
prereflectively) sacrifices commitments that conflict with his needs for se-
curity and love. Conflicts between what is right and what is necessary or
expedient are reconciled in this way. Hypocrisy, like perversion, provides a
“balm for our wounded narcissism and a means of dissipating our feelings
of smallness and inadequacy.”39 Interestingly, this suggests that the practice
of coexistence embraced by the hypocrite in an effort to avoid suffering
only perpetuates it in the long run. Both the hypocrite and the pervert
achieve temporary relief from inner tension by becoming what, in other
states of mind, they despise. They act from compulsion as much as hubris,
unable to align dissociated aspects of self and the contradictory values of
early family life. However much fraudulence and double standards are re-
grettable, they are experienced as unavoidable.
To repeat, the pervert is acutely aware of the ways in which his values
are neither shared nor shareable. This awareness is necessary in order to
pursue gratification with minimal risk. Pretense and dissimulation are fa-
miliar modalities for the child who has been raised in a morally frag-
mented reality. He notices the mask worn by family members and how
they fail in so many ways to practice what they preach. Father and mother
play stereotypic roles in the presence of others and pay lip service to the
majority view. Yet, the private, unspoken reality of family life is dramati-
cally different. Not only is his mother controlling and dominant, but she is
also openly disparaging of his father. She exposes his impotence and inad-
equacy, his sham role in the family, while simultaneously elevating her
pre-Oedipal child to a vaulted status. His identity increasingly is defined
by their special, pathogenic bond. He is given good reasons to believe he
is the sole source of his mother’s happiness, a fantasy whose validation
requires only allegiance and belief. His pleasure comes at the expense of
his relationship with his father, an irremediably damaged, ineffectual fig-
ure. Because the mother’s perception of the father is taken at face value—
and here one must assume that this perception comports with something
real about the father’s personality—the child does not experience the loss
of relationship with him as significant. Her behavior signals how little
value she places on accuracy and truth. Neither she nor her husband face
 Perversion and Moral Reckoning 77

the disturbing reality of relationship or of their frustrations and disap-

pointments; they convey in so many ways to their son that any such com-
munication is to be avoided and, more troublingly, that truth and reality
can be whatever he wants it to be. An ethic of inauthenticity is established
that is compelling because it diminishes suffering and brings about condi-
tions in which the child never has to face the stark disparities in his experi-
ence. He avoids the anxiety of uncertainty by embracing illusion and de-
ceiving those who would expose its truth. Hypocrisy is a powerful force in
such families. The child learns from the most influential people in his life
that the truth is not fixed and unalterable, but malleable and easily refash-
ioned to accommodate uncomfortable discontinuities in experience. Be-
lieving himself to be special and unconstrained by rules sets the stage for
disconnecting what he says from what he is obliged to do.
Khan eloquently develops this point: “The child very early on begins
to sense that what the mother cathects and invests in is at once some-
thing very special in him and yet not him as a whole person. The child
learns to tolerate this dissociation in his experience of self and gradually
turns the mother into his accomplice in maintaining this special created-
object. . . . The child internalizes this idolized self that was the mother’s
created-thing.”40
With regard to perverse actions, he suggests that what is enacted is “a
very special type of early relationship from childhood. This relationship,
in spite of all the overt and ecstatic awareness of what they were doing,
was hidden from the patient himself, and it in essence was a repetition of
the mother’s idolization of the infant-child as her created-object, which
the child had internalized and hidden.”41
Khan elaborates the warping process that causes the child to experience
his true or constitutional self as less real than the one imposed upon him.
Authentic self-experience is rendered ambiguous, containing dissociated
oppositions that are not consensually validated. Khan portrays the indi-
vidual as profoundly alienated from who he is, experiencing an unbridge-
able chasm between self and role. Continuity of maternal care, if not his
very survival, depends on the adoption of a false self. The mother’s idol-
ization of him treats him like a thing rather than an individual worthy of
respect for who he authentically is. Via projective identification, he is co-
erced into a identifying with parental projections, molding himself liter-
ally into an object of the mother’s desire to insure his emotional survival.
Penney formulates this dynamic in a way that applies to both hypocrite
and pervert: “He experiences his own activity as a compliant response to
the Other’s demand. In this sense, the pervert is anything but an agent:
His ethically questionable activities are undertaken on behalf of the
Other; in other words, the pervert responds to an unconditional impera-
tive to execute what for him is his victim/partner’s sovereign will.”42
78 Chapter 3

The instability of this identity is not to be confused with the disparities

commonly observed among the various roles of father, son, friend, em-
ployee, and so on. Instead, idolization sunders vital aspects of self from
the rest of personality. The wish to recreate this special bond is dissoci-
ated; rarely is it known directly or fully. So long as it remains unrecog-
nized, it cannot be mourned. This relationship remains “private, secretive
and something very special between the two persons concerned”43—it is
ritualistic, reparative, and tacitly accepted by both parties.
Were Khan to have left the matter here, his lasting contribution to the
understanding of perversion and hypocrisy would be secure. But he no-
tices in addition that the child is neither a passive nor innocent by-stander
in the process who simply takes on the role assigned to him. Rather, to
emphasize what was quoted above, he “learns to tolerate” this duality of
self and role, of true and false self, in such a way that he “turns the mother
into his accomplice.” Thus, Khan also notices that the child makes a virtue
of necessity by adopting the idolized role offered and, in so doing, pro-
vides a framework within which psychoanalysts can more clearly formu-
late a vision of agency. This idea is critical to articulating the ambiguous
frame in which hypocrisy unfolds, always reflecting something both im-
posed and freely created.
More than instinctual gratification or destruction of the natural moral
order, perversion aims at recreating relationships that have been lost and
are continually yearned for. To be sure, enactment of these scenarios pro-
duces a modicum of pleasure. But, Khan suggests that its sexual aspect is
probably secondary. Perverse scenarios often are not experienced as plea-
surable, but instead provide reassurance and relief deeply linked to am-
bivalence and shame. Dissociation staves off privation at the expense of
vital aspects of the developing personality and of the capacity for moral
reckoning. Relinquished in particular are potential identities that might
have been encouraged and cultivated. One imagines that the identity im-
posed corresponds to something real within the child, however much it is
influenced by the other. Complete disregard for the child’s personality
and reactions would likely result in psychosis. Sadly, this correspondence
provides fertile soil in which the affects of shame and guilt can grow.
False-self-relating always depends on a degree of truth, on connection to
partial as well as disavowed elements of self that are experienced as the
totality of personal identity.
Dehumanization is an unfortunate consequence of the patient’s alien-
ation from his true self. This insight casts the psychoanalytic emphasis
on the foundational role of hostility in a different light, making its link
to drive experience somewhat less salient for hypocrisy. Perversion
draws attention to the shaping influence of early relationships on pres-
ent ones and to dissociation’s role in foreclosing opportunities to mourn
 Perversion and Moral Reckoning 79

the loss of special, tantalizing, attachment bonds. The effect of this fore-
closure is to lock the individual into a pattern of self-destructive behav-
ior resulting in further shame and self-hatred. Khan’s perspective trans-
lates well to the study of moral hypocrisy because it emphasizes the
child’s need to be loved for the person he is rather than for the mask he
wears. At a deeper level, it speaks to the profound hopelessness he feels
about finding the unconditional love he so desperately seeks. To be true
to oneself means knowing and taking responsibility for what lurks be-
neath the mask—a possibility neither the pervert nor the hypocrite will-
ingly risks. The prospect of revealing what is hidden is unbearable. At
higher levels of personality organization, neither hypocrisy nor per-
verse defenses preclude sustained, intimate relationships. Some indi-
viduals lead productive as well as creative lives, deeply engaged with
their families and with the concerns of their communities. Yet, in cir-
cumscribed areas of their lives, these same individuals may violate
standards, traverse boundaries, and break rules. Having learned to dis-
engage from vital aspects of personal identity makes disengagement
from others and from moral principles a kind of default position, one
the hypocrite all-too-easily assumes. Intimacy in particular threatens
discovery, the most dreaded of all possibilities. Better to remain hidden
and loved than fully known and abandoned.

Notes

  1.  The connection between innate dispositions and moral content is no more
than remote at best. This assertion is readily apparent when one examines in-
stances of prosocial behavior at the individual level. For example, while it is true
that cooperation trumps noncooperation, it is not clear that my support of a city
task force dedicated to beautifying New York City advantages anyone from the
standpoint of adaptation. This is the case with many moralities, be they concerned
primarily with religion, etiquette, fashion, and other human practices. Rather than
regrettable, however, the lack of objective reasons for such preferences is precisely
why all points of view are to be respected.
  2.  Ruth Stein, “Why Perversion? ‘False Love’ and the Perverse Pact,” Interna-
tional Journal of Psycho-Analysis 86 (2005): 775–99.
  3.  Sigmund Freud, “Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality,” in Standard Edi-
tion (1905), 7:148.
  4.  This point is made cogently, although in different ways, by Arnold David-
son in The Emergence of Sexuality: Historical Epistemology and the Formation of Con-
cepts (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001), chapters 2 and 3; and
Dani Noblus, “Locating Perversion, Dislocating Psychoanalysis,” in Perversion:
Psychoanalytic Perspectives, Perspectives on Psychoanalysis, ed. Dani Noblus and Lisa
Downing (New York: Karnac, 2006), 13–18.
  5.  Freud, “Three Essays,” 161.
80 Chapter 3

  6.  This is not to say that rigidity in heterosexual practices is not problematic or
indicative of sexual dysfunction. However, when involving practices that are con-
sensual and confined to monogamous relationships, it rarely raises the question
of perversion.
  7.  Robert Solomon, Living with Nietzsche: What the Great “Immoralist” Has to
Teach Us (New York: Oxford, 2003), 48.
  8.  This fact is key to Alfred R. Mele’s point that “possessing a body of evidence
that provides greater warrant for ~p than for p should not be confused with be-
lieving that ~p.” What we believe is not always the same as what is warranted by
the evidence. In A. Mele, Self-Deception Unmasked (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Uni-
versity Press, 2001), 77.
  9.  Sigmund Freud, “Analysis of a Phobia in a Five-Year-Old Boy,” in Standard
Edition (1909).
10.  Sigmund Freud, “Fetishism,” in Standard Edition (1927), 21:154.
11.  This issue was discussed in chapter 2.
12.  Lee Grossman, “‘Psychic Reality’ and Reality Testing in the Analysis of
Perverse Defences,” International Journal of Psycho-Analysis 77 (1996): 509–17.
13.  Jon Jureidini, “Perversion: Erotic Form of Hatred or Exciting Avoidance of
Reality?” Journal of the American Academy of Psychoanalysis 29 (2001): 195–211.
14.  As used in this context, dissociation refers to a focusing of perception and
intensification of imaginative absorption.
15.  In fact, one can validly draw this conclusion, modus ponens, from these
premises.
16.  The two principal proponents of this view are Janine Chasseguet-Smirgel,
as argued in her monograph entitled Creativity and Perversion (New York: Norton,
1984), and Robert J. Stoller, in his classic study Perversion: The Erotic Form of Hatred
(New York: Pantheon, 1975).
17.  Stein, “Why Perversion?” 790.
18.  Stoller, Perversion.
19.  Wilfred R. Bion, Attention and Interpretation: A Scientific Approach to Insight in
Psycho-Analysis and Groups (London: Heinemann, 1970). Bion takes issue with a
concept of pleasure that is linked to the discharge of excessive excitations. While
it is certainly true that ridding oneself of unmetabolized tension is somewhat re-
lieving, Bion holds that pleasure experience depends on the capacity for relation-
ships with others as well as with aspects of oneself in spontaneous, creative, or,
minimally, nonrobotic ways. Tension-reduction speaks primarily to avoidance of
human contact.
20.  Bion, Attention and Interpretation, 9.
21.  Stoller, Perversion, 99.
22.  Arlene K. Richards, “A Romance with Pain: A Telephone Perversion in a
Woman?” International Journal of Psychoanalysis 70 (1989): 153–64.
23.  Richards, “Romance with Pain,” 153.
24.  Stoller, Perversion.
25.  This perspective ignores the plight of the transsexual who experiences him-
or herself as differently gendered and who therefore dresses not primarily to de-
ceive others, but to comport him- or herself in a way that feels more consistent
with identity.
 Perversion and Moral Reckoning 81

26.  Otto Kernberg, “Perversion, Perversity and Normality: Diagnostic and

Therapeutic Considerations,” in Perversion: Psychoanalytic Perspectives, Perspectives
on Psychoanalysis, ed. Dani Noblus and Lisa Downing (New York: Karnac, 2006),
22.
27.  Stein, “Why Perversion?” 781.
28.  Kernberg, “Perversion, Perversity,” 23.
29.  Stoller, Perversion, 3. This is yet another reason for distinguishing Stoller’s
from Chasseguet-Smirgel’s view. Although both emphasize hostility and sadism,
Stoller entertains the possibility of nonperverse variations in which aggression
plays no primary role.
30.  Chasseguet-Smirgel, Creativity and Perversion, 10.
31.  Chasseguet-Smirgel, Creativity and Perversion, 11.
32.  Chasseguet-Smirgel, Creativity and Perversion, 34.
33.  Stein, “Why Perversion?” 792.
34.  Richard Joyce, The Myth of Morality (Cambridge, MA: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, 2001), 26.
35.  Jureidini, “Perversion,” 203.
36.  A. Davidson is concerned with the consequences of treating perversion as a
“free-standing concept” (p. 181), by which he means regarding it as something
existing apart from the cultural-historical discourse that creates it. Developing a
line of thinking inaugurated by Foucault, Davidson argues that the concept of
perversion enjoyed no special connection to sexuality prior to the mid-nineteenth
century. To support this thesis, he examines the term’s usage in the work of Au-
gustine where it described intentional acts of evil and departures from the good,
marking a literal turning away from God. Davidson’s exegesis reveals “pervert”
to be an antonym for “convert.” The convert moves toward God, adopting reli-
gious beliefs he did not hold before; the pervert moves in a contrary direction.
Davidson also notices that “perverse,” “perversely,” and “to pervert” (the adjecti-
val, adverbial, and verb forms of perversion respectively) were used far more
frequently than its noun form. Only in the mid-nineteenth century does its mean-
ing change from something one does to something one is. Davidson concludes
that the noun “pervert” was appropriated by the Victorian medico-psychiatric
community in an effort to unify understanding of deviant sexual acts. In so doing,
he claims, a new social role, character type, and identity were created. For a more
detailed discussion of this point, the reader is referred to Arnold I. Davidson, The
Emergence of Sexuality. Historical Epistemology and the Formation of Concepts (Cam-
bridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001).
37.  Stoller, Perversion, 6.
38.  Stoller, Perversion, 6.
39.  Chasseguet-Smirgel, Creativity and Perversion, 24.
40.  Masud M. R. Khan, Alienation in Perversions (New York: International Uni-
versities Press, 1979), 13.
41.  Khan, Alienation in Perversions, 14.
42.  James Penney, The World of Perversion: Psychoanalysis and the Impossible Abso-
lute of Desire (Albany: SUNY, 2006), 21.
43.  Khan, Alienation in Perversions, 14.
 II

The Ethics of
Inauthenticity
 4

Compromises of Integrity

I n his 1974 outgoing presidential address to the 28th International Psy-

cho-Analytical Congress in Paris, Rangell described a syndrome encom-
passing qualitative and quantitative deviations in the ethical sphere.1 The
syndrome of Compromises of Integrity (Cs of I) collected under one ru-
bric variations in moral valuing as diverse as double standards and overt
criminality. According to Rangell, Cs of I are observed within virtually all
diagnoses and levels of personality organization.
The concept of Cs of I emerged from Rangell’s longstanding interest in
group psychology as well as from his observations of the conduct of the
Nixon administration and of his colleagues during his tenure within the
highest offices of organized psychoanalysis. The resulting synthesis re-
vealed stark disparities between public and private life, between what
was said and done. Critical to Cs of I was the impact of group dynamics
on personality development and individual decision-making. It is cer-
tainly true that Freud legitimized the study of group behavior, emphasiz-
ing its continuity with the psychodynamics uncovered via the psychoana-
lytic method. He identified in group behavior the same conflicts,
identifications, and defenses observed intrapsychically. By contrast,
Rangell noticed the profound and continuous impact of group dynamics
on personality as a whole, especially in the ethical sphere. His exegesis of
sociocultural influences aimed at deepening understanding of the indi-
vidual mind. This was a novel and controversial approach in 1974. With
the influence of ego psychology at its zenith, Rangell ingeniously incorpo-
rated into Freud’s structural model external influences long regarded as
the exclusive province of the neo-Freudians. He reinvigorated the study

85
86 Chapter 4

of the superego by challenging the widely held assumption that the deci-
sive battles of moral life were concluded during the Oedipal phase. He
remains one of the original and most outspoken proponents of the idea
that morality remains open to influence throughout the lifespan.
This chapter examines in detail what is perhaps the most significant
psychoanalytic contribution to understanding hypocrisy. The syndrome of
Cs of I provides the first systematic treatment of nonpsychopathic trans-
gression, rivaled only by the subsequent contributions of Kernberg. Key to
understanding this syndrome is the notion of unconscious compromise,
which, according to Rangell, is no different psychologically or structurally
from what transpires in neurosis. Both are products of dynamic conflict.
Unique about Cs of I is that they reflect intersystemic compromises be-
tween ego-interests and superego as well intrasystemic negotiation among
conflicting superego imperatives.2 In essence, Cs of I and hypocrisy repre-
sent failures of restraint rather than pathologies of desire. They suggest that
to act immorally is to give in to temptation; transgression occurs when the
pressure of wishes and self-interests diminish the trump status of moral
values. Rangell’s formulation resonates deeply with Aristotle’s concept of
akrasia.3 However, in addition to the idea that hypocritical action betokens
weakness of will, Cs of I explain the loss of inhibitory control by reference
to identifications with corrupt authority figures. Thus, the path to hypoc-
risy is largely preordained or, at least, ready at hand. Jointly, these two
ideas form the basis of a comprehensive account, one that requires only the
additional recognition of opportunity and the broader influences of the
field for full contextualization.

Background Concepts

Psychoanalysis’s preoccupation with the excesses of conscience follows

logically from its understanding of the instincts as unalterable and consti-
tutive of what it is to be human. A keen observer of human nature, Freud
noticed the paralyzing effects of guilt on his patients. He regarded the
capacity for renunciation as what was best and highest in man, while re-
maining sensitive to the suffering it produced. His vision rested on the
centrality of conflict, on the antinomy between the ineradicable forces of
instinct and the repressive forces of civilization, both irrational and un-
conscious. Guilt was mitigated only by rational compromise; only through
it is some degree of pleasure possible, albeit fleeting, unstable, and dis-
guised. Ultimately, the demands of conscience, like the instincts, can at
best be appeased.
Presenting material from his work with a young man who had com-
mitted a variety of offenses over a period of many years, Abraham was
 Compromises of Integrity 87

the first analyst to address the phenomenon of imposture.4 Consistent

with Freud’s early view of psychopathy, he explained this man’s dis-
social behavior in terms of narcissism.5 Abraham hypothesized that his
transgressions were the outward expression of a literal withdrawal of
libido from the world and from relationships in response to early priva-
tions. One consequence of this withdrawal was a heightened sense of
self-worth and importance. Abraham conceptualized the psychological
disengagement and animosity he observed in this patient as resulting
from the backward flow of libido.6 For Abraham, the “backward-flow-
ing narcissistic cathexis of the ego . . . [and] strong attitude of hatred
toward his objects” also explained the individual’s vulnerability to
moral transgression.7
Abraham thus responded to the question of why a bright, capable indi-
vidual behaves duplicitously by arguing that his successes activate strong
unconscious guilt. On the one hand, the narcissistically damaged indi-
vidual is devastated by traumatic loss and privation. Ordinary successes
are unavailing to the efforts to reconstitute his grandiose self because they
fail to establish his worth unequivocally. His ambitions are compensatory
and unrealistic; they reflect efforts to regain past glory or recreate missed
opportunities. On the other hand, success awakens unconscious guilt be-
cause the impostor fundamentally feels undeserving. He is thus driven
unconsciously to undo his successes by taking increasingly greater risks.
So clearly self-defeating, recklessness unconsciously offers an effective
means of satisfying his needs for triumph and revenge. The “compulsion
to repeat” expresses not only aggression, but also ambivalence; it is
deeply connected to Oedipal conflict and infantile sexuality.8
Deutsch and Greenacre expanded on Abraham’s ideas in a way that
anticipated Rangell’s syndrome of Cs of I.9 Greenacre emphasized “the
intense and circumscribed disturbance of the sense of identity, a kind of
infarction in the sense of reality . . . [and] a malformation of the superego
involving both conscience and ideals.”10 Both regarded the impostor as
seeking to enhance his status deceptively, establishing an identity in outer
reality strongly disconfirmed by the person he experienced himself to be.
Following Abraham, they regarded the desired identity as compensatory
and therefore guilt-inducing. Deutsch and Greenacre thus identified dual
motives operating in imposture and antisocial behavior: the wish to create
an identity that covers over perceived defects and a need to be punished
for success.11 Although successes achieved via deception are not experi-
enced as fully real, the impostor retains the capacity to test reality and to
notice differences between what is wished for and who he is. Successes
never satisfy yearnings for accomplishment and especially for recogni-
tion; they fuel ambivalence and guilt. One way to interpret the impostor’s
hostile, asocial, and self-defeating behavior is as an effort to assuage guilt
88 Chapter 4

through the unconscious orchestration of punishment. In this view, the

threat of detection is necessary for maintaining dissociation of the true
self. Deutsch elaborates this idea in the following way:

The pathological impostor endeavors to eliminate the friction between his

pathologically exaggerated ego ideal and the other, devaluated, inferior,
guilt-laden part of his ego, in a manner which is characteristic for him: he
behaves as if his ego ideal were identical with himself; and he expects every-
one else to acknowledge this status. If the inner voice of his devaluated ego
on the one hand, and the reactions of the outside world on the other hand,
remind him of the unreality of his ego ideal, he still clings to this narcissistic
position. He desperately tries—through pretending and under cover of
someone else’s name—to maintain his ego ideal, to force it upon the world,
so to speak.12

The impostor cannot accept who he is, nor can he delete those aspects
of self he wishes to disavow. The tension between real and ideal, true and
false selves fuels the imposturous dynamic. Deutsch thus shares Bruns-
wick’s view of denial’s primacy, expanding its scope beyond the dis-
avowal of castration anxiety.13 Immoral action follows from psychological
structures and patterns of defense fashioned in response to early trauma.
Deutsch’s “as if” personality more directly foreshadows Rangell’s em-
phasis on the role of enduring values in mental life and the latter’s vulner-
ability to compromise.14 She describes the individual who adopts the
personality traits of those around him, substituting significant aspects of
other identities for his own. In this sense, imposture is motivated by
wishes to avoid the anxiety of self-experience, of recognizing himself as a
separate and distinct individual by hiding in the reflected image of the
other. Deutsch understands what transpires intrapsychically as the use of
reality as a defense, interestingly expanding upon its classical formula-
tion.15 Even more forcefully than Abraham, she identifies a defensive
process in which the individual disengages from the world and from the
true self by selectively incorporating a socially determined role, thus re-
ducing his “apparently normal relationship to the world . . . [to an] iden-
tification with the environment, a mimicry which results in an ostensibly
good adaption.”16 To repeat, he takes take on others’ values and charac-
teristics without integration; personal identity mimics what he perceives
as desirable and valued. He is dangerously vulnerable to influence, an
idea that will play a central role in Rangell’s thinking about the superego
and Cs of I. It also is an idea that weakens the links between antisocial
action and unconscious aggression by aligning some forms of deception
with anxiety avoidance. Most important, Rangell recognizes the vital role
of identifications with influential role models in individuals lacking an
integrated self. With regard to behavior, self-control and restraint simi-
 Compromises of Integrity 89

larly reflect these identifications. With so “little contact between the ego
and superego . . . the scene of all conflicts remains external, like the child
for whom everything can proceed without friction if it but obey.”17 The
role of values and integrity is thus diminished.
In the years immediately following Freud’s death, psychoanalytic
thinking about the superego and its relationship to antisocial behavior
changed dramatically. Without a doubt, the relationship between psy-
chopathy and the capacity for guilt were regarded as negatively corre-
lated. But the distance between the two was rapidly contracting. Al-
though this rendered the psychopath’s actions no less deviant, it
humanized his transgressions by linking them to universal wishes and
conflicts. These pioneering analysts formulated dissocial behavior as
compensatory, specifically as motivated by unconscious guilt on the ba-
sis of their clinical observation in which both enjoyed a reliable associa-
tion with punishment.
To claim that immoral actions are motivated by unconscious wishes is
one thing; linking revenge or behaviors eliciting punishment to uncon-
scious guilt is another. To appreciate the complexity of this inference, it is
useful to contrast revenge and guilt. Revenge is a mental state implicating
a sense of injustice and resentment so powerful that it leads to violence
(symbolic or real) unless interrupted in some way. It expresses the ethos
of “an eye for an eye.” By contrast, in guilt, one feels consciously or un-
consciously deserving of punishment. More than believing transgressions
will elicit condemnation or punishment, one believes that one has done
something wrong or deviated from established rules or standards. Guilt
reflects one’s recognition of the binding authority of these rules and a
willingness to hold oneself accountable for violating them. The motives
for revenge are externalized and require no such self-scrutiny; revenge
flourishes under conditions of perceived injustice.
On their face, revenge and hostility are understandable entirely in
terms of narcissism. It is unnecessary to invoke guilt, conscious or other-
wise, to explain them. Why, then, do Freud’s successors accord it a central
role? One explanation is that the concept of unconscious guilt makes it
easier to explain the self-defeating nature of imposture, hypocrisy, and
psychopathy. It avoids having to explain why behavior destined, if not
designed, for facile detection is not better understood as an unintended
consequence of the agent’s narcissism and reliance on dissociative de-
fenses. In other words, what appears from a third-person perspective as
unconsciously motivated may be nothing more than a likely consequence
of impulsivity and grandiosity. Inaccurate self-assessment and reckless-
ness increase the probability of an untoward outcome, even in the absence
of a wish to be punished. In short, a repression-based model seems to re-
quire the idea of an unconscious guilt. More precisely, it requires one to
90 Chapter 4

know (unconsciously) what the outcome will be and self-deceptively to

desire it and endeavor to bring it about. A dissociative model imposes no
such requirement; to the extent that negative outcomes are anticipated,
they are discounted pre-reflectively.

Heinz Hartmann and Value Testing

Hartmann’s 1960 monograph entitled Psychoanalysis and Moral Values di-

rectly anticipates the conceptual model underlying Cs of I.18 In it, he ar-
gues that morality is inherently unstable despite the fact that it originates
in the imperatives and ideals of the parent-child relationship. Hartmann
did not dispute the idea of the superego’s vulnerability to the instincts so
much as he emphasized the former’s loosely integrated and conflicted
composition. “Contradictions between different imperatives, duties and
ideals” are inevitable and thus worthy of consideration in their own
right.19 Attention to this variability led him to formulate moral stability in
terms of four key clinical findings: (a) the concordance between individ-
ual beliefs and accepted moral standards; (b) the extent to which these
standards are practiced; (c) the capacity to resist corrupting influences;
and (d) the degree to which moral principles are employed in the evalua-
tion of social reality and in practical judgments. Simply put, Hartmann
focused on the degree to which individual morality exhibited autonomy
from its original sources, an idea that Kernberg would later systematize
in his concept of superego integration.20
Hartmann was impressed with the changes in inner morality subse-
quent to the resolution of the Oedipus complex, a process he described
as a “transvaluation of moral values.”21 Transvaluation meant that mo-
rality mimicked internalized parental or cultural values only superfi-
cially. Much more important was the formalization, generalization, and
integration of values into a system that accorded with other beliefs and
with the rest of personality. From the standpoint of the structural model
with which Hartmann was most concerned, moral valuation could not
be explained by reference to superego functions alone because it de-
pended upon reason, rationality, and accurate assessment of reality.
Ethical life involved the ego, the sole agency of the mind capable of
compromise. In what appears to the contemporary reader as a common-
sense view, Hartmann offered a highly original, purely psychoanalytic
concept of agency that privileged the individual’s reworking of various
influences, anxieties, and within a broader, more coherent, and distinc-
tively moral framework.
Freud of course had spoken of ego-instincts prior to promulgating his
dual instinct theory. But he regarded the ego’s primary task as fashioning
 Compromises of Integrity 91

compromises between the demands of instinct and of morality. Hartmann

recognized that morality possessed a far more complex structure. Rangell
articulated this insight in the following way: “In the neuroses the id is
sacrificed; in psychosis, reality; in Cs of I, the superego gives. In some
outcomes, the ego denies or postpones its own interests. This may be in
the service of, or counter to, adaptation.”22 By developing and extending
Hartmann’s ideas, Rangell not only distinguished moral valuing from
what is useful, adaptive, and advantageous, but also described how the
(moral) inhibition of ego-interests inspires conflict.
Hartmann recognized that expanding the concept of reality-testing
along the lines proposed by Deutsch and Greenacre failed to do justice to
the challenges each individual faces in moral decision-making. He
alighted on this conclusion because he believed there was no objective
way to determine the right- or wrong-ness of values. Hartmann turned to
the concept of authenticity to ground moral valuation, believing it could
be defined in terms of the continuity between personal values and pre-
vailing norms and standards. Although the latter were identical, he ar-
gued that authenticity reflected a unique form of self-assessment when
articulated in this way, one he termed “value testing.”23 Value testing was
not primarily a matter of accurately assessing what was real or could be
verified independently of beliefs, but of determining which values carried
weight in one’s deliberations. Hartmann distinguished the capacity to
recognize normative standards from their actual use in private decision-
making, thus legitimating the psychological study of moral reckoning.

What Are Cs of I?

Rangell’s syndrome of Cs of I extends and systematizes the insights of his

psychoanalytic predecessors. It may be helpful to begin with what Rangell
omits from the syndrome of Cs of I. He provides no objective ranking of
values, nor does he explain the origins of or reasons for prevailing norms.
His approach is not genealogical; neither is it consequentialist in that it
does not judge integrity solely on the basis of behavior. Instead, Rangell
examines how and why certain values carry weight; he focuses on the
beliefs to which they are linked and the reasons they provide for thinking
and acting as one does. He does not exclude the importance of one’s ac-
tions in ethical matters, but emphasizes the intrapsychic conditions shap-
ing them and thus the nature or quality of individual character. Whether
moral or overtly criminal, behavior is determined and appropriately
evaluated only in light of its various psychological motivations.
Cs of I are first and foremost products of unconscious conflict. They are
observed in behaviors as diverse as lying, cheating, stealing, and other
92 Chapter 4

forms of deception in which others are exploited for personal gain. Rather
than exceptional or rare, they are familiar variations recognizable in ev-
eryday life. The unfaithful spouse, the hypocrite, the deceptive salesper-
son, the attorney who interprets permissibility (and the good) with what
is not legally prohibited, all are instances of this syndrome. Their behav-
ior, attitudes, and character traits fall along a continuum of eroded values
characterized by double standards, inauthenticity, and disparities be-
tween public comportment and private morality. Just as pathology spans
a continuum from neurosis to psychosis, so it varies from normality
through Cs of I to psychopathy. What sets the syndrome of Cs of I apart
from neurosis? According to Rangell, its defining feature is the absence of
anxiety and relative comfort with breaches of duty. In neurosis, repression
reigns supreme, constraining desire and prompting compromises among
forces that cannot be eradicated. The individual whose integrity is com-
promised is less troubled by disparities between beliefs and deeds. When
impulses arise, they are acted on despite the interdictions of conscience.
Cs of I reflect conflicts between the ego and a weakened superego, advan-
taging expediency and self-interest. In ideal circumstances, expediency is
sacrificed out of concern for others, perhaps for what is right or just, be-
cause one weighs the relative importance of practical considerations dif-
ferently. By contrast, a weakened superego increases the likelihood that
prohibitions and restraints will be relaxed. Rangell does not condemn
such decisions so much as he points out that, first, they reflect compro-
mises among competing forces and, second, they may be evaluated differ-
ently depending on whether they are examined from the perspective of
the ego or the superego. In the spirit of perspectivism, Cs of I “no more
connote criminality than neuroses connote psychoses, nor are any of them
incompatible with normal behavior.”24 Their motives are synonymous
with unconscious motivation more generally.
Cs of I recall the Greek concept of akrasia or weakness of will. Akrasia as
a phenomenon rests on three interlocking premises: (a) one knows the
right thing to do, an awareness that betokens sensitivity to norms; (b) one
desires to do what one judges to be right; and (c) despite these consider-
ations, one acts otherwise.25 Clinically, akrasia is a failure to persevere or
stand firm in the face of temptation. It is a failure of commitment rather
than evidence of corrupted morality. In fact, for Aristotle, akrasia explicitly
excludes the latter.26 Self-indulgence, for example, involves engaging in
pleasurable activities rather than taking pleasure in the pursuit of proper
purposes or ends. The self-indulgent man is led astray by pleasure and
comes to believe that what gives him pleasure is synonymous with good.
By contrast, the akrates “temporarily forgets his knowledge of what is
good because he has put himself in a situation and in a condition in which
his perceptions of pleasure are so affected that he acts from his reactions
 Compromises of Integrity 93

(pathe) rather than from his knowledge.”27 In the language of Freud’s

structural model, one might describe what transpires as a symptom of ego
weakness that undermines moral deliberation and diminishes the likeli-
hood of moral action. This is brought about in much the same way that a
faulty resistor fails to interrupt the flow of electrical current. Psychologi-
cally, it creates unbearable tension and anxiety. It is unimportant whether
discomfort is intrinsically moral in origin; what matters is that discharge
is obligatory. Cs of I highlight failures of restraint rather than pathologies
of desire.
Rangell portrays the ego as relinquishing control over one set of aims
when it cannot mediate effectively between the forces of morality and
self-interest. He emphasizes failures on the executive side of psychic con-
flict in accordance with the classical idea that desire is unalterable. Al-
though not differentiating among levels of personality organization,
Rangell regards Cs of I as dimensional, which is to say, observable across
the entire spectrum of diagnoses and personality types. Clinically, they
are rarely observed in individuals with developed capacities for anxiety/
frustration tolerance or for restraint. They flourish when sublimatory
channels are diminished. Inconsistency among moral standards makes
conformity a matter of preference and permits dramatic differences be-
tween what is said and done. Because it can neither inhibit nor delay, an
enfeebled ego cannot resist the pull toward transgression. Yet, intention
and agency are rarely obliterated. Rather, the individual acts with a sense
that he cannot do otherwise.
When immoral actions result from the inability to resist, they are un-
linked from beliefs about right and wrong. Sometimes they occur despite
clear recognition of their wrongness and of the obligatoriness of moral
standards. Simply put, their authority is not recognized at this moment or
in this particular situation. They enjoy no trump status. Moral consider-
ations do not arise in deliberations when the ego is weakened or over-
whelmed by anxiety. One is likely to feel that one has no choice, that one
literally cannot help oneself. Subjectively one feels compelled to act, an
experience Rangell conceptualizes as a compromise balancing an array of
conscious and unconscious aims. Rarely is one completely unaware of
relevant moral considerations; problems arise because the latter are dis-
sociated. Integrity betokens the rational organization of choices and com-
promises achieved only when they can be held simultaneously in mind.

Brief Clinical Illustration

Vincent is a bright, talented, academically unmotivated sixteen-year-old

student. He puts forth minimal effort in his studies, completing only what
94 Chapter 4

is absolutely required. This is so even under pressure from parents and

teachers. His inconsistency and lack of commitment force his parents to
monitor his efforts very closely. They check his homework each evening,
a process that is stressful and often acrimonious. Most concerning is the
effect that Vincent’s irresponsibility has had on his relationships with his
parents. Once very close and characterized by mutual trust, the relation-
ship has deteriorated into one of suspicion. He is questioned each evening
about his work and his statements are carefully vetted by comparing
them to what is recorded in his assignment book and with postings on the
school’s website.
One evening Vincent’s parents discover an uncompleted writing as-
signment that will determine whether he passes a class for the semester.
When questioned, he claims that he wrote the essay during a free period
at school. His parents put little stock in this response, having heard it
many times before. Their suspicions are confirmed when he cannot pro-
duce the essay. In the argument that ensues, Vincent says that the assign-
ment as well as homework in general is pointless. School is just a waste of
time and, if he had any choice in the matter, he would have none of it. To
emphasize these points, he adds that his teachers rarely check the assign-
ments anyway. Recognizing that this line of argument is only provoking
his parents further, he shifts to a more conciliatory stance in order to fore-
stall punishment and gets to work on the essay. He apologizes and says
he will complete it immediately. He toils over the essay, presenting the
finished product to his parents at the end of the evening. The piece ap-
pears surprisingly thorough and well-written, a testimony to what Vin-
cent is capable of when he finally buckles down and engages. Or so his
parents believe. Vincent and his parents speak about their dislike of quar-
reling and how easily arguments could be avoided if he handled his work
more responsibly. His parents are relieved. What they do not know is that
Vincent has plagiarized the essay, cutting and pasting it from several ar-
ticles he found on the Internet.
Two separate issues emerge in Vincent’s treatment with regard to this
incident. The first pertains to his avoidant, quietly oppositional stance;
the second is specific to the plagiarism itself. With regard to the first, Vin-
cent conveys a genuine understanding of his responsibilities, both aca-
demic and personal. There is no confusion about the source and reality of
school requirements, nor of the likely consequences of failing to fulfill
them. Despite this clear assessment, he experiences these requirements as
unfairly imposed. It is as if what he knows to be the case is at times psy-
chologically unavailable to him. When upset or angry, his judgment and
behavior deviate considerably from what is normal for him. He explains
these lapses in terms of laziness. It is not that he does not want to do well,
but that he cannot consistently bring himself to work through tedious,
 Compromises of Integrity 95

pointless tasks. The last thing he wants is conflict with his parents, whom
he loves and respects. Most of the time, therefore, his behavior is better
described as passive and avoidant rather than overtly defiant. He quietly
refuses to do his work, all the while maintaining a cheerful attitude and
positive relationship with his parents.
Overcoming inertia is a significant problem for Vincent, especially in
school. However, he finds it difficult to focus and sustain effort in most
things. He participates in sports and enjoys contact with a wide circle of
friends, but lacks a passionate commitment to anything. Internet gaming
and chatting online notwithstanding, he appears disengaged, as if merely
going through the motions of his life. When confronted with the contra-
diction between his avoidance and professed desire to succeed, between
the good relationship with his family and the mask he wears, Vincent
expresses confusion. He seems to hit a dead end in which he can say little
more than “I don’t know.” He engages in behavior that he knows (in ret-
rospect) will be detected and punished as well as cause suffering for all.
Yet, this knowledge has little impact on his subsequent behavior.
Examining Vincent’s plagiarism brings out a second issue whose details
emerge only gradually, preceded by many sessions in which shame blocks
any meaningful engagement with his deeper motives and feelings. Strik-
ing in Vincent’s description is how little thought he gave to his actions
before, during, and after they occurred. Only momentarily did he focus
on the fact that he was violating a moral standard and betraying his par-
ents’ trust. Never did he fully consider the likely consequences of what he
was doing. This absence of evaluation emerges clearly in our conversa-
tions. He describes in detail how he searched the Internet, found the rel-
evant materials, and copied them into the document he was working on,
all without any formulated plan. It was as if what he was doing did not
constitute plagiarism because his intention to present the material as his
own remained disavowed. He experienced his activity as an editorial task
that involved nothing more than mindless cutting and pasting. The only
discomfort he recalled occurred when he had to present the plagiarized
document to his parents because he could no longer conceal from himself
what he had done. However, at that moment, his primary concern was
not getting caught. It was too late to change course. Facing a nonnego-
tiable deadline convinced him of the impossibility of writing an essay of
his own. “I had no choice.”
Through plagiarism, Vincent found a way to escape the overwhelming
sense of being boxed in by parental and school demands. Although he
generally bristled at the idea of homework, especially when enjoined to
“do it now,” this particular situation was different. In an exceptionally
bad mood, he needed time to “chill.” The confrontation with his parents
that evening made this impossible. As tensions soared, Vincent felt that
96 Chapter 4

his head was about to burst. Unable to think another thought, he just
wanted to go to bed. As his parents pressed the issue, the thought fore-
most in his mind was to “get rid of” the assignment as quickly as possible,
by whatever means. The morality of his tactics never really entered into
his deliberations.
As in perversions, psychoanalysts are sensitive to the role played by
aggression in transgressive behavior, noticing how it allows one to con-
trol, dominate, or extract revenge from others. It is regarded as a universal
motive in instances of deception. However, what Jureidini concludes
about the role of aggression in perversions also holds for Cs of I: when it
is interpreted to include exploitiveness and overt violence as well as be-
havior serving the interests of self-mastery and adaptation, its meaning is
so broad that it rarely can be ruled out as a motive. Reflection on the ma-
terial from Vincent’s treatment suggests that it is unnecessary to dismiss
this motive. There is no question that Vincent was angry and that aggres-
sion played a vital role. His anger was both conscious and palpable. The
more important question is why he chose to handle his anger by avoid-
ance and deception. Other options were available. He might have refused
to do the assignment despite his parents’ protestations. He could have
thrown his assignment pad against the wall, kicked the dog, or lashed out
at his parents physically. That all of these responses express aggression is
one of the primary reasons that it is a generic motive, one of limited utility
in explaining Vincent’s plagiarism. Surely, plagiarism expresses aggres-
sion, but it is difficult to defend the claim that plagiarism universally
represents an act of revenge. Rangell’s point is that Vincent’s actions must
be interpreted as the best compromise psychologically available to him at
this particular time and in these particular circumstances. Buttressed by
the findings from his treatment, the motives of aggression and revenge
are better conceptualized as products of conflicts that left Vincent feeling
unable to manage the demands of personal responsibility honestly and
effectively. Although provocative, his transgression provided little plea-
sure, ultimately furthering his suffering and guilt about his damaged re-
lationship with his parents.
The disparities in Vincent’s thinking and behavior are striking. He de-
sires to do well, to please his parents, but possesses little capacity to toler-
ate frustration. Avoidance of school-related tasks provides him with
temporary relief. He claims that school doesn’t matter and is a waste of
time, yet hopes one day to be a lawyer. So great is his need to escape the
discomfort of external demands that he lies, cheats, and deceives those
closest to him. All of his rationalizations appear aimed at concealing his
difficulties from others and, most significantly, from himself. Rather than
expressing an incapacity for guilt, the syndrome of Cs of I makes it pos-
sible to understand Vincent’s stance as an unconscious compromise pre-
 Compromises of Integrity 97

serving psychic equilibrium (and self-esteem) at the expense of moral

standards. Fidelity to moral principles falters under the pressure of un-
bearable tension. Homework poses a problem that Vincent cannot dis-
charge in his characteristic carefree way. He experiences deception as
permissible because it forestalls the annihilating anxiety that accompanies
his efforts to hold in mind and negotiate conflicts between desires and
moral standards. What Rangell interprets as the superego “giving in” is
an unconscious compromise wrought by rationalization and dissociation.
This violation is situation-specific and does not necessarily imply perva-
sive superego pathology.

Group Psychology
and Compromise of Moral Authority

To say that Vincent acts without considering the likely consequences does
not fully explain his behavior. Dissociation undermines adequate delib-
eration by depriving access to other perspectives, but especially of rele-
vant evaluative standards. Although this idea will be developed in greater
detail in subsequent chapters, it is worth pausing for a moment to con-
sider this point in the context of Vincent’s behavior. He never fails to test
reality; he neither imagines something patently false to be true nor be-
haves with blatant disregard for reality. Even when examined more
closely, he maintains the capacity to anticipate, plan, and self-monitor, all
important executive (ego) functions. His disinclination to consider impli-
cations therefore is a distinctively ethical failure that has so far been ex-
plained only from the side of the ego in terms of avoidance, serving Vin-
cent’s need for inner equilibrium through deception. Ego weakness never
allows moral implications to be fully entertained.
Transgressions also can be evaluated from the side of the superego. It
will be remembered that the imperatives of conscience are not fixed and
immutable in the way instincts are, but are instead open to influence. This
openness leaves conscience more vulnerable to compromise. It also means
that there is a vast array of alternatives available for moral problem-
solving to be found in the behavior of proficient role models. Observa-
tional learning offers opportunities to fashion new and robust strategies
to manage the peremptory demands of desire.
It will be remembered that Freud (1916) attached great significance to
the “mental relief” that accompanies transgressions, understanding it as
evidence of disguised, unconscious motives.28 Rangell furthers this in-
sight by describing individuals who discount moral standards rather than
struggle with them. He links this stance to the persistence of multiple,
conflicting identifications within the superego, a state of affairs creating
98 Chapter 4

opportunities for “mild suspension[s] of critical judgment” in which

people pursue actions which they know are wrong, but “unconsciously
long for permission to do.”29 At bottom, Cs of I express the universal wish
to triumph over the superego.
Expanding Hartmann’s idea of intrasystemic conflict, Rangell argues
that moral imperatives and ideals are never completely systematized and
reconciled, but remain inconsistent and contradictory. Narcissism fuels
moral compromise by prompting the continuous pursuit of power and
prestige. Viewed as an ego-interest rather than a drive, it reflects inclina-
tions to put oneself first, making one’s own comfort and sense of internal
equilibrium a priority above all other considerations. It is equally present
in the motives of ambition and power, and the willingness to act oppor-
tunistically.30 Narcissism corrupts values by causing one to evaluate what
is good and fair as foolish and unfair. When others’ successes are per-
ceived as dishonestly achieved, one more easily discounts one’s own
dishonesty. The issue is no longer whether one has in fact schemed, lied,
and calculated, but that one was justified in doing so, perhaps would
have been a fool not to. The perception that one is responding to an injus-
tice or personal affront is a powerful rationalization for subsequent be-
havior. “Doesn’t everyone do it?” This mechanism is all too often over-
looked in contemporary treatments of Cs of I and hypocrisy.31
Rangell relies on Freud’s analysis of group dynamics to understand the
corruption of moral values, recalling the latter’s insight that charismatic
leaders inspire shared unconscious identifications among group mem-
bers. Corrupt leadership lifts repressions, removes inner restraints against
forbidden wishes, and leads to the replacement of the ego ideal by the
value system of the leader. In a formulation that anticipates the contem-
porary fascination with sociocultural influences, Rangell suggests that
one misunderstands behavior by viewing it exclusively in intrapsychic
terms. Full understanding requires contextualization, appreciating the
shared identifications and beliefs that shape the individual’s perspective.
To be sure, Rangell does not privilege these forces over intrapsychic ones,
but situates them within the dynamics of Cs of I.
Rangell arrived at this conclusion through the careful examination of
Nixon’s presidency and the behavior of his inner circle during the Water-
gate years. Not all members of Nixon’s staff were sociopathic. Some acted
immorally to fulfill what they perceived to be their duty to the president.
Personal fealty trumped moral reckoning. These individuals knew they
were doing wrong, but were influenced by Nixon and powerful group
identifications to discount their knowledge. Their behavior was not exclu-
sively a product of intersystemic conflict (between inner morality and ei-
ther the ego or id), but of conflict among superego identifications. Spe-
cifically, they felt torn between obligations to do “right” and to serve the
 Compromises of Integrity 99

president. Although sometimes prompting repression, conflicts among

ideals consistently diminish the impact of their guidance in practical
decision-making.32 Ego interests notwithstanding, Rangell regarded the
conviction that they were serving laudable or higher goals as the decisive
factor in the transgressions perpetrated by Nixon’s staff. These were not
ego-interests in the strict sense, but beliefs reflecting a compromised, cor-
rupted sense of duty. To describe it in terms of superego weakness or,
worse still, an incapacity for guilt, fails to notice the dynamic relation-
ships among intrapsychic, interpersonal, group, political, and contextual
factors in decision-making.
Sensitive to the integrity of influential role models, Rangell argues that
it powerfully guides individual moral reckoning both consciously and
unconsciously. Corrupt identification figures make it acceptable to engage
in deviant practices and to ignore obligations and rules. What appears
arbitrary, irrational, and amoral to the observer sometimes follows from
attachment to morally deficient caregivers. Moral and immoral actions
are rooted in the same soil. Rather than fixed once and for all during early
childhood, values are influenced and modified throughout life.
In contrast to Chasseguet-Smirgel, Rangell’s model does not assume a
natural, uniform, or universal moral order. Values and beliefs vary within
and among cultures with little loss of explanatory force because corrup-
tion is never an all or none affair. The content and quality of identifica-
tions vary even within the same family. Because moral reckoning involves
inference and construction, children raised in the same family may de-
velop very different values, each drawing his own conclusions about
what is and is not permissible in particular circumstances. Because mean-
ings are often implicit and embedded in double messages, moral conclu-
sions are not preordained. Hypocrisy exploits differences between public
and private, between what is said and done. Above all, it exploits the
ambiguity of these differences and the perspectives in which they are
embedded. Powerful, frightening, and capable of satisfying needs for love
as well as security, parental figures embody constellations of desirable
and undesirable traits inspiring ambivalence and contradiction. Although
not emphasized explicitly by Rangell, attachment needs also influence
convictions and prompt individuals to behave contrary to internalized
standards.
As psychoanalysis moves increasingly toward a view of narcissism as
the irreducible ground of transgressions, it is important to recall Rangell’s
emphasis on unconscious agency. He reiterates Freud’s insight that im-
moral actions may result from unconscious guilt. From the perspective of
narcissism, transgressions can be formulated as products of conscious (or
near-conscious) decision-making requiring minimal disguise. Narcissism
empowers the agent to do as he pleases, to act opportunistically and out
100 Chapter 4

of self-interest. Not only need he be unconcerned about his actions, but he

also may proudly manipulate others. Because reality-testing is main-
tained, prudence and deception are necessary to avoid detection. After all,
the hypocrite may be grandiose, but he is not stupid! Thus, it is more ac-
curate to say that narcissism clouds judgment in a particular way. It al-
lows the agent both to knowingly exploit others because he believes he
can get away with it and to believe he is entitled to do so as well as de-
serving of the rewards that may follow from such behavior. By contrast,
Rangell focuses on how moral feeling exists always in a state of tension
with ego-interests as well as other ideals. The compromises thus fash-
ioned reveal deception’s truth.
As a splitting of consciousness that actively keeps mental contents
apart, dissociation makes it possible to act with a diminished sense of
agency. It allows the powerful politician, for example, to solicit the ser-
vices of high-priced prostitutes or misuse public funds to support private
follies, without fully considering what he is doing and the jeopardy in
which it thrusts his career and family. Its immediate pleasure notwith-
standing, his actions may make little sense to him. Outside of the mental
state in which such behaviors occur or when evaluating others’ transgres-
sions, he may sincerely—although, of course, hypocritically—condemn
them as immoral. Their wrongness and irrationality are readily discerned
from a third person perspective. Yet, he is at a loss to explain his reckless-
ness when his misdeeds are exposed. Shame further removes opportuni-
ties for any productive examination of his motives. Their meanings are
more likely to be found in other aspects of self, now dissociated and un-
available to reflection. In this view, immoral actions are less directly
linked to dynamic conflict than to the selective activation of self-states,
each a distinct seat of self-experience, motivation, and values comprising
the individual’s perspective at a particular point in time. Moral compro-
mise is more likely in a view that situates agency within a fragmented self.
Under the pressure of painfully irreconcilable emotions, an enfeebled ego
cannot access what it needs for moral deliberation. Impulses are freed; the
dictates of conscience suspended or discounted.
Rangell does not hold a decentered view of the self, nor does he men-
tion dissociation specifically. He comes closest to endorsing these ideas
when he includes vertical splits within the ego among the defenses oper-
ating in Cs of I.33 He wants to retain a strong sense of unconscious agency
in the form of compromises between the demands of instincts and of
moral imperatives mediated by the ego. Moral choices involve creativity,
negotiation, and compromise. Integrity sometimes suffers as a result. In
fact, morality is more easily discounted when it is conceptualized ab-
stractly in terms of a system of rules or obligations. One is not moved to
morality by the persuasiveness of its arguments. Formalization of princi-
 Compromises of Integrity 101

ples is intellectually satisfying, but does not carry the weight necessary to
insure moral behavior. An optional morality is no morality at all.

The Darker Side of Contemporary Man

If Freud emphasized man’s instinctual life and Hartmann the need for
adaptation, Rangell depicts his diminished capacity for ambivalence. Man
is a creature whose behavior in no small measure contradicts his values
without triggering anxiety or discomfort. Yet, his inability to reconcile
thoughts and deeds, beliefs and practices, challenges his efforts to live
harmoniously and productively with others. Cs of I diminish and dislo-
cate agency, allowing the individual pre-reflectively to discount evidence
that, duly considered, would cause him to value and act differently. To be
sure, both Cs of I and neuroses reflect the work of unconscious compro-
mise. However, in the former, Rangell discerns the universal wish to es-
cape the oppressive demands of conscience, to do precisely what is for-
bidden. Who would not prefer to satisfy his or her desires without guilt?
Who does not long for the freedom to enjoy the rich bounty of desire
without concern about consequences? Lust is foundational to humanity
as much as it opposes what Freud regarded as best and highest in man.
On this reading, Cs of I reflect a kind of “intrapsychic dream come true,”
made possible, in contemporary terms, by dissociation.34 Dissociation and
disavowal allow a momentary glimpse of states of mind in which the
hypocrite no longer needs to answer for his actions. It is as if he exists as
an isolated subject, divorced from any binding moral framework. Consis-
tency not only appears irrelevant, but, at the extreme, is also abandoned
entirely as a value. The hypocrite dwells in the moment, accountable nei-
ther to others nor to himself. The self is abandoned to desire, his commit-
ments so fluid that they are no longer experienced as defining who he is.
What remains ambiguous in Rangell’s analysis is how to properly
evaluate agency and choice. This question is not a matter of whether the
individual is responsible for his decisions and actions. He clearly is.
Rather, it pertains to the fact that, from a psychoanalytic perspective, im-
portant aspects of choice are determined by forces outside of awareness.
Cs of I are products of unconscious dynamics. The individual acts on
“decisions” that, from his first-person perspective, appear already to have
been made without his knowledge or consent, as if by another. Such is the
unique subjectivity of an agent who does not experience choices fully as
his own. Whether originating in libidinous urges, ego-interests, or moral
desires, the final common pathway of action is experienced as alien, as
imposed rather than authored. This ambiguity problematizes personal
responsibility and is not resolved by situating it within Freud’s structural
102 Chapter 4

model so long as the ego is distinguished from self and from the concept
of person or agent. Rangell boldly asserts that intrapsychic compromise
permits otherwise moral individuals to act on fantasies that others dare
are not entertain. He buttresses this claim by correlating it with the warp-
ing influence of corrupt identification figures throughout the lifespan.
Whatever else transpires in identification, the individual always is exqui-
sitely sensitive to where authority figures stand morally.
Rangell’s concept of compromise is particularly useful in explaining why
the hypocrite deceives unsuspecting others into believing that he shares
their values. Were his values completely corrupted, leaving him without
moral feeling as it were, he would be indistinguishable intrapsychically
from the malignant narcissist (or psychopath) who acts without concern
about consequences, appearance, or morality. More frequently, the hypo-
crite, especially the moral hypocrite, experiences conflict. Unlike the neu-
rotic who struggles with excessive moral demands, he is relatively un-
moved by the latter’s force, finding freedom in their conflicting guidance.
This is why context plays so vital a role in how he thinks and acts. It may
be that situational factors play a greater role in hypocrisy than Rangell
imagines, an idea already introduced in the first chapter and one that will
be explored in the remainder of this book. But his work establishes the idea
that hypocrisy is complex and highly contextual, a compromise situated at
the intersection of the intrapsychic, interpersonal, and sociocultural.

Notes

  1.  Leo Rangell, “A Psychoanalytic Perspective Leading Currently to the Syn-

drome of the Compromise of Integrity,” International Journal of Psychoanalysis 55
(1974): 3–12.
  2.  For expository purposes, I retain the language of Freud’s structural theory.
Although metaphoric and antiquated, it provides the most appropriate articula-
tion of Rangell’s ideas.
  3.  Aristotle, Nichomachean Ethics, in The Complete Works of Aristotle, ed. Jona-
than Barnes (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984), 1:1729–1867. This
idea will be developed later in this chapter.
  4.  Karl Abraham, “The History of an Impostor in light of Psychoanalytical
Knowledge,” Psychoanalytic Quarterly 4 (1935): 570–87.
  5.  Specifically, Freud spoke of narcissistic libido, sharing the economic charac-
teristics he attributed to libido more generally.
  6.  Less clear was how clinically significant disengagement from the world
could occur without undermining reality-testing. As we shall see, the problem of
selective impairments of reality-testing was addressed by a number of subsequent
theorists.
  7.  Abraham, Imposter, 580.
 Compromises of Integrity 103

  8.  Abraham, Imposter, 580.

  9.  Deutsch wrote two important papers on the topic of imposture and its as-
sociated psychodynamics. The first is Helen Deutsch, “Some Forms of Emotional
Disturbance and their Relationship to Schizophrenia,” Psychoanalytic Quarterly 11
(1942): 301–21; the second and most important, “The Impostor—Contribution to
Ego Psychology of a Type of Psychopath,” Psychoanalytic Quarterly 24 (1955):
483–505. See also Phyllis Greenacre, “The Impostor,” Psychoanalytic Quarterly 27
(1958): 359–82.
10.  Greenacre, “The Imposter,” 362.
11.  Greenacre went so far as to speculate that antisocial action represents a
symbolic murder of the father and theft of his penis.
12.  Deutsch, “The Imposter,” 503.
13.  Ruth M. Brunswick, “The Accepted Lie,” Psychoanalytic Quarterly 12 (1943):
458–64.
14.  Deutsch, “Emotional Disturbance.”
15.  Specifically, defenses are spoken of in terms of perceptions and cognitions
rather than as counterforces or instinctual energies.
16.  Deutsch, “Emotional Disturbance,” 304.
17.  Deutsch, “Emotional Disturbance,” 309.
18.  Heinz Hartmann, Psychoanalysis and Moral Values (New York: International
Universities Press, 1960).
19.  Hartmann, Moral Values, 29.
20.  Otto F. Kernberg, Severe Personality Disorders: Psychotherapeutic Strategies
(New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1984).
21.  Hartmann, Moral Values, 30.
22.  Rangell, “A Psychoanalytic Perspective,” 8.
23.  Hartmann, Moral Values, 51.
24.  Leo Rangell, The Mind of Watergate: An Exploration of the Compromise of Integ-
rity (New York: Norton, 1980), 22.
25.  Donald Davidson develops a comprehensive argument along similar lines,
proposing that the paradox of acting against one’s rational judgment is explained
by the agent’s misattribution. Briefly, in choosing to act against what he deems to
be prudent and practical, the agent reveals that he has incompletely evaluated all
possible evidence, an idea that, in the psychoanalytic context, recalls the ideas of
dissociation and disavowal. This idea is developed in Donald Davidson, “How Is
Weakness of Will Possible,” in Essays on Events and Actions (Oxford: Oxford Uni-
versity Press), 21–42.
26.  Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics.
27.  Amelie O. Rorty, “Akrasia and Pleasure: Nicomachean Ethics Book 7,” in
Essays on Aristotle’s Ethics, ed. Amelie O. Rorty (Berkeley: University of California,
1980), 267–84.
28.  Sigmund Freud, “Some Character-Types Met with in Psycho-Analytic
Work,” Standard Edition 14 (1916): 332.
29.  Rangell, Mind of Watergate, 24, 29.
30.  Rangell, Mind of Watergate.
31.  Jacob Arlow, “Problems of the Superego Concept,” Psychoanalytic Study of
the Child 37 (1982): 229–44.
104 Chapter 4

32.  In his early formulation of Cs of I, Rangell posits repression as its primary

mechanism. Subsequently, he broadens the range of defenses associated with this
syndrome to include rationalization and vertical splits within the ego, the latter
simply another way of speaking of dissociation.
33.  Leo Rangell, “The Theory of Psychoanalysis,” Journal of the American Psycho-
analytic Association 50 (2002): 1109–37.
34.  Leo Rangell, “Lessons from Watergate a Derivative for Psychoanalysis,”
Psychoanalytic Quarterly 45 (1976): 45.
 5

Beneath the Mask

F or more than a decade, Trey led a double life. The affair began when
he responded to the sexual advances of a woman whom he knew so-
cially. Although passionate and exciting, Trey’s growing ambivalence led
to numerous unsuccessful attempts to end the relationship. Concealing
the affair from his wife, Nan, required Trey to deceive her in ways that left
her feeling ashamed about her suspicions and inadequate as a woman.
Despite his ambivalence, Trey believed Nan to be a very decent person
undeserving of such treatment. Guilt and shame galvanized his resolve to
end the relationship, but his penance always was short-lived. Under the
pressure of loneliness, depression, and threats from his mistress, Trey al-
ways resumed contact.
Strikingly, Trey only disclosed the affair to the therapist after one year
of treatment, following a terrible row with Nan precipitated by his inex-
plicable confession—not a full confession of course, but enough to convey
his deception. Nan assaulted him in a rage and, within days, fell into a
deep depression, utterly bereft and unable to leave her bed. He too lapsed
into a similar state.
Most significant was Trey’s bewilderment about his motives. He seemed
truly at a loss to explain his continued involvement and failure to anticipate
the consequences of his actions. He described the affair as if it were a mo-
ment of weakness during which he acted impulsively. Of course, it was no
mere lapse. Although acknowledging that it had been a terrible mistake,
upon reflection, he arrived consistently at the same conclusion: there was
nothing he could do about it now. He felt reassured by the fact that he did
not intend for his family to suffer. Although recognizing that it might be

105
106 Chapter 5

interpreted otherwise, he insisted that he deceived his family because he

loved and wished to protect them. He did not want to cause them further
pain by telling them the truth. He believed that these positive motivations
somehow lessened the repugnance of his betrayal. They gave testimony to
his concern for their feelings. He had never before done a dishonest thing
in his life. He wanted nothing more than to put these “unfortunate events”
behind him and return to the relative harmony of his life.
This chapter buttresses the argument that moral hypocrisy reveals an
ethical system in which shame is defensively deleted or, more precisely, in
which the conditions necessary for shame experience are not fulfilled.1
The hypocrite, unlike the sociopath, is not someone who gratifies wishes
directly without regard for their relational consequences. Rather, the
moral hypocrite rationalizes and dissociates in order to more comfortably
embrace the deceived view of the other and to avoid the crushing feeling
of exposure, weakness, and defectiveness that Wurmser regards as hall-
marks of shame.2 The mask thus performs a double function, selectively
hiding flaws from others and, by controlling the reality disclosed by them,
from the self. It paradoxically forestalls shame through shameful actions.

Hypocrisy and Deception

Not all forms of deception are alike. Unlike pathological lying or frank
antisocial behavior, moral hypocrisy reflects the deceptive pursuit of self-
interest in which the individual uniquely violates his or her own moral
standards.3 Deception and moral standards are necessary elements in this
narrative: Hypocrisy depends on their joint presence. But, this description
masks an ambiguity. What specifically does it mean to be motivated by
self-interest? Should it be construed simply as the pursuit of one’s own
rather than another’s interests? That is, does it mean the hypocrite places
his desires above those of others? Because self-interest is a ubiquitous hu-
man motive, conceptualizing hypocrisy in this way leads to the conclu-
sion that we are all hypocrites. Thus, the question needs to be posed more
specifically: What is unique about the hypocrite’s pursuit of self-interest?
If gratifying one’s desires is its sole motivation, why does hypocrisy ne-
cessitate dissimulation? Why is the hypocrite at pains to appear morally
better than he really is? Recognizing this dynamic is of cardinal impor-
tance to understanding this phenomenon and to the ability to distinguish
it from sociopathy. In the latter, “what others think” is purely an instru-
mental concern; the sociopath adopts the point of view of the other so as
to more effectively manipulate and exploit. He desires only to be convinc-
ing enough to conceal his true intentions, to “get over.” Such individuals
feel little empathy for others or concern about the trust they betray.
 Beneath the Mask 107

In the previous chapter, I argued that the hypocrite does not merely
lack moral standards, but inhabits a world in which “coexistence is prac-
ticed, and conflict is obliterated or denied.”4 It is not the absence of guilt
that marks the hypocritical turn, but the ability to act immorally despite
knowledge of and commitment to ethical standards in other areas of his
life. In short, hypocrisy reflects the all-too-human capacity to act in ways
not easily reconciled with one’s beliefs.
Hypocrisy combines a desire to be perceived as morally better with an
exquisite sensitivity to standards and norms, particularly with regard to
how they are perceived and practiced by others. For this reason, hypoc-
risy is as much a mode of cognition as it is a behavior. It is a stance that
shapes perceptions of and interactions with others. Fundamentally, hy-
pocrisy is the flashpoint of interests, fantasies, beliefs, and opportunity.
Trey, for example, did not want to live a double life. He rationalized trans-
gressions in order to maintain a forbidden relationship, interpreting trysts
as regrettable, but temporary lapses. Cumulatively, he expended as much
energy avoiding as engaging in them. While he craved the feeling of being
desired sexually, he grew increasingly uncomfortable with its risks and
emotional costs. He treasured relationships and involvement with his
children and took pride in the status his family enjoyed in the community.
Thus, even from the perspective of self-interest, it is more accurate to say
that he pursued some interests to the detriment of others, compromising
values he cared deeply about in the process and, above all, his integrity.
Dissociation and rationalization perpetuated a cycle of sexual excitement,
shame, and deception which offered no enduring comfort, satisfaction, or
intimacy. Detection posed the very real danger of destroying his family.
Although not formulated as such, deceiving his wife, family, mistress, and
therapist provided a means of reconciling rather than relinquishing any
of these competing interests.

Shame Experience

More than an affect, shame is a “complex emotional system regulating

the social bond.”5 It is complex because the experience and the condi-
tions inducing it vary widely across individuals, and regulatory because
it portends painful affect, signaling one’s diminished status in the eyes
of others. It reflects the assessment of one’s worth in “the internal self-
evaluative eye of the self.”6 By contrast, guilt pertains to what one does
rather than who one is.
Wurmser describes shame as an unexpected, but overwhelmingly in-
tense and inescapable sense of exposure about a personal flaw. Under its
sway, one feels profoundly that a defect has been exposed; it is as if one is
108 Chapter 5

left standing naked before an audience with no exit, with no way to conceal
the truth. Standing in the disapproving gaze of another is an essential as-
pect of shame experience; shame implies a relationship to an observer
through whose eyes one’s flaws are seen. Postclassical analysts understand
this phenomenon as an affect associated with a failure to live up to one’s
ideals7 and structurally as a compromise formation with both internal and
external elements.8 Shame always is experienced in relation to a shaming
object which threatens the self with contempt, rejection, and, ultimately,
abandonment.9 By contrast, self-psychologists view shame primarily as a
reaction to unexpected misattunement, specifically in relation to failures in
mirroring and/or merger with self-objects.10 One reacts with shame when
one’s goals, ideals, and aspirations are not validated intersubjectively or,
worse still, met repeatedly with disappointment and contempt. Subsequent
failures reanimate this feeling. Each perspective acknowledges the complex
interplay between internal and external, between self-perception and its
relational integration which sets the stage for shame. Postclassical writers
emphasize the wishful, endogenous basis for this experience whereas self-
psychologists emphasize actual empathic failures.
Broucek understands shame more fundamentally as the failure to “ini-
tiate, maintain, or extend a desired emotional engagement with a care-
taker” or, more generally, as any disruption to the affective flow of inter-
actions.11 Shame thus occurs prior to the establishment of reflective
self-consciousness. Although self-consciousness transforms shame by
encompassing concerns about exposing perceived vulnerabilities, the in-
fant’s earliest relational disappointments rather than detached self-
awareness are crucial interpretively. The meaning of subsequent shame
experience derives from these configurations. Early trauma creates a tem-
plate for shame experience.
These ideas raise a series of interesting and important questions. For
example, if the meaning of or reason for shame resides in preverbal expe-
rience, how does one differentiate normal from pathological forms of
shame? If both are reducible to the same experiential configurations, does
the former differ from the latter only by amount or degree? Or, are they
qualitatively distinct emotions that follow different developmental path-
ways? Further, does the reduction of shame to the template of early expe-
rience—however construed—exhaust one’s understanding of it? Are
there no meaningful differences between contemporary experiences of
shame and the early relational configurations to which they are assimi-
lated interpretively?
That one seeks but does not find recognition, attunement, or fulfillment
of one’s goals leads to a number of possible outcomes. Disappointment
alters one’s attachments to significant others by inducing anxiety, sad-
ness, and/or anger. In turn, these affects motivate a variety of defensive
 Beneath the Mask 109

countermeasures. One might for example rationalize these feelings, inter-

preting them as resulting from external forces beyond one’s control. Alter-
natively, one might deny or reverse the feelings of helplessness they en-
gender by pursuing other forms of recognition. In none of these instances,
however, need one feel shame. By contrast with primary emotions, shame
requires not only object constancy, but also reflective self-consciousness,
the ability to take a perspective on one’s own emotional experience that
include an appreciation both of one’s own and the other’s perspective.12
Seidler uses the term “reflexivity” to capture the idea of an “outside” or
“third” perspective distinct from that of self and other.13 Positing shame
experience in the absence of reflexivity conflates the emotional conse-
quences of early misattunement with the distinctive sense of exposure
resulting from the critical evaluation of behavior. The former is an insuf-
ficient condition of the latter. In all likelihood, shame rests on the devel-
opmentally more advanced capacity for detached, evaluative judgments
about one’s own ideas, feelings, and actions.

Shame as a Mode of Cognition

Shame regulates the social bond between individuals precisely because it

represents the internalization of an ethical and social reality that carries
weight. More than a wishful projection, it constitutes a mode of constru-
ing interpersonal experience, of forming judgments, or, following Lewis,
making attributions.14 It requires the internalization of standards, rules,
and goals (SRGs) against which one’s behavior is evaluated. According to
Lewis, it also requires that judgments, first, are global and linked to per-
sonal identity rather than to the success or failure of specific actions; sec-
ond, that they are negatively valenced and betoken a failure to conform to
a standard or to live up to an ideal; and, third, that these failures are at-
tributed to internal as opposed to external factors. Shame requires that
failures be interpreted as one’s own rather being attributed to someone
else, unfortunate circumstances, or bad luck. Failure experiences are not
encoded as “I have failed,” but rather as “I am a failure.”15
With the exception of Seidler, investigators generally do not distinguish
the content of self-evaluative judgments from the perspective of the other.
They subscribe to a “symmetry” view in which the child is presumed to
share the caretaker’s negative perspective; the former’s shame reflects an
identity of perspectives. By linking shame to “responses to selfobject mis-
attunement and nonresponsiveness,” self-psychologists in particular sug-
gest that the contemptuous attitude of the other forms the basis for con-
cluding that one “is not unique or worthy of attention . . . [resulting in] a
readiness to feel unworthy, inferior, or in some way flawed.”16
110 Chapter 5

Yet, it is unclear that shame requires an observer who is critical or con-

temptuous of the subject or that the latter share the former’s point of view.
Against this “misattunement” view, consider the situation of the highly
decorated veteran of war. His bravery saves the lives of several men dur-
ing an ambush of his unit. He accepts his award, but privately feels
shame. His feelings cannot be attributed to anyone’s negative evaluation
and his behavior is without exception heroic and exemplary. Neither is it
apparent how it might be reduced to previous experiences of misattune-
ment. Rather, the soldier feels shame for having served meritoriously in a
military action he believes to be morally wrong. The award unexpectedly
causes him to reevaluate actions that he now believes bring dishonor to
him. The discrepancy causes him to see himself as something less than he
believed himself to be.
Even if one believes that misattunement provides an experiential tem-
plate for shame, this assumption does not justify the claim of symmetry
between the subject’s and observer’s points of view. Consider Taylor’s
example of the nude model who, otherwise without shame about her
profession, finds herself in a situation where the artist for whom she
works takes a sexual interest in her.17 She reacts with shame to the discov-
ery of his desire. Clearly, it is not a condition of her shame that she share
the artist’s view. She need not see herself as an object of sexual desire; she
need only be troubled by the awareness of his seeing her in this way, dif-
ferent from how she sees herself. The negative evaluation inducing shame
is her own rather than the artist’s and cannot be explained in terms of her
having violated an internalized standard specific to her nudity which
presented no moral dilemma prior to her discovery of the artist’s sexual
interest. Nor did she need to be disturbed by the more general idea of be-
ing seen in a sexual way. Rather, it is her recognition of the differences in
their perspectives that creates a discrepancy for her, one that she feels
compelled to resolve. Her shame is engendered by the beliefs she holds
about this discrepancy. Importantly, these beliefs are not preordained or
contained fully formed within her mind, but instead reflect a new inter-
pretation of her circumstances. For example, being exposed in this par-
ticular way may cause her to feel degraded, but is identical neither with
the artist’s nor with her original view.18 Reducing her judgment in this
matter to early experience or the internalization of her parents’ point of
view fails to do justice to its complexity. The discrepancy causes her to see
herself in a new, but diminished and unfavorable light.
Rules prescribe a course of action which ought to minimize the need for
interpretation and judgment. However, their guidance often is incomplete
and actionable only with numerous exceptions. Williams makes this point
specifically about the prohibition against lying.19 For example, how does
this rule help a mutual friend respond to Nan’s concern about Trey’s un-
 Beneath the Mask 111

usual and somewhat distant behavior? If the friend possesses knowledge

relevant to her query, answering truthfully poses an ethical dilemma. The
same prohibition leads to absurdity if applied to situations like the follow-
ing: While working with a humanitarian mission in Iraq, I am cornered by
several armed insurgents who ask if I am an American. By denying my
nationality, I clearly violate the prohibition against lying. Yet, have I have
breached a moral duty about which I should feel regret?
Upon reflection, one may agree on what is morally permissible in each
instance, but it is unlikely that these judgments derive in any straightfor-
ward fashion from the prohibition against lying. They involve reflection on
and integration of a wide range of beliefs and SRGs that inspire responsible
decisions. If overly formalized to cover all possible exceptions, the rule thus
generated likely will be an ineffective guide for ethical behavior.20
Because one constructs rather than simply internalizes interpretations
of interpersonal and social experience, it is one’s interpretations that mat-
ter most. Hartmann recognizes this, speaking in classical terms of the
ego’s “transvaluation of moral values” or transformation of internalized
parental demands into one’s moral code.21 As noted in chapter 4, he im-
portantly notes that these processes cannot be attributed to moral impera-
tives themselves, but rather must be seen as the work of the ego. Codifica-
tion of morality implies a degree of autonomy from presumed sources. To
state this in language less tied to Freud’s structural model, the individual
utilizes various higher order cognitive processes that expand and extend
what has been inculcated by parents and culture. Constructions are
grounded in experiences with actual people, groups, or institutions, but
the latter must be viewed as the raw materials from which beliefs and/or
SRGs are fashioned and, in turn, provide the basis for rational, sophisti-
cated evaluation. With so much potential variability, shame cannot be
linked to any particular experience or mental content. Accordingly, it is
unlikely to possess the kind of uniformity often attributed to it. Taylor
argues that shame reflects the more general circumstance of distress at
being observed at all, particularly in a way that is discrepant from one’s
own view. Any observation of self is construed negatively and provides a
motive for defense. How one is seen—that is, the particular meaning at-
tached to this circumstance—depends on previous constructions of expe-
rience. These constructions provide shame with its individual stamp
without requiring that it reflect preverbal experience directly.

Clinical Vignette

Trey was no stranger to shame. He lived an unhappy life, physically and

emotionally abused by his truculent, tyrannical father. He watched help-
112 Chapter 5

lessly as his father’s bellicosity and open infidelities slowly destroyed his
mother, whose suicide led to his being shipped off to boarding school the
following academic year. He remembers vividly the warm moments they
spent together, Trey often urging her to divorce his father, not fully grasp-
ing how ill she was. He felt the pain of his mother’s humiliation, hatred
for his father who exploited her, and self-loathing at his pathetic passivity.
He hated himself for feeling afraid and for wishing to remain with his
father despite his abuse of his mother.
Trey reinvented himself over the course of high school. He developed a
reputation for being scrupulously honest and responsible, earning him
the moniker “starch.” Trey flourished in his newly fashioned identity,
learning something new about himself that inspired confidence and soft-
ened his painful shyness and social awkwardness. What he lacked inter-
nally, he learned to simulate outwardly. He thrived on the responsiveness
of others, which made this identity feel more real.
In college, Trey discovered a kindred spirit in Nan, who also had lost
her mother and received little love from her highly successful, emotion-
ally distant father. Nan never demanded more than he could give emo-
tionally. Once married, Trey traveled the globe, brokering multimillion
dollar deals while she immersed herself in the children and charitable
causes. Frustrated by her lack of sexual interest, he felt enlivened by an-
other woman’s interest in him. He longed for this relationship despite
knowing full well that it was wrong. He felt less guilty when he viewed
each tryst as an isolated lapse, one he vowed not to repeat. He wanted to
believe that Nan accepted their separate lives, but only felt increasing
despair with the passage of time. He grew more resentful with each sex-
ual rebuff, his self-loathing now commensurate with his passivity and
lack of confidence. He acted on his longings despite knowing better, but
without the subjective experience of agency or will. He experienced his
involvement passively as a reaction to the circumstances and detachedly
resigned himself to immurement in an emotionally deadened marriage.
When Trey entered treatment, he had had no contact with his mistress
for approximately two years. She called occasionally, inviting him for a
drink in the city where they both worked. Typically, he declined and re-
criminations followed. His pattern was to call her back and, with much
ambivalence, arrange a tryst which ended with his literally bolting from
the woman’s apartment following intercourse. They would not speak for
months thereafter: she enraged; he perplexed, but relieved. So far he had
resisted the impulse to return her calls.
During an interval in which he had neither seen nor heard from her,
Trey spontaneously confessed the affair to his wife as they sat together
one evening. He was feeling particularly guilty and burdened by his se-
cret when Nan again voiced suspicions about this woman. Trey arrived
 Beneath the Mask 113

for his next session appearing more depressed and agitated than ever. He
reported that Nan, devastated by these revelations, had ordered him out
of the house. She also confided the sordid details of the affair to their teen-
age daughter. Trey was determined to salvage his marriage at any cost
and wept at the realization of the harm he had done.
Only later did Trey focus on the significance of his withholding the af-
fair from the therapist. His behavior was just too painful for him to reveal.
Of course, he wanted to tell me and hoped that I might somehow figure
it out, but his initial reticence only made the prospect of telling me more
difficult. “How would I explain not having told you in the first place? I’m
really sorry. I wish I could change what happened, but I can’t.”
Trey sought, but could not find a comfortable coexistence. He could nei-
ther integrate nor escape the shameful self-image that was his father’s leg-
acy. He felt overwhelmed and rendered powerless by its manifestation in
relationships. He resisted the notion that he had handled his marriage and
his treatment similarly, reacting to such interpretations alternately with in-
difference, bewilderment, and shame. He oscillated between feeling that he
was the victim of circumstances beyond his control and seeking forgiveness
for his transgressions. In neither instance did he recognize that his pattern
of duplicity and avoidance reflected something significant and abiding
about him. In wearing the mask, Trey simulated the conditions for mutual
trust, respect, and collaboration. At a deeper level, he felt that real accep-
tance was possible for him only in the role of “starch,” a caricature of moral
probity that shielded him from his father’s contemptuous view. Without it,
his imposturous façade exposed, he felt weak, ashamed, and defective. Bet-
ter to find tainted acceptance than none at all.

Shame and Hypocrisy

In its broadest sense, hypocrisy is a strategy for resolving conflicts of in-

terest, albeit one involving deception. It is a commonplace in politics and
public life which, unlike intimate relationships, require “useful partner-
ships” among intersecting rather than identical interests.22 Cooperation is
necessary because what is needed cannot be taken, coerced, or created
without assistance. Grant suggests that the mutual dependence of the
parties makes the appearance of trustworthiness necessary.
The analogy to politics is useful in yet another way. It highlights the
pursuit of a relational experience obtainable only by another’s act of free
will. Love, acceptance, and respect cannot be coerced; they must be given
freely. But the hypocrite is wary of leaving such matters to chance. He or
she wants to reap the rewards of intimacy without having to make the
sacrifices or bear the responsibility it requires. Perhaps it is more accurate
114 Chapter 5

to say that the discomfort and uncertainty associated with such sacrifices
are experienced as intolerable and increase the likelihood of deception.
Intrapsychically, despite being recognized as necessary for intimacy, this
means that trustworthiness is inconsistently maintained against the cor-
rupting influence of desire. Conditions are particularly ripe for hypocrisy
when desires must be satisfied noncoercively by someone whose interests
overlap, but do not coincide with, one’s own. Deception vitiates trust, but
is difficult to detect because of the opacity of others’ motives.
Moral hypocrisy exploits important differences between the expectations
of public and private existence. In the former, expectations for sincerity and
truthfulness generally are lower. One is disappointed but not surprised
when a politician fails to fulfill campaign promises or the car salesman’s
initial offer is far above what he will accept. However, in one’s closest rela-
tionships, great importance is attached to these virtues such that deviations
are judged harshly. Intimacy assumes trustworthiness as well as the conti-
nuity between intentions and actions which render it particularly vulnera-
ble to dissimulation. Intimacy depends on a high degree of transparency of
motives and belief in the other’s commitment to trust.
Rangell’s hypocrite closely resembles the narcissist: he is grandiose,
unempathic, and unintegrated in the sense that “his avowed values d[o]
not fit with his actions, reality with what he sa[ys] are the facts . . . his
productions with his promises, his instincts with what he g[ives] as his
goals.”23 His needs for admiration and achievement are insatiable and
pursued without guilt. Importantly, his compromised superego permits
him to derive pleasure without regard for the means by which it is
achieved. Corrupt authority weakens inhibitions, alters values, and oblit-
erates conflict engendered by violating normative standards.
It is important to recall that social and environmental factors do not
explain the reasons for identification with particular authority figures (or
groups) or why some values achieve prominence over others. There are
myriad authority figures, ideologies, groups, and values available for
identification, only a subset of which is salient for the individual. In addi-
tion, as noted in chapter 1, such explanations do not explain the hypo-
crite’s motivation to appear morally better. Were identification with a
corrupt authority a sufficient condition of immoral action, deception
would be unnecessary. Presumably such identifications alter morality in
a way that makes permissible what before had been forbidden. But this
clearly is not the case. Because deception is necessary for the creation of a
favorable impression, hypocrisy consistently implicates intention. Any
interpretation ignoring the joint operation of psychodynamics, character
structure, context, and agency will be inadequate.
Moral hypocrites are not sociopaths; they present neither the insatiable
needs for recognition nor the callousness of the narcissist. Often, they
 Beneath the Mask 115

shrink from the spotlight, showing a willingness to exchange the rewards

of power and ambition for the feeling of acceptance they desperately
crave. They want to be liked and to avoid intolerable feelings of shame.
Shame-avoidance rather than grandiosity motivates their sacrifice; accep-
tance negates the need for reflective self-awareness and, therefore, the
necessity of facing unbearable personal flaws. Bypassing reflection fore-
stalls the experience of shame and fears of abandonment. Hypocrisy
makes the possibility of abandonment real and transforms shame anxiety
from a constraint to a facilitator of immoral action.
Shame is of course linked intrinsically to narcissism, but not to patho-
logical narcissism. The former provides reasons to hide defects and avoid
situations of exposure, but, unlike the latter, necessitates neither dishon-
esty nor duplicity. Clinically, the hypocrite rarely experiences shame affect
in relation to immoral action. Instead, intolerance of shame heightens
awareness of situations likely to induce it. Shame anxiety provides a pow-
erful motive to hide behind the mask, to remove oneself from the gaze of
the other, and to exploit opportunities to appear morally better. In par-
ticular, shame is avoided by actions altering the other’s perception in the
direction of conformity with the wished-for image of the self. Success
abrogates the conditions necessary for shame, subverting the accuracy of
the other’s appraisal which forms a necessary condition for reflective self-
awareness.
How does the hypocrite avoid reflective self-awareness despite knowl-
edge of relevant moral standards? He neither lacks the cognitive capacity
for emotions of self-assessment nor the ability to evaluate behavior from
the perspective of another. One suggestion offered by Renik and Gross-
man is that fantasies or cherished beliefs are substituted for the accurate
appraisal of reality, thus diminishing its impact.24 Faced with disparate
perceptions, the hypocrite believes or acts in accordance with his desires.
Dissociation facilitates immoral action, while shame-avoidance provides
its motive. The former undermines reflective self-awareness, undermin-
ing the capacity to utilize all available information necessary for discrim-
inating, reflective judgment. It disguises perceived defects.
The work of Lewis highlights yet another way in which disavowal op-
erates to forestall shame: transgressions are not interpreted negatively as
reflecting personal failures. They are rationalized as behaviors uncharac-
teristic of the self, as exceptions to rather than reflections of personal
identity. Rationalization thus provides an additional layer of defense in
which potentially negative appraisals are cast in a more positive light.
Operating synergistically with disavowal, it diminishes self-experience,
particularly with regard to the sense of agency, and forecloses feeling
states, values, and cognitive resources necessary for critical judgment.
With important linkages between intentions and actions left unformu-
116 Chapter 5

lated, the hypocrite is ill-equipped to grapple with problems in living and

likely to experience consequences with a sense of surprise rather than
ownership. From the observer’s perspective, this experience stands in
marked contrast to the proficiency with which actions appear to antici-
pate the responses of others. Despite disavowal and rationalization, sen-
sitivity to expectations and context paradoxically is maintained.
Although it has yet to attract serious psychoanalytic interest, Batson’s
research powerfully demonstrates that conflicts between moral standards
and behavior often are resolved in favor of the latter, a finding consistent
with almost fifty years of research on cognitive dissonance.25 Dissociation,
rationalization, and moral disengagement facilitate immoral action by
altering the importance of dissonant beliefs or removing awareness of
them altogether. In this way, Batson’s understanding of hypocrisy does
not rely on uncontrolled impulses, superego weakness, or pathological
narcissism. Instead, it alights on the troubling conclusion that being moral
is often the least costly way of appearing moral.26 Because shame (like self-
evaluative emotions generally) hinges on the experience of discrepancy,
this model also illuminates how shame is avoided.

Moral Hypocrisy: The Core Dilemma

Williams articulates the hypocrite’s ethical violation clearly:

I lead the hearer to rely on what I say . . . and in abusing this I abuse the rela-
tionship which is based on it. Even if it is for good reasons of concern for her,
I do not give her a chance . . . to form her own reactions to the facts (as I sup-
pose them to be) . . . but give her instead a picture of the world which is a
product of my will. Replacing the world in its impact on her by my will, I put
her, to that extent, in my power and so take away or limit her freedom.27

To be sure, hypocrisy violates rules and standards, however much they

resist strict and systematic formulation. But, more than this, hypocrisy is
a thoroughly interpersonal act mediated by two distinct mechanisms:
First, the hypocrite influences the observer’s perceptions, exercising a
subtle power over them in an effort to create a relationship in which the
other is perfectly attuned to his needs. Deleting potential discrepancies
between his and the other’s view also removes the necessary conditions
for shame experience. Second, hypocrisy involves significant self-
deception. Through self-deception, the hypocrite basks in the feelings of
love and acceptance he willfully (and deceptively) cultivates, feelings
that at the same time lead him to believe that he is morally better. This
state of mind depends on the relative disconnection among intentions,
actions, values, and consequences made possible by dissociation and
 Beneath the Mask 117

rationalization. If dissonance prompts reflection, self-deception rein-

forces the illusion of security. Simultaneously embracing the reflected
gaze of the other, fulfilling the unconscious fantasy of what is longed for,
and, importantly, disavowing the means by which it is achieved, makes
the task of denying contradictions, conflicts, and the likelihood of expo-
sure far easier. This strategy is compelling for the individual who craves
love and dreads abandonment. By virtue of his deeds, however, the
hypocrite’s abandonment fears are entirely justified; he has good reasons
to keep inner conflicts unformulated. While these fears unconsciously
are linked to the kinds of early experiences described by Morrison and
Piers, contemporary acts of betrayal and deception increase the likeli-
hood of traumatic loss.28
Tragically, hypocrisy denies to the hypocrite what is sought. The experi-
ences of love, acceptance, and trust are simulated and longed for, but
rarely achieved. Hypocrisy locks him into a vicious circle of conditional
acceptance and compromised intimacy. However much deception re-
moves the immediate threat of abandonment, it drives the hypocrite
deeper into a predicament that he enacts unconsciously over and over
again. No relationship so thoroughly tainted by duplicity can be trusted
or relied upon. Deception irrevocably spoils the objects upon whom the
hypocrite so desperately depends.
Liberated from its customary role as an affect, shame deepens under-
standing of moral hypocrisy. It represents at once a signal for defense, a
mode of cognition, and a mechanism regulating relationships with others.
Dread of shame prompts the hypocrite to take drastic measures, compro-
mising relationships as well as his integrity in the process. Sometimes his
avoidance is so complete that shame experience is deleted completely.
However, its reliable and powerful emergence under circumstances of
detection removes any doubt as to its cardinal relevance.
Shame avoidance and shame anxiety provide indirect motives for hy-
pocrisy. For example, one might withhold information affording a more
complete view of one’s thoughts, feelings, and painful personal flaws.
Although failure to do so may create a false impression, one is under no
obligation morally to make such disclosures. So long as truthfulness has
not been seriously compromised, such actions are distinguished easily
from hypocrisy both morally and psychologically. By contrast, the hypo-
crite deceives others by depriving them of information relevant to estab-
lishing and maintaining relationships of trust. He betrays this trust not
only to conceal shameful aspects of the self, but also to secure what is
needed, may not be gotten otherwise, and cannot be coerced.
Shame motivates immoral action without releasing the agent from
moral commitments. This release is provided by the defenses of dis-
avowal and dissociation. Disavowal facilitates the selective compromise
118 Chapter 5

and/or waiver of discrepancies among moral standards without their

abrogation. Although different in emphasis, this perspective is consistent
with Cs of I and the growing body of empirical research on the subject.29
For Rangell, heightened narcissism and pathological identifications oper-
ate jointly to compromise values and prompt immoral action. Whether
acting directly by encouraging immoral behavior or indirectly by trans-
forming passive into active trends unconsciously, this configuration has
the potential to produce the most egregious moral violations, including
frank antisocial behavior.
By contrast, the moral hypocrite’s values do not show complete corrup-
tion. His functioning is characterized by a greater degree of overall integra-
tion. Compromise and deception selectively further self-interest and de-
crease the likelihood of detection and shame. In hypocrisy, discrepancies
are disavowed and rationalized, and beliefs altered to accommodate im-
moral action. This process is seen clearly in the case illustration of Trey.
Although his hypocrisy symbolizes a triumphant reversal of his father’s
contemptuous view, Trey’s subjective experience is not one of triumph. He
derives remarkably little pleasure from his actions and never feels con-
sciously that his transgressions are morally permissible. Instead, he experi-
ences them as the only way to reconcile all of the conflicting interests in his
life. Hypocrisy is a default position that permits avoidance rather than con-
frontation of painful alternatives. Through it, Trey disavowed discrepancies
between his actions and his moral standards. By refusing to choose, he
hoped to postpone the painful emotional consequences that would accom-
pany any forthright handling of his deception.
That Trey’s stance betokens frustrated sexual yearnings, resentment
toward his wife, and shame with regard to his passivity do not account
completely for his behavior. Neither does the claim that his behavior
expresses identification with the aggressor. These views are relevant,
but overly general. For example, the latter claim fails to do justice to the
complex differences between his father’s actions and his own. Trey
found his father’s degradation of his mother abhorrent and morally
reprehensible. He felt powerless to protect her and fashioned an identity
concealing his painful helplessness. However, he never would treat any-
one as his father did. Trey’s moral transgressions were selective and
circumscribed. They involved the gratification of forbidden wishes, but
simultaneously expressed the need to remain within the other’s good
graces; to feel loved and accepted despite his transgressions. He satis-
fied these needs by morally questionable means and deceived himself
into accepting their positive appraisals, thus escaping true arraignment
in their reflected gaze.
By exposing caricatured understandings, the study of moral hypocrisy
underscores the complexity of immoral action. This complexity is largely
 Beneath the Mask 119

invisible within a perspective that regards transgressions in terms of im-

pulsivity and superego weakness or, more simply, in terms of right and
wrong. Hypocrisy reveals the coexistence of neurotic and perverse de-
fenses as well as situations in which individuals simultaneously occupy
the roles of perpetrator and victim. It therefore requires a framework that
encompasses these disparities and preserves their tensions nonreduction-
istically. Those inclined to hypocrisy have had early experiences that
provide fertile soil for deception, especially in circumstances of moral
ambiguity. It is to these issues that the discussion now turns.

Notes

  1.  C. Daniel Batson, Diane Kobrynowicz, Jessica L. Dinnerstein, Hanna C.

Kampf, and Angela D. Wilson, “In a Very Different Voice: Unmasking Moral Hy-
pocrisy,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 72 (1997): 1335–48.
  2.  Leon Wurmser, The Mask of Shame (Northvale, NJ: Aronson, 1981).
  3.  C. Daniel Batson, Elizabeth R. Thomson, and Hubert Chen “Moral Hypoc-
risy: Addressing Some Alternatives,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 88
(2002): 330–39.
  4.  Leo Rangell, “A Psychoanalytic View of the Impeachment Process,” Psycho-
analytic Dialogues 10 (2000): 311.
  5.  Melvin R. Lansky, “Shame and the Idea of a Central Affect,” Psychoanalytic
Inquiry 19 (1999): 347–61.
  6.  Lansky, “Shame,” 347.
  7.  Gerhart Piers and Milton Singer, Shame and Guilt (New York: Norton,
1953).
  8.  Clifford Yorke, “The Development and Functioning of the Sense of Shame,”
Psychoanalytic Study of the Child 45 (1990): 377–409.
  9.  Piers and Singer, Shame and Guilt.
10.  Andrew P. Morrison, “The Breadth and Boundaries of a Self-Psychological
Immersion in Shame: A One-and-a-Half-Person Perspective,” Psychoanalytic Dia-
logues 4 (1994): 19–35.
11.  Francis J. Broucek, “Shame: Early Developmental Issues,” in The Widening
Scope of Shame, ed. Melvin R. Lansky and Andrew P. Morrison (Hillsdale, NJ: The
Analytic Press, 1997), 44.
12.  Michael Lewis, “Self-Conscious Emotions and the Development of Self,”
Journal of the American Psychoanalytic Association 39 (1991): 45–73.
13.  Gunter H. Seidler, In Others’ Eyes: An Analysis of Shame (Madison, WI: Inter-
national Universities Press, 2000), 65, 134.
14.  Lewis, “Self-Conscious Emotions.”
15.  Lewis, “Self-Conscious Emotions.”
16.  Morrison, “Breadth and Boundaries,” 24.
17.  Gabriel Taylor, Pride, Shame, and Guilt (New York: Oxford University Press,
1985).
18.  Taylor, Pride, Shame, and Guilt.
120 Chapter 5

19.  Bernard Williams, Truth and Truthfulness (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Univer-
sity Press, 2002).
20.  Jacob Arlow, “Problems of the Superego Concept,” Psychoanalytic Study of
the Child 37 (1982): 229–44.
21.  Heinz Hartmann, Psychoanalysis and Moral Values (New York: International
Universities Press, 1960), 30.
22.  Ruth W. Grant, Hypocrisy and Integrity. Machiavelli, Rousseau, and the Ethics
of Politics (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997), 21.
23.  Leo Rangell, The Mind of Watergate: An Exploration of the Compromise of Integ-
rity (New York: Norton, 1980), 212–13.
24.  Owen Renik, “Use of the Analyst as a Fetish,” Psychoanalytic Quarterly 61
(1992): 542–63. Lee Grossman, “The Perverse Attitude to Reality,” Psychoanalytic
Quarterly 62 (1993): 422–36.
25.  Leon Festinger, Theory of Cognitive Dissonance (Stanford, CA: Stanford Uni-
versity Press, 1957).
26.  C. Daniel Batson, Elizabeth R. Thompson, Greg Seuferling, Heather Whit-
ney, and Jon Strongman, “Moral Hypocrisy: Appearing Moral to Oneself without
Being So,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 77 (1999): 525–37.
27.  Williams, Truth and Truthfulness, 118.
28.  See Morrison, “Breadth and Boundaries,” as well as his paper “Shame on
Either Side of Defense,” Contemporary Psychoanalysis 35 (1999): 91–105. See also
Piers and Singer, Shame and Guilt.
29.  Batson, “Some Alternatives,” and “Different Voice.”
 6

Youthful Indiscretions

L ike adults, children choose whether to face troubling perceptions and

uncomfortable truths. They, too, experience conflict between interests
and moral standards. Relatively early on, they learn to appreciate differ-
ences between public and private, between the worlds of appearance and
inner reality. They discover the power of the mask. To be sure, one can
speak of agency in childhood only in a restricted sense, especially in
young children. Yet, their burgeoning capacities for self-regulation,
perspective-taking, and deliberation are not merely reflections of pre-
wired dispositions or of the unmetabolized influences of the field. In-
creasingly, dispositions and influences are transformed by the child as he
adapts and problem-solves. His actions reflect developing moral sensi-
bilities, at once responsive to and influencing his social reality.
The following chapter examines instances of hypocrisy and proto-hy-
pocrisy in children. For all of the interest this topic has enjoyed histori-
cally, remarkably little has been written about its manifestations in chil-
dren and adolescents. There is a voluminous literature on issues like
lying, cheating, and stealing; within psychoanalysis, these behaviors have
been linked to juvenile delinquency, conduct disorders, and, more re-
cently, narcissistic phenomena. Thus it is important to identify instances
of hypocrisy as they occur prior to adulthood as well as to underscore the
point that its presence is not intrinsically linked to severe psychopathol-
ogy and character disorder. This chapter describes children who, like their
adult counterparts, hold double standards and violate moral principles
selectively. They rely on many of the same strategies of compromise, ra-
tionalization, and dissociation that adult hypocrites do.

121
122 Chapter 6

Unique about this chapter is its effort to delineate the personality traits,
characteristic defenses, family dynamics, and circumstances salient to
hypocrisy. It will not rely on historical reconstruction or on speculations
about events transpiring in the distant past, but will utilize multiple data
sources—primarily from children, family members, and teachers—to il-
lustrate several of hypocrisy’s many forms.

Dissociation and
Doubleness in a Preadolescent Girl

Jessica was in the middle of seventh grade when her mother called for a
consultation. Mrs. Smith’s call was prompted by a telephone conversation
with Jessica’s guidance counselor regarding her daughter’s subpar
performance. The counselor recommended that Jessica be evaluated
neuropsychologically or, at least, that was Mrs. Smith’s impression at the
time. She was certain that the school was concerned only about Jessica’s
learning. She was otherwise well-adjusted and comfortable at school.
Mrs. Smith made this point emphatically when I queried her as to whether
there might be a psychological component to her daughter’s difficulties.
Although perhaps sounding somewhat cliché in saying that she reacted
defensively, there was little doubt in my mind that she experienced my
question as an accusation, which it most assuredly was not. It thus came
as a shock to her when she learned, as a result of my conversation with
the school counselor, that Jessica’s academic performance was the least of
the school’s concerns. Jessica was not fitting in with her classmates and
was feeling terribly isolated. This was particularly surprising because Jes-
sica was not new to the school and, according to the Smiths, had never
before experienced these problems. Knowing the school well, it seemed
unlikely that they would express concern if this behavior were not part of
a larger, troubling pattern. The administration prides itself on knowing
each of its students personally and working closely with their families.
Something about the parents’ assessment of their daughter seemed off,
but I could not be sure that it was the product of anything more than a
miscommunication between the Smiths and the school. Although never
particularly popular, Jessica always had been an active participant in
group activities. Her one good friend did not return to the school this year
and overall Jessica appeared significantly withdrawn. As one teacher put
it, she seemed at times to be in a “fog.”
Meeting Jessica was complicated by the fact that she was attending
school in a different state, living with her mother during the week and
traveling to the family’s country home each weekend near the city in
which I work. This left a two-hour window on Friday evening when it
 Youthful Indiscretions 123

was possible for us to meet. I advised the Smiths that seeing a therapist
closer to Jessica’s school was more practical, but they insisted that they
wanted to see me and preferred to work with a therapist closer to their
weekend home, which, for many years, also had been their primary resi-
dence. I agreed to see Jessica, with an increasing sense of unease.
Jessica arrived for the first appointment looking pensive and sad. But
she carried herself with a poise that she had no doubt worked hard to
cultivate. Her discomfort was most noticeable in moments when she did
not think that I was looking at her. Tall and full-figured, Jessica appeared
much older than her twelve years. Her appearance stood in marked con-
trast to her interests, which were clearly preadolescent and, I imagined,
discrepant with those of her precocious peers. She spoke at length about
interests in magic, young children’s movies as well as fairies, witches, and
wizards. She animatedly recounted her favorite tales whose storylines all
seemed to portray young imperiled maidens magically rescued by
princes.
Toward the end of our first meeting, Jessica confided her concerns
about her female classmates. She found their behavior incomprehensible.
They seemed to say one thing and do another, their words and deeds
rarely consistent with each other. She was mystified and especially trou-
bled about her uncertain status within this small group. She was not ex-
cluded in any overt way, but sensed a change in their demeanor when she
joined them. On several occasions, she asked one or two girls if there was
something wrong and was assured that there was not. Still, she felt un-
comfortable and unwelcome. She simply could not determine whether or
not they were sincere. Striking was the absence of resentment or suspi-
cion. She was clearly more baffled and disappointed than angry about
these shenanigans. She had the uneasy feeling that the girls did not like
her, but lacked the kind of evidence necessary for certainty. Rarely was
she called or invited to parties; she was simply left out.
Her feelings of exclusion crystallized just before embarking on a three-
day class trip. Because the trip involved bunking in cabins for two nights,
each girl was asked for the names of two children she would prefer to
room with. A number of girls told Jessica they had asked to bunk with her.
However, when the room assignments were announced, Jessica was not
paired with any of her friends. She ended up rooming with a student she
barely knew. As if unable to process its implications, she queried her girl-
friends about their choices only to be reassured that they had requested to
room with her. Again, she was perplexed. She sighed: “I don’t know what
to think.”
Jessica lived in a chronic state of uncertainty. Sometimes noting discrep-
ancies, often not, she ultimately rationalized or discounted them. In the
absence of the certainty she desired, she drew no conclusions. Over the
124 Chapter 6

next several months, her social standing seemed the least baffling aspect
of her life. One recurrent concern was linked to a family secret known to
practically everyone, including both her school and many of her class-
mates, except Jessica. Her parents had divorced two years ago. Jessica was
never informed of the proceedings or of their conclusion; the “D” word
(divorce) never had been uttered in her presence. It is more accurate to say
that the Smiths made every possible effort to conceal their marital woes
from Jessica as well as from friends and family. And for good reasons. The
recriminations were vicious, the level of betrayal heartbreaking, all in a
high-profile family living in a small community. Approximately a year
before the divorce was finalized, they told Jessica that she would be at-
tending a better school in another city—the transition to the new apart-
ment was explained as the only alternative to a long, daily commute.
They softened the impact of the transition by explaining that they would
retain their primary residence as a weekend house where she could con-
tinue to horseback ride and participate in other activities she loved. The
fact that neither parent would accompany her on these transitions was
something that she had not been prepared for. The Smiths believed it was
better that she not know the real reason for this change; the idea that they
were divorced would “needlessly upset and traumatize her.” Neither had
any interest in remarrying and their primary concern was to “preserve her
innocence.” That they also had deceived friends and extended family was
more difficult to rationalize, but their geographical separation eased any
immediate pressure to disclose the dissolution of the marriage. The school
change provided the cover story each parent needed to keep this secret,
one completely at odds with their private reality.
Dissociation played an important role in Jessica’s mental functioning,
foreclosing meanings that might otherwise be known. However, it in-
volved no deception on her part, only a powerful self-deception that
precluded curiosity and wonder. It involved no hypocrisy, no effort to ap-
pear morally better. Jessica was a victim of parental hypocrisy. It is easy
enough to condemn what the Smiths had done by not according Jessica
the degree of honesty that she deserved, endeavoring to shape and con-
trol her perceptions rather than allowing her the freedom to construct
them on her own. Their stance discouraged her from testing ideas or de-
veloping a healthy respect for what her “gut” told her. Moreover, it was
all carried out under the guise of love and concern.
Jessica’s situation illustrates how being a victim of hypocrisy can set the
stage for what Grossman describes as a perverse attitude toward reality.
The problem for Jessica was not an inability to test reality or cope with a
chronic sense of puzzlement, but a disinclination (and active discourage-
ment of any effort) to separate herself from the grip of the field. I can think
of no better example of how the interpersonal field, here construed in its
 Youthful Indiscretions 125

broadest sense, constrained potential interpretations of experience. Jessica

was coerced into the role of the innocent, helpless maiden who idealizes
her parents and awaits rescue from her confusion. The Smiths, in turn,
basked in the glow of this admiring assessment, so much so that they
were unwillingly to relinquish it. This powerful enactment left Jessica no
easy way to identify the reasons for her discomfort. It left her without any
means to formulate the questions she needed to ask. Traveling between
homes was bothersome, but also had its benefits. Jessica sensed pre-reflec-
tively that something was amiss, but could find no validation for her
unease, let alone any way of putting her discomfort into words. She was
left to explain it in the only terms available to her: “I know it’s silly, but
my mom really likes the city and my father likes the country. They’re both
very stubborn.” Jessica, the good daughter, saw only what she was per-
mitted to see. She maintained the fantasy, so vital to this family’s emo-
tional equilibrium, that that her parents loved each other, preferred their
current living arrangements, and, at worst, were too stubborn to change.
Contrast Jessica’s situation with that of Andrew J., a thirteen-year-old
boy in his third year of treatment. Andrew is a principled, serious boy
who is kind to others. He is a good friend and, although not overly popu-
lar, has maintained several close friends since preschool. Andrew is find-
ing it increasingly difficult to complete his work and bristles at parental
efforts to structure his time or to hold the work he produces to minimal
standards of excellence. He hates homework, argues that it is pointless,
and staunchly defends the position that everything he needs to know can
and should be taught within regular school hours. There is no persuading
him that homework serves any necessary purpose. He grows particularly
irritable and resistant when required to do written work or to engage as-
signments that involve sustained thinking, yelling and thrashing about.
His parents report that he completes homework only when threatened
with punishment.
In the fall of his eighth-grade year, Andrew begins seriously to con-
sider the fact that he must leave his independent day school at the end
of the academic year. It is the only school he has ever known, having
been enrolled there since kindergarten. With good therapeutic work,
much of the arguing has diminished. Andrew is approaching his studies
more responsibly, generally completing them in a timely fashion with
minimal prodding. In part, this is because the school now deals directly
with Andrew about it, taking the pressure off his parents to monitor his
efforts. On my advice, the parents enroll him in a daily homework club
offered at school where he completes almost all required work. When I
ask Andrew about his thoughts for next year, I am surprised to learn
that he is applying to several prestigious boarding schools. The J.s (and
I) are baffled. The schools are totally out of keeping with his mediocre
126 Chapter 6

performance and poor study habits. The concern is not about Andrew’s
ability, but about his lack of commitment. Ironically, despite his poor
grades, his excellent standardized test scores and family’s celebrity
make it likely that he will be admitted to the school of his choice. How
will survive in a challenging environment when he has barely managed
to function in a nurturing and undemanding one?
The J.s’ concerns are increased by recent feedback from Andrew’s
teachers. They will support his applications only to second-tier schools;
they strongly discourage the parents from applying to the schools he has
selected. Andrew has shown little improvement in his attitude or produc-
tivity and they feel he will be overwhelmed. Understandably wounded,
the J.s nevertheless appreciate the school’s honesty and share the faculty’s
concerns. The principal adds: “If Andrew puts more effort into his studies
between now and the time of his applications, we will support his appli-
cations enthusiastically.” In a family session soon thereafter, the J.s discuss
this feedback with Andrew in a straightforward, nonthreatening way,
emphasizing that he has an opportunity to rehabilitate his image by act-
ing more responsibly. His initial reaction is disbelief. “What are they talk-
ing about?” he exclaims, completely caught off-guard. “I do my work
and, besides, I really liked the smart board at school X. We don’t have
anything like that at my (current) school.” His comments are thus unre-
sponsive to the issues put before him. Neither his parents nor I are reas-
sured by his claim that “of course I’ll do my work next year. It’s high
school. It counts for college.”
Following the family session, it is as if Andrew has been struck by a bolt
of lightning. He is completely transformed. Over the next several weeks,
he reports that he is completing all of his work and has no assignments
outstanding. His parents brim with pride and feel an incredible sense of
relief. They shower him with praise at every opportunity, reinforcing his
efforts in every way they can. He brings his applications to sessions in
order to discuss his selections and how to approach the required personal
statement. All of this is impressive and remarkably different; it is as if I am
glimpsing a side of Andrew that had only been hinted at before. Yet, in all
of this, Andrew seems somewhat flat emotionally. At moments that I ex-
pect him to be exuberant over a grade he has worked hard to achieve or
a compliment from a teacher, his mood is somber. He derives little appar-
ent enjoyment from his success. When I draw attention to the disparity
between his achievements and affect, he takes offense, claiming that I do
not believe him. The more I express confusion about his detachment, the
more irritated he becomes.
Soon, I learn that much of what Andrew conveyed to me was fabri-
cated. His parents and I had been taken in by a sham. Mrs. J. met one of
his teachers at a social function and, in thanking her for her role in An-
 Youthful Indiscretions 127

drew’s turnaround, discovered that nothing had changed. In fact, the

teacher reported that she had planned to call Mrs. J. because he continued
to submit work sporadically, if at all. She had given him several exten-
sions and offered him the opportunity to retake exams on which he had
performed poorly. He had taken advantage of none of these. The teacher’s
frustration was palpable and she said that Andrew simply didn’t care.
Mrs. J. was stunned. Embarrassment quickly turned into anger as she con-
nected with the feeling that she had been duped and betrayed. She
wanted to believe Andrew and he had used this desire to his advantage.
Andrew’s lying is perspicuous. What I want to underscore instead is his
hypocrisy, his effort to cast himself in a more favorable light. He wanted
to create the impression that he was complying with school and parental
demands in order to enjoy the rewards of his compliance undeservedly.
Secretly, he refused to comply and took the path of least resistance. He
pretended and deceived. His goal was not simply to get away with doing
no work, but to win his parents’ approval and respect. For reasons unclear
to him, he could neither bring himself to do what was necessary to insure
this outcome nor revel in the bounty of his deception. However much his
lying was conscious and intentional, it also concealed motives incompre-
hensible to him. He hated homework and didn’t want to do it. At the
same time, he recognized the futility of his refusal and noncompliance. He
was acutely aware of his betrayal and felt terribly ashamed when the en-
tire episode finally came to light, as he knew it would eventually. His
behavior revealed a feature of hypocrisy often overlooked when authority
figures react immediately with condemnation and punishment: uncon-
scious enactment. Condemnation obscures how effectively hypocrisy
stabilizes tensions between what can and cannot be known.
It is important to note that Andrew is an only child in a high-achieving
family. The J.s are recipients of undergraduate and professional degrees
from prestigious institutions. Andrew’s father has a very high-level posi-
tion in the financial industry; his mother also had risen to a prominent posi-
tion within her chosen field before deciding to interrupt her career to care
for Andrew. When Mr. J.’s headquarters moved from the United States to
London, he already had a busy travel schedule that kept him away from
home much of the time. The J.s had been living this way for years.
In many ways, Andrew and his mother live like a single-parent family.
Andrew wants for nothing materially, but has little relationship with his
father. It is not that they do not get along with each other, although there
often is conflict between them. The problem is that Mr. J. is a minimal
presence. As a result, Mrs. J. has become completely involved in Andrew’s
life, carefully keeping abreast of everything he does. On the one hand, the
J.s’ expectations are extraordinary. They believe Andrew to be exception-
ally bright, capable of achieving literally anything he sets his mind to. On
128 Chapter 6

the other hand, the effect of their idealization paralyzes Andrew. His dis-
engagement is proportional to their overinvestment. Important, however,
is the fact that his disengagement is not complete. He enjoys many aspects
of being in his mother’s good graces. It makes him feel special, as if he can
do no wrong in her eyes. When meeting with mother and son to discuss
some of the incidents that occur, I can see the look he gives her as he de-
scribes yet another transgression and the twinkle in her eye that it evokes.
It is as if he is asking her, “Don’t you love me anyway?” to which she re-
sponds, “Of course I do.” Her unconscious reaction emboldens him to
behave in a way completely contrary to expectations. He has come to feel
that being special means never really having to live up to parental stan-
dards, whether in his studies or any other area of his life. Although not
recognized as such, Andrew is struggling with the role he has been asked
to occupy. He pretends to make it his own, while deceptively rejecting it
a way that he cannot completely avow. Who he is lies in the balance. On
the one hand, he desires what his parents’ desire; on the other hand, he
feels diminished by its achievement, whether or not it serves his best in-
terests in the long run. Dissociation operates powerfully in Andrew’s life,
foreclosing awareness of why he does the very opposite of what he and
his parents desire.
Over time, the significant triangulation within this family becomes some-
thing that can be reflected on. Andrew has taken on the role of companion
to his mother, who has limited relationships with her husband and other
adults. She appears far more involved with Andrew than with her hus-
band. I learn first from Andrew and later directly from Mrs. J. about the
bitterness she feels toward her husband and her open disparagement of his
uninvolvement. As she sees it, Mr. J. has abandoned them both. As a
younger boy, Andrew yearned for time with his dad. He and his mother
often drew maps to help him understand and remember where his father
was. What little time they had together often was spoiled by Mr. J.’s jet lag.
But, more than this, Mr. J. had difficulty connecting with his son. He shared
few of Andrew’s interests, preferring to talk with him about business than
about topics appropriate for a young boy. As a result, Andrew had grown
quite knowledgeable about the stock market, but could not talk with his
father about what interested him most: baseball. He had an encyclopedic
knowledge of the game and loved nothing more than to spend his free time
watching Yankee games. Mr. J. found Andrew’s interest in baseball boring
and a waste of time. He confided that he had tried to take more of an inter-
est in Andrew’s hobbies, but found them to be uninteresting. By the time I
began seeing Andrew, he rarely spoke of his father and saw him infre-
quently. His father’s absence was normal.
Only when Andrew’s deception was formulated as an ill-conceived ef-
fort at separation was significant progress made. Specifically, it was inter-
 Youthful Indiscretions 129

preted as expressing his need to separate from an overly close relation-

ship with his mother in order to assume an identity of his own. Andrew
had been unable to do this without threatening their attachment and acti-
vating intense anxiety in both of them. He could not be himself, or so it
seemed, without hurting his mother and leaving both of them feeling
anxious and abandoned. Of course, increasing his father’s involvement
likely would have facilitated this transition, making it less frightening for
all. Unfortunately, this did not occur. Mr. J. remained largely out of the
picture. But the impending decision about high school presented a perfect
opportunity for Andrew and his mother to work through some of these
issues. She needed to let Andrew face the consequences of his actions with
the school and play a greater role in decisions about the future. Ultimately,
Andrew decided not to attend boarding school and chose a local high
school better suited to his interests, especially his social life.

The Dissocial Child

Originally published in 1925, Aichhorn’s groundbreaking work, Wayward

Youth, applied Freud’s psychoanalytic insights to “dissocial” children.1
Aichhorn used the term “dissocial” to designate children with a proclivity
for violating norms. He did not limit his investigation to children who
were psychopaths or whose trajectory necessarily entailed criminality.
Many of the transgressions he described involved petty thefts and lying;
often they occurred in the context of otherwise integrated superego func-
tioning. The latter circumstance reinforced Aichhorn’s suspicion that the
actions of these children expressed unconscious guilt.
Consistent with what would later be described as Cs of I, Aichhorn
formulated dissocial behavior in terms of ego and superego weaknesses,
citing the lack of tension between these agencies as its primary cause.
With regard to the former, he described children who do not effectively
inhibit impulses, delay gratification, or tolerate frustration. Their adap-
tive capacities compromised, they act without fully weighing conse-
quences or appreciating the larger social reality they occupy in an age-
appropriate fashion.
In addition to adaptive difficulties, Aichhorn noted deviations in the
inner morality of dissocial children. This important finding was not
framed in terms of the relative strength or weakness of the superego, but
as a lack of concordance between the recognition and acceptance of au-
thority. The dissocial child did not lack an ego ideal (a vital aspect of what
later would be encompassed by the concept of the superego) or the capac-
ity to bring his behavior into conformity with inner beliefs. Rather, the
source of his difficulties lay in deviant beliefs, a pathology Aichhorn un-
130 Chapter 6

derstood in terms of the child’s identification with overtly criminal par-

ents. He thus anticipated the view that identification can undermine
normative values without compromising reality-testing. Importantly, he
distinguished the latter from the dissocial child’s capacity to appraise
social reality, whose compromise makes it possible to discount moral
standards.
Rather than dissociation, Aichhorn spoke of the ego’s withdrawal from
the demands of the superego. This formulation paralleled Freud’s view of
psychoses and narcissistic disturbances as reflecting a withdrawal of li-
bido from objects (others) and the world, as well as capturing what tran-
spires nonpathologically in play. In the latter, the child imaginatively in-
terprets social reality in a way that does not conflict with external reality.
He willingly suspends disbelief rather than concealing (repressing) for-
bidden wishes. Wishful thinking also substitutes for objective assessment
in circumstances of abuse, reinforcing tendencies to disavow, deny, or
minimize demands for renunciation. Identification with abusive caregiv-
ers casts the child’s assessment of aggression in a different light, allowing
it to be regarded as justified. Aichhorn believed that only strong loving
attachments to parents protect children from the dissocial turn.
Johnson and Johnson and Szurek bring forth an important implication
of Aichhorn’s thinking, one that figured prominently in the behavior of
Andrew, described in the previous section.2 They describe children whose
conflicts with authority represent “an acting out of forbidden, antisocial
impulses.”3 Striking about these children is their otherwise intact super-
ego functioning. Psychoanalytic examination reveals problems in circum-
scribed areas of behavior, which Johnson describes as “superego lacunae.”4
These children typically are honorable and trustworthy, but unexpectedly
lie, cheat, or steal.
How is such behavior explained? Like Aichhorn, Johnson and Szurek
propose that the child’s identifications play a cardinal role. However, they
particularize this insight by noticing the subtlety with which nonnorma-
tive values are communicated and reinforced. Rarely do parents overtly
model criminal behavior or extol its virtues. Their public comportment
frequently accords with prevailing norms. They are more likely to es-
pouse conformity and to be sincerely troubled by their children’s trans-
gressions. However, at a deeper level, they “find vicarious gratification of
their own poorly integrated forbidden impulses in the acting out of the
child, through their conscious or more often unconscious permissiveness
or inconsistency toward the child in these spheres of behavior.”5 Simply
put, parents communicate a double message whose unconscious meaning
contradicts its conscious one. Their inability to respond with principled
and appropriately firm disapproval reinforces the child’s fantasy that
transgressive behavior is permissible. The material from Andrew’s treat-
 Youthful Indiscretions 131

ment supports the observation of decrements in parental effectiveness

when limit-setting is associated with separation fears.

Children’s Lies: Two Psychoanalytic Perspectives

In their work with conduct disordered children, Kernberg and Chazan

attribute antisocial and deceptive behavior to a worldview in which the
“the law of all or nothing prevails; one is either a winner and all power-
ful or a nothing, a loser.”6 In other words, antisocial behavior is moti-
vated by and an expression of pathological narcissism. For narcissisti-
cally vulnerable children, victories in games or competitive activities are
matters of life and death, certainly not something to be left to chance.
This is true with friends and foes, family and strangers, and of course
with the therapist. This worldview allows them to cheat without re-
morse and to experience little compunction about doing whatever it
takes to win. Mechling links the dissocial turn to the anxiety of antici-
pated failure and loss of prestige.7
Although implicated in virtually all psychoanalytic accounts, there is
little empirical research directly supporting narcissism’s central role in
children’s antisocial behavior. In a noteworthy exception, Lobel and Le-
vanon conducted a study which hypothesized that differences in the need
for approval (NA) mediated cheating behavior in children between ages
ten and twelve.8 This study placed children into three groups and gave
them problems that could not be negotiated successfully without cheat-
ing. The performance of each group was incentivized differentially by a
prize, publicity, or no reward. Lobel found that children rating high on
measurements of self-esteem (SE) and low on the need for approval
cheated significantly less frequently than those rating high on both mea-
sures. She concluded that high self-esteem alone did not mediate differ-
ences in the frequency of cheating. The High SE/Low NA group results
were indistinguishable from the low SE group. Although the frequency of
cheating was greater in boys overall, gender differences were nonsignifi-
cant when problem-solving tasks were incentivized by tangible prizes.
Lobel interpreted the mediating effects of NA as supporting the existence
of two different forms of self-esteem: true and defensively high self-esteem.
True high self-esteem children were less influenced by external rewards
and maintained integrity in the presence of temptation. By contrast, defen-
sively high self-esteem children behaved more like the narcissistically com-
promised children described by Kernberg and Chazan. They did not crave
excellence or success for its intrinsically reinforcing properties, but for rec-
ognition and approval. The exclusive focus on external rewards diminished
sensitivity to the means by which success was achieved. By extension, one
132 Chapter 6

might infer that shame intolerance promoted dissociation when success

appeared unlikely and efforts to achieve it by whatever means, including
deception. This was facilely accomplished by children already inclined to
playfully discount the consequences of their actions.
Taken together, the work of Lobel and Kernberg and Chazan converge
on the notion that self-esteem and self-worth are of critical importance in
deceptive behavior. Lobel’s work in particular offers empirical support
for clinical impressions about what lies at the core of hypocrisy in at least
two distinct ways: First, it emphasizes the salience of shame and shame-
avoidance, suggesting that narcissistically vulnerable children deceive to
maintain their status in others’ eyes. Deception is more likely when it
earns tangible rewards. The latter finding highlights nondispositional
variables that powerfully influence transgressive behavior. That rewards
operated as significant covariates in Lobel’s project suggests that both
domain and situational variables—what has been described generically as
context—play a central role in children’s moral decision-making. Hypoc-
risy is less likely to implicate pathology when it occurs only in particular
circumstances and in children for whom dissocial behavior is the excep-
tion rather than the rule. Therefore, one must evaluate the degree to
which it expresses unconscious conflicts and is accompanied by a “strong
potential for authentic guilt feelings, and a definite commitment to moral
values.”9 In moral hypocrisy, internalized values are readily discerned;
the moral hypocrite typically demonstrates a capacity to empathize with
the interpersonal impact of his behavior.
Second, hypocrisy—like lying, secretiveness, and other forms of decep-
tion—is more usefully regarded as a communication whose meaning
emerges only when it is contextualized. Wilkinson and Hough make this
point in their discussion of the residential treatment of two traumatized
adolescents whose lies were elaborate and fantastic.10 Rather than confront-
ing their narratives as factually untrue or interpreting them purely as ag-
gressive, interpersonally deceptive acts, these authors conceptualized them
as compromises voicing the children’s horrendous suffering in early abu-
sive relationships as well as their wishes to triumph over it. The repetitive-
ness of their stories signaled a desperate need to find the comfort and reas-
surance they no longer believed possible in real relationships. Rather than
risk retraumatization, helplessness, and the annihilating anxiety of
separation and abandonment, they replaced reality-as-it-was-
originally-experienced with a fantasy that reassured them of their
invincibility.
Unclear in Wilkinson and Hough’s account is to what extent their pa-
tients’ capacities to test reality were compromised. To be sure, they were
strongly motivated to lie and to disavow the stark reality of their early
lives. Yet, there is another aspect of this behavior that is worthy of consid-
 Youthful Indiscretions 133

eration. However much their lying represented an effort to fashion identi-

ties they did not possess, the fact that they invented stories that could not
be believed suggests the presence of perverse defenses, the very same de-
fenses that make hypocrisy possible. One way to triumph over past trauma
is to conceal it from others, substituting fantasy for reality in a manner that
does not fully accord with the facts. This is a common enough occurrence.
But this is not what these children did. Instead, they fabricated fantastic
tales that were patently false, so incredible that they could not be believed.
Because they defied reason, their stories could not possibly serve the pur-
poses for which they were fashioned. Instead, they recall what R. Stein’s
describes as a means-ends reversal: the ostensible goal of their storytell-
ing—to triumph over past trauma by inventing an invincible identity—
was perverted by valorizing lies and reveling in the pleasure of shocking
and confusing others. The desire for immediate gratification of this kind
trumped all other considerations, even those involved in fashioning a
more realistic and credible identity. This does not diminish the point made
by these investigators as to the children’s need to control rather than be
controlled; it simply underscores how their strategy perverted the com-
munication process and the possibility of mastery, however much it was
motivated by the wish to avoid shame and helplessness.
The notion that deception transforms uncomfortable realities into toler-
able ones better suited to the child’s needs also is consistent with Winni-
cott’s notion of the antisocial tendency.11 Distinct from the acting out dis-
sociated parental impulses, antisocial actions symbolize attempts to create
an ideal, responsive maternal object. Through this behavior, the child
compels others to respond and, hopefully, to meet his needs. The antiso-
cial tendency operates powerfully in circumstances where these needs
cannot be consciously entertained, yet are deeply desired. By linking im-
moral action to privations in early life, Winnicott discerns creativity and
capacity in destructiveness, innocence in guilt. Transgressions sometimes
express the child’s hope that his needs for attachment and love will be
met. This concept unites the views of Khan, Chasseguet-Smirgel, and Stol-
ler by noticing how deviancy and aggression sometimes serve and further
relational bonds. Put another way, the antisocial tendency is an enactment
of unconscious fantasy. It involves deception of others, but most impor-
tantly self-deception; it is always the work of unconscious compromise.
Winnicott would likely see hypocrisy and deception as originating in
false-self-relating. They are efforts to secure love by pretending to be
something or someone other than who one authentically is. Foreshadow-
ing Fonagy’s idea of a constitutional self, Winnicott posits a true self, a
felt-experience that forms the bedrock of identity. In this perspective, so-
cially constructed self-perceptions must be evaluated in terms of the de-
gree to which they accord with the true self.
134 Chapter 6

Greenacre focuses on the interpersonal context of deception, noticing

that its success depends on a complementary wish in the other to be
duped.12 Her view implicates a coconspirator in every deception, some-
one who is willing to assume a complementary role. Interesting about her
view is its debunking of hypocrite’s cleverness. Who has not been struck
by the unctuousness of some individuals, wondering how they ever con-
vince anyone of their sincerity? Greenacre’s response is that deception
rests less on the hypocrite’s genius than on the listener’s willingness to
discount the evidence of his perceptions. Disavowal operates in both par-
ticipants, albeit in different ways, reinforcing complementary unconscious
identifications, wishes, and coexistence among disparate perceptions.

The Domain of Hypocrisy

Patrick was a handsome nine-year-old referred by his pediatrician be-

cause of intense, sometimes violent conflicts with his younger brother.
Well-behaved in school, he was markedly oppositional at home, reacting
poorly to the most benign forms of limit-setting. It was not uncommon for
him to explode in such circumstances, yelling at his mother and railing
against what he perceived as unjust treatment. Resolute and uncompro-
mising, he tried the patience of his mother who worked very hard to re-
main flexible and nonpunitive. Rather than meeting his provocations
with anger, she offered him choices whenever possible and avoided im-
posing her will. Her style was decidedly different from Patrick’s father,
who was far less patient. He reacted in kind to Patrick’s outbursts, send-
ing him (dragging, if necessary) to his room when Patrick was particu-
larly rude or uncontrolled, sometimes roughing him up in the process.
This made for a very tense and divisive family situation.
Slightly freckled, with a dollop of red hair standing atop his head, Pat-
rick greeted me each week with a guarded smile. He spoke in a somber,
lifeless tone. His presentation was not at all what I expected from his par-
ents’ descriptions. Initially, I saw nothing of the spirited, stubborn attri-
butes they described. He spoke very little and seemed disinterested in
play. He preferred sitting upright on the couch, almost frozen in one posi-
tion, offering to “discuss problems.” He described feeling bored in school
and at home. Disdainful of his two younger brothers, he blamed the older
of the two for ruining everyone’s good time. He resented his brother’s
neediness and all the attention he received. He sensed a double standard
at home: he was held accountable for his actions, while his brothers “got
away with everything.” Rarely were they admonished, let alone punished
for bad behavior. He bridled with resentment over the injustice of the
situation, but felt powerless to do anything about it.
 Youthful Indiscretions 135

Patrick was remarkably selective in what he reported. He cast himself

in a positive light, an innocent victim or bystander inadvertently drawn
into conflict. All of his stories were variations on the same scenario: Pat-
rick alone in his room, “minding my own business” or, better yet, doing
homework, when he becomes aware of a commotion in the hallway or in
one of his brothers’ rooms. Playing the role of dutiful student, he tells
(commands) his brothers to quiet down (“shut up”) so he can continue
studying. When they refuse, he physically enforces his will and gets in
trouble. At other times, he takes the role of the peacemaker, intervening to
“help” his brothers arbitrate a disagreement or to break up a fight, only to
be accused of hurting them. When pressed, he does not deny hurting
them, but claims that they often exaggerate their injuries, which, after all,
occurred by “accident.” Because he is not the initiator in his own mind, he
bears no responsibility for what transpires. His aggression is like a reflex,
an involuntary response to the situation.
Patrick’s comportment in school is very different. He is a superb stu-
dent who takes his responsibilities very seriously. If anything, he tends to
be overconscientious. He worries a great deal about examinations and
deadlines, sometimes unable to get to sleep the night before a test. Over
the years of our work, he spends increasing amounts of time studying,
sometimes devoting entire weekends to his work, to the point of ignoring
play dates and activities that conflict with his schedule. His efforts pro-
duce tangible results that make his parents proud. But Patrick appears
more relieved than joyful. He takes virtually no pleasure in his work and
its excellent results.
Over time, I learned that Patrick’s lack of pride in his achievement was
driven by a terrible sense of inferiority that no amount of success could
undo. Competitive in sports, his diminutive size left him feeling com-
pletely ineffectual when matched up against bigger and stronger boys.
Ashamed and feeling betrayed by his body, he could not acknowledge his
limitations and move on. In fact, he could not speak a word about these
matters for a very long time. Instead, he slaved away at his studies and
bullied his brothers mercilessly, locked in a pattern as mystifying to him
as it was troubling to everyone else.
Patrick gradually began to take perspective on these feelings in the
third year of treatment. Increasingly reclusive, he had by now opted out
of athletics altogether and devoted almost all of his free time to studying.
The bullying continued, but in a more devious way. He abused his broth-
ers and then intimidated them into keeping silent about it. With the en-
couragement of his parents, Patrick participated in a ten-day wilderness
program that summer in order to pursue his interests in the outdoors.
This was not a therapeutic program, but an extremely well-run, rugged
camping experience. Living in the woods of the Northwestern United
136 Chapter 6

States offered an experience quite different from the life he was accus-
tomed to. It also provided the opportunity to connect with ten other boys
on a level playing field, free of any history. For the first time in his life, he
had to fend for himself and really enjoyed his independence. He returned
from camp with a newfound sense of confidence. He said to me in our
first visit that fall, “I can take care of myself. If I had to, I could survive in
the wilderness.” He had discovered something about himself that he felt
proud of and that made it possible to reflect on areas of his life in which
he felt inadequate. What he revealed was poignant. He had not disen-
gaged from peers out of a preference for solitude; it turned out that he
was the victim of ongoing bullying at school. He had said nothing about
this to anyone because to do so would mean that he had become the very
thing his peers accused him of being: a wimp and a “momma’s boy.” “I
felt I just had to suck it up.” The chronic, depleting sense of helplessness
he described was palpable. He recognized that it was unlikely that the
boys would actually harm him. But that really wasn’t the point. “Squeal-
ing” would have only done further harm to his already tarnished reputa-
tion; it was a risk he was unwilling to take. What he wanted most was to
triumph over the boys athletically, but he painfully had come to the real-
ization that this was impossible. However, he discovered that he could
outdo them academically and had put all his energy into this area. The
wilderness experience changed everything. Knowing he could survive on
his own allowed him to take a leadership role with the other campers. He
earned their respect by calmly handling a crisis in which there had been
a risk of serious injury to another boy. All of these developments made it
possible to examine his behavior with his siblings in a new light. Feeling
less ashamed about who he was, he began to feel an appropriate sense of
embarrassment about their rivalry. “They’re younger than me!” he ex-
claimed, as if to say that he could no longer take pleasure in defeating a
less than equal opponent. Less threatened by their relationships with his
parents, he no longer felt diminished by their abilities or achievements.
As we developed these ideas over a period of months, Patrick’s aggres-
sive behavior decreased in frequency and he seemed slowly to reengage
with one or two old friends.

Moral Ambiguity in the Teenage Years

In adolescence, relationships with non-family members take on new sig-

nificance. The exponential expansion of the child’s social network con-
fronts him with different perspectives and values. More important, these
perspectives are experienced with a relevance and weight that makes
them difficult to ignore. In place of parental values which once enjoyed
 Youthful Indiscretions 137

unquestioned authority, the adolescent finds a plurality of disparate per-

spectives. In this abundance of alternatives, he faces circumstances in
which he can pick and choose among standards according to his prefer-
ences and inclinations. Cultivating prudence is a daunting task for a
young mind unaccustomed to arbitrating conflicts. Values that once car-
ried weight may appear irrelevant; worse still, they may be mocked and
devalued by peers. Thrust into a new world of possibilities, he must find
a means of exploring them safely and in a way consistent with his evolv-
ing identity, a process greatly facilitated by stable, loving attachments to
primary caregivers. Positive attachments make it possible to experiment
with new identities because the child is free alternately to embrace or
abandon them as he sees fit, without relinquishing his supportive rela-
tionships with primary caregivers. New learning need not come at the
expense of longstanding relationships and values. To the extent that the
adolescent discerns consistency between new and old, his sense of per-
sonal continuity will be strengthened.
Unlike earlier periods of development in which peers provided com-
panionship as well as exposure to ways of thinking and behaving that did
not necessarily accord with family values, adolescent relationships serve
attachment needs directly. Contrasting the two, Ainsworth notes that chil-
dren do not demonstrate secure-base or safe-haven behavior with age-
mates.13 By contrast, many adolescents behave differently in such circum-
stances, rejecting the support of parents in favor of their peers. In times of
stress, they seek understanding, comfort, and security from the latter.
Parental values no longer seem persuasive; increasingly, a new ethos and
hierarchy of values define the identities they inhabit and the choices they
make. Achieving and maintaining a desired standing with peers is of car-
dinal importance.
Sensitivity to attachment also casts adolescent rebelliousness in a differ-
ent light. Certainly it expresses aggression as well as the wish to triumph
over parental authority, but the dynamics of attachment suggest that inde-
pendence from caregivers is accomplished through compliance with peers.
In other words, the capacity to reject parental authority rests on the adoles-
cent’s attachment to new caregivers. His rebellion often disguises
conformity. Striking is the fact that he may find himself in the very same
relationship pattern with peers that originally engendered hostility toward
his parents. This explains not only his adoption of new attitudes and roles,
but also his behaving in ways that depart from previously established
values. It is this possibility that will now be considered, focusing on the
widening field of influences promoting adolescence transgressions.
Julian is a bright, principled eighteen-year-old high school senior who
performed reasonably well in school and has maintained longstanding
relationships with a core group of individuals, both male and female. He
138 Chapter 6

has never before been in treatment. For the last three years, he has volun-
teered in a local soup kitchen and, more recently, participated in a Safe
Rides program. By all accounts he is a fine young man. But, after his sec-
ond arrest within a three-month period for driving under the influence of
alcohol, his life has changed dramatically.
Julian’s legal problems are his only reason for entering treatment. He
makes this point clearly in our first meeting. He shows little concern about
the trouble he is in, certainly no concern about going to jail on these charges.
He informs me that a number of his friends have faced similar charges and
received pre-trial diversionary programs and probation. He expects his case
to be resolved in the same way. The worst of it will be the community ser-
vice requirement and having to avoid being rearrested during the proba-
tion period. In fact, his greatest concern seems to be whether he will be able
to perform his service hours in a nonprofit organization run by a family
friend. He conveys this information in a matter-of-fact way, neither haughty
nor arrogant. He does not believe he is above the law, but rather that his
parents are overreacting to the seriousness of the situation. And he bases
this view on what he has been told to expect by his attorney.
Only when we turn to the spectacle of his arrests does his affect change.
He is a high-profile kid in a small, affluent town. To put the matter in
perspective, although arrested late on a Friday night, school officials had
been fully briefed by the time he entered school the following Monday.
They called him into the office to inform him of his suspension. Julian was
shocked and, by the time of our meeting, angry and resentful. He felt the
matter was none of the school’s business and that he was being punished
twice for the same mistake; in the case of the school, without due process.
But, there was something else Julian was worried about beyond the pub-
lic humiliation. Conviction on these charges would place his athletic
scholarship in jeopardy. A drug conviction would nullify all government
aid and allow the university to which he had been accepted to rescind its
offer of admission.
Given the magnitude of what was at stake, Julian’s calm was troubling.
He reported all of the events involved in the two arrests factually, with a
degree of emotion one might expect from a child describing a scolding
from a parent for having forgotten to walk the dog. Particularly absent
was any elaboration of his inner experience that might convey some sense
of suffering or remorse. Instead, he provided the scaffolding of a story,
describing sequences of behaviors and their immediate outcomes as if
from a third-person perspective, rather than a narrative that I experienced
as real. Also noteworthy was the fact that our conversations came to a
grinding halt whenever I failed to ask a follow-up question.
Initially, I did not notice this because I had many questions and freely
(but supportively) expressed my sense of puzzlement, encouraging him
 Youthful Indiscretions 139

to clarify his thoughts and motivations. I rather quickly came to feel that
I was asking many more questions than usual. As I reflected on this enact-
ment, I became aware of just how little Julian reported on his own. I real-
ized that I had unconsciously been avoiding the uncomfortable silence I
anticipated would follow from a less active approach. I was as anxious
about the silence as he was about reflecting on his experience and remain-
ing open to what he might discover. I decided to share these observations
with Julian directly.
My directness seemed to catch him off-guard. To his credit, he re-
sponded genuinely by saying “I don’t know what else to say. I’m an
idiot. I know what I did was stupid and that I shouldn’t have done it. I
know it will never happen again.” End of story. He was not interested
in contextualizing these events within the larger narrative of his life; he
resisted any inquiry, let alone suggestion, of a relationship between his
behavior and his feelings about his parents’ recent divorce. To protect
Julian and his sister, his parents gave them no indication of what was
pending, literally saying nothing about the divorce until it was finalized
and Julian’s father was preparing to take an apartment nearby. Soon,
Julian’s resistance to considering implications turned to frustration with
me. Quick to anger, he contained himself only with great effort. He
seemed to struggle to control his temper as well as to conceal how
troubled he was by his family situation. Clearly, the only reason he
spoke to me at all was because he had been instructed by his attorney to
do so. After all, he explained, “My lawyer said that counseling will help
my case.”
Julian cautiously answered questions about his experiences with alco-
hol and other drugs and seemed surprised when I asked him how they
made him feel. He reported daily marijuana use and weekend drinking.
He quickly added, “But I never drive when I’m high,” as if to reassure me
that he had learned his lesson and that he was committed to doing right.
He had no intention of changing his behavior and saw nothing wrong
with “partying,” so long as it was in “moderation.” He responded posi-
tively to my curiosity about his partying and gradually revealed more
about what he and his friends did. When asked about his drinking, he
told me that he almost exclusively drinks beer, consuming between five
and fifteen cans in the course of an evening. Moderation indeed! He al-
luded to mild social anxiety that was lessened by alcohol, and to discom-
fort with the idea of not participating when his friends drink and use
drugs. When I suggested to him that fifteen beers was not what most
people consider to be moderate drinking, he said that he never gets drunk
and consumes an amount commensurate with his friends. Partying was
“no big deal” and, besides, “everyone does it.” He seemed far more con-
cerned about the social consequences of not participating.
140 Chapter 6

Because both arrests followed the same pattern, I will focus only on the
first of them. Julian joined a group of kids at the home of one of his
friends. The early part of the evening was relaxing and enjoyable. He and
approximately ten other boys and girls were listening to music and play-
ing Beirut, a very popular game among teenagers in which a ping pong
ball is hurled into cups filled with beer at the other end of a table. Played
individually or in teams, the loser drinks the beer-filled cups that have not
been eliminated. As the evening progressed and word of the party spread,
it soon was overrun with teenagers, prompting the neighbors to call the
police. Julian remembers someone yelling “cops!” and watching fifty or
more teenagers scatter in all directions. He, too, fled and hid deep in the
woods for a half hour until he was certain that the police were gone. Be-
cause he planned to drink, he had arranged a ride with a friend. But, he
could not locate the other boy or anyone else. He considered calling his
parents, but felt they would be upset. They were always upset when he
did what other kids his age do. There was no way to make them happy,
certainly not in a way that allowed him do what he wanted to do and to
feel like he was being himself. He felt angry. He knew he should not drive
even though he did not feel intoxicated. He did not get more than a half
mile before he was stopped by the police and arrested.
Although complex, Julian’s situation illustrates conflicts among com-
peting interests and values whose origins may be traced to identification
figures both within and outside of his immediate family. He is struggling
to balance these various influences, to reach compromises that reflect the
values that carry weight for him precisely at a time when these values are
themselves evolving. It is not a matter of one set of influences being more
important than another, but of appraising his behavior as a response to
them. With this in mind, two issues are noteworthy: First, Julian fails to
act in accordance with his values and better judgment. He seems sincerely
to believe that one should not drink and drive, and he does not see him-
self as exempt from this requirement. That he fails to conform to this
standard cannot be attributed to any misunderstanding of it or to a failure
to anticipate the potential consequences of his transgression. However,
this does not mean that his behavior is better understood as the expres-
sion of a dissocial impulse. Surely it may be viewed at least in part as an
expression of hostility, an act born of resentment against parental author-
ity. He is filled with resentment about his parents’ divorce, particularly
about the way it was handled. He feels that he has been lied to and won-
ders what other secrets there might be. But these ideas only tell part of the
story. Even if they explain one of his motives for drinking, they fail to ad-
dress how such behavior comports with the views of others with whom
he is identified and how his resentment is specific to some aspects of pa-
rental expectations and not others.
 Youthful Indiscretions 141

Julian is struggling with a number of issues simultaneously. One of the

main reasons he finds himself in his present situation is that he refuses to
consider alternatives that require important sacrifices to be made. In retro-
spect, he agrees that facing parental disappointment would have been the
least costly alternative, but, at the time these events unfolded, he could not
bring himself to do so. Why? In a sense, because he believed that revealing
what had transpired would mean relinquishing the pleasurable escape
from discomfort provided by substance use and his unconscious wishes to
punish his parents for their unreasonably high standards, misattunement,
and betrayal of his trust. He felt as if he was being held to standards of
honesty unfairly, standards that his parents had not honored.
Julian considered calling his parents as he hid in the woods, half fright-
ened, half amused by the entire situation. But he immediately dismissed
this thought as he contemplated their reaction and the diminishment of
his status in the eyes of his peers. His behavior was not an irrational lash-
ing out at authority, but a paradigm case of compromise. On the one
hand, he recognized the importance of not drinking when intoxicated; on
the other, he experienced no conflict about breaking the law prohibiting
underage drinking. He wanted to do the right thing with regard to some
rules and lacked concern about others. His principles were readily com-
promised when he imagined having to face his parents. This threat, more
than any other in Julian’s case, led him to discount values.
In Julian’s case, the charge of hypocrisy should be leveled cautiously and
conditionally. To be sure, Julian holds double standards. But hypocrisy en-
tails more than this: it requires that one endeavor deceptively to appear
morally better. One might argue that his refusal to call his parents repre-
sented an effort to retain their trust undeservedly. The accusation of hypoc-
risy would be fortified by learning that, as part of the in-service training at
safe rides, Julian lectures others on the importance of sobriety and abstain-
ing from any form of substance use. However, Julian does not do this. In-
stead, he engages in a form of self-hypocrisy in which he deceives himself
into believing that his behavior comports with moral standards, enjoying
the benefits thereby, while at the same time violating other standards by
discounting their importance or relevance. For example, because he has ar-
ranged for one of his friends to serve as a designated driver, he feels it is
acceptable to violate the agreement he has with his parents and to break the
law. He has agreed to abstain from all drug and alcohol use while his case
is pending and to participate in a drug treatment program. When he en-
tered into this agreement, he did so sincerely; he swore to uphold the agree-
ment, making his continued alcohol and marijuana use a noteworthy
breech. Julian wants his parents’ love, but believes it is conditional on in-
habiting a role that is discrepant with his self-experience, with the values
reinforced by others, and with discrepancies between what his parents say
142 Chapter 6

and do. He is beginning to think very differently than he has in the past. He
wants his parents’ love and respect, but feels he cannot secure it without
deception. The tension among competing desires makes deception an at-
tractive alternative. It also makes concessions like a designated driver (and
sometimes being the designated driver) the least costly way of having what
he wants. It allows him to deceive himself into believing he is doing the
right thing, to reconcile the wish to be “one of the guys” with the judgment
that he ought not to drink at all. Feeling pulled in opposite directions makes
hypocrisy more likely. In condemning his own behavior, he aligns himself
with one set of concerns at the expense of all others. Dissociation minimizes
conflict and deletes shame. But it also precludes any means of realistically
assessing alternatives that would permit him to manage these influences
more effectively.
This chapter carries forward several themes articulated earlier in this
study. Primary among them is the centrality of dissociation and perverse
defenses. Like adults, children demonstrate a capacity to selectively dis-
count moral standards and to act contrary to what they otherwise believe is
right. This is said neither to condemn such behavior nor to hold children to
adult standards of conduct. Rather, it is to underscore the point that chil-
dren and adults are more likely to sacrifice values than desires when the
two conflict or, more generally, when they face uncomfortable realities.
To be sure, moral and cognitive immaturities play a significant role in
the ease with which this is accomplished. Consistent with the material
from Jessica’s treatment, for example, children comfortably occupy an
imaginary position, even when it sharply contrasts with reality, bringing
about a comfortable coexistence. Many children do not experience the
demands of self-scrutiny and self-correction as pressingly; illogic and
fantasy solutions are more easily maintained.
It is also the case that parental authority places children in a unique
circumstance. For Jessica, it defined her reality and the range of permis-
sible thoughts and actions. Her parents did not create a transitional space
in which she might entertain other possibilities, one that included the dis-
solution of the marital relationship. By contrast, Julian’s situation high-
lighted conflicts and contradictions between parental imperatives and his
burgeoning inner morality. Parental expectations were experienced as not
only unreasonable, but also hypocritical and completely out of touch with
his social reality and changing vision of himself. Julian’s situation most
clearly illustrates the confluence of these various influences, chance
events, character, and agency.
It is these themes that will be developed in the final two chapters. Spe-
cifically, these chapters consider how dissociation disrupts moral reckon-
ing and how this disruption is complicated by the inherent ambiguity of
ethical life. Modernist accounts assume relatively clear moral guidance
 Youthful Indiscretions 143

and understand hypocrisy (and transgressive behavior generally) as a

straightforward deviation from norms. Once the ambiguity of these stan-
dards and norms is acknowledged, the challenge of ethical life can be
more clearly articulated. Morality significantly requires a significant de-
gree of construction and interpretation rather than any straightforward
recognition and compliance with rules. Like reality generally, morality is
unfinished, a collection of imperatives and practices that lack complete
integration. To the extent that they require judgment, the appropriate
course of action cannot be stipulated in advance, but must be fashioned
on the basis of the agent’s commitments, beliefs, and goals. In this view,
hypocrisy is unavoidable; it is both a mode of cognition and a means of
reconciling the totality of forces shaping individual experience.

Notes

  1.  August Aichhorn, Wayward Youth (New York: Viking Press, 1935), 3.
  2.  Adelaide Johnson, “Sanctions for superego lacunae of adolescence,” in
Searchlights on Delinquency, ed. Kurt R. Eissler (New York: International Universi-
ties Press, 1949), 225–45, and Adelaide M. Johnson and S. A. Szurek, “The Genesis
of Antisocial Acting Out in Children and Adolescents,” Psychoanalytic Quarterly 21
(1952): 323–43.
  3.  Johnson, “Sanctions,” 225.
  4.  Johnson, “Sanctions,” 225.
  5.  Johnson, “Sanctions,” 225.
  6.  Paulina Kernberg and Saralea E. Chazan, Children with Conduct Disorders: A
Psychotherapy Manual (New York: Basic Books, 1991), 8.
  7.  Jay Mechling, “On the Relation between Creativity and Cutting Corners,”
in Adolescent Psychiatry, vol. 15, ed. Sherman C. Feinstein (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1988), 346–66.
  8.  Thalma E. Lobel and Ilana Levanon, “Self​-E
​ steem, Need for Approval, and
Cheating Behavior in Children,” Journal of Educational Psychology 80 (1988):
122–23.
  9.  Otto F. Kernberg, “Prognostic Considerations Regarding Borderline Person-
ality Organization,” Journal of the American Psychoanalytic Association 19 (1971):
623.
10.  Sallye Wilkinson and George Hough, “Lie as Narrative Truth in Abused
Adopted Adolescents,” The Psychoanalytic Study of the Child 51 (1996): 580–96.
11.  Donald W. Winnicott, “The Antisocial Tendency,” in Through Paediatrics to
Psycho-analysis (New York: Basic Books, 1975), 306–15.
12.  Phyllis Greenacre, “The Impostor,” Psychoanalytic Quarterly 27 (1958):
359–82.
13.  Mary D. S. Ainsworth, “Attachments beyond Infancy,” American Psycholo-
gist 44 (1989): 709–16.
 III

From Hypocrisy
to Moral Ambiguity
 7

Dissociation
and Self-Deception

D issociation occurs with far greater frequency than is generally imag-

ined. It is observed in a variety of everyday experiences to which one
rarely gives a second thought. For example, after my morning shower, still
groggy from having just awakened, I sometimes cannot recall whether or
not I washed my hair. Puzzled and frustrated by this inability, I slowly re-
construct my actions on the basis of the evidence provided by my wet hair.
It is strange, eerie feeling in which I find no memory of what has transpired
only moments earlier. The evidence of my participation is indisputable, but
my stance with regard to it is no different than the one I assume when
evaluating events undergone by another person. Another instance of dis-
sociation is the equally common experience of highway hypnosis, where
one carries out a series of complex, coordinated, goal-directed behaviors
automatically, without awareness or focused attention. Although preva-
lence rates are estimated to be between 3 and 10 percent of the population,1
they increase to a frequency between 46 and 74 percent when the definition
of dissociation is broadened to include the examples above.2 Similarly, if
high scores on the Dissociative Experiences Scale (DES) are interpreted to
reflect dissociative pathology, then as many as 9 percent of college students
suffer this disorder.3 With the college population in the United States cur-
rently at about twenty million students, this would mean that almost two
million of them suffer such symptoms in varying degrees. This is as as-
tounding number, comparable to those testing positive for the influenza
virus.4 When defined broadly, it is difficult to distinguish normal or expect-
able from pathological forms of dissociation. Better put, the difference be-
tween them becomes one of frequency or quantity.

147
148 Chapter 7

The impact of a broadened definition is not limited to prevalence rates

alone. It also has a deleterious effect on the communication of clinical
findings. For example, when therapists speak of dissociation, they may be
referencing one or more of the following: daydreaming, hypnogogic phe-
nomena and reverie, imaginative absorption, heightened suggestibility,
altered states of consciousness, selective inattention, unawareness, unfor-
mulated experience, fleeting feelings of unreality, anxiety/panic states,
splitting, conversion symptoms, amnesia, derealization/depersonaliza-
tion, and/or the presence of alter egos. In addition, therapists employ the
term ambiguously to describe defensive operations which engender these
symptoms by preventing the integration of experience. Are all of these
accurately depicted as instances of the same phenomenon differing only
in severity? Or are they more aptly described in terms of two or more
distinct variables? At the therapeutic level, imprecision only adds to the
formidable challenges facing analysts who wish to maintain some separa-
tion between clinical findings and their interpretation.
In response to this ambiguity, Cardena and Wiener urge an integrative
approach by speaking of a “domain of dissociation.”5 Cardena identifies
two core features of dissociation: compartmentalization and detachment.6
Similar to Janet’s original description, compartmentalization refers to the
“coexistence of separate mental systems that should be integrated in the
person’s consciousness, memory, or identity.”7 Neither the coexistence of
systems nor unawareness of them implies dissociation. What is critical is
that these systems are integrated under normal circumstances. My hair-
washing amnesia therefore offers weak evidence of dissociation because
the activity, although coordinated, normally is executed automatically
without focused attention or conscious integration. It is a routine activity
forgotten during a time of incomplete wakefulness and fatigue. Like rid-
ing a bicycle, it is a complex activity that requires virtually no conscious
integration, planning, and monitoring.
At the clinical level, it is particularly important that conscious aware-
ness is not an essential feature of compartmentalization. Attention and
executive functioning, including the coordination of myriad subordinate
neuropsychological systems, routinely occur without awareness. That
these functions are brought into awareness under certain conditions does
not mean they are otherwise dissociated. Automacity economizes effort
and enhances efficiency. It is therefore inaccurate to designate each and
every instance of integration failure also as an instance of compartmental-
ization; compartmentalization signals an “unexpected failure of integra-
tion” in which recall cannot be brought under volitional control.8 Because
the nonintegration of unformulated experiences is “expectable,” it is not
intrinsically dissociative.9 The fact that something nonconscious is made
conscious with appropriate attention and linguistic formulation does not
 Dissociation and Self-Deception 149

in itself warrant this inference. This is true as well for many types of state-
specific learning whose evidentiary value, contrary to Bromberg, is limit-
ed.10 Fundamentally, compartmentalization reflects a primary deficit in
retrieval rather than encoding.11 It is not necessarily a motivated or defen-
sive process.
By detachment or disengagement Cardena refers to “qualitative depar-
tures from one’s ordinary modes of experiencing, wherein an unusual
disconnection or disengagement from the self and/or the surroundings
occurs as a central aspect of the experience.”12 Excluded are “ordinary
instances of less-than-full engagement with one’s surroundings, experi-
ences, and actions.”13 Daydreaming, fatigue, and meditative states are
instances of less-than-full engagement with one’s surroundings that are
not dissociative. In contradistinction to compartmentalization in which
processing occurs, but is neither formulated nor retrieved, detachment
refers to experiences that are not encoded in a characteristic or normal
fashion. The terms “characteristic” or “normal” are important modifiers
because they exclude experiences not encoded for nonpsychological (neu-
rological) as well as attentional reasons. The fact that I do not attend
equally (or at all) to aspects of an experience does not mean I have dis-
sociated them. Attention is selective and less likely to register those ele-
ments lacking salience.
There are several additional reasons for distinguishing these two
variables:14 (a) Both compartmentalization and detachment occur in isola-
tion in specific psychiatric disorders, for example, patients suffering Soma-
tization Disorder frequently manifest signs of compartmentalization with-
out any evidence of detachment; (b) numerous factor analytic studies of the
DES identify these factors; (c) experimental findings support the idea of a
unique neuropsychological profile of detachment, consistent with hyper-
arousal and anxiety. These include inhibition of the limbic system accompa-
nied by activation of the right prefrontal cortex producing a state of vigi-
lance, widened attentional focus, and the absence of emotion.15
Although these data strongly support the claim that dissociation is best
understood categorically, they do not preclude the hypothesis that de-
tachment and compartmentalization are dimensional variables. Despite
the fact that they can be reliably distinguished, they may nevertheless
vary by degree across individuals and thus support a continuum view.
This question can be reframed empirically in the following way: Are dis-
sociative symptoms observed in both clinical and nonclinical samples? If
so, do the types of symptoms observed differ between groups?
Waller and his coinvestigators offer powerful evidence that two levels
of dissociation—normal and pathological—can be reliably distinguished.16
This opinion is based on a sophisticated statistical analysis of DES results
which reveals a dissociative taxon (DES-T) or latent class variable be-
150 Chapter 7

lieved to be a marker for pathological dissociation. They cite three specific

findings to support this hypothesis: (a) high DES-T scores are rarely ob-
served in nondissociative psychopathology; (b) high DES-T scores occur
infrequently in nonclinical samples; (c) the inclusion of “normal” (expect-
able) dissociative experiences falsely inflates frequency estimates in all
samples. For this reason, they recommend excluding absorption experi-
ences from the concept of pathological dissociation because of its ubiquity
and lack of discriminant validity. Their findings are consistent with those
of Janet, who observed that pathological dissociation does not occur in
normal individuals who seem to possess a resilience permitting them to
effectively manage trauma. He did not view constitutionally weakened
ego capacity as normally distributed or as a trait one possesses to varying
degrees. Rather, pathological dissociation, for Janet, was prima facie evi-
dence of a taxon for this disorder.
These data are summarized in table 7.1. The proposed two-by-two ma-
trix highlights the clinical and research findings in support of the hypoth-
esis that there are two types and two levels of dissociation. This frame-
work allows one to differentiate dissociation that is nonpathological or
subject to volitional control from dissociative pathology proper. Although
Cardena recommends excluding the former altogether, its inclusion is
warranted by the prominent place its holds in contemporary clinical and
theoretical discussions so long as it is defined clearly. By contrast, patho-
logical dissociation refers to symptoms rarely found in nonclinical or in
nondissociative psychiatric disorders. Although absorption experiences

Table 7.1.  Dissociation: Level by Type

Detachment (Normal) Compartmentalization (Normal)

Increased self-consciousness; Compartmentalization of mentation in routine

anxious hyperarousal. activities, such as highway hypnosis.

Daydreaming; narrowing of attention Non-neurologically based instances of

and absorption; increased/decreased
engagement with/awareness of one’s
actions or surroundings.
Detachment (Pathological)
Depersonalization; experiencing one’s
own mental processes literally as
someone’s else’s.
Derealization; includes symptoms
such as non-neurologically based
macropsia/micropsia.
forgetting, such as slips, readily restored by a
prompt or cue.
Compartmentalization (Pathological)
Conversion symptoms;
Fugue states; non-neurologically based
confusion about or pervasive amnesia for
autobiographical information; presence of
alternate personalities.
 Dissociation and Self-Deception 151

sometimes mimic either subtype, it is categorized under normal detach-

ment following Cardena’s suggestion. When absorbed in an experience,
one necessarily “detaches” from (fails to encode) other facets of the expe-
rience and, therefore, experiences difficulty remembering them. Clearly,
however, one will not retrieve experiences that have not been encoded.

Dissociation and Bad Faith

Relational theorists recognize distinctions between normal and patho-

logical dissociation; they also acknowledge that dissociation is not neces-
sarily pathological. Yet they prefer a dimensional construct that allows
them to distinguish dissociation from repression across a variety of phe-
nomena of clinical interest. Specifically, they believe that dissociation
provides an explanation of unconscious motivation that does not require
the subject’s prior knowledge of what is excluded from consciousness.
They are interested in dissociation’s ability to keep mental contents apart,
allowing them access to consciousness alternately rather than simultane-
ously, without integration or linkage. Dissociation makes it possible for
contradictory feelings and perceptions to coexist without conflict. Stern
understands it generically as a form of experience that never has been
formulated. It marks the absence of meaning, an abyss or negative space.
He follows Fingarette in distinguishing dissociation from Sartrean mau-
vaise foi (bad faith), formulating the latter in accordance with a model of
interpersonal deception.17 It will be recalled that Sartre criticized Freud’s
concept of repression for placing the patient in a relationship to himself
identical to the one he occupies when deceiving another person. Effective
deception depends on his knowing exactly what he wishes to conceal.
This being the case, repression involves him in the paradox of simultane-
ously knowing and not knowing, in apparent violation of the principle of
noncontradiction.
To respond to Sartre’s objection by claiming that self-deception is un-
conscious postpones rather than remediates the problem. For Sartre, con-
sciousness is intentional and directed outward toward the world. It is
pure activity, never identical with the objects it identifies, even when
these objects include mental states or the self. When it becomes an object
of reflection, consciousness is an object like any other; there is no superor-
dinate “I” of the experiencer standing above consciousness, only ideas,
inferences, and perceptions. In this view, personal identity is as much a
product of inference as my perception of the plant standing beside my
desk. Both are interpretations or constructions. Sartre opposes any formu-
lation that partitions consciousness; he denies the possibility of an inter-
nal censor that is not in itself an object of consciousness. To speak of un-
152 Chapter 7

conscious avoidance always is to claim that one part of the mind excludes
another. Whatever excludes meanings must itself be part of consciousness
since consciousness always is consciousness of something. As forms of
self-deception that involve mental partitioning, repression and dissocia-
tion both reflect circumstances in which the agent knows and does not
know. Sartre concludes this is contradictory and, ultimately, diminishes
moral responsibility and freedom.

Relational Extrapolations

Two rich and evocative accounts of dissociation are found in the relational
literature. The first, inspired by Stern, will be characterized as a response
to the “dynamic paradox” of how one can harbor intentions to deceive
oneself that do not immediately render themselves ineffective.18 It seeks
to avoid conceptualizing dissociation as a deceptive strategy that one si-
multaneously devises and is taken in by. This position portrays dissocia-
tion as an interpretive restriction of experience by any means, including
the failure to use language creatively or in a way that alters one’s thinking
and feeling. Sometimes operating intentionally, at other times disabling
the will, it encompasses a range of phenomena including, but not limited
to inattention, unconscious avoidance, invalidation, and involuntary re-
sponses to massive trauma. Stern makes it a necessary condition that dis-
sociated meanings are not formulated prior to their exclusion. It is on this
basis that he distinguishes dissociation from repression.
In a second perspective, Bromberg addresses the central issue posed by
the “static paradox.”19 Rather than reflecting incompatible beliefs, dissocia-
tion asserts (or implies) the truth of a proposition and its negation in appar-
ent violation of the principle of noncontradiction. Bromberg responds to
this paradox by positing multiplicity as a normative condition. He regards
dissociation as an adaptive effort that allows individual “self states to func-
tion optimally (not simply defensively) when full immersion in a single
reality, a single strong affect, and a suspension of one’s self-reflective capac-
ity is what is called for or wished for.”20 Dissociation disables the seamless-
ness of cognition, causing experience to be encoded in discrete, unlinked
configurations of self, other, and affect. Each configuration is monadic
rather than a component of a hierarchically organized structure. To para-
phrase Sullivan’s famous aphorism, one has not only as many selves as one
has interpersonal relationships, but as many selves as one has discernable
experiences.21 Personal identity is constructed from this collection of self-
states, rendering the “real me” always an interpretation of here and now
experience that is partial and perspectivistic. Bromberg asserts that the self
is an illusion that protects against the threat of multiplicity.
 Dissociation and Self-Deception 153

If dissociation protects one from impingements, from experiences that

cannot be fully processed, then it is possible to interpret Bromberg’s con-
cept of personal identity as the product of self-deception. This is not to say
that it is duplicitous or to criticize it morally. On the contrary, Bromberg
emphasizes its adaptive function, writing that dissociation prevents
“trauma from occurring by always anticipating it.”22 He portrays the
trauma victim as perpetually on guard, with “parts of the self on call,
watching to make sure they know what is going on so that no surprises
occur, and poised to deal with the betrayal they know will happen.”23 Self-
deception transcends selective or biased information processing, provid-
ing security through the construction and maintenance of beliefs. Brom-
berg’s multiplicity thesis logically entails a model of dissociation as
double-mindedness, a term denoting that some selves know and there-
fore guard against exposure to what is unavailable, unformulated, or
misconstrued by other selves. The gaps between dissociated selves pro-
vide fertile ground for false beliefs. The illusion of unitary selfhood is a
special case of self-deception that reassures by selectively denying what is
known. It thus resembles the deception of one person by another.
By contrast, Stern excludes double-mindedness from his concept of dis-
sociation.24 He wants it to be possible that some meanings are excluded
from awareness unintentionally while others are defensively avoided,
without it being the case that the subject has formulated what is excluded.
Dissociation rests on ignorance rather than on intelligent avoidance. Any
awareness must be pre-reflective, limited to feelings of implication with-
out linguistic form. Stern offers as an example a woman who, oblivious to
the implications of her words, proudly reports a conversation with her
husband who confides that he can maintain an erection only with her.
Stern uses this example to support the thesis that her dissociation is de-
fensively motivated, that she avoids meanings she never before has for-
mulated. Yet, upon reflection, it seems that this example works only if her
obliviousness is general. That is, it is most plausible only if she character-
istically fails to appropriately draw such inferences. If she fails to do so
only with regard to her husband’s infidelity, her lapse is less easily ex-
plained by general avoidance or inattention. The latter circumstance
raises a question about how she unconsciously avoids specific implica-
tions of experience without also avoiding many general ones. In other
words, it raises the problem of selectivity.
To probe these views further, consider an example inspired by Mele.
Tom is very disturbed to learn that his son, Junior, has not been selected
for the Little League all-star team. He had high hopes for the boy and is
shocked by the written evaluation he receives detailing the reasons Junior
was not selected. Tom believes he deserves this recognition and that the
board’s decision is unjust. After carefully reviewing the player evaluation,
154 Chapter 7

he decides to appeal the league’s decision. However, because these events

unfold over a holiday weekend, he cannot file an appeal for several days.
In the interim, Tom rereads the evaluation and realizes, despite his disap-
pointment, that the league’s decision was appropriate and fair. He speaks
with his son about their mutual disappointment and tries, to the best of
his ability, to help Junior put the experience in perspective.
As I understand it, Tom’s initial reaction is a nontrivial example of Ster-
nian dissociation. It straightforwardly captures the idea that he was un-
able to formulate the experience fully. Under the pressure of disappoint-
ment, he did not process the information in the letter. How this might
happen is not hard to imagine. Strong negative emotions dampened his
curiosity about the letter’s implications, consideration of which likely
would have led him to question his son’s ability. As evidence that this
transpired, one need only consider the fact that, upon rereading the letter,
Tom attended precisely to implications that initially escaped notice. But
this observation raises an important question: Is this evidence sufficient to
establish the conclusion that these implications were not formulated? If
Tom’s strong desire for his son to be an all star caused him to ignore or
discount evidence that was anxiety-provoking, to dissociate as it were,
has one uncovered evidence of inattention or unconscious avoidance?
Doesn’t the same desire biasing Tom’s processing of information, such
that he notes only what is consistent with his beliefs, also cause him un-
consciously to avoid evidence likely to disconfirm them?
This idea complicates Stern’s thesis. He wants it to be possible that
Tom unconsciously avoids interpretations of experience without com-
mitting himself to the position that what is avoided already is known or
formulated. For this reason, Stern cannot limit his concept of inattention
to its garden variety form in which a man, glued to his television during
the Super Bowl, does not hear his wife’s request to take out the trash.
Because Tom is not generally inattentive and, in this particular instance,
reads the league’s letter with an attorney’s eye, inattention or generic
processing bias alone is an unlikely reason for this lapse. His initial reac-
tion more closely resembles a refusal to accept the painful implications
of the letter than a failure to attend to them. Suspicion is increased by
the consistency of his refusal with his desires, wishes, and fears. Yet,
there is no solid evidence that he avoids acknowledging something that
he knows or believes. For this reason, Tom’s example illustrates pre-
cisely the point Stern wishes to make. It exemplifies a form of self-
deception that does not rely on the subject knowing the content of what
is avoided. It represents, in an evocative phrase coined by Stern, a story
that “must not be told.”25 But, it also marks a boundary for that class of
dissociative phenomena excluded from awareness on the basis of a pre-
reflective weighing of relative risks and benefits. When the potential
 Dissociation and Self-Deception 155

costs outweigh the benefits, dissociation prevents certain interpretations

of experience without requiring their precise meaning to be known. This
perspective requires a generous interpretation of the meaning of the
term “pre-reflective” but, in principle, allows dissociation to be concep-
tualized in way that does not require partitioning of the mind.
These limitations should make it clear that, despite its merits, Stern’s ac-
count does not easily accommodate dissociative phenomena in which parti-
tioning of consciousness is a primary feature. Dissociative Identity Disorder
(DID), for example, presents circumstances in which contradictory beliefs
are accessible (with some qualifications) to awareness. Tom’s experience is
illustrative of Stern’s thesis because his subsequent behavior shows no resis-
tance to the truth; it offers evidence neither of the prior belief that his son
was undeserving nor of any other motive to deceive himself into false belief.
He wants his son to be an all star because he sincerely believes he deserves
this honor. Tom is not the type of person whose conscience would permit the
promotion of his son undeservedly, depriving another child of this opportu-
nity thereby. This interpretation is supported by the fact that he concurs with
the league’s decision after reviewing the evaluation. Tom’s self-deception
does not depend on both knowing and not knowing that so frequently char-
acterizes pathological dissociation. It instead reflects a failure to appreciate
meanings that can be, but are not, formulated.

Dissociation as a Moral Problem

Let us alter this example slightly by assuming that Tom is of two minds
about his son. He loves him, and respects and admires his determination.
He is a proud father with a clear vision of his son’s athletic potential. At
other times, he is frustrated by his tendency to crumble under pressure.
He cringes with shame when Junior does not make the “big play.” He
reacts with rage, berating the boy for not “stepping up and being a man.”
Tom rationalizes these angry outbursts as well as his son’s poor perfor-
mance, but more often these thoughts and feelings simply fade from his
mind. Sometimes, but not often, he has the troubling thought that Junior
is not an all-star caliber player at all. When Tom receives the evaluation
letter, one suspects that he is upset partly because the letter confirms what
he has suspected all along. This realization is more painful than Tom can
bear; he reacts with a sense of injustice, convinced that his son’s reputa-
tion must be vindicated.
Dual beliefs and evasion now figure more prominently. Tom seems
more clearly to know what he purports not to know. Moreover, unlike
what is typically observed in instances of repression, the information en-
ters consciousness and is (uncomfortably) entertained. To claim that these
156 Chapter 7

ideas are not fully formulated raises no fatal objection to the argument
that Tom dissociates some beliefs about Junior because Bromberg’s con-
struct subsumes instances in which self-states are poorly formulated. He
notes that when particular configurations of meaning occupy conscious-
ness, they do so fully. Rather than simply foreclosing the possibility of
linguistic formulation, pathological dissociation severs interconnections
among selves, undermining the capacity to call them to mind, but only
rarely denying them access to consciousness permanently. Were it other-
wise, they would not be available when, to paraphrase Bromberg, full
absorption in an experience is necessary or desired.26
In this perspective, dissociation undermines agency by pitting one set
of concerns against another, polarizing them in a way that precludes ac-
curate appraisal. It is not so much that one cannot fully access or formu-
late the implications of experience as it is a problem of holding different
perspectives simultaneously in mind, each of which may itself be well-
formulated. If Tom experiences his son’s rejection as an intolerable narcis-
sistic injury, he will feel ashamed, angry, and victimized. He will have
trouble integrating these feelings with his cherished beliefs about his son.
Strongly activated by these unbearable feelings, he may feel that he has
no choice but to appeal the decision. He must avoid what threatens him
at any cost. Dissociation sequesters information relevant to his delibera-
tions, information that, although painful, is vital to accurate appraisal. It
leaves him feeling overwhelmed, unable to live with the shame of rejec-
tion. He cannot offer comfort to his devastated son when he himself is
devastated and bereft. He cannot seriously entertain any alternative that
does not undo his sense of victimacy.
When one cannot realistically consider alternatives because they create
unbearable internal tension, one acts out of what feels like necessity.
One’s plans, desires, and intentions no longer are experienced as one’s
own. To say they are disavowed does not quite convey the dream-like
quality discerned in states of mind in which actions are perceived as dis-
connected from intentions. One now dwells in a region of ambiguous
agency, a region of uncertain ownership of one’s engagements that, ac-
cording to Grand is “a precondition for most ethical violations.”27 Al-
though speaking about the analyst’s ethical violations, Grand’s insights
capture the broader context of transgression in which one “feels inescap-
ably enclosed by the . . . [other’s] ‘impossibility.’”28 In these circumstances,
one no longer experiences oneself or one’s actions as free. From a Brom-
bergian perspective, the situation is dire: because moral reckoning is
linked to the capacity to bring one’s actions into conformity with one’s
values, atomizing one’s evaluative capacities by distributing them among
disparate selves imperils any viable concept of agency. Dissociation sun-
ders the relationship between what one does and who one is.
 Dissociation and Self-Deception 157

From the standpoint of hypocrisy, it also appears that the agent bears a
greater responsibility for his actions. From Stern’s perspective, one might
conclude that Tom was guilty of not letting his mind go where it needed to
go in order to fully process the implications of the letter he received from
the little league. Perhaps he also needed to assess his son’s ability relative
to the other players more realistically. However, it is vitally important to
note that Tom’s integrity never is in question. He does nothing other than
act in accordance with what he believed to be right. His response was hon-
est and sincere, with no trace of dissimulation or pretense.
The circumstances for the Brombergian agent are somewhat different.
By modifying the description of Tom’s motives, his actions appear more
deserving of moral criticism. Why? Because he recognizes (or, more ac-
curately, some of his selves recognize at least some of time) discontinuities
and inconsistencies among his beliefs; what he espouses is not completely
aligned with what he thinks. To be sure, these disparities may be poorly
formulated and generate discomfort. But any such awareness makes his
behavior something less than sincere.
A. Stein expands upon Bromberg’s characterization of dissociation as a
hypnoid state, describing a unique form of dissociation found in violent
offenders as “psychosomnia,” which she links to early severe childhood
trauma.29 Psychosomnia is a chronic, dream-like mode of experience that
eludes verbal representation and undermines the capacity for critical reflec-
tion and moral appraisal. She argues that these individuals exploit their
inability to bridge disparate states of mind in order to diminish the subjec-
tive sense of agency and moral culpability. They embrace a mode of pro-
cessing that, in Stein’s view, originates as a response to massive trauma.
Emotionally charged experiences that cannot be assimilated are enacted
and expressed through what she evocatively calls “the comforting pulse of
gesture.”30 She identifies literal multiplicity in violent offenders, something
resembling the clinical findings associated with DID, disclosing an internal
world so thoroughly riven by dissociation that the subjective experience of
who did what to whom is enshrouded in uncertainty.
Stein’s concept is brought to life in the character of Meursault, the pro-
tagonist of The Stranger.31 Meursault lives his life largely indifferent to
others, to their needs, and to the events around him. Better put, he exhib-
its a rather striking form of consciousness noteworthy for its lack of em-
bellishment, moral sensibility, and humanness. To be sure, Meursault re-
lies extensively on dissociation. There is so much that simply does not
register directly in his mind—the circumstances in Algiers during the
period of time in which the story unfolds, racial tensions verging on civil
war as well as the entire spectrum of emotions one expects of someone
thrown into Meursault’s circumstances. At the same time, he is remark-
ably attuned to other aspects of his experience. The play of light, the
158 Chapter 7

physical bearing of the mourners at his mother’s funeral, the feel of the
ocean, and numerous visual details about his immediate environment are
vividly described, their brute sensory qualities making a very strong im-
pression in his mind.
Most striking about Meursault is that he lives continuously in the pres-
ent tense. The reader has no sense of past or future in terms of under-
standing his experience and his motivations. This quality of timelessness
contributes to the impression that Meursault is essentially without char-
acter in the sense that there is nothing he believes in. There is no issue,
relationship, or conviction for which he is willing to take a stand. Nothing
about him cries out, let alone, murmurs: “This is where I stand.” He is
strangely indifferent to his mother’s death, an affair with Marie who
wishes to marry him, domestic violence, murder, and his subsequent ar-
rest and trial. He responds with absence or negation; it is as if he has no
feelings about these occurrences one way or the other. More than this, he
responds with indifference because he believes that anything he might
feel about them ultimately makes no difference in a life into which one is
simply thrown.
Camus portrays the lived experience of psychosomnia. It is a first-per-
son perspective, depicting dissociative experience from the inside as it
were. He describes a narrowing of consciousness that permits Meursault
to be remarkably observant yet strangely devoid of any feeling about
what he observes. At times, the contents of consciousness simply have no
meaning, no intersubjective reality. They are what they are. Camus treats
this form of consciousness not so much as a defense, but as an orientation
to the world that obliterates time, history, and meaning. It is a life without
reflection and therefore without judgments or conclusions. It is distin-
guishable from the impulsive or desirous pursuit of what is forbidden
because, without reflection, nothing is forbidden; nothing is out of
bounds. Reflection is a precondition for ambivalence and for moral reck-
oning, perhaps even for true emotional experience. Meursault’s indiffer-
ence is morally crippling, leaving him with nothing to regret or to feel
guilty about. How can he regret an action that he literally gives no second
thought to? Guilt requires reflection and self-evaluation; the latter further
entails consideration of norms and standards of some kind.
Stein’s work also resonates with that of Grossman who, as discussed in
chapter 1, links disavowal to an inconsistent commitment to truth. He uses
the term “perverse attitude to reality” to describe a mode of experience in
which one perceives but does not accurately appraise reality.32 Similar to
psychosomnia, the perverse attitude allows one to gratify forbidden wishes
without conflict and, most importantly, without accountability. Grossman
extends the classical interpretation of disavowal to include enactments of
unconscious wishes. Disavowal makes it possible to know and not know,
 Dissociation and Self-Deception 159

to remain unmoved by what one perceives. It preserves comforting illu-

sions by never permitting the truth to stand in the way of one’s desires; one
never feels obligated to test fantasies against their likely consequences.
Stein does not jettison moral agency in her understanding of violent offend-
ers, but regards it as ambiguously “ping-ponged” among dissociated as-
pects of the self.33 She believes that what is enacted is “at least partially
conscious.”34 In its most pathological forms, dissociation creates an internal
world devoid of moral sensibility, obliterating connections between actions
and intentions. What cannot be said cannot be avowed or connected to who
one is; moral integration is replaced by the perception that one is a victim
of forces beyond one’s control.

The Ambiguity of Agency

It is worth probing Grossman’s example somewhat further. Recall that he

describes a probation officer struggling with sexual thoughts about the
adolescent girls for whom he is responsible, fearful of the consequences
of acting on his wishes. On one occasion, he brushes against the buttocks
of a probationer after having the thought to do so. He curiously describes
the event as if the thought caused his behavior. Grossman interprets the
patient’s passivity as a defense, noticing that self-hypocrisy allows him to
discount the likely consequences of his actions. This thesis recalls the clas-
sical interpretation of disavowal as a refusal to recognize the reality of
disturbing perceptions, which Freud understood as a literal split in per-
sonality permitting the coexistence of incompatible ideas. Grossman fo-
cuses on moral implications, emphasizing the role of perception and
willingness to test reality.
Bromberg would likely interpret what Grossman regards as a failure to
appraise reality as a response to the threat to self-unity posed by aware-
ness of disavowed self-states. The latter confronts one with a deeply per-
sonal and dislocating sense of being a “we” rather than an “I.” “Not me”
experience is never so distant that it does not portend something frighten-
ingly familiar. This leads to the interesting idea that inadequate intercom-
munication among dissociated selves is the primary impediment to moral
reckoning. In other words, moral thinking is conditioned on the capacity
adequately to access and reflect on self-states and their associated desires,
beliefs, and affects. In this reading, the probation officer’s behavior is not
a product of conflict, but marks the emergence of a dissociated state of
irresistible temptation. This state of mind excludes the potentially re-
straining effect of other selves. Notice the subtle shift in the subject of the
conversation: one no longer speaks of an agent, but of a dissociated self.
Moreover, this self is construed as a complete description of the officer’s
160 Chapter 7

thinking, feeling, and behavior. Who or what governs the probation offi-
cer’s actions is interpreted as a self-state constituted intersubjectively by
the interpersonal field. Values appear self-state-specific in the same way
that other mental phenomena are; they, too, are decentered, negotiable,
and, therefore, strengthened or weakened by experience.
It may be objected that values are not negotiable for the agent who en-
joys rich intercommunication among multiple selves. Robust intercom-
munication, it might be argued, immunizes values against inconstancy,
making it possible for the Brombergian agent to alight on them through
reflection. To appreciate why this objection misses the mark, consider the
politically conservative politician, J.R., who takes a principled position
against abortion rights. He believes in the sanctity of human life; he imag-
ines that life begins at the moment of conception and that taking a life
under any circumstances is wrong. J.R. holds this view despite his aware-
ness of the hardship this creates for many women, physically, emotionally,
and financially. He appreciates the notion that women have a right to do
with their bodies what they wish, but believes this right is outweighed by
the unborn child’s right to life. J.R. seems to recognize alternative points
of view, although one might argue that they are not fully appreciated and,
therefore, are dissociated in the weak sense of the term.
Imagine the occurrence of two events that throw J.R.’s thinking into
disarray. First, in the midst of his campaign for reelection, a senior advisor
informs him that his position on abortion is costing him a substantial
number of votes. Many of his constituents share his objection to abortion
rights, but feel there should be exceptions for pregnancies resulting from
rape and incest as well as in circumstances where carrying the baby to
term jeopardizes the mother’s life. He is further informed that many of his
conservative colleagues have long endorsed such exceptions and that he
stands to benefit greatly from “tweaking” his position.
The second event occurs shortly thereafter. A college freshman at the
State University is abducted, brutalized, and raped. She barely survives
the attack and is severely traumatized. J.R. takes a particular interest in
this woman and her family, perhaps because he has a daughter the same
age, perhaps because he identifies with the plight of her parents. He visits
her frequently, trying to help her in every way he can. On one of these
visits, he learns that a pregnancy has resulted from the attack. He sees
firsthand the emotional devastation this causes, the anguish and anger
she and her parents feel. He, too, is enraged. He is moved by the injustice
of these events, viewing them now from the victim’s first-person perspec-
tive. Her innocence in this series of events causes him to question the idea
that she has no right to decide whether to carry the baby to term. It is not
that he has changed his belief that killing is wrong, but feels that what she
is being forced to do also is wrong. He begins to think that perhaps the
 Dissociation and Self-Deception 161

right to life ought not to be regarded as an absolute value, universalized

without exceptions. Maybe his advisor is right after all?
It is important to consider how one might evaluate a change in J.R.’s
opinion after each of these events. The first ought to be very familiar by
now: it is a paradigm case of hypocrisy. Were J.R. to change his opinion
solely for the purpose of winning reelection, the claim of hypocrisy
would be incontrovertible. The second example is more complex. I have
emphasized how greater intercommunication among self-states and
openness to other perspectives create opportunities for substantial
changes in personal beliefs and values. I want to retain the possibility
that J.R. can be a principled opponent of abortion rights who also ac-
knowledges abortion’s permissibility under certain conditions. Does this
mean that Bromberg is right after all? In other words, is the capacity to
“stand in the spaces” the key to enlightened moral judgment? The an-
swer, I think, depends largely on how one feels about the story’s conclu-
sion. That is, if one supports abortion rights, one is likely to conclude that
J.R.’s contact with the victim and her family provided him with a deeper
appreciation of the complexity of the abortion rights position, expanding
his perspective as a result. But, for those opposed to this position, other
conclusions are possible.
Let us think about the matter from the perspective of the unborn fetus
rather from that of the victim. What kinds of rights ought she to be ac-
corded (assuming the fetus is female)? One assumes that she would want
to live if her opinion could somehow be solicited. But, most importantly,
the manner in which she was conceived (rape versus consensual sexual
relations within the confines of marriage) is unlikely to carry much
weight. It is unlikely to matter very much at all to her how she was con-
ceived. What matters is that she is alive and that nothing interfere with
her ability to go on living. From this perspective, J.R.’s crisis of conscience
creates serious problems by undermining values. In place of certainty, his
position collapses into equivocation and, some might say, incoherence
because, whether or not one agrees that the sanctity of life is inviolable, it
is a value that can be universalized.
To appreciate how the example of the unborn fetus changes the assess-
ment of J.R.’s epiphany is to glimpse the subversiveness of perspectivism.
Moral beliefs confront us with inescapable authority. Vitally important is
that they are experienced as authoritative, as possessing a truth that can-
not be ignored. Bromberg dismantles this intrinsic link by reducing every
morality to a particular point of view. The subjective experience of values
and, more generally, of morality express the ethos of those self-states acti-
vated at particular points in time, perspectives only partially (and, ac-
cording to Bromberg, minimally) fashioned by the agent. Bromberg wants
moral valuing to emerge from an authentic assessment of experience en-
162 Chapter 7

lightened by consideration of multiple perspectives. He has great confi-

dence in what will emerge from the subject’s evaluations once they are
emancipated from the strictures of dissociation.
Bromberg hopes that relative freedom from dissociation will under-
write moral reckoning. He similarly regards moral agency as the continu-
ing effort to formulate beliefs, assumptions, and prejudices. But these ef-
forts must inevitably confront the problem of self-deception and the
inconsistent guidance that reflection offers for negotiating problems in
living. In a sense, his thesis postulates self-deception as an ineradicable
aspect of the human condition unresponsive to rational deliberation. It is
the residue of a reality that is essentially unfinished and not objectively
knowable. J.R.’s situation illustrates that there is no final, conclusive, or
right way to evaluate moral problems. Moral intuitions frequently lead in
opposite directions. They engender rules with so many justifiable excep-
tions that, in the end, they hardly appear to be rules at all.
All of this underscores the profound effect of perspectivism, of multi-
plicity, on moral reckoning. If one takes seriously the idea that all perspec-
tives are worthy of respect and there is no perspective on all perspectives,
then values are not only relative, but also ambiguous. Should one be hon-
est, refrain from lying, cheating, and stealing? Is hypocrisy wrong? In-
creasingly the answer is: “It depends.” It depends on the perspective,
motivations, and circumstances of the agent.
As is well-known, Bromberg questions the integrity of the self, not its
moral integrity, but its unity or continuity. The multiplicity thesis rests on
the idea of the self as a shifting series of perspectives unified only by re-
flection; it is ultimately an illusion or belief. For Bromberg, the very notion
of the self requires a conceptual leap in which one takes oneself as an
object, drawing inferences strongly influenced by unconscious desires
and unarticulated influences of the field. Although acknowledging the
importance of these insights, I have argued that it is necessary to retain
the intrinsic tension between these influences and the exercise of agency
in acts of moral decision-making. To put the matter in a first-person per-
spective, my conscience and values provide powerful, but incomplete
guidance in my moral deliberations. They provide the overarching frame-
work within which I fashion a response. However, this framework does
not cause my response. What I do follows from my willingness to make a
commitment—not only to choose, but also to live with the choices I make.
I agree to live with these choices and with consequences that cannot be
known or fully anticipated. Once values are conceptualized as self-states
or causal effects of the interpersonal field, language, and culture, one
misses the most important aspect of moral reckoning: the freedom to
choose. In choosing, I take a stand; I exercise my capacity for creativity
and my obligation to act responsibly. Moral authority cannot be limited
 Dissociation and Self-Deception 163

“to whatever function is performed by the dissociated self-state . . . [that

has] access to the mind.”35 Moral choice is possible only for a self that is
at once distinct and relational, one that shapes and is shaped by its choices
as well as by happenstance.

Illusions and Hypocrisy

Dissociation operates powerfully in hypocrisy by denying access to, di-

minishing, and/or exaggerating one’s perspectives. Bromberg under-
scores how the inability to entertain alternative perspectives limits one’s
moral horizon. He criticizes Freud for suggesting that Emmy von N exer-
cised conscious control over her omissions, arguing instead that she con-
veyed “the whole truth as structured by [her] dissociated view of
reality.”36 In a passage critical to the theme being elaborated, he asserts
that moral values are “always modified by various other aspects of self.”37
They cannot be immunized against preconceptions and prejudices be-
cause they are thoroughly human constructions.
The importance of Bromberg’s ideas for a deeper understanding of
hypocrisy is most apparent in his emphasis on the immediacy of the
world constituted by individual self-states, a view most clearly dis-
cerned when it is parsed from his universalization of the need for secu-
rity. Bromberg is most insightful when he relinquishes his tendency to
universalize motivation and uses the multiplicity thesis to articulate
the individual’s world as it is constituted at particular moments in
time. Applied to hypocrisy, Bromberg’s thesis may be formulated along
the lines of the following conditional: If hypocrisy is inherently contex-
tual, then it is neither virtuous nor vicious a priori. It can be evaluated
only within a particular frame of reference, relative to a perspective
and to system of values. It is easily recognized as a product of disso-
ciation, one possible outcome for the agent caught between contradic-
tory perspectives that can be neither avowed nor repressed. But, more
than this, Bromberg notices that dissociation makes it possible for the
hypocrite to deceive others while genuinely experiencing himself as
acting altruistically.
Grand develops the role of dissociation in the context of sexual preda-
tion where perpetrators feel convinced of their innocence despite abun-
dant evidence to the contrary.38 She regards the predator essentially as
schizoid, capable of engaging in acts of “evil without love or hate, in order
to control emergent internal states that he fears but never enters.”39 She
thus describes a kind of pre-reflective sense of what may emerge and
what is therefore assiduously avoided. The perpetrating self exists apart
or separate from the rest of personality, locked away except for moments
164 Chapter 7

in which it emerges violently, only to recede again into the shadows

where it lurks, inert and deactivated, in anticipation of future opportuni-
ties. It is like a psychological retrovirus.
Unlike his more solidly grounded moral counterpart, in chameleon-like
fashion the hypocrite embraces perspectives likely to enhance his status
or win the love and approval of those upon whom he depends. Whether
viewed narrowly in terms of narcissism or generically in terms of self-
interests, the hypocrite not only navigates deftly among perspectives, but
also does so sincerely so long as sincerity is conceptualized within the
context of the perspective he occupies at particular points in time. Hypoc-
risy therefore will be diminished by the capacity to hold dissociated self-
states “within a single transitional state of mind.”40 It is unlikely to be
sustained when he is committed to acting in accordance with the full
range of perspectives that come to mind or, following Grand, when he
inhabits the depressive position. For the hypocrite, truth constantly shifts
in response to “dissociated voices whose presence is felt.”41
This perspective also suggests that Tom’s narcissistic investment in his
son and impoverished self-worth leave him feeling little choice but to re-
act as he did to the latter’s rejection. He is so overwhelmed by shame that
it is dissociated involuntarily and replaced unconsciously by rage at the
league officials. Tom’s shame-vulnerable self operates intelligently to ex-
clude shame with what Bromberg calls “dissociative vigilance.”42 Only
rage and a sense of injustice remain, neither requiring that he relinquish
his cherished beliefs. His dissociative response to trauma makes it impos-
sible to act otherwise.
Problematically, Bromberg’s concept of dissociation implies that Tom
has little choice but to react this way when Junior is rejected by the team
next year. Because dissociative mental structure operates automatically
and without conscious deliberation, it seems to preserve beliefs un-
changed once they are established. Despite Bromberg’s claim that “the
dominant self-state wants to know nothing about any other self-states,” it
is possible to understand these circumstances differently.43 For example,
one might observe that Tom speaks his mind sincerely, but that his beliefs
change dramatically over time, in ways that are difficult to reconcile. The
latter circumstance reflects an inconsistent commitment to honesty rele-
vant to judgments about his character. It means that he is not someone
whose word can be depended on and that he will not reliably face difficult
truths about himself. In this sense, he seems vulnerable to the charge of
hypocrisy. Dissociation is vitally important to what transpires, but does
not automatically diminish his responsibility for his actions. Despite dis-
sociation, he weighs alternatives and chooses. Tom’s repeated exposure to
moderately invalidating experiences places an additional burden on him
to examine his beliefs. If dissociation were truly automatic and operated
 Dissociation and Self-Deception 165

normatively in the way Bromberg implies, Tom could not learn anything
new or unanticipated about himself.
Dissociation sets the stage for hypocrisy by diminishing the range of
alternatives that can be realistically considered. In Brombergian terms, it
undermines robust intercommunication among self-states and constitutes
a necessary, but insufficient condition for hypocrisy and moral reckoning
generally. This is because moral agency depends upon multiple consider-
ations and influences, some of which transcend the momentary states of
mind implicated by a decentered view of the self. More than anything,
dissociation fosters moral ambiguity, making compromise easier for those
disinclined to stand firm in the face of uncomfortable truths. As will be
developed in the next chapter, this stance has a dislocating effect on vir-
tues like honesty, sincerity, and authenticity, their meanings radically al-
tered by situating them within a framework that understands them as
self-state specific and, hence, fully contextual. The multiplicity thesis un-
links these virtues with consistency of effort, with unifying ideals, with
the very idea of agency.
Unfortunately, the tension between dissociation and agency does not
fully arise in Bromberg’s writings. Trauma immures one in a dissociative
vicious circle. One’s initial response to trauma never is fully distinguished
from the conflicted intentions that perpetuate moral disengagement in the
here and now. This conclusion is fortified by a broad definition of trauma
that does not go far enough in parsing impingements that disrupt one’s
sense of continuity from catastrophic happenings compromising affect
regulation and reality-testing in circumstances of moral danger.44 His di-
mensional view of dissociation similarly weakens the legitimate claim that
massive trauma can compromise agency. Whereas pathological dissocia-
tion impairs self-reflection and the subjective experience of choice, its less
extreme forms mark the beginning rather than end point of moral agency.
It provides a window on the moral universe one inhabits and the compro-
mises one makes. It also focuses attention on what and how one chooses on
the basis of the totality of those influences that can be known.
Perhaps most importantly, Bromberg posits no intrinsic antinomy be-
tween the concepts of authenticity and hypocrisy. Although accustomed
to identifying hypocrisy as a quintessential act of insincerity, the entire
thrust of Bromberg’s argument highlights a condition of the subject more
appropriately described as self-hypocrisy; the individual behaves sin-
cerely as evaluated from the perspective of the self-state activated at a
particular point in time disconnected from past and future states of mind
and their associated values. Thus, the agent can behave hypocritically
while being sincere. In yet another variation on this theme, the agent may
pretend to be something he is not out of a sincere wish to become what he
is now merely pretending to be. He is like the sinner who repents and
166 Chapter 7

endeavors to change by doing good deeds. Because he has sinned or,

worse still, is a sinner, can one discount efforts undertaken with good
(sincere) intentions? Here, dissociation allows him to discount disparities
in self-experience, between self and role, present and future. To the extent
that he lives in the moment, without reflection, he can enjoy the innocence
of the self-state occupying consciousness at that moment. Unfortunately,
all too often he may find that he has made promises he cannot keep and
the pull toward interpersonal as well as self-deception will emerge anew.
Sincerity and authenticity therefore are not only consistent with hypoc-
risy, but also vital to its success because it is precisely their appearance
that inspires others’ (including other selves’) trust and confidence.

Notes

  1.  Richard J. Loewenstein, “Diagnosis, Epidemiology, Clinical Course, Treat-

ment, and Cost Effectiveness of Treatment for Dissociative Disorders and MPD:
Report Submitted to the Clinton Administration Task Force on Health Care Fi-
nancing Reform,” Dissociation 7 (1994): 3–12.
  2.  Elaine C. M. Hunter, Mauricio Sierra, and Anthony S. David, “The Epidemi-
ology of Depersonalisation and Derealisation: A Systematic Review,” Social Psy-
chiatry and Psychiatric Epidemiology 39 (2004): 9–18.
  3.  Patricia E. Murphy, “Dissociative Experiences and Dissociate Disorders in a
Non-Clinical University Student Group,” Dissociation 7 (1994): 28–34.
  4.  Center for Disease Control, “2007–2008 U.S. Influenza Season Summary”
(2008), http://www.cdc.gov/flu/weekly/weeklyarchives2007-2008/07-08sum-
mary.htm (accessed May 28, 2009).
  5.  Etzel Cardena and Lupita A. Weiner, “Evaluation of Dissociation through-
out the Lifespan,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, Practice, Training 41 (2004):
497.
  6.  Etzel Cardena, “The Domain of Dissociation,” in Dissociation: Clinical and
Theoretical Perspectives, ed. Steven J. Lynne and Judith W. Rhue (New York: Guil-
ford, 1994), 15–31.
  7.  Cardena, “Domain of Dissociation,” 19. See also Pierre Janet, The Major
Symptoms of Hysteria (New York: Macmillan, 1907).
  8.  Cardena, “Domain of Dissociation,” 19.
  9.  Donnell Stern, Unformulated Experience: From Dissociation to Imagination in
Psychoanalysis (Hillsdale, NJ: Analytic Press, 1997), 87.
10.  Philip Bromberg, Standing in the Spaces: Essays on Clinical Process, Trauma and
Dissociation (Hillsdale, NJ: Analytic Press, 1998).
11.  Cardena, “Domain of Dissociation.”
12.  Cardena, “Domain of Dissociation,” 23.
13.  Cardena, “Domain of Dissociation,” 23.
14.  Emily A. Holmes, Richard J. Brown, Warren Mansell, Pasco R. Fearon,
Elaine C. M. Hunter, Frank Frasquilho, and David A. Oakley, “Are There Two
 Dissociation and Self-Deception 167

Qualitatively Distinct Forms of Dissociation? A Review and Some Clinical Impli-

cations,” Clinical Psychology Review 25 (2005): 1–23.
15.  Mauricio Sierra and German E. Berrios, “Depersonalization: Neurobiologi-
cal Perspectives,” Biological Psychiatry 44 (1998): 898–908, and Russell Noyes and
Roy Kletti, “Depersonalization in Response to Life-Threatening Danger,” Compre-
hensive Psychiatry 8 (1977): 375–84.
16.  See Niels Waller, Frank W. Putnam, and Eve B. Carlson, “Types of Dissocia-
tion and Dissociative Types: A Taxometric Analysis of Dissociatve Experiences,”
Psychological Methods 1 (1996): 300–321, and Niels Waller and Colin A. Ross, “The
Prevalence and Biometric Structure of Pathological Dissociation in the General
Population: Taxometric and Behavior Genetic Findings,” Journal of Abnormal Psy-
chology 106 (1997): 499–510.
17.  Herbert Fingarette, Self-Deception (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1969), and Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness: The Major Text of Existentialism
(New Jersey: Random House, 1994).
18.  Stern, Unformulated Experience, and Alfred Mele, Self-Deception Unmasked
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000), 60.
19.  Mele, Self-Deception, 59. See also Bromberg, Standing in the Spaces.
20.  Bromberg, Standing in the Spaces, 273.
21.  Harry S. Sullivan, “The Illusion of Personal Individuality,” in The Fusion of
Psychiatry and the Social Sciences (New York: Norton, 1971).
22.  Philip Bromberg, Awakening the Dreamer: Clinical Journeys (Mahwah, NJ:
Analytic Press, 2006), 92.
23.  Bromberg, Awakening, 92 (italics mine).
24.  This statement requires clarification in light of Stern’s more recent work.
Elaborating on the notion of “expectable” dissociation, he says the following:
“These different self-states may be simultaneously knowable; there is no implica-
tion that a person need be uncomfortable about knowing one self-state while he
is ‘in’ another. The multiple self as the expectable, everyday condition of identity
is . . . a very helpful addition to our conceptualization of the role of context in
understanding because our frequent shifts from one self-state to another empha-
size the continuous change in the context of all understanding.” Thus, consistent
with the schematic of dissociation presented earlier in this chapter, Stern acknowl-
edges the existence of nonpathological forms of dissociation that are not defen-
sively motivated and, therefore, can be formulated and reflected on. By contrast,
dissociation proper (and the self-states they implicate) cannot be held in mind si-
multaneously. The interested reader is referred to Stern’s extensive treatment of
these issues in Partners in Thought: Working with Unformulated Experience, Dissocia-
tion, and Enactment (New York: Routledge, 2009), 48.
25.  Stern, Unformulated Experience, 114.
26.  Bromberg, Awakening.
27.  Sue Grand, “Lies and Body Cruelties in the Analytic Hour,” Psychoanalytic
Dialogues 13 (2003): 493.
28.  Grand, “Lies,” 493.
29.  Abby Stein, Prologue to Violence. Child Abuse, Dissociation, and Crime (Hills-
dale, NJ: Analytic Press, 2007).
30.  Stein, Prologue, 25.
168 Chapter 7

31.  Albert Camus, The Stranger, trans. Stuart Gilber (Paris: Gallimard; New
York: Vintage, 1946).
32.  Lee Grossman, “The Perverse Attitude to Reality,” Psychoanalytic Quarterly
62 (1993): 422.
33.  Stein, Prologue, 121.
34.  Stein, Prologue, 116.
35.  Bromberg, Standing in the Spaces, 232.
36.  Bromberg, Standing in the Spaces, 229.
37.  Bromberg, Awakening, 129.
38.  Sue Grand, “The Paradox of Innocence: Dissociative ‘Adhesive’ States in
Perpetrators of Incest,” Psychoanalytic Dialogues 7 (1997): 465–90.
39.  Grand, “Paradox of Innocence,” 467.
40.  Bromberg, Awakening, 196.
41.  Bromberg, Standing in the Spaces, 198.
42.  Bromberg, Standing in the Spaces, 230.
43.  Bromberg, Awakening, 53.
44.  Henry Krystal, Integration and Self-Healing. Affect, Trauma, Alexithymia (Hills-
dale, NJ: Analytic Press, 1988).
 8

Multiplicity
and Moral Ambiguity

H ypocrisy is a compelling problem-solving strategy for the morally

disengaged self. Unfortunately, it is also one that allows human con-
cern and indifference to be dissociatively maintained. Hypocrisy is an
engagement in which each inclination stands uninfluenced by the other
by virtue of selective denial of reality or an exaggeration of beliefs. The
hypocritical turn represents one of dissociation’s most troubling possible
outcomes.
This point is key. Dissociation is not a sufficient condition of transgres-
sive behavior; the inability to hold multiple perspectives simultaneously
in mind need not lead to exploitiveness or aggression. Rather, dissociation
shapes the range of alternatives that can be considered as the individual
struggles with problems in living. It does not cause his behavior which,
by definition, involves the exercise of free will. Instead, it comprises a
significant aspect of hypocrisy’s motivational context.1
The concepts of bad faith and self-deception illuminate one aspect of
this issue. They illustrate how an individual can act hypocritically
while experiencing his actions as altruistic. Recall the behavior of Jean-
Baptiste Clamence, whose kindness and apparent goodwill disguised
an overwhelming need for veneration, a motive disguised from others
and, via self-deception, from himself. What Clamence experienced as
genuine efforts to help others unconsciously served other (selfish) mo-
tives. Through self-deception, innocence and guilt as well as altruism
and selfishness coexisted, bringing about a form of hypocrisy without
cynicism. Great harm can be perpetrated under the guise of good in-
tentions.

169
170 Chapter 8

The evaluation of hypocrisy is further problematized by the ambiguity of

human communication—not just the sort of ambiguity observed at the se-
mantic level in which tensions between literal and figurative meanings
emerge, but by ruptures of the frame shared by speaker and listener. Hy-
pocrisy flourishes here, exploiting areas of incomplete understanding and
private experience that elude consensual validation. The hypocrite exploits
this opacity, sometimes falling victim to his own ruse by misinterpreting the
illusions he engenders as evidence of his enhanced status. He transgresses
through acts of commission as well as omission, sometimes doing little
more than allowing false (but favorable) impressions to stand, believing
(hoping) they might be true.
It is useful to contrast this perspective with a consequentialist one in
which the wrongness of hypocrisy is attributed to failures of duty,
breeches of trust, or untoward consequences. Were its wrongness under-
standable solely in these terms, it would be unnecessary to examine hy-
pocrisy’s motives or circumstances. Its wrongness could be objectively
established as easily as the truth of the statement “John has brown hair.”2
Hypocrisy would be a kind of behavioral description whose occurrence
instantiates the property of “wrongness.”
On closer examination, however, this understanding of wrongness rests
on prior agreement as to the kinds of acts worthy of condemnation. If one
agrees that all forms of deception are wrong, then the hypocrite’s motives
are as irrelevant as the circumstances in which he deceives: if the hypo-
crite deceives and all deception is wrong, then his action is wrong modus
ponens. But this is clearly not the case. Moral properties are meaningful
only within frameworks of shared beliefs or evaluations. Frameworks are
not products of rules or standards.
Hypocrisy figures prominently in the morally ambiguous domains of
politics and international diplomacy where freedom and survival may
depend on skillfully navigating the shifting landscape between truth
and falsehood. In these circumstances, hypocrisy may be not only mor-
ally permissible, but also advantageous, even virtuous. While under-
mining trust, it also creates opportunities to fashion new alliances. It
does not harm all parties in the same way or to the same degree. In fact,
hypocrisy may promote cooperation and compromise. It is thus more
accurate to say that its consequences are ambiguous, its outcomes un-
knowable in advance. Although rarely without moral import, it does not
always warrant condemnation. Hypocrisy compels consideration of
when it is mutually advantageous that I endorse your way of life. That
I have reservations about this endorsement certainly casts it in a differ-
ent light, signaling mixed feelings I have chosen not to express. I might
support you for purely altruistic reasons or out of a willingness to make
sacrifices in the interests of the community; or my motivations may be
 Multiplicity and Moral Ambiguity 171

narrowly self-interested and instrumental. Perhaps I cooperate only be-

cause your interests do not conflict with mine. These details are critical
to moral assessment, to judgments about where I stand and the kind of
person I am. Importantly, even when I take a position contrary to my
beliefs, I acknowledge the legitimacy of your point of view. Thus, even
in my hypocrisy, I recognize you as a subject. More than this, I recognize
that you occupy a perspective different from mine that requires me to
evaluate its worth. This is yet another way in which my hypocrisy re-
flects a form of compromise.

Virtue Ethics

In responding to the question of how one ought to live, Aristotle departed

significantly from the Socratic wisdom of his time that aligned virtue with
knowledge. He recognized that people often act imprudently despite
knowing better and preferred a view that situated virtue within a frame-
work of distinctively human purposes whose telos was happiness or self-
flourishing (eudaimonia). Conformity to rules may prevent pain or punish-
ment, but offers inadequate guidance about how to live. For Aristotle, the
good life depended on cultivating habits of mind that permitted one reli-
ably to choose the mean between excess and deficiency. Happiness was
conceptualized as the felt experience of excellence; its achievement a mat-
ter of character. Self-flourishing was a process rather than a behavior or
consequence.
Aristotelian virtues are not properties; they are not instantiated by ful-
filling one’s duty. This is not to say that they are inconsistent with or op-
posed to duty. Quite the contrary, the two are often perfectly aligned.
Aristotle evaluated actions in terms of motives and psychological pro-
cesses that inspire them. Because the forces of nature and of life itself can-
not be anticipated or controlled, one cannot know what the consequences
of one’s choices will be. For this reason, Aristotle spoke of virtue teleo-
logically, always and only in relation to how effectively it promotes hu-
man flourishing.
Foreign to the perspective of the contemporary reader is Aristotle’s bio-
logical teleology, a view rejected by all modern theories, including post-
Aristotelian ethics of virtue. Instead, virtue ethicists share the belief that
virtues reflect the character or quality of one’s engagements, how one
negotiates the challenges of ethical life. Aristotle’s sensitivity to the role of
exemplary models was remarkably modern in its recognition of virtue as
emergent and significantly influenced by learning. Virtue is not a product
of intuition or instinct, but rests on careful observation and interpretation
of what others do; it requires careful attention to the judgments they make
172 Chapter 8

and the circumstances in which they make them. It is a product of con-

struction in the deepest sense of this term.
Because it posits no absolute distinction between virtue and vice, Aris-
totle’s view comfortably accommodates the idea of moral ambiguity. It
denies any reliable means of evaluating virtue a priori or in the absence
of its ultimate goals or purposes. Aristotle was not interested in establish-
ing what is right or wrong in most cases, but in the degree to which the
agent’s actions are oriented toward the fullest and most developed ex-
pression of his talents and abilities. He examines the individual who ex-
emplifies excellence, who takes pride in its achievement, and attends to
its relative standing in the rank ordering of values within his family and
community.3 “His ethics are his virtues; his excellence is his pride.”4 Thus,
Aristotle can be as critical of continence as he is of incontinence because
both reflect indecisiveness about what ought to be done. Conflict is
inconsistent with the habits of mind central to virtue: the excercise of ca-
pacities for rational deliberation and practical judgment.
This view contrasts sharply with Kantian ethics which privileges duty
over self-flourishing. The categorical imperative stipulates what must be
done, what is commanded by reason for its own sake. Kant rejected as non-
virtuous actions motivated conditionally by prudence or by what one per-
ceives to be necessary in order to attain desired ends. In this perspective,
continence and virtue are not antinomies; the former often is to be admired.
His is “an ethics of obedient virtue instead of the cultivation of the virtues.”5
It assumes a common humanity and, more specifically, “a common moral
faculty of reason” that causes moral individuals to resist their natural de-
sires.6 Distinctive for virtue in its Kantian interpretation is the universaliz-
ability of moral imperatives such that one does only what one would will-
ingly have others do. One never treats others except as ends in themselves.
By contrast, Aristotle regarded the continent man as a moral hypocrite
whose words do not consistently depict his true feelings. He does not in-
tentionally seek, nor is he motivated exclusively by, pleasure so much as
he is attracted to it and recoils from unpleasure. By examining his acts
with sensitivity to the states of mind inspiring them, Aristotle revealed
the agent’s psychological complexity in a way familiar to psychoanalysts.
Behavior is often the product of conflicts between desire and duty. Where
psychoanalysts discern conflict or dissociation, Aristotle noticed failures
to resist what might be acceptable in moderation. Theses lapses result
from inadequate deliberation or failures to honor the results of one’s de-
liberations. Unlike the licentious man—who might be diagnosed as im-
pulse-ridden, borderline, or frankly sociopathic—the continent man does
not deliberately choose vice over virtue. He is perpetually caught off
guard by his circumstances and unprepared to manage adversity in a
disciplined and practiced way.
 Multiplicity and Moral Ambiguity 173

Aristotle’s evaluation differs from psychoanalytic ones because it is in-

terested in identifying an ideal individual who takes pride in his excel-
lence. Aristotle did not probe the motives for virtue or ground it in suc-
cessful outcomes. He neither denied the reality of human suffering nor its
relevance to moral deliberation. Rather, his position is that exemplary
individuals transcend inner conflict; they achieve precisely that Archime-
dean point with regard to the forces within them denied by strict relativ-
ists. Where psychoanalysts find conflict and compromise among irratio-
nal forces, Aristotle discerned possibilities for transcendence through
intelligent observation, deliberation, and equanimity. Like Socrates, he
believed that virtue and intelligence or rationality were closely aligned.
Emotions are also important in practical judgment; conflict signals akrasia
and other undesirable habits of mind.
Undoubtedly, Aristotle would have evaluated hypocrisy negatively.
The hypocrite exhibits few of the cardinal virtues. He is especially defi-
cient in conviction and in situations calling for consistency among his
words, beliefs, and deeds. But an ethics of virtue requires one to specify,
first, whether a personality trait represents an excess or deficiency, and,
second, the anchoring virtue (mean) from which it deviates. With regard
to the former, hypocrisy’s excesses are readily observed in the preoccupa-
tion with status and exaggerated needs for approval. Both impair the
hypocrite’s judgment by creating conflicts between what is desired and
what is right, just, or good. On closer inspection, however, his ethical
shortcomings are just as easily conceptualized as deficiencies of self-
worth that incline him to avoid exposure to shame at any costs. Thus,
what appears excessive may alternatively described as a deficiency of
courage or will. The hypocrite fails to maintain commitments when he
feels they are not shared and, hence, will evoke disapproval.
Hypocrisy might also be conceptualized in terms of inadequate pru-
dence. In this view, the hypocrite does not simply seek approval or avoid
shame, but fails to make good practical judgments. He chooses a particu-
lar course of action unwisely, placing himself in circumstances in which
decisions must be altered or reversed. Can hypocrisy be adequately ac-
counted for by reference to imprudence or deficiencies in practical judg-
ment? Clearly, the answer to this question must be no. Successful hypoc-
risy depends on prudence and a clear sense of what can be safely revealed
about one’s motivations. Inadequate prudence undermines effective de-
ception. In fact, prudence and honesty are not intrinsically linked. One
can easily imagine someone lacking in practical judgment who is com-
pletely honest. Unfortunately, excessive prudence fares no better. It nei-
ther increases nor decreases the likelihood of transgression.
A virtue more likely to serve as the mean from which hypocrisy devi-
ates is sincerity. Sincerity requires consistency and thoroughness of self-
174 Chapter 8

examination and is closely associated with the concept of integrity. The

sincere individual does not intentionally withhold what he knows; one is
tempted to say that he wears no mask. Yet, sincerity does not protect one
from self-deception. It does not insure awareness of uncomfortable truths,
but only that one will not knowingly conceal the contents of awareness
from oneself or others. Sincerity therefore is unreliable in morally am-
biguous circumstances or in those vulnerable to dissociation. Nor does it
offer protection against immoral action. Why? Because it is possible for
individuals to engage in evil acts sincerely; they may mistakenly believe
they are doing right or, more troublingly, feel justified in acting as they do
because they reject prevailing norms.7 The phenomenon of terrorism il-
lustrates this problem. While one may wish to attribute such behavior to
self-deception or severe psychopathology, one must consider the possibil-
ity that individuals sometimes intentionally aim to maim and destroy.
Relativism requires recognition that a behavior interpreted from one
point of view as a heinous act may be regarded, from another, as morally
permissible, even virtuous.
On a less dramatic scale, Martin claims that opposing hypocrisy and
sincerity misses important linkages between them.8 Primary among these
is hypocrisy’s role in identity formation. In this reading, hypocrisy reflects
the incommensurability of self and role; it draws attention to the fact that
one is never identical to the masks one wears or the roles one experiments
with. This is especially true if it is believed that one’s identity is continu-
ously evolving. Although sometimes mistakenly interpreted in terms of
pure transcendence, the notion of becoming means that one never is now
what one someday will be. Therefore, hypocrisy may represent a means
by which one authentically becomes what one presently pretends to be.
Martin considers the neophyte doctor painfully aware of what he does
not know. His relative ignorance places him in a morally complex position
vis-à-vis the patient. He feels ill-equipped to solve the diagnostic puzzles
he encounters or to choose the most effective treatments for his patients.
He has had virtually no experience doing such things. He also recognizes
the faith his patients have in his healing ability and knowledge. Their
confidence is at once edifying and frightening because it has more to do
with his role than with what he actually can do. He assumes this role only
by concealing his inexperience behind a mantle of knowledgeability. In a
sense, the more he tries to engage this role, the greater his deception be-
cause he does not yet possess the skills he pretends to possess. He de-
ceives by virtue of his efforts to appear to be something he is not, whether
more authoritative or technically competent. That he behaves deceptively
is not altered by the fact that he is rehearsing and perfecting a role he will
one day occupy authentically. To be sure, his motives differ from those
attributed to the hypocrite—he is genuinely trying to help his patients.
 Multiplicity and Moral Ambiguity 175

Thus, one is likely to evaluate his deception differently. Who has not be-
haved likewise? By granting the inevitability of hypocrisy, isn’t one also
saying that, at the behavioral level, it resists any fixed evaluation? Pre-
tense is not only unavoidable, but also necessary for an agent who proj-
ects himself forward in time toward an uncertain identity. Bromberg
makes precisely this point in a playful riff on the show tune “I whistle a
happy tune,” suggesting that dissociation promotes adaptation by pro-
viding tools for managing fear. Pretending to be unafraid actually dimin-
ishes fear. If he is right, hypocrisy is not necessarily opposed to sincerity,
but is intrinsically linked to it. Pretense is the beginning of really (authen-
tically) being something other than what one now is.

The Challenge of Relativism

Kernberg’s perspective on conscience reflects both Kantian and Aristote-

lian influences. Although formulated dynamically, like Kant, he empha-
sizes the imperatives that guide behavior. To be sure, Kernberg links them
to early affective life, but he also appreciates their rational basis. In other
words, the force of these imperatives is mediated by a combination of af-
fects like guilt and shame as well as by the ego. Nevertheless, he seems to
posit the wrongness of exploitation, manipulation, and dishonesty as ab-
solute values because they undermine the unity of the human commu-
nity. One discerns in his perspective a claim that the wrongness of antiso-
cial actions may be established rationally, if not objectively.
Kernberg recognizes that something more is at stake in moral sensibil-
ity than experiences of pleasure and pain. Identification in particular
plays a vital role. Thus, whereas one aspect of his system rests on moral
realism and rule-based conformity, Kernberg argues that morality also
and always betokens “identification with ethical values.”9 It reflects
“concern for and protection of self and others” as well as a “sense of
responsibility . . . that transcends all concrete laws.”10 Ethical life rests
on a positive conception of commitment and responsibility, on devel-
oped capacities for impulse control, frustration tolerance, and depres-
sive anxiety that are more aptly characterized as necessary than as suf-
ficient conditions. However much it originates in instinctual life and
depends upon ego capacities, ethical life increasingly involves auton-
omy from desire. It is inspired by relationships with parents and with
exemplary models that influence one’s evolving moral sensibilities. Al-
though opening the door to relativism, the strength of Kernberg’s thesis
lies in its recognition of the limitations of a view in which conscience is
viewed solely in terms of categorical imperatives. No single set of rules
covers all possible cases. There always will be situations that are excep-
176 Chapter 8

tional and require modification of one’s principles or significant rework-

ing in order to be effectively applied in the course of practical decision-
making. At higher levels, ethical systems must be flexible and permit a
greater degree of self-direction. Exemplars provide robust guidance;
more than providing opportunities for imitation, they implicate frame-
works within which ethical problems may be formulated and responded
to with greater sensitivity to lived context.
Even more striking is Kernberg’s view of superego integration (and
mental health generally) as a mean between excessive and deficient in-
tegrity. Superego integrity occupies a “middle” position in which guilt
is regulated by self-observation and increasingly specific, rational nor-
mative principles. He employs this same Aristotelian framework to
distinguish reality-testing from moral valuation, which involves empa-
thy, conformity, and a willingness to selectively subordinate individual
needs to communal purposes. The latter requires that one recognize the
practical necessity of norms, a mentalizing function that also can be ex-
cessive or deficient. For Kernberg, pathology occupies a position at the
extremes of a dimensional construct and thus is characterized by exces-
siveness or rigidity.
How is the therapist to evaluate integrity or other values that deviate
from it when he and the patient are embedded in the same network of
assumptions? How does the therapist take perspective on their shared
perspective? Kernberg’s response is decidedly modern. For example, in
the assessment of perversion, he argues that combining a “non-
conventional exploration of the intimate life of the individual, with an
evaluation of how sexual patterns enrich, modify, or restrict the potential
for enjoyment, autonomy, adaptation, and effectiveness” insures accurate
clinical assessment.11 “The unavoidable ideological and cultural biases
embedded in psychoanalytic theory have been challenged, and have
tended to self-correct over time.”12 Although acknowledging the grip of
the field, he believes cultural biases can be identified and reliably parsed
from clinical judgment. This is of course precisely the possibility relativ-
ism denies. Relativism holds that these influences cannot be fully identi-
fied; more than this, one cannot free oneself from them because they de-
fine one’s experience of reality and of the world. Significantly, relativism
holds that freedom from these influences is undesirable. To appreciate
these influences is to recognize that there is no truth lurking behind their
distorting effects. Interpretation does not uncover facts, but furthers the
process of spelling out one’s engagements, including these influences, in
an effort to throw the domain of personal agency clearly into relief. Rela-
tivism regards modernity as a tradition—a tradition suspicious of and
fundamentally opposed to perspectivism and plurality. With the possibil-
ity of hegemony relinquished, neither the patient nor the therapist enjoys
 Multiplicity and Moral Ambiguity 177

the same degree of authority. Each perspective must be unpacked and

deconstructed, its prejudices and preconceptions laid bare. The products
of this deconstruction are not free from the continuing effects of a human
ordering of values.
Nietzsche shares Aristotle’s view that morality is not a matter of fol-
lowing rules, nor properly evaluated solely on the basis of the conse-
quences of one’s actions. Morality reflects the character of an engaged
individual; it springs from the nature and quality of human activity. His
aphorism “become who you are” is at once deeply Aristotelian and ex-
presses a theme strongly associated with existentialism—to be read both
as underscoring the responsibility that comes with human freedom as
well as suggesting that character, insofar as it is determined by one’s
inner design or natural talents and abilities, also limits who one can be.
True, one is in a perpetual state of becoming, never fully now what one
will someday be. But, by the same token, one cannot be anything one
wishes to be. Human freedom exists always within the context of over-
arching constraints. Either way, self-realization is for Nietzsche the telos
against which values must be evaluated, an idea emphasizing the un-
democratic notion that all individuals are not equal, but differ widely in
their capacities for greatest and distinction. Contrary to a “Just do it!”
ethos in which greatness is possible for all, Nietzsche argues that no two
individuals will cultivate excellence in quite the same way or to the
same degree.13 For the great majority of us, greatness is not a possibility
at all. Not everyone is or can be exceptional. Indeed, the thrust of Nietz-
sche’s criticism of morality is that it is an effort to diminish the natural
power that accrues to exceptional individuals by those less capable or
worthy. Aristotle and Nietzsche of course differ in their teleologies: the
former viewing human purposes as aligned with those of the polis; the
latter regarding them individualistically and as closely related to artistic
creation. Both subscribe to a teleology of becoming; one is continuously
engaged in the process of becoming who one is. Identity is to be found
in ethical life, in one’s commitments, in what one does. As a human
creation, it follows no natural or divine order.
When one conforms to the collective will of others, one does so at the
expense of one’s own. To accept these values uncritically, without recog-
nizing their hidden motives is, for Nietzsche, the greatest threat to creativ-
ity and self-flourishing. Even more troubling is how this view might be
interpreted to support immorality. If good and bad are nothing more than
the expressions of power relations and morality is merely a sham, then
one is free to do whatever one pleases. One inhabits a Dostoevskian uni-
verse in which everything (and anything) is permitted.
To be sure, there is a darker, mean-spirited, selfish aspect of collective
moralities that do indeed discourage individuality and self-realization.
178 Chapter 8

Who is to say what ultimately is creative and what is perverse? Proscrip-

tive moralities are singled out by Nietzsche as motivated by resentment
as well as by a deep sense of vulnerability and helplessness. For the dis-
enfranchised, morality is a means of legitimizing claims to power, and it
was Nietzsche’s genius to discern how this is accomplished in a less than
forthright way. Why is deception necessary? Because moral claims cannot
be legitimized or proven in absolute terms, but only within particular
perspectives motivated by the desires for power over others and over
one’s own vulnerability and helplessness. In this way, Nietzsche’s think-
ing is deeply connected to the dynamics of perversion and hypocrisy.
Solomon makes this point explicitly: “One gains power by denying one’s
power and advances one’s self-interest by appearing to be indifferent to
one’s self-interest.”14 He quotes Nietzsche as to man’s fundamental hy-
pocrisy: “The man of ressentiment is devious. . . . His spirit loves hiding
places, secret paths and back doors, everything covert entices him as his
world, his security, his refreshment; he understands how to keep silent,
how not to forget, how to wait, how to be provisionally self-deprecating
and humble.”15
Given these motives, the persistence and durability of moral beliefs in
which cooperation and helpfulness play a significant role merit reflection.
One can say cynically that such beliefs are nothing more than disguised
expressions of self-interest, tactical concessions made only to get what one
wants in the long run. But were human beings truly egoistic in this way—
as Hobbes and Freud also imagined—the consequences of Nietzsche’s
debunking of morality would have devastating consequences. The illu-
sions propping up the authority of restraint obliterated, antisocial forces
would be unleashed. Once it is recognized as a power game in which one
group tries to dominate another, exposing this gambit ought to nullify its
effects. However, notwithstanding the various ways in which contempo-
rary values have been challenged, this has not happened. Rather than a
war of all against all, moral practices have endured, however much they
no longer are regarded with the same degree of certainty. Therefore, the
real paradox of morality is one not of disbelief, but of continued commit-
ment. I do what I believe is “right,” knowing my beliefs differ from yours.
Moreover—and this is the key point enlightened relativists want to
make—I maintain my beliefs and commitments despite recognizing that
other moral perspectives also are worthy of respect. There is no better
evidence for the idea that moral acceptance does not rest on the truth of
moral intuitions. Rationality and practicality offer reasons for belief—
some of which are persuasive, and some of which are not. To take relativ-
ism seriously is to recognize its challenge to moral authority. If morality
is not grounded in human nature or in rationality, why “must” I do or
refrain from doing anything?
 Multiplicity and Moral Ambiguity 179

Moral Values and Relativism

Grand engages this complex question in a fascinating account of a highly

intelligent and successful woman who seeks treatment in the hope of
forming an intimate relationship with a man.16 It soon becomes clear that
the patient is more interested in the idea of a relationship than in the real-
ity of one. Anne is contemptuous of men and envious of her female
friends whom she is losing to long-term relationships. Skilled at getting
what she wants, she experiences no difficulty finding and seducing men.
The problem is that these conquests ultimately do not sustain her in any
way. They leave her feeling empty after the pleasure of the conquest sub-
sides. Grand learns firsthand about the patient’s resourcefulness when
she is asked to be available for phone contact and extra/extended ses-
sions if needed, adding that she will not take advantage of this arrange-
ment and will use it only if the work becomes particularly difficult. Of
course, she will pay for the time. Grand is disturbed by her reluctance.
She rightly recognizes the patient’s request as signaling trouble and
senses that she ought not to comply. But she is disarmed by Anne’s
straightforwardness; or, perhaps better put, handcuffed by it. It is couched
in such a way that causes Grand to experience her reluctance as rigid and
authoritarian, the antithesis of the nurturing and empathic therapist she
wishes to be. Grand’s fateful decision to grant the patient’s request fore-
shadows a series of provocative boundary violations that embroil the
dyad in an enactment striking as much for its intensity as for its intracta-
bility. As the patient grows increasingly desperate, combative, and psy-
chotic, challenging the therapist both professionally and personally,
Grand no longer can effectively manage the frame while doing what she
has promised to do. She feels completely boxed in. As the patient’s level
of aggression and hostility increase, so do her efforts to coerce reassur-
ances of Grand’s love. She seems to make these demands precisely at
moments when Grand’s resentment is fully activated, furthering her guilt
and perception of the patient as bad.
Resentment is an emotion intrinsically linked to power or, more pre-
cisely, to its perceived absence. More than anger or self-pity, it involves a
strong sense of injustice and an externalization of blame.17 Grand’s resent-
ment makes sense only in the context of a power struggle in which she
feels thwarted on all fronts, unable to establish the therapeutic frame or
assume the analytic stance she desires. In this context, power is not a mat-
ter of triumphing over the other. Each participant in her own way is strug-
gling to secure what she needs, which, in the therapeutic relationship, has
become concentrated on the quest for an identity that can be intersubjec-
tively sustained, however much it reflects only the portion of their shared
experience that can be avowed. Grand cannot stop the patient’s sustained
180 Chapter 8

assault on her psyche. Unable to think and to speak her mind, she cannot
respond honestly to the patient’s demands to know her real feelings be-
cause she experiences these feelings as hateful and destructive. Grand
wants to nurture nonjudgmentally, but grows increasingly resolute in her
judgment; she seeks perfect empathic attunement that will leave her pa-
tient without need, but feels devoured by Anne’s voraciousness. Anne is
destroying Grand’s creativity, invading the mental space she needs in
order to work comfortably and effectively.
Grand notices that the therapeutic relationship she desires is not simply
a creation of her own mind, but also reflects powerful intellectual, politi-
cal, and cultural forces within American psychoanalysis during the 1970s.
This was a time when the innovations of Winnicott and Kohut were pro-
foundly influential, when psychopathology was thought to result primar-
ily, if not exclusively, from early privations or breeches in maternal care
that the therapist’s attunement might remediate. Rather than partial un-
derstandings of a complex clinical process, these ideas were interpreted
quite literally as guidelines or rules for acceptable analytic comportment.
For Grand, being a good-enough mother was not good enough; she
needed to be an ideal mother, a sentiment she suspects many aspiring
female analysts of her generation shared. She consciously embraced this
ideal, experiencing it as an imperative whose authority was binding at the
very same time that struggled to integrate it with the unspeakable resent-
ment it engendered in this treatment. She could not know that the pa-
tient’s voraciousness would cause her intentions literally to implode, de-
pleting her emotionally and exposing the hypocrisy of this ideal. Nor did
she anticipate being unable to find a colleague or supervisor with whom
she could explore this dangerous and complex enactment nonjudgmen-
tally, without condemnation and shame.
Rather than deny these feelings, Grand courageously voices her experi-
ence of this dilemma: How could she confide the hatred she felt? What
devastating impact might such a breech in maternal care engender? Lying
seemed equally unacceptable, yet it allowed the treatment to continue by
creating a shared fantasy in which each participant received a measure of
what she desired. The analyst maintained the appearance of a much-
desired analytic posture; the patient imagined that she was loved despite her
destructiveness. Grand recognized that Anne “needed my dislike so that she
could be known, but she needed to be shielded from knowing that I disliked her.”18
She writes: “We were drawn to the truth but annihilated by the prospect of
knowing it.”19 As in all enactments, these insights came later, in this case,
long after the treatment was concluded. Grand does not mince words: “I had
a failure of courage. I lied to my patient. . . . I felt compelled to lie and was
ashamed of my lying.”20 Increasingly, patient and therapist enacted a reality
completely at odds with what they could avow and share.
 Multiplicity and Moral Ambiguity 181

Surely the lie accomplished what Grand suggests: it reassured Anne

that her suspicions could be discounted. Dissociation and disavowal al-
lowed her to cling to the fantasy that her sadistic attacks did no harm and
that she remained lovable in her hate. The lie both protected and harmed.
At another level, Grand’s narrative is only indirectly about Anne. It is a
tale about the analyst’s identity and agency and how they are profoundly
affected by professional, social, and political ideals. Grand felt unable to
act on her “gut” feelings for fear of professional recrimination and per-
sonal failure. Her supervisors’ responses only reinforced her shame, in-
sensitive to grip of the field. She equated firm, unflinching boundaries
with the failure to live up to what was expected of her and what she had
come to expect of herself. Despite this, she does not avail herself of the
very explanation that would diminish her culpability. She does not utter
the words “I had no choice.” Instead, she struggles to formulate the ten-
sion among the conflicting influences and her struggle to resist transfor-
mation. Grand is shaped, but not determined by these forces. She is truly
a moral agent.
Only when the temptation to polarize understandings of moral dilem-
mas is resisted can one bring forth their deeper meanings. Lying is rarely
virtuous, but condemnation forecloses access to its Truth. Grand’s lie re-
vealed an enactment in which the patient found a way to separate sym-
bolically from her mother by engendering hatred as the therapist strug-
gled to fashion an analytic identity that she would in time authentically
become. Grand refuses to hide, to condemn or exonerate, because each
subverts further exploration and understanding. Moral pronouncements
leave nothing more to be said. Grand invites us to look unreason in the
eyes, to undo the “strictures of silence” to bridge the gulf separating indi-
viduals in their transgressions so that the latter can be considered, empa-
thized with, and mutually known.21 Let us take Grand up on this offer by
exploring the rich terrain of these ideas and their implications for under-
standing hypocrisy.

Agency

The imperatives of conscience often are direct and unmediated. When I

feel or think to myself that “this wouldn’t be right” or “I mustn’t do it,” I
believe a particular action is prohibited (or required). This sense is imme-
diate, its authority binding. I must take (refrain from) action whether or not
I want to. In such circumstances, I experience presence, not absence. I
believe certain thoughts and actions are permissible while others are not.
I experience their right- and wrong-ness as facts. This understanding may
reflect the work of prior dissociation, but what strikes me is the discom-
182 Chapter 8

fort I feel about some of these choices. This discomfort increases when I
contemplate not doing what must be done.
Freud interpreted guilt as “a reaction to the two great criminal intentions
of killing the father and having sexual relations with the mother,” tracing
its emergence within the individual mind to events transpiring during the
Oedipal phase.22 However, its source was to found elsewhere. Like a Pla-
tonic form, guilt draws its authority, its truth, from ancestral events embla-
zoned within the unconscious at the time of “the killing of the father by the
brothers banded together.”23 For Freud, the young child who reacts guiltily
follows “a phylogenetic model . . . [that goes] beyond the response . . . cur-
rently justified,” lending credibility, he believed, to the idea that “the father
of prehistoric times was undoubtedly terrible.”24 Individual guilt partici-
pates in a transcendental realm that is regarded as both explanatory and
more ontologically real. The aggressiveness of conscience is a product of
this unconscious legacy and of child’s resentment over the modest com-
pensation provided by insight as measured against the enormity of his
instinctual sacrifices. By treating conscience as a symptom and dedicating
the analytic task to unmasking its hidden motives, Freud believed he could
uncover its universality and hence justify his reliance on rational compro-
mise as a balm for neurotic suffering.
To repeat, Freud was not offering a perspective on morality. He be-
lieved individual development recapitulated that of the species and that
ancestral experiences leave “indestructible traces upon the history of hu-
man descent.”25 Accordingly, the authority of conscience cannot rest on
learning or on the variability among different traditions and cultures.
Freud’s position is fundamentally opposed to social constructivism. He is
a moral realist through and through. He regarded the dictates of con-
science as facts grounded in “innate constitutional factors” that can be
distilled into propositions about which one can be right or wrong.26 Al-
though its guidance may be distorted, its truth is (historically) indisput-
able, its authority nonnegotiable. So impressed was Freud with the grav-
ity of conscience that he never relinquished the idea that it rested on
invariant dispositions and particular mental structures whose emergence
is preordained.
By contrast, Grand accords a greater degree of autonomy and agency to
the individual. She notices the tension between unconscious determina-
tion and decisions to act in accordance with some desires rather than oth-
ers. One’s choices establish that one is something more than one’s desires,
attitudes, and self-states. Personal identity transcends the immediacy of
the perspective in which one is embedded. Perhaps, better put, choice
recontextualizes, expands, and articulates identity. However much Grand
is shaped by the myriad social/cultural forces acting upon her and the
states of mind they call forth, her lie does not follow from them necessar-
 Multiplicity and Moral Ambiguity 183

ily or inevitably. To view them in this way is to invoke an impersonal

metapsychology that atomizes agency. Grand wants to reformulate any
perspective that reduces agency to a reconfiguration of meanings without
moral import. She regards her action as reflecting how she has constructed
her relationship with the patient, a process that transpired largely outside
of conscious awareness and therefore requires formulation. She reacts
guiltily because she has failed to live up her personal and professional
standards. Also dissociated is the meaning of her reluctance to conform to
the analytic mandate, a meaning that might have afforded her the free-
dom to formulate alternatives more consistent with her values and char-
acter. These factors produce a double bind in which hate can be neither
acknowledged nor relinquished. In this hypostasis of suffering, Grand’s
lie reveals its truth.
Choice is problematized when it shatters cherished illusions, unleash-
ing powerful affects and shame. Lying postpones the experience of
trauma by preserving the illusion of mutuality and goodwill. Grand
deepens the tension between dissociation and agency by arguing that dis-
sociative shifts occur for a reason, and that this reason must occur to
someone. She wants to retain a thick sense of agency in which human
responsiveness entails articulation of one’s moral framework and evalua-
tive standards. As her description makes clear, these standards are ren-
dered no less binding by dissociation or by choosing not to engage them.
Although never fully defining one’s agency, one’s capacity to choose
freely and creatively, they are real and inescapable.

Moral Fictionalism

Relativism further complicates the moral realist’s position, dashing any

hope that disagreements about right and wrong can be arbitrated objec-
tively. It denies any Archimedean point from which all points of view can
be considered. Noncognitivists pose a more specific challenge to the real-
ist’s claims by proposing that moral acceptance rests on nothing more
than attitudes, inclinations, and emotions. “Wrongness,” they argue, dif-
fers from properties like color, velocity, or mass; the latter exist in the
world and can be measured or verified independently of experience.
When I condemn lying, I do not claim that it instantiates a property of
wrongness that can be explained in nonmoral terms. Rather, I express my
(negative) evaluation of it—I don’t like being lied to and believe (or de-
sire) that you share my view.
Noncognitivism holds that morality’s force rests on the emotions as-
sociated with norms and beliefs. One holds certain views not because
one has carefully evaluated whether they accord with what is true or
184 Chapter 8

real, but because they express one’s feelings, both one’s agreement and
disagreement with one’s own and others’ behavior. More than this,
these beliefs, despite being completely human constructions, protect us
from inner tension, fear, and emotional discomfort. This last idea, im-
plicit in noncognitivism, appears strikingly consonant with Bromberg’s
multiplicity thesis, particularly with the concept of a unitary self as an
illusion motivated by the need for security. Bromberg claims that one’s
sense of self is sustained by the security it provides rather than by its
truth. To probe how far these similarities go and whether noncognitiv-
ism provides a viable alternative to realism, imagine the following
variation on the enactment described by Grand.
Anne’s treatment is conducted by a different analyst, Dr. X, whose lan-
guage, behavior, and comportment conform in every way to Grand’s.
Surely, Dr. X soon will have to cope with Anne’s rapid deterioration and
efforts to coerce the therapist’s love. Like Grand, Dr. X wants to be truth-
ful. She wants to answer all of Anne’s questions directly and forthrightly.
She is a scrupulously honest person who, although not infallible, rarely
deviates from her wishes in this regard. But she differs from Grand in one
crucial respect: she lacks any real commitment to honesty. The desire to be
honest fully describes her reasons and motivations. Her honesty is not
principled; it follows from no particular set of beliefs. She is positively
disposed to honesty, prefers it to dishonesty, but does not think to herself
“lying is wrong” or “telling the truth is the right thing to do.” She does
not in other words experience these moral propositions as obligatory.
Worn down by Anne’s rage and neediness, beleaguered by her insis-
tence that the therapist affirm her love, she, too, lies. She thus acts against
her desire. Perhaps she does so because of a lapse in judgment or out of
the stronger desire to refrain from social rudeness. Whatever her reasons,
her behavior raises important questions about how Dr. X will regard her
lie. What moral conclusions is she likely to draw? One may safely assume
that she will feel disappointment, even regret, for her failure. She has a
strong desire that she does not satisfy. She wants a particular outcome,
but fails to bring it about. Notice that there is also no reason for her to be
confused about who is responsible for this outcome. She will undoubt-
edly take full responsibility for her action because she recognizes its in-
consistency with her desire. However, she is unlikely to feel guilt. Why?
Because, unlike disappointment or regret, guilt is intrinsically linked to
standards, whether the latter are formulated in terms of categorical im-
peratives or visions of the good. Desire requires no such linkage. When
moral standards are regarded as a species of desire, they rather quickly
collapse under their own weight. One does not adopt a principled stance
on the basis of desire or reason. One’s ethical stance reflects commitment
and therefore is an indispensable characteristic of who one is.
 Multiplicity and Moral Ambiguity 185

Grand’s sense of shame and guilt do not follow simply from a failure to
fulfill a desire or deviation from optional standards of behavior. They are
products of beliefs that provide her with compelling reasons to evaluate
her lying as wrong. Wrongness in this circumstance does not mean that
lying is to be condemned in everyone or in all circumstances; its truth is
experienced from Grand’s first person perspective as inconsistent both
with the person she is (despite what has transpired) and the one she
wishes to be. It is on the basis of what Taylor calls strong evaluative judg-
ments that she believes honesty is obligatory and nonnegotiable.27 What
she has done cannot be reconciled with her self-experience, an essential
aspect of which is her sense of what is right, good, and just. When thought
about in this way, noncognitivism hardly seems to improve upon moral
realism. However much it offers an alternative to realism’s problematic
assumptions, it is lacking in substance and distinctiveness. As the exam-
ple of Dr. X illustrates, noncognitivism struggles to explain garden variety
instances of guilt. It hardly captures what transpired in Grand’s mind as
she struggled with what she had done, the very sort of conflict I take to
be paradigmatic of moral reckoning. In guilt, I sincerely believe in a deep
and very personal way that I have done something wrong. I do not expe-
rience it as a perspective, as something that might be viewed differently
by others. Indeed, my sense of guilt strongly supports my conclusion that
what I have done is wrong. Noncognitivists generally minimize this di-
mension of moral experience as mere belief or illusion, and discount the
possibility that, for the agent, moral acceptance and belief are identical.
Bromberg notices this tension when he speaks of the completely decen-
tered self, discerning discontinuities between beliefs and their psychologi-
cal motives. Broadly speaking, he attaches greater significance to these
motives and purposes than to the truth content of beliefs. Truth always is
secondary to the effectiveness and utility of beliefs in achieving security, the
motive that, for Bromberg, is primary. In the ethical domain, Bromberg’s
thesis implies that moral judgments ultimately rest on fictions, an idea that
has gained increasing currency among psychoanalytic clinicians. Endorse-
ment of this thesis means that moral propositions resemble assertions like
“Homer Simpson is fat” or “Tony Soprano is a New Jersey crime boss.”
Their “truth” emerges only within particular stories; they contain no prop-
ositional content corresponding to something in the world.
But this analogy takes one only so far. Notwithstanding the fact that such
statements are true within a particular domain, they are literally false. If one
extends this analogy to the moral sphere, one must explain the agent’s con-
tinuing and sincere belief in propositions he knows to be untrue. While this
objection does not falsify the fictionalism thesis, it ought to give pause to
those who would embrace it uncritically. In fairness to Bromberg, careful
scrutiny of his thinking on this point reveals that he does not distinguish
186 Chapter 8

reality from illusion at a psychological or subjective level. He envisions the

agent as not distinguishing truth-as-such from truth-from-a-point-of-view.28
Consciousness rests on beliefs whose truth is not questioned and dissocia-
tive mechanisms decisively further this deception. Illusions insulate one
from precipitous invalidation and, ultimately, from trauma. This hypothesis
is in turn linked to the idea that what trauma exposes is the fact that one is
a “we” rather than an “I”; it threatens to undermine the very foundation of
how one knows oneself.
By contrast, Grand’s account raises a different question. It asks how one
is to answer the call of conscience when its authority can no longer be
taken for granted. How are passionate commitments to be reconciled with
the realization that they are personal constructions? She confronts us with
a postmodern vision of moral reckoning that struggles with uncertainty
and plurality. Despite them, one presses on in one’s beliefs and moral
behavior. By emphasizing this paradox, Grand exposes an irrationality of
conscience rivaling that of the classical perspective, defining what it is to
be human without reference to instinct or historical truth.

Hypocrisy and Moral Ambiguity

If Grand’s intuitions are correct, then perhaps it is appropriate to under-

stand the paradox of conscience more in terms of ambiguity than irratio-
nality. Irrationality denotes an absence of coherence; it rejects the notion
that there are truths to be discovered or objective means for distinguish-
ing fact from fiction or reality from illusion in moral matters. By contrast,
ambiguity does not commit one to a position of radical relativism. It does
not preclude some rational sorting out of complex moral engagements. To
be sure, it holds that the value of values cannot be verified independently
of the purposes of an individual life, which necessarily encompass the
traditions and circumstances particular to one’s time and place. But it
does not therefore conclude that these standards are irrational. Notice, for
example, that Grand never questions whether lying is wrong. She does
not waiver in her conviction. Unlike the noncognitivist, she does not ask
what wrongness means; she does not try to parse individual acts of
wrongdoing in order to explain wrongness in nonmoral terms. Grand
begins with the belief that lying is wrong, one surmises, because it devi-
ates from an excellence or ideal internal to her personal and professional
identities. In fact, with regard to lying, one imagines the latter to be one
and the same. For this reason, it is incorrect to characterize Grand’s stance
as a form of realism. She makes no claim about lying that is universaliz-
able or references beliefs whose propositional content is apt for truth.
Rather, her position is inspired by a post-Aristotelian sensibility in which
 Multiplicity and Moral Ambiguity 187

values like honesty are socially determined, internal to a particular per-

spective and set of practices, and, most importantly, individually consti-
tuted. She seeks a rational, coherent basis for her beliefs grounded in the
character of her actions, their dynamics, and the practice of psychoanaly-
sis. Wrongness is meaningful only as a judgment made from within a
particular framework or value system that guides how she lives.
By contextualizing morality one implicitly recognizes that human agents
do not think and behave morally because they are persuaded by the truth
of prevailing norms. Moral beliefs make the world meaningful and help
guide their actions in a practical way. Because all perspectives are not
equally worthy or rationally preferable, it is sometimes possible to ratio-
nally arbitrate disagreements about the relative worth of different perspec-
tives. As Taylor points out, one lives one’s life according to principles
whose reality is inescapable and that simply cannot be explained away.
Truth is the residue of perspectivism, leaving one in the role of the matador
who recognizes the wisdom of standing clear of the charging bull. Moral
acceptance and the principles one lives by are grounded in undeniable
realities. These realities are embedded in stories of individual lives.
MacIntyre believes it is possible to choose between perspectives when
some prove to be rationally more cogent. To illustrate this idea, consider
the very striking differences between a modern Western worldview and
that of the Mlabri, a tribe of approximately 220 members living in a small
village in Phrae Province, Thailand.29 The Mlabri are animists who be-
lieve, for example, that a stranger’s speaking of someone can unleash evil
spirits and thus will bring misfortune to the community. Similarly, to
comment on a child’s beauty or charm will eventuate in kidnap or harm;
complimenting the preparer of one’s meal will doom future harvests.
Importantly, MacIntyre does not conclude that the Mlabri worldview
therefore is less worthy of respect. On the contrary, he regards it as effec-
tively serving the needs of its believers. These beliefs help the Mlabri
make sense of their world. Superstitions about agricultural practices may
further the survival of the community by insuring consistency and pro-
ductivity over time. However, the Western perspective accomplishes
something that the Mlabris cannot: it offers a persuasive account of tribal
practices in non-Mlabri, Western language. It explains the meaning, func-
tion, and effectiveness of these traditions in non-Mlabri terms. To be sure,
the Mlabris can provide an explanation of Western practices. They might
have interesting ideas about the meaning and function of television and
other electronic devices, given that they do not recognize their own faces
in a mirror or photograph.30 However, they will not provide a persuasive
account of modern practices in Mlabri terms that is rationally preferable
to the Western one. MacIntyre asserts more strongly that the choice be-
tween competing worldviews sometimes can be made objectively, so long
188 Chapter 8

as one does not confuse the notions of objectivity and rational preference
with truth.31 Although not removing the threat of relativism, this position
at least rescues moral discourse from incoherence.
Grand wants us to think about the agent’s reasons in terms of the dif-
ference they make in what he does. She urges us to examine the content
of actual deliberations as he confronts conflict and adversity. It would be
a mistake to view this as a purely subjective process because, following
Taylor, she believes the agent’s sense of reality emerges only within
frameworks of evaluative judgments that are deeply influenced by the
field. Therefore, there is no independent or value-neutral perspective with
which the agent’s deliberations can be contrasted. The lack of absolute
values (or rank ordering of them) underscores the importance of the
agent’s constructions and interpretations of these various influences.
Moral commitments always are subject to negotiation and interpretation.
Grand argues that “real innocence . . . [can] coexist with real culpabil-
ity” when one understands transgressions in terms of oppositions be-
tween inner motivations and the influences of the field.32 Without neces-
sarily intending to do so, she implies that lies are neither vicious nor
virtuous in themselves because wrongness is not validly inferred merely
from their occurrence. Like any other behavior, lying is properly evalu-
ated only in terms of the degree to which it contributes to or detracts from
the motivations, convictions, commitments, and purposes of an individ-
ual life. For Grand, clinical inquiry must appreciate rather than condemn
these dynamics, allowing both therapist and patient to fashion under-
standings that foster freedom of thought and autonomy, without the
comforting illusion of certainty provided by classical theory. Treatment no
longer discovers what is true or ontologically more real, but offers oppor-
tunities to glimpse perspectives other than the patient’s own so that his
life may be situated in a broader context, with a greater appreciation of
inner motives and the shaping influences of the field. Treatment directly
engages ethical life because the more effective one’s illusions, the less in-
clined one is to look beneath the mask.

Rethinking Hypocrisy

At bottom, one may view the hypocrite as rejecting the core implication
of Grand’s thesis: that his transgressions always are fully his own, his ac-
tions feely chosen. The hypocrite never quite takes responsibility for who
he is. In Sartrean terms, he is in bad faith both with regard to his facticity
and his transcendence. The former occupies a more prominent place in
Sartre’s analysis of shame, which describes the hypocrite as endeavoring
to create and subsequently to discover in the reflective gaze of the other
 Multiplicity and Moral Ambiguity 189

longed-for possibilities for being. Shame confronts him with the fact that
he is simultaneously a subject and object. It places him in a position in
which his identity is fixed in the other’s judgment. In shame, he is with-
out possibilities. In Sartrean terms, he is pure facticity. Shame fixes his
identity intersubjectively in relation to others whom he cannot control
because they, too, are free subjects. His gambit exposed, the hypocrite
discovers strong negative evaluations rather than the love and admiration
he desires. This relational structure perpetuates hypocrisy and furthers
both deception and self-deception. The hypocrite wants to reject assess-
ments of him as a deplorable thing. The control and manipulation of oth-
ers’ perceptions thus assumes a vital role. In the end, the hypocrite does
not strive for virtue or excellence. His actions shift the moral burden of his
choices from the self to others and to the field. He imagines that he is
never quite defined by what he does; judgments about who he is always
are deferred.
Hypocrisy is not only an avoidance of defining oneself exclusively in
accordance with the other’s perception. Equally important and more
problematic about it is what Sartre terms “transcendence,” and what I
believe lies at the core of psychoanalytic understandings of dissociation
and disavowal. Transcendence refers to the fact each of life projects for-
ward into the future, bringing it about that who one is in the present tense
is never fixed or fully formed. Each individual identity is a work in prog-
ress as it were, a work moreover that is never complete, even extending
boundaries of physical life by virtue of how it is remembered and inter-
preted by others. In this sense, identity is limited only by imagination. Yet,
in reality, human possibilities are not infinite. One is never free to become
anything one wishes to be. Even fantasy must touch the ground of reality;
the forms one’s life can assume are limited variously by language, culture,
and one’s particular circumstances.
Grand reminds us of the inherent tension between facticity and tran-
scendence that hovers in the background of one’s choices. Like Sartre, she
recognizes the freedom to choose as well as the very real forces that con-
strain and diminish this freedom. She emphasizes how the hypocrite en-
deavors to escape his identity and to become what he wishes to be, how-
ever fleeting and unstable this experience may be. For this reason,
self-deception is to be distinguished from the interpersonal lie. Experienc-
ing himself without choices, he denies his freedom and disavows respon-
sibility or the need to repair harm. He resists the notion that his choices
define him, seeking a state of innocence through continued transgression.
Viewed in this way, disavowal and dissociation are not directed exclu-
sively against castration anxiety. Instead, their purpose is to obliterate re-
alistic limits, boundaries, and constraints on the hypocrite’s wishes or de-
sires. They allow him mistakenly to believe that he will be loved in spite of
190 Chapter 8

his dishonesty and manipulation. He will not relinquish the fantasy that
he can get what he wants and that his transgressions will not actualize the
very circumstances he desperately avoids. To disavow is to believe that
one need not accept any limitation of one’s desires. More than defense
against an impulse, it reflects a unique stance of not knowing that is intrin-
sically in tension with norms and with social reality more generally.
Grand believes that the hypocrite’s propensity to disavow limitations
brings about conditions which permit guilt and innocence to coexist. Dis-
sociation destabilizes distinctions between his roles as victimizer and
victim, allowing sexual predators, for example, to experience what they
do as “not really real.”33 Agency and memory were so significantly dimin-
ished in a patient who staunchly denied murdering his daughter that
Grand came to the view that “he was not simply lying; he believed this.”34
A. Stein elaborates this theme in her description of violent offenders who
frequently are victims of childhood abuse. Dissociation obliterates dis-
tinctions between innocence and guilt, thought and deed, and volition
and coercion.
Grand’s view is to be distinguished from Sartre and especially from
Camus because of the importance she attaches to depressive anxiety,
ambivalence, and the capacity for reflection. It will be recalled that Ca-
mus wanted to convey through the character of Meursault the belief that
one is most honest and engaged, perhaps even happiest, when living
completely in the moment, without a past or future. Dissociation is for
Camus an ideal state, one of embeddedness and innocence. The problem
of the absurd, of nihilism, emerges only with reflection, when one steps
outside of the immediacy of lived experience in order to ask the “why”
question. To inquire about meaning, to formulate it, is to invite meaning-
lessness and anomy. Grand reverses the terms of Camus’ argument and
problematizes complete immersion in the here and now. To live exclu-
sively in the present is never fully to take into account what one is doing.
One does not spell out one’s engagements. Responsibility necessitates
reflection. It requires attention to and evaluation of one’s choices in light
of the circumstances and likely consequences so that one more actively
directs one’s life. This does not mean all potential outcomes can be an-
ticipated or controlled, nor that suffering can be avoided completely.
“Sometimes the most agonizing sufferings are those chosen by oneself.”35
Identity and character are revealed to one only by virtue of one’s choices.
This is deeper problematic of freedom. And Grand reminds us that is
precisely this radical sense of freedom that the hypocrite wishes to forget.
What counts in living a good life is not a matter solely of perception or
awareness, but of volition and action. Stated differently, dissociation as a
pre-reflective failure of attention is less significant than its ability to mask
(intentional) refusals to face uncomfortable truths. In the end, the prob-
 Multiplicity and Moral Ambiguity 191

lem of hypocrisy may not be one of belief, but of the unwillingness to act
responsibly.
Once relativism and moral ambiguity are acknowledged, hypocrisy is
no longer a factual occurrence whose meaning is fixed once and for all in
a single definition. Instead, it is a complex, situationally specific interper-
sonal problem-solving strategy comprehensible only within the story of
an individual life. As such, it cannot be condemned a priori. Nor can it
ever be completely successful because one’s actions take place within a
temporal order that cannot be controlled and to which one can only sur-
render. Meaning depends on that which cannot be known in advance, on
what unfolds at the intersection of choice and fate. Grand’s perspective
emphasizes the inherent tensions among agency, influence, and chance
that hypocrisy seeks to reconcile. It is an insightful portrait of hypocrisy
as a form of decision-making under conditions of ambiguity. Shame and
guilt are present, but unable effectively to forestall immoral action.
If it is utility that confers value on certain behaviors, then the relational
position can be interpreted broadly to mean that lying is both contextual
and morally ambiguous. Deception protects one from what is unthink-
able, annihilating, and unshareable. Sometimes it protects the other in the
same way. The deeper problem of relativism is its ability to cast deception
in a favorable light, allowing both agent and observer to perceive it as
motivated by concern and care. If moral beliefs are both fictional and
contextual, lying may conceal some truths in order to preserve others. It
is for this reason that I have emphasized Grand’s affinity with a post-
Aristotelian ethical tradition in which moral valuing is grounded in excel-
lences intrinsic to socially determined practices. Practices and traditions
provide a framework for moral evaluation that relies neither on realism
nor noncognitivism. It allows hypocrisy to be evaluated in terms of the
degree to which it furthers or detracts from human practices, traditions,
and purposes. Only on this basis is it appropriately celebrated or criti-
cized. Whether virtuous or vicious, hypocrisy is an eradicable aspect of
the human condition, one whose meaning is discerned most clearly by
means of the psychoanalytic method.

Notes

  1.  Critical in the postmodern turn is the assumption of multiplicity, together

with the bolder thesis that truth may be asserted only from within each of these
multiple perspectives. Truth as an objective property of propositions is regarded
as an empty concept that rests on a vision of reality as ontologically distinct from
individual interpretations of it. Because consciousness is inextricably intertwined
with one’s point of view, it cannot reliably guide right action. In short, perspectiv-
192 Chapter 8

ism removes the possibility of certitude in ethical debates. Its more specific conse-
quence is that hypocrisy will no longer be predicted or explained by conscious
intentions. Without privileged access to all possible interpretations of experience,
one always is responding to influences whose meanings and implications cannot
be formulated in the here and now.
  2.  I say this recognizing that perceptual attributes are themselves subject to
interpretation and, for this reason, not properly regarded as standing outside of
language and meaning. Nevertheless, once one agrees that the word “brown”
designates a particular spectrum of light, for example, the property of brownness
can be measured independently of the observer. The same cannot be said for
moral concepts, which implicitly reference what ought to be rather than what is
the case. I shall not rehearse the arguments for this distinction here, but the inter-
ested reader is referred to Bernard Williams, Truth and Truthfulness.
  3.  Robert C. Solomon, Living with Nietzsche: What the Great “Immoralist” Has to
Teach Us (New York: Oxford, 2003).
  4.  Solomon, Living with Nietzsche, 122.
  5.  Solomon, Living with Nietzsche, 122.
  6.  Solomon, Living with Nietzsche, 122.
  7.  This is precisely the point made by Batson and his coinvestigators on the
phenomenon of moral hypocrisy.
  8.  Clancy Martin, The Philosophy of Deception (New York: Oxford, 2009).
  9.  Otto F. Kernberg, “Sanctioned Social Violence,” International Journal of Psy-
cho-Analysis 84 (2003): 966.
10.  Otto F. Kernberg, “Aggression, Hatred, and Social Violence,” Canadian Jour-
nal of Psychoanalysis 6 (1998): 196, and Otto F. Kernberg, “Psychoanalytic Perspec-
tives on Religious Experience,” American Journal of Psychotherapy 54 (2000): 472.
11.  Otto Kernberg, “Perversion, Perversity and Normality: Diagnostic and
Therapeutic Considerations,” in Perversion: Psychoanalytic Perspectives, Perspec-
tives on Psychoanalysis, ed. Dani Noblus and Lisa Downing (New York: Karnac,
2006), 20.
12.  Kernberg, “Perversion, Perversity,” 20.
13.  “Just do it!” is the centerpiece of Nike’s marketing campaign in which bas-
ketball superstar Michael Jordan has played so prominent a role.
14.  Robert C. Solomon, “One Hundred Years of Ressentiment: Nietzsche’s Gene-
alogy of Morals,” in Nietzsche, Genealogy, Morality: Essay on Nietzsche’s Genealogy of
Morals, ed. Richard Schacht (Berkeley: University of California, 1994), 106.
15.  Frederich Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morals, in The Basic Writings of Ni-
etzsche, ed. and trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Modern Library, 1968), 1:10.
16.  Sue Grand, “Lies and Body Cruelties in the Analytic Hour,” Psychoanalytic
Dialogues 13 (2003): 471–500.
17.  Solomon, Living with Nietzsche.
18.  Grand, “Lies,” 475.
19.  Grand, “Lies,” 480.
20.  Grand, “Lies,” 479–80.
21.  Grand, “Lies,” 497.
22.  Sigmund Freud, “Some Character-Types Met with in Psycho-Analytic
Work,” in Standard Edition (1916), 14:333.
 Multiplicity and Moral Ambiguity 193

23.  Sigmund Freud, Civilization and its Discontents, in Standard Edition (1930),
21:131.
24.  Freud, Civilization, 131.
25.  Freud, “Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego,” in Standard Edition,
28:122.
26.  Freud, Civilization, 130.
27.  Charles Taylor, Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cam-
bridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989).
28.  Alasdair MacIntyre, “Genealogies and Subversions,” in Nietzsche, Geneal-
ogy, Morality: Essay on Nietzsche’s Genealogy of Morals, ed. Richard Schacht (Berke-
ley: University of California, 1994), 284–305.
29.  Sarah Rooney, “A Tale of Two Thai Tribes: Preaching the Gospel in Northern
Thailand,” Japan Times Online, April 24, 2001, http://search.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-
bin/fv20010424a1.html (accessed January 5, 2009).
30.  Rooney, “Two Thai Tribes.”
31.  Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre
Dame Press, 1984).
32.  Grand, “Lies,” 487.
33.  Sue Grand, “The Paradox of Innocence: Dissociative ‘Adhesive’ States in
Perpetrators of Incest,” Psychoanalytic Dialogues 7 (1997): 465.
34.  Grand, “Paradox of Innocence,” 467.
35.  Jean-Pierre Vernant and Pierre Vidal-Naquet, Myth and Tragedy in Ancient
Greece, trans. Janet Lloyd (New York: Zone Books, 1990), 78.
 Conclusion

I n postmodern hands, hypocrisy reveals a stark truth about ethical life:

there is no higher court for resolving disagreements. Morality and its
associated beliefs are constructions, nothing more or less than products of
human history and tradition. Paradoxical about them is the sense of obli-
gation they inspire and their ability to inhibit acting on natural inclinations
and immediate self-interests. More than anything, hypocrisy exposes the
ambivalence of restraint and the continuing effort to get what one wants
without subjecting oneself to moral criticism. To repeat, the issue is not
primarily one of Truth, but of the mixed feelings that are unavoidable in
the living of one’s life amidst uncertain, but powerful influences.1
These sentiments deeply influenced Nietzsche’s view that hypocrisy
was inescapable and nowhere more apparent than in behavior and moral
intuitions. He provocatively asserted that there was no reality standing
above man in which to ground moral authority. Efforts to impose stan-
dards of behavior on others therefore amount to nothing more than exer-
cises of power. At bottom, morality is hypocritical because it is inspired
by resentment and a sense of inferiority, coercing without recourse to
brute force. These same mechanisms also characterize hypocrisy at the
individual level. Self-deception helps one not only avoid anxiety and
shame, but also to believe the illusions one creates. Blind to one’s deeper
motives, hypocrisy can be transformative, bridging the apparent divide
between fraudulence and authentically becoming what one formerly pre-
tended to be.
Perspectivism destabilizes relationships between the self and its ob-
jects. As a result, self and mask cannot be sharply distinguished. More-

195
196 Conclusion

over, it means that there is no true self to be found beneath the mask, a
line of thought that has been developed most extensively within psycho-
analysis by Bromberg.2 The Brombergian self is multiple as well as decen-
tered and nonlinear; as such, it is unlinked from other self-states and from
their objects, affects, and perceptions. Epistemic uncertainty is the new
norm; the forces of inner and outer, individual and group, conformity and
innovation no longer cohere, but instead collide, fragment, and reconfig-
ure. To inquire as to what lies beneath the mask misleadingly implies
precisely the true (Cartesian) self rejected by perspectivism. In a dialectic
of dislocation, there are only perspectives and multiple engagements in
the world. All meanings are particular, human, and embodied. In this
view, hypocrisy is not a deviation from objective standards, but an effort
to balance tensions among disparate perspectives temporarily, never com-
pletely integrating or reconciling them. In the end, it reveals no Truth, no
true self, only the continuous play of illusion.
Grand’s sensitive and insightful perspective brings forth an important
aspect of Nietzsche’s thinking about hypocrisy. Whatever else it accom-
plishes, hypocrisy always is an adaptive effort and a joint product of so-
ciocultural influences and free will. However much the hypocrite feels
himself to be a victim of forces beyond his control, thrown into circum-
stances that leave him no choice but to do what he has done, he makes a
choice. Although not using the term explicitly, it is perhaps more accurate
to say that Grand views hypocrisy as a quintessential product of compro-
mise. Shame and anxiety-avoidance figure prominently in its motives,
pushing the hypocrite further and further away from the truth. His decep-
tion is undeniable, but understanding it requires an appreciation of his
secret, unspeakable goals and longings. As in perversion, the latter con-
sistently implicate power. But they would amount to little more than
reverie were they not the motives of an embodied, self-directing agent. In
wearing the mask, the hypocrite enacts unconscious purposes and seeks
solutions that are uniquely his own, however much they also are provi-
sional and ultimately self-defeating.
Authenticity is similarly problematized. Denoting consistency among
one’s thoughts, feelings, and actions, it aligns with the concept of integ-
rity, of being true to who one is.3 Since one actively fashions oneself into
what one is, it also implicates character and style, what one does with the
forces that count in one’s life.4 Paradoxically, being true to oneself rests on
the ability to reliably ascertain the Truth—precisely that which postmod-
ernism places beyond human reach. Authenticity coheres in the modern
imagination only by virtue of its relationship to a stable concept of per-
sonal identity. If there is no intelligible order, no reality beyond the human
one for a decentered self to take perspective on, even when the self in
question is one’s own, the concept of authenticity is destabilized and,
 Conclusion 197

with it, the related notions of consistency, integrity, conformity, or devi-

ance. Without clear distinctions between authenticity and inauthenticity,
sincerity and insincerity, as well as virtue and vice, how is one to refute
the claim that we are all hypocrites in one way or another?
This book has embraced this claim in an effort to expose the morally
ambiguous human condition. In the absence of a rational order to guide
one unerringly toward the good,5 one is left to struggle with values that
have no value except in terms of the activities, traditions, and ways of life
one cares about.6 Virtue cannot be deduced by pure reason; it reflects how
one develops one’s unique talents and abilities in a particular place and
time as well as for particular purposes. It requires commitment, vision,
and full engagement. One cultivates excellence through passionate in-
volvement and prolonged immersion in activity. It is an ideal vision to be
sure, one fashioned on the basis of identification with proficient role mod-
els. Observational learning rather than mimicry is essential for moral de-
cision-making as well as for happiness, self-enrichment, and the better-
ment of the community.
An ethics of virtue accommodates a view of human beings as fallible
and, to varying degrees, ever-vulnerable to the lure of hypocrisy. It allows
one to pose questions invisible in other ethical and metaethical theories.
For example, why ought one behave virtuously in the absence of any ab-
solute obligation to do so; or, importantly, how would an exemplary role
model respond in circumstances similar to the one in which one finds
oneself? These are not idle questions, but cut to the heart of the dichotomy
between morality’s binding authority on the one hand and its depen-
dence on identification and sociocultural experience on the other. No
formula provides satisfactory answers to these questions if it is stripped
of the agent’s existentiality: his concerns, convictions, and deepest ambi-
tions. Aristotle was clear on this point. He attended to the character or
quality of one’s actions. Less concerned with behavior as such, he wanted
to know whether and to what degree one’s actions reflected the attributes
of equanimity, deliberation, intelligence, and practical judgment. True, he
venerated a supreme rationalism that relied on reason to attain, evaluate,
and apply knowledge. But his faith in reason never took precedence over
the thesis that happiness or the good for man follows from prolonged and
successful engagement with complex human tasks. Only in and through
activity does one know oneself and creates conditions that make the
achievement of excellence possible.
Like Aristotle, Nietzsche did not criticize the act of honoring obliga-
tions. However, he was far less enamored of rationalism.7 He minimized
its role in achieving excellence, viewing rationalism as a perspective that
rests on the assumption of a predictable natural order. His vision was
decidedly more tragic, exempting no one from the forces of necessity and
198 Conclusion

fate. Tragedy portrays suffering as stark, particular, and ineradicable; its

protagonists are destroyed by denying or trying to overcome life’s intrin-
sic limits. Because trauma and misfortune are realities, self-flourishing
requires one to embrace them in spite of the suffering they cause. Nietz-
sche’s is an aesthetic conception that celebrates individuals who cultivate
a distinctive style precisely by redoubling their efforts in the face of adver-
sity.8 One must “love” and take responsibility for one’s life as it is, a thesis
Nietzsche evocatively described as amor fati.9 Loving who and what one
is frees one to participate passionately in life despite its formidable obstacles
and inescapable constraints. What distinguishes Nietzsche’s view from Ar-
istotle’s biological teleology is the role played by creativity, the cardinal
virtue in his ethical theory. The virtuous man possesses the strength of
character necessary to develop his own style, even if it places him at odds
with his fellow men.
Perversion also is a kind of style, often a chronic strategy for diminish-
ing conflict among desires, inner morality, and troubling realities. To
characterize it solely as a pathology misses how it creatively fashions
compromises among dynamic forces and, in effect, constitutes a frame-
work permitting disparate values and obligations to coexist. Psychoana-
lytic investigation reveals that wishes for power and control frequently
play a primary role. Interesting, however, is the fact that these motives are
expressed directly only in the most extreme cases. More often than not,
the wish to dominate others lurks in the shadows, carefully concealed
from victim and perpetrator alike. At bottom, perversion is hypocritical;
it involves never saying what one means and never appearing to pursue
what one really is after. In effect, it establishes its own standards for what
counts as honesty, sincerity, and integrity. In order to devalue and dehu-
manize others, one must already inhabit a perspective corrupted by
power, fortified by a ready inclination to forgive and forget one’s own
transgressions. Viewed in this way, perversion is not primarily about
sexuality or aggression, but about qualities of character that are deeply
deceptive and diminish the possibilities for intimacy, trust, and coopera-
tion. More broadly, to attribute it exclusively to instinctual motives denies
the deeper implication that perversion as well as hypocrisy are inescap-
able. Put another way, one may speak about perversion (and hypocrisy)
as both nonsexual and pathological.10
Penney offers a more provocative thesis11: Morality does not merely
constrain desire; it establishes its aims and objects.12 Arguing from a social
constructionist perspective, he minimizes the role played by biological
materiality.13 He does not deny human materiality so much as he argues
that it is comprehensible only within particular sociocultural contexts.
Just as there are no moral facts, there are no pure, socially unmediated
desires. For Penney, desire, qua desire, is impersonal and, consistent with
 Conclusion 199

Freud’s hypothesis about libido, lacks any natural connection to what it

pursues. Desire aims at objects it cannot possess, at goals it cannot attain.
It tells a story of deviation and failure, of fleeting pleasures and unrelent-
ing yearning, of the frustrating and ultimately impossible project of satis-
fying wishes for “moral perfection and immunity from desire.”14 Neither
exists except in relation to socially defined ends. Thus, Penney links vir-
tue and vice in a manner recalling Rangell’s claim of a universal wish to
triumph over the superego, to do precisely what is forbidden.15
Rather than opposing desire’s thrust toward transcendence, dissocia-
tion brings it about that wishes never need to be completely reconciled
with reality. In partitioning the self, it creates a morality that is self-state
specific, shaping the possible forms that authenticity and responsibility
can assume. Hypocrisy exposes the lack of alignment between words and
deeds. It is not that one feels no commitments or experiences no sense of
obligation, but that neither is sustained. Commitments no longer assert
“this is where I stand absolutely,” but merely where one stands at this
moment in one’s present state of mind. Commitments are indistinguish-
able from preferences; they are distributed among disconnected states of
mind that, like remote islands, populate a vast sea of experience.
The hypocrite lives out a fantasy of transcendence rather than orienting
himself toward enduring ideals or concerns broader than his immediate
self-interests. Disengagement is his default position. He mimics convic-
tion, refusing to be bound by obligations that he experiences as ever-
changing and contingent or defined by his deeds, whose ultimate justifi-
cation rests on the shifting sands of relativism. He hopes that his
transgressions will not be detected and enters into commitments with the
sense that they are revocable. They may be magically unthought and
therefore undone. He reinvents himself when faced with limits or uncom-
fortable truths. He aligns the good with immediate pleasure and the
avoidance of shame. Self-deception and moral ambiguity allow him to do
so sincerely.
As described here, moral hypocrisy is inconsistent with gross violations
of standards or direct harm to others. The hypocrite’s ultimate concern
with his status and particularly with appearing morally better than he is
constrains overt antisocial behavior, leaving a character type remarkably
consistent with the postmodern self—an ever-changing configuration of
partial impressions and unsustained commitments. Hypocrisy flourishes
when who has transgressed and who is accountable are problematized.
Ambiguity’s essential role in the hypocrite’s gambit provides significant
protection from criminality.
By contrast, the sociopath does what he pleases without empathy for oth-
ers or for normative standards. He wishes to avoid punishment and takes
measures principally to avoid detection. He acts instrumentally, with a
200 Conclusion

clear sense of what he wants and an ability to pursue it unencumbered by

the call of conscience. He takes measures to conceal his intentions princi-
pally to avoid detection and punishment. He seeks only to create sufficient
doubt about his intentions so that he may do as he pleases. For the socio-
path, morality is merely something to which he pays lip service. He regards
those who feel bound by its authority as fools and easy prey.
Rangell emphasizes hypocrisy’s dynamic and structural aspects by de-
scribing it as a compromise among competing structures of the mind. It is
a short-circuiting of moral deliberation, a product of unconscious negotia-
tion between desire and internalized morality in which the latter gives in.
Both elements of this formulation are crucial. Rangell notices, but does not
stress, consciously directed forms of agency, according greater weight to
what transpires unconsciously. He is to be credited for recognizing con-
science as a force as formidable and irrational as libido and aggression.
There is another way to read Rangell’s idea that the superego remains
open to influence throughout the lifespan. Because vulnerability to corrup-
tion also implies receptivity to positive influences, the capacities for good
and evil are not logically opposed; nor is this vulnerability completely re-
grettable. Were it otherwise, morality would be a closed system, immuring
one in patterns of thought and action established in early life, leaving one
unable to evaluate engagements from new perspectives. Rangell is right to
notice how charismatic leaders and group dynamics undermine moral
reckoning. But the effects of identification are bidirectional. Influence can be
salutary and promote recognition of the other’s worth.
Given his experience with morally compromised identification figures,
the hypocrite finds himself in situations that challenge him and create
unbearable anxiety. He does not wish to live a double life and may be
racked by guilt over how he has exploited those who love and care about
him in moments when he takes perspective and glimpses the conse-
quences of his deeds. However, he need not experience any aggression
toward others consciously, nor wish to do them harm. Often, what he
wants most urgently is simply to retain particular forms of relatedness in
which he feels loved or special despite his misdemeanors. If he is guilty
of anything consistently, it is of being unwilling to relinquish the comfort
his inauthenticity provides. From his perspective, he does not act freely or
cause others pain intentionally. Inauthenticity is his default position, the
flashpoint between indecision and his lack of imagination which para-
doxically preserves his sense of innocence.
The barriers to authenticity are not primarily sexual in nature, but in-
volve a pact in which personal identity and true self-relating are exchanged
for security and love.16 The hypocrite mimics identity rather than cultivat-
ing one of his own, exchanging opportunities for authentic engagement for
self-states linked to idolization. Dissociation sets the stage for these possi-
 Conclusion 201

bilities and plays a key role in how such individuals come to see dishon-
esty as the only viable solution for problems in living. Through hypocrisy,
the hypocrite ping-pongs between contradictory standards, denying real-
ties that make conflict inevitable. To maintain conviction is to suffer priva-
tion, loss, and potentially annihilating anxiety.
Shame-avoidance is a primary motive in moral hypocrisy, observed
wherever coexistence is practiced, but especially decisive in an agent for
whom moral considerations carry weight. Absent such sensibilities, he
will feel disappointment, even regret, about his transgressions, but nei-
ther shame nor guilt. Shame avoidance is intensified by the hypocrite’s
belief that he does not measure up to others or to his sham identity. Be-
neath the mask is a deformed and fragmented image of what perhaps
was or, more likely, might have been. His enactments imaginatively
recreate the relational warmth he longs for. He endeavors to fashion a
world in which his choices do not bind him and willingly sacrifices all
that he is to secure this special status. Ultimately, his gambit fails and he
increasingly accepts fraudulence as a way of being. More accurately,
because he experiences his fraudulence as necessary, he does not per-
ceive his transgression as conflicting with the image of himself as moral.
He would like to be otherwise, but, as he sees it, his circumstances make
this impossible. In perversion, danger and risk become indispensable
elements of this gambit. In the alternative (and, perhaps, less frequently),
these challenges lead some hypocrites to become what they appear to
be, inspiring good deeds that substantially promote the welfare and
well-being of others. Some leave pretense behind completely, embracing
new identities and relationships.
If Rangell emphasizes identification with corrupt paternal authority,
the present view underscores the hypocrite’s ambivalent relationship
with morality. It regards the hypocrite as selectively suspending commit-
ments and values that otherwise define him. He wants his identity to re-
main open and malleable so that he may readily morph into whatever he
needs to be and to secure the relational configurations he yearns for. The
intrinsic link between being oneself and feeling loved is weakened by the
fantasy that acceptance can be found by appearing to be someone else.
This is not meant to imply a second, fully formed identity, but rather an
expurgated version of himself. He seeks an object that offers love uncon-
ditionally, despite his flaws, whose acceptance cannot be risked by a full
disclosure of what lies beneath the mask. Symbolically, this dynamic char-
acterizes relationships with maternal as well as paternal objects.
Sadly, once the pattern is established, deception is necessary. Unless the
hypocrite mobilizes the courage to grapple honestly with intrapersonal and
relational issues, he must carefully control he reveals and what he permits
into self-awareness. Trapped in a cycle in which the threat of detection,
202 Conclusion

shame, and abandonment loom ubiquitously, he increasingly settles for ap-

pearing rather than being moral. In this sense, hypocrisy is inadequately
described as a fleeting symptom or lapse in judgment, but always reflects a
style, a definitive act on the part of the agent that fashions this complex
constellation of influences and perceptions. Although perhaps not entirely
ego-syntonic, it is a compromise disquieting to those closest to him. “One
of the most important lessons to be learned from the tragically common
atrocities of the modern age . . . is that horrendous things are not done only
by monsters.”17 They are done by ordinary people who possess normative
values, and are otherwise empathic and appear sincerely interested in the
rights of others. Recognizing that the human capacity for trust and respon-
sibility must be viewed always in relation to the very real dangers of moral
disengagement deepens empathy and offers the possibility of a more au-
thentic engagement with such patients.
More than any contemporary author, Grand urges an appreciation of the
impact of moral ambiguity in the clinical setting. Her view of multiplicity
not only illuminates the character of hypocrisy, but also underscores its
indissoluble place in the human condition by refusing to condemn it a
priori. Condemnation masks how completely the agent experiences his
hypocrisy as the least costly alternative when conflicts arise. It also masks
how much condemnation constitutes an equally unconscious effort to dis-
courage transgressions, in effect to regulate and control practices that are
disapproved of. This point is not made to justify deception or to establish
its virtue, but to underscore how condemnation is contrary to the psycho-
therapeutic project of understanding hypocrisy and, perhaps, diminishing
the harm it causes in relationships. Promoting awareness of the patient’s
engagements and decreasing reliance on dissociative defenses offers alter-
native coping strategies more consistent with values and ideals. To repeat,
the therapeutic task should not be confused with the ethical project of es-
tablishing conclusive grounds for criticism; the former focuses on under-
standing how transgressive actions and guilt can coexist in order to bring
dissociated self-states into dialogue with one another. Coexistence causes
great suffering for the hypocrite and those with whom he is involved. It is
a form of suffering from which he can envision no exit. Unable to reconcile
his behavior with his values, integration and knowing are possible only
when the therapist resists adopting a shaming perspective in response to
what the patient cannot mentalize.
Grand’s work also underscores the complex and reciprocal relationship
between the agent and the field. Her work with Ann brings the tension of
this relationship to life as Grand struggles to maintain the therapeutic
frame. She demonstrates that the analyst is much more than an effect of
the field or of the practices comprising the psychoanalytic tradition. Par-
ticularly insightful is her recognition of the latter’s ambiguous guidance.
 Conclusion 203

Not only do these influences conflict with the analyst’s wishes, desires,
and perceptions, but, because they are perspectivistic and a product of
interpretation, they provide little more than the raw materials for clinical
decision-making. The definitive act is a product of the analyst’s agency,
how he or she makes sense of and fashions this amalgam of ideals, guide-
lines, and imperatives into something substantially his or her own. This
requires an interpretation of these influences that remains sensitive to the
notion that its truth is intrinsically linked to a particular point of view.
Sometimes, this renders hypocrisy less objectionable.
Batson’s research challenges psychoanalysts to think clearly about the
dynamic relationships among motives, moral standards, and hypocritical
behavior. Specifically, it underscores how each is profoundly influenced
by situational variables and how lapses may be prompted by opportunity
rather than by permanent changes of inner morality. The complexity of
these relationships has long been recognized, but only with the ascen-
dancy of relational thinking has it found its rightful place at the level of
theory. That relational theory tends to collapse the notion of agency and
field is an interpretive preference that has corrected the relative neglect of
interpersonal and especially sociocultural forces within psychoanalysis.
At a minimum, it provokes thought and dialogue, underscoring the grow-
ing consensus within psychoanalysis that the establishment of inner mo-
rality in childhood is not the last word in the story of ethical life.18 Moral
lapses no more imply corruption or psychopathology than scrupulosity
implies integrity. Hypocrisy reveals a multiplicity of purposes, values,
perceptions, and circumstances that challenge decision-making and un-
dermine any formula for applying moral principles. The hypocrite is ex-
quisitely attuned to this ambiguity, even when he cannot articulate it and
tries to respond in a way that satisfies diverse interests and demands.
Batson’s work brings forth the inconsistency of moral guidance by dem-
onstrating how easily it is compromised by situation and opportunity.
Batson’s perspective has two important implications for treatment.
First, self-awareness diminishes hypocrisy. This is especially true when
moral standards are made salient in a timely or opportune fashion. Unlike
their truly antisocial counterparts, hypocrites are sensitive to moral con-
straints and, according to Batson, engage in deception precisely to create
the appearance of conformity. When self-awareness no longer permits
them to believe in the appearance thus created, they are more likely to
conform to normative expectations. Responsiveness to interventions pro-
moting self-awareness suggests moral hypocrites are suitable candidates
for modified psychoanalytic treatment. Second, at a technical level, estab-
lishing the salience of moral standards may involve the analyst in interac-
tions that are difficult to reconcile with the concept of neutrality. The ana-
lyst’s stance requires both empathic exploration of the painful experiences
204 Conclusion

that are effortlessly disavowed and confrontation of the patient’s actions,

both anticipated and real. Following Grossman, this “may require the
analyst to take a stand with respect to the demands of reality.”19 However,
this stance must be sensitive, be noncritical, and address the moral impli-
cations of thoughts, feelings, and behavior.
Treatment needs to mobilize courage within the patient to examine the
values, beliefs, and perceptions hidden beneath the mask and to forge
new, nondeceptive strategies for emotional and interpersonal problem-
solving. Rather than behaving morally only when it is expedient or neces-
sary to do so, the patient must creatively integrate wishes, needs, values,
and beliefs in a way that affords a better adaptation to the ever-expanding
and complex social environment he inhabits. Following Erikson, it is vital
that the individual find ways to tolerate and integrate this diversity rather
than seek solutions capriciously and arbitrarily. This task requires more
than a strong superego or tamed impulses. It requires a perspective in
which the intrinsic link between responsibility and trust is recognized as
necessary for communal living. Therapeutically, this will require particu-
lar attention to developments in the transference as well as to the vital role
played by enactment and countertransference reactions. Only when un-
mentalized experiences are brought to light will the patient begin to be-
lieve that his interests can be situated nondeceptively within a hierarchy
of communal purposes and social relationships rather than relinquished
completely. This is a major step in the process of altering the dissociative,
either/or thinking that perpetuates hypocrisy.
The fantasy that “choice has no emotionally consequential cost . . . de-
pends on a limited appreciation of . . . [one’s] own states of mind, and also
on a limited appreciation of the complexity of reality.”20 Greenberg adds
to this insight the notion that choice is not completely a matter of courage,
of simply following through or exercising one’s will in accordance with
one’s reasons. At its deepest level, it requires acknowledging that uncer-
tainty is intrinsic. To choose is to take a stand in the face of uncertainty,
recognizing that the consequences of one’s choice can neither be antici-
pated nor controlled. “There can be no pure triumph, because there are
only mixed feelings. And all of our choices reveal the fragility of our place
in the world, because every expression of personal agency inevitably
opens us to the effects of being subject to the agency of others.”21 In its
most fundamental sense, hypocrisy denies this existential circumstance,
seeking to triumph over limitations and to perpetuate the fantasy that
transcendence is possible whenever it is needed.
For whom does the hypocrite wear the mask? Answering this question
requires the integration of three distinct dynamics. First, the mask is worn
for the other who confers acceptance and love. This object is not to be
confused with the real other who is deceived, but is instead an elaborately
 Conclusion 205

constructed, fantasized other understood interpretively as a caregiver in

one’s early life. Early experiences may have gratified wishes or, alterna-
tively, offered acceptance on the basis of false-self-relating. Second, it is
worn for the real other who offers acceptance. This relationship, too, is
built on deception, since the hypocrite believes that disappointment and
abandonment are the likely consequences of the other’s accurate ap-
praisal. Third and most importantly, the mask is worn for the self. Only
through self-deception is the circle of hypocrisy complete. In its absence,
the hypocrite must confront the possibility that he deserves contempt and
is subject to the defining forces he so desperately avoids. His response is
intrinsically linked to shame because the truth lurking in the reflected
gaze of the other is that he is fundamentally unlovable.22
The deeper problem of hypocrisy is revealed when one no longer concep-
tualizes it as inherently opposed to the virtues of sincerity, authenticity, and
truth. Once this dichotomous way of thinking is suspended, it may be seen
that what the hypocrite experiences as his true or authentic self is at the
same time an abyss; it is as much a revelation of pure negation as it is the
source of his fantasy of infinite possibility. It marks precisely what he is not
and never will be. What lurks beneath the mask? Ultimately, the answer to
this question is illusion—no more, no less than a momentary and, to vary-
ing degrees, self-deceived glimpse of his project. As an interpretation and
thoroughly human inference, it cannot be a fact, something true in all pos-
sible worlds and forever immunized from self-deception. Through illusion,
the hypocrite imagines himself to be something more and better than his
choices. Illusion reassures him that he is not the person others would judge
him to be were they privy to what he knows but cannot share. But, because
self-awareness is itself never an all-or-none affair, these disparities are only
dimly noted. They cannot be reduced to the presence/absence of dissocia-
tion or, for that matter, of any defense. Hypocrisy underscores the impor-
tance of the quality of awareness—its acuity, sensitivity, insightfulness,
courage, compassion, and thoroughness as well as the character of the indi-
vidual’s engagements. As awareness is never total, the hypocrite’s engage-
ments express far more than what is observed at the behavioral level. He
acts on motivations that are not known in real time, if they are ever known
at all. Above all, they forestall shame and anxiety.
Ultimately, perspectivism means that there are no definitive moral prin-
ciples upon which all unbiased observers will agree. There is no way of
getting to the bottom of what one knows outside of the unique ways in
which one is oriented to one’s life and to the world in which one lives.23
Because complexity produces conflict, moral decision-making always will
be vulnerable to compromise and manipulation. It will be particularly
easy to rationalize decisions that minimize or, at least, stabilize conflict
while allowing one to act on forbidden wishes. In the absence of a God’s-
206 Conclusion

eye view, who is to say how one ought to live? Yet, plainly one does not
need to establish the Truth to identify failures of commitment or evasions
of fair and honest judgments. For this reason, hypocrisy can be identified
and evaluated in oneself and others even in the absence of ethical cer-
tainty. It marks the relative absence of a commitment to self-honesty and
to the willingness to correct one’s errors, whether they are made inadver-
tently or intentionally. Its truth is not purely a personal or subjective mat-
ter, severed from the relationships that undergird the experience of mean-
ing; it is instead embedded in these relationships and social experience
more generally. If moral life requires one to take a stand, hypocrisy re-
flects how one negotiates this central challenge. One must choose whether
to struggle with an ambiguous ethical life that provides no formula for
how to live or else, in a quintessential act of hypocrisy, practice precisely
what one condemns in others. Hypocrisy exposes ineradicable double
standards, the impossibility of absolute moral consistency, and a con-
sciousness that resists self-scrutiny and self-correction. Rather than purely
an object of moral criticism, hypocrisy must be appreciated for what it is:
a compromise between individual and communal needs, inner conviction
and fidelity to norms as well as to purposes beyond the self—in short, as
an effort at adaptation that to varying degrees may further or detract from
the challenge of living life authentically and responsibly.

Notes

  1.  I capitalize the “t” in Truth in order to emphasize its nonperspectival sense.
Truth presumes the possibility of a God’s-eye view, which, in moral matters, sim-
ply does not exist. By contrast, truth (lower case “t”) reflects what one takes to be
the case from a particular perspective. It is a conditional, domain-specific claim.
In the context of hypocrisy, this means that the hypocrite’s actions cannot consis-
tently be evaluated in terms of deviations from objective standards. Rather these
standards exist (or, more precisely, are fashioned) only within particular frame-
works or value systems with potential to cast the agent’s actions in a different
light. To be sure, this does not mean that one cannot evaluate hypocrisy; nor does
it justify deception. Rather, it demands that one fully consider its context in the
process of evaluating it psychologically and morally.
  2.  This view was inaugurated by Nietzsche in the nineteenth century.
  3.  Robert C. Solomon, Dark Feelings, Grim Thoughts: Experience and Reflection in
Camus and Sartre (New York: Oxford, 2006).
  4.  By “style,” Nietzsche meant the very opposite of what is fashionable or
comports with prevailing opinion. He used this term to capture a mode of com-
portment that is distinctively one’s own and sets one apart from the others.
  5.  It is not that deontological or consequentialist accounts wrongly condemn
actions or the various ways in which such actions undermine trust. In fact, the fact
that hypocrisy causes harm is one reason that it is appropriately criticized. It is
 Conclusion 207

simply the case that consequentialism fails to come to terms with instances of
hypocrisy that serve multiple purposes and arise under conditions of moral am-
biguity. This may lead us to criticize actions that are at once transgressive and
have salutary effects or serve some higher purpose.
  6.  This idea follows very closely the thinking of Nietzsche.
  7.  Nietzsche characterized this disparagingly as “Socratic” or “Socratic cul-
ture.” See Friedrich Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy, in The Basic Writings of Nietz-
sche, ed. and trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Modern Library, 1968), 18:110.
  8.  Nietzsche, Birth of Tragedy.
  9.  This term is generally translated as “love of fate.”
10.  In this way, one finally moves away from a moralizing perspective in which
the wrongness of perversion takes center stage. Instead, “perverse” acts require
examination in terms of the agent’s motives and the circumstances of enactment.
Only in this way does one establish a basis for deeming particular actions and
modes of thinking as pathological.
11.  Here Penney examines the implications of the thinking of John Dollimore,
Sexual Dissidence: Augustine to Wilde (Oxford: Clarendon, 1991).
12.  One will recall here Freud’s comment in Three Essays, that instinctual aims
and objects are “sutured” to libido rather than preordained or fixed.
13.  Dollimore, Sexual Dissidence.
14.  James Penney, The World of Perversion: Psychoanalysis and the Impossible Abso-
lute of Desire (Albany: SUNY, 2006), 29.
15.  Clancy Martin, The Philosophy of Deception (New York: Oxford, 2009).
16.  This term must of course be qualified. I do not use the term “true self” in
the sense of a self that is objectively true or most ontologically real, as if it were a
thing that can be described apart from the individual’s project. Rather, I mean to
apply by this term that some forms of thought, behavior, and preferences enjoy a
coherence without us rather than others, however much our consciousness of
them may be clouded by conflict and self-deception. This issue is not so much that
we sometimes misjudge or misinterpret mental contents, but that we have a per-
spective that is uniquely our own.
17.  C. Daniel Batson, Elizabeth R. Thompson, Greg Seuferling, Heather Whit-
ney, and Jon Strongman, “Moral Hypocrisy: Appearing Moral to Oneself without
Being So,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 77 (1999): 525.
18.  This applies equally to the establishment of the superego at the conclusion
of the Oedipal phase as well as more generally to the fact that moral decision-
making always is sensitive to domain and situation.
19.  Lee Grossman, “The Perverse Attitude to Reality,” Psychoanalytic Quarterly
62 (1993): 433.
20.  Jay Greenberg, “Choice,” Journal of the American Psychoanalytic Association 56
(2008): 700.
21.  Greenberg, “Choice,” 703.
22.  Leon Wurmser, The Mask of Shame (Northvale, NJ: Aronson, 1981).
23.  This idea is very close to the thesis put forth by Charles Taylor in Sources of
the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 1989).
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 Index
abandonment, 10, 41, 61, 65–66, 108,
115, 117, 122, 202, 205
Abraham, Karl, 86–88
agency, 12, 23, 63, 101; ambiguity of,
156–59; experience of, 78, 93, 100–
101, 112, 115, 156, 190; interaction
with field, 114, 203; moral, 90, 100,
101, 162, 165; postmodern
perspective on, 176, 182–83, 204
aggression, 41, 43, 51, 53, 55, 68, 71–73,
96, 135, 169, 198; unconscious, 88,
96, 133, 200
Aichhorn, August, 129–30
akrasia, 30, 86, 92, 173
annihilation, 191, 201
antisocial, 19, 20, 33, 87–89, 118, 130–
31, 178, 199
antisocial tendency, 53, 133
Aristotle, 12, 58n11, 171, 173, 197
Arlow, Jacob, 22, 32, 71
“as if” personality, 88
authenticity, 165–66, 196–97, 199, 205
bad faith, 151, 169, 188. See also
mauvaise foi
Bandura, Albert, 46–49, 66
Batson, C. Daniel, 7, 25–27, 29, 31–32,
217
34–35, 116, 203
Boehm, Christopher, 54–55
Broucek, Francis J., 108
Camus, Albert, ix–x, 158, 190
Cardena, Etzel, 148–51
caregiving, 42, 53–54
castration anxiety, 22–24, 64, 65, 67, 71,
72, 88, 189
Chasseguet-Smirgel, Janine, 67–68, 72,
75–76, 99, 133
choice, 2, 10, 26, 29, 40, 52, 100–101,
162–62, 182–83, 189–90, 196, 201,
204–5
compartmentalization, 148–50
compromise, 2, 3, 20, 31, 42, 90, 98,
100, 118, 130, 141, 165, 171, 196, 198,
206; unconscious, 6, 32, 35, 42, 90,
96, 101–2, 108, 117, 133, 200, 202
compromise of integrity, 2, 32, 35,
85–86, 88, 91–96, 98–101, 118
concern, 21, 26, 34, 36, 40, 42, 47, 51, 74,
92, 102, 106, 156, 169, 175, 191, 199
conflict, 2, 20, 29, 32, 50, 51, 91, 102,
142, 172–73, 198, 201; among moral
values, 26, 32, 58, 75–76, 98, 107,
114, 20
218 Index
conflicts of interest, 21, 125, 113
consequentialism, 91, 170, 206n5
Davidson, Arnold I., 62–63, 68, 81n36
Davidson, Donald, 103n25
deception, ix, xi, 4, 11, 30, 32, 34–36,
100, 114, 117, 142, 151–54, 170, 189,
202–3, 205; and anxiety avoidance,
97, 107, 133–34, 191, 195; self-, ix, 6,
8–10, 35, 71, 116–17, 124, 127–28,
132, 162, 169, 174–75, 178, 189, 199;
and sense reality-testing, 87
denial, 23, 63, 65, 67, 71, 72, 88, 109,
117, 130, 153, 156, 169, 178, 198, 201
dependency, 42, 43, 113
detachment, 74, 148–51
Deutsch, Helene, 87–88, 91, 103n9
disavowal, 7, 11, 19, 21–24, 26, 28,
32–35, 62, 72, 78, 88, 101, 115–18,
130, 156, 158–59, 181, 189–90
dissocial, 87, 89, 129–32
dissociation, 9, 19, 22, 32, 34, 68, 142,
156, 157, 164, 167n24, 169, 189–90,
199; domain of, 148; and moral
reckoning, 6, 11, 74, 76, 78, 88, 97,
100, 115–17, 159, 162–63, 165–66,
174, 183; prevalence rates, 147;
relational view, 152–55; types of,
149–51, 165
double mindedness, 153
empathy, 5, 21, 106, 176, 199, 202
enactment, 4, 7, 19, 22, 34–35, 44, 62,
69, 71, 74, 77, 78, 117, 125, 127, 133,
139, 157–59, 179–81, 184, 196, 201,
204
entitlement, 28, 100
ethics, 12, 33, 64, 85, 90, 91, 97, 106,
109, 111, 143, 156, 175–77, 184, 185,
195, 202, 206; of inauthenticity, 11,
12, 77, 116; of virtue, 58n11, 171–73,
191, 197–98. See also virtue ethics
evolution, 50, 52, 53,
evolutionary psychology, 40, 54–57
excellence, 13, 125, 171–73, 177, 186,
189, 191, 197. See also virtue
facticity, 188–89
fictionalism, 185, 191
Fonagy, Peter, 52, 133
Freud, Sigmund, 2, 18, 21, 32, 39–44,
48–50, 54, 56, 57, 62–66, 86, 97, 99,
182
Grand, Sue, 13, 156, 163–64, 179–86,
188–91, 196, 202
Grant, Ruth W., 113
Greenacre, Phyllis, 22, 87, 91, 103n11,
134
Greenberg, Jay, 204
Grossman, Lee, 23–24, 28, 32–35, 158–
59, 204
guilt, 22, 33, 42–43, 45, 49–53, 56, 57,
65, 71, 86–89, 107, 132, 158, 176,
182–85; and desire, 40, 50, 75, 114,
184–85, 190–91, 201, 202;
unconscious, 99, 129
Hartmann, Heinz, 24, 90–91, 111
hate, 40, 49, 50, 51, 68–70, 74, 87, 112,
163, 180–81, 183
Hobbes, Thomas, 2, 41–42
honesty, 5, 9, 20, 33, 46, 73, 98, 115, 164–
65, 173, 184–85, 187, 198, 201, 206
hostility, 69–71, 73, 75, 78, 81n29, 89,
137, 140, 179
hypocrisy: and agency, 11, 191, 195,
196, 204–5; and ambiguous moral
standards, 10, 99, 170, 178, 199; and
attachment, 40, 57; as compromise,
2, 6, 12, 31, 35, 171, 196, 200, 202;
and consensual validation, 9, 170–
71; definition, 19, 35, 113–14, 141;
evaluation of, x, 161, 163–64, 170,
191, 191n1, 195, 202, 203, 206; and
identity, 78–79, 117, 119, 122, 189,
199; as inconsistency, x, 173, 201;
moral, 6, 19, 25–26, 32, 201; and
moral disengagement, 74, 169; and
prudence, 173; and self-interest, 21,
28–29, 76; sensitivity to norms, 7,
18, 31, 107, 116; and sincerity, 20,
165, 173–75; and shame, 8, 106, 115,
118, 132, 189; superego pathology,
23, 30, 33, 86, 159
 Index 219
idealization, 35, 56, 128, 133, 180
ideals, 27, 56, 58, 87, 88, 90, 98–100,
108, 109, 129, 165, 180, 181, 186, 199,
202, 203
identification, 7, 44–46, 48–49, 71, 75,
88, 97, 102, 114, 140, 175, 197, 200;
corrupt, 6, 8, 11, 26, 86, 98–99, 102,
114, 118, 130, 200; projective, 4,
59n24, 68–69, 77
identity, 35, 40, 53, 75–76, 78–79, 87–88,
109, 115, 133, 137, 151–53, 174–75,
177, 179, 182, 189–90, 196, 200–201
idolization, 11, 63, 67, 77–78, 200
illusion, 22, 23, 33, 35, 42, 71, 75, 77,
117, 152, 153, 159, 162, 170, 178,
183–84, 185–86, 188, 195–96, 205
immoral, 25, 26, 27, 31, 33, 41, 86, 88,
93, 99–100, 107, 114–18, 133, 174, 191
impostor/imposture, 87–89, 103n9
integrity, x, 19–20, 26, 31–33, 89, 91, 93,
100, 107, 117, 131, 157, 162, 174, 176,
196–98, 203
irrational, 9, 42, 98, 100, 141, 186
Johnson, Adelaide M., 130
Jureidini, Jon, 66, 73, 96
Kernberg, Otto, 27, 67, 71, 175–76
Kernberg, Paulina, 131–32
Khan, Masud M. R., 77–79, 133
Klein, Melanie, 40, 50–52, 56
Lewis, Michael, 109, 115
Lobel, Thalma E., 131–32
loss, 9, 45, 75, 76, 79, 87, 117, 131, 201;
of love, 43
love, 4, 9, 10–11, 28, 35, 40, 43, 49–51,
67, 68, 71, 74, 76, 79, 95, 99, 113,
116–17, 133, 163, 180, 189, 198, 200,
201, 204
lying, ix, 21–22, 110–11, 127, 129, 132,
180–86, 188–91
MacIntyre, Alasdair, 13n10, 187
mask, 5–6, 9, 10, 35, 76, 79, 106, 113,
115, 174, 195–96, 201, 204–5
mauvaise foi, 151
means-ends reversal, 62, 71, 133
Mele, Alfred R., 80n8, 153
mental partitioning, 9, 21, 50, 151–52,
155, 199
moral ambiguity, 10, 20, 61, 119, 165,
172, 191, 199, 202, 206n5
moral disengagement, 2, 7, 9, 11, 22,
36, 73–74, 79, 116, 165, 199, 202
morality, 7, 11, 12, 20, 21, 25, 27, 32,
36, 39–40, 43–44, 46, 49–50, 54,
56–58, 61–65, 72, 74, 86, 90–93,
100–101, 111, 114, 129, 143, 161,
175, 177–78, 182–83, 187, 195, 197–
201, 203
moral reckoning, 5, 9, 22, 72, 74, 78,
98–99, 142, 156, 158–59, 162, 165,
185, 186, 200
multiplicity, x, 6, 12, 57, 152–53, 157,
162–63, 165, 184, 191n1, 202, 203
narcissism, 2–3, 7–8, 26–29, 40–42, 51,
53–54, 56–57, 69, 76, 87–89, 98–100,
114–16, 118, 130–32, 164
narcissistic personality disorder, 8, 27,
102
Nietzsche, Friedrich, 6, 12, 13n10, 46,
63–64, 177–78, 195–98, 206n4
noncognitivism, 183–86, 191
Penney, James, 77, 198–99
perceived self-efficacy, 48, 66
perpetrator, 55, 119, 163, 198
perspectivisim, 10–11, 12, 72, 99, 100,
108, 136–37, 152, 156, 161–65, 169–
71, 176–78, 182, 185, 187–88, 191n1,
195–97, 198, 203, 204–5, 206n1
perverse defenses, 11, 19, 35, 65, 67, 69,
71, 79, 119, 133, 142
projective identification. See
identification: projective
psychosomnia, 157–58
Rangell, Leo, 2, 8, 27, 31–32, 34, 85–88,
91–93, 96–102, 114, 118, 199–201
rationalization, 2, 7, 11, 34, 67, 74–75,
96–98, 106–7, 109, 115–16, 118, 121,
205
220 Index
reality-testing, 19, 24, 27, 32–34, 44, 91,
100, 130, 165, 176
rebellion, adolescent, 137
recognition: of other, xi, 17, 51, 70, 74,
108, 171, 200, 202; of self, 4, 25, 78,
88, 113
relativism, 12, 20, 39–40, 49, 56, 173–76,
178, 183, 186, 188, 191, 199
remorse, 43, 70, 131, 138
Renik, Owen, 19, 23–24, 28, 34–35
resentment, 8, 41, 43–45, 64, 68, 72, 75,
89, 112, 140, 178–80, 182, 195
responsibility, 4, 9, 25–26, 28, 31, 74, 79,
96, 101, 111–13, 152, 157, 162, 164,
175, 177, 184, 188–91, 198–99, 202,
204
revenge, 58, 69, 74–75, 87, 89, 96
Richards, Arlene K., 69–70, 72
sadism, 11, 67–71, 181
Sartre, Jean-Paul, 151–52, 188–90
security, 42, 50, 52, 75–76, 99, 117, 137,
153, 163, 178, 184–85, 200–201
self: false, 10, 53, 77–78, 133, 205;
-flourishing, 171–72, 177, 198; as
illusion, 10, 77, 152–53, 159, 162,
184, 186, 188, 196, 205. See also
identity
shame: avoidance, 5, 11, 30, 35, 106,
115; as discrepancy, 8, 10, 108, 116–
18; intolerance, 75, 95, 107–8;
response to standards, rules, and
goals, 108–11
sincerity, xi, 4, 11, 19–21, 114, 134, 155,
164–66, 173–75, 185, 197–99, 205
Soifer, Eldon, xi, 3, 30
Solomon, Robert C., 178
Stein, Abby, 157–59
Stein, Ruth, 71, 133
Stern, Donnell B., 9, 151–55, 157,
167n24
Stoller, Robert J., 69–72, 74–75
superego lacunae, 20, 130
Szabados, Bela, xi, 3, 30
Taylor, Charles, 185, 187–88
Taylor, Gabriel, 110–11
transcendence, 173–74, 188–89, 199,
204
transgression, x, 1, 7–8, 18, 20, 22,
30–31, 51, 67–69, 74, 86–87, 89, 93,
97, 99–100, 115, 133, 143, 156, 169–
70, 188–90, 198–99, 201–2
trauma, 4–5, 11, 18, 20, 22–24, 53, 65,
67, 69, 75–76, 87–88, 108, 132–33,
150, 152–53, 157, 165, 183, 186, 198
truth, xi, 4, 9, 12, 23, 46, 63, 77–78, 108,
114, 117, 155, 159, 163–65, 170, 176,
178, 180–88, 191, 195–97, 203, 205–6
values, 2, 11, 13, 20, 27, 30, 33, 43, 46,
56–58, 61, 64, 67–68, 72, 76, 86,
88–92, 98–102, 114–16, 118, 136–37,
142, 156, 160–63, 165, 172, 175–78,
186–88, 191, 197–98, 201–4
value testing, 24, 91
virtue, 20, 45–46, 48, 165, 171–74, 197–
98, 202
virtue ethics, 58n11, 171, 173, 197
Waller, Niels, 149
Williams, Bernard, 110, 116
Wilson, David S., 50
Wilson, Edward O., 50
Winnicott, Donald W., 33, 133, 180
Wurmser, Leon, 106, 107
 About the Author

Ronald C. Naso, Ph.D., is a licensed clinical psychologist who has been in

independent practice for more than twenty years. He received his under-
graduate training in psychology and philosophy as well as his doctoral
degree in clinical psychology from New York University where he was
also elected to Phi Beta Kappa and Psi Chi. Subsequently, Dr. Naso served
as an intern and second-year postgraduate child intern at the Westchester
Division of New York–Presbyterian Hospital/Weill Cornell Medical. He
is currently on the consulting faculty of the Child Guidance Center of
Southern Connecticut where he supervises in the Doctoral Psychology
Internship and Postdoctoral Fellowship training programs. The author of
numerous professional papers concerned with psychoanalytic theory and
therapy, Dr. Naso also has served as an editorial consultant for Psychoana-
lytic Psychology. In addition to his clinical and teaching responsibilities,
Dr. Naso also provides educational consulting services through Clear
Choice Associates, LLC.

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