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Portraits of the imperious self (8): the imperious self is cunning
This article is part of our series entitled “Portraits of the imperious self”:
► you may read the general presentation of the series here: Portraits of the imperious self (1): an ethics of transformation
► to view all the articles of the series, see: Portraits of the imperious self
In the series of portraits of the imperious self, forms of deception hold a prominent position. This characteristic of the imperious self has already been touched upon: not only is the imperious self tireless, but it is also an expert in deception. Let’s take a closer look at some of its most common tricks.
Once we have gained some ground in our battle against the imperious self, and made some progress in our self-knowledge, the raw and imperious pressure of the imperious self is no longer enough to make us cave to its demands. The same goes if we have received a solid moral education that enables us to quickly detect clearly anti-ethical actions and emotions. In such a situation, the imperious self resorts to deception by taking over the voice of our reason in order to override or outmaneuver the objections of the superego. This results in all sorts of fallacious reasonings that are tailored to justify our anti-ethical thoughts and behaviors. Here are some among many examples of the way in which the imperious self succeeds at fooling us.
Fallacious reasonings
I placed an order for 10 printer cartridges for the company I work for and took one to use at home in my personal printer. I know I am not supposed to do this, but I tell myself that the price of one cartridge is inconsequential in relation to the company’s budget and that it gets special discount prices I would not have access to as an individual customer. And also, after all, it’s only fair. The other day, I printed a letter from my home that was work-related, and then there is the question of my salary that doesn’t properly reflect the level of my work, so I don’t see why I would forego such small advantages…
Honestly, it is quite obvious that I have done a reprehensible deed, a deed that we may call a theft when considered lucidly because I have taken something that does not belong to me—the best proof being that people rarely do that in plain sight. It is also very clear is that the major focus of the imperious self here is to provide me with plenty of arguments (e.g., it’s of little to the company, I don’t get paid enough, I printed a letter, …) meant to push me into taking what is not mine while preventing me from admitting outright that I am what my superego would never accept: a thief. The result is that I rob my company in full consciousness, all the while sincerely considering myself an upstanding citizen and occasionally feeling indignation at the absence of moral standards among those around me.
Decoys
One of my colleagues made a series of serious mistakes that almost caused an important project to fall through. I tell my boss about the mistakes my colleague made. Obviously, this isn’t very good for my colleague, but I have to do it as it is in the best interest of the company and not reporting it to the project manager would definitely not be right.
Here, the action is not in itself reprehensible: it is indeed possible that informing the manager about these mistakes is unavoidable, and not doing so might even amount to professional misconduct. By letting the manager know, I am merely “doing my duty”. Suppose however that the colleague in question is someone I dislike, or that I am peeved at the mistakes he made, or even better, that there is rivalry between us. If I am not careful, my imperious self will seize the opportunity to unleash its harmful impulses. Fooled by the decoy of “accomplishing one’s duty”, i.e., a very respectable behavior, I will give in to the delicious pleasures of backbiting, putting down a colleague I might be jealous of, nurturing my self-importance, creating a kind of self-valorizing complicity between me and my boss, making myself look good by highlighting the incompetence of the other person… To justify myself, I have a ready-made reasoning: this is legitimate and necessary for the project to move ahead correctly—it is “my duty”.
“The imperious self imposes its impulses and desires at times by force, at times by deception, and, should we mount any resistance, by way of recurring temptations. In rare instances, it may also induce a chronic excess of spiritual scruples in individuals who are exacting and hyper sensitive in matters of spirituality.
(…)
(b) With regard to deception: The imperious self infiltrates our common reason by concealing itself behind pleasing yet tainted and toxic justifications to deceive us. For example, at the outset, we fool ourselves into thinking that we are superior to others, and attribute blame to them for our own actions and thoughts that are counter to correct divine and ethical principles. At the next stage, the imperious self makes our impulses and desires appear so legitimate as to make us think to ourselves: ‘Everyone else is doing it, so why shouldn’t I?’ Or, if we abstain from certain acts for fear of divine punishment, we may think: ‘Since others are doing these things and nothing untoward is happening to them as a warning, then there is no problem and I can do the same.’ At the final stage, under the pretext of modernity, freedom, and open-mindedness, the imperious self can even go as far as to deceive us into believing that its desires and whims are generally permissible, if not beneficial, ultimately leading us to disregard all divine and moral boundaries. In general, the greatest deception of the imperious self is that it strengthens our pride and superioritism, thereby concealing from us our own character weak points and flaws relating to divine or ethical principles.”
Bahram Elahi, Fundamentals of the Process of Spiritual Perfection: A Practical Guide, Rhinebeck, NY: Monkfish Book Publishing, 2022, pp. 193-194.
Contamination
I sense I am about to have a fit of violent anger but at the same time, I sense obscurely that I shouldn’t let go. An inner voice commands me to stop and tells me that anger is not the solution. Another voice however intervenes and persuades me of the opposite: “Come on, let your anger out, it’s a mark of strong personality and character.” As a consequence, not only do I not curb the momentum, but I double down because I feel pride in doing so.
Even the most basic analysis shows us that this voice is the voice of the imperious self intervening as soon as it feels that the superego is getting a handle on our impulse of anger. Because forceful insistence would not have worked here, it employed a far subtler method: it discreetly injected me with an anti-ethical principle in order to curb my line of reasoning. Its mode of action is exactly that of a virus here. After penetrating a cell, the virus alters the genetic program of the cell, making it produce copies of the virus. In the same way, by contaminating one’s reason with an anti-ethical principle, the imperious self modifies its program in such a way that it begins to reason in the opposite way: anger, which is a sign of weakness and a lack of self-mastery, becomes a sign of strength of character. In this contaminated state, our reason begins to produce twisted reasonings, that not only fail to protect it from the imperious self but make it support the actions of the imperious self.
Have you ever felt this deceitful, manipulative, harmful energy of the imperious self when it strives to control you? Were you able to identify it at the spur of the moment or only later? On your own or with the help of others? Were you able to control it? Was the inner dialog tense? Do these sneaky and fallacious attacks of the imperious self happen repeatedly? If so, how have your ability to detect the imperious self and your will to fight it off evolved over time?
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A while ago, during Christmas, I received the following criticism: you’re cold, distant, you don’t participate in Christmas. You seem disconnected from the family.
Here are the arguments of my imperious self:
• What’s the point of sacrificing my very limited time looking for gifts when I struggle to find time to look for another job (I don’t like my current job at all) and these gifts are often useless because my children already have much more than they need?
• What’s the point of sacrificing my very limited time and spending almost 12 hours straight sitting at the table eating expensive, excessive food? Why not use that time to go together and help the poor (e.g., by contacting the local church)?
• My wife always tends to impose her schedule; it’s very difficult to talk to her and do anything other than: gifts/Christmas tree/sumptuous meal.
After some thinking, I realized that:
• I was selfish with my time, certainly much more so than my wife, who had spent all her time cooking and buying gifts
• If I didn’t want to sit at the table for four hours straight, why didn’t I suggest an alternative program? Furthermore, another criticism I received was that it was always my wife who suggested things and that I wasn’t proactive.
• My wife had encouraged me to organize an alternative volunteer program with the local parish, but I hadn’t done anything. So, no excuse was possible.
• Since I had received several criticisms, I sulked instead of being grateful to the people who had criticized me (these criticisms were very useful). I should have thanked them sincerely instead of sulking and being cold and distant.
During the same Christmas holidays, I also received the following criticism: you’re far too attached to money. My imperious self argued: I have selfish, spoiled, ungrateful, and spendthrift children —I refuse to buy my daughter her 21st bag and put useless gifts under the tree.
After some pondering, I realized the criticism was actually valid. So I decided to give my wife an expensive gift, since she is generous with both her time and money.
For Further Thought Questions:
Oh, it definitely shows up at home, usually right when I’m trying to stay calm and someone pushes my buttons 😅. Like my husband will say something in that tone, and suddenly my ego’s like, “You’re really gonna let that slide?” Next thing I know, I’m giving a whole speech about respect and fairness, and halfway through I realize… I’ve completely lost the plot. It’s funny how fast that inner voice can turn a tiny moment into a full-blown debate. These days, I try to catch it early, sometimes I even laugh mid-argument and say, “Okay, okay, that’s just my ego talking under the pressure of the imperious self.”
I have a similar experience with a coworker as described above. I have a coworker who is not as competent as I thought and I am asked a lot of questions by this coworker to help them succeed at work, which I realize bothers me because my boss doesn’t see this coworker’s shortcomings. My imperious self pushes me constantly to find ways to reveal the coworker’s incompetence to my boss so that I can be the one to receive all the praise. I recognize this desire is coming from selfishness and jealousy, and I had avoided mentioning anything to my boss, but last week I was overcome by my imperious self when my boss came back with support for this coworker and I felt the “need” or “duty” to state my opinion about their lack of competence. Now I have to be on alert to block being derailed by my imperious self in conversations with my boss.