The Dark Side of Being Obsessed With Being a Good Person

Admitting a mistake can sometimes feel like a death sentence.

I've argued elsewhere that moral perfectionism is less about objective morality and more about approval. This is apparent by how often we're able to admit our mistakes and how we treat those who disagree with us, even those whom we consider to be immoral. According to the DSM-5, Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder, which entails perfectionistic tendencies, indicates a preoccupation with rules. People often think of perfectionism as being symbolic of the highest moral values. While that is true in some sense, as perfectionists tend to be extremely rigid about following their values, there's more than meets the eye.

When we think of goodness, of someone who is as good as they appear to be, we tend to imagine humility and a struggle to answer the fundamental questions of morality. How do we incorporate the knowledge that we did something bad? How do we make amends? Is any degree of cruelty ever justified? Can we actually be good and believe we're good at the same time? Is it possible that there's some validity to an opposing moral view? Are we partially responsible for others' moral development? Are we harming innocent people with our convictions? Should we care? These questions are difficult to answer, leaving most of us feeling fairly unsure about our positions in the universe.

Yet, some of us feel fairly certain about right and wrong, seeking to impose our visions of the world onto others (I'm guilty of this as well), and, even worse, using those blueprints to indicate superiority. Seldom are mistakes admitted and past misjudgments considered. Things are most often explained in ways that justify whichever cruelties are referred to. Arguably, this may be considered the adolescent stage of moral development — "I'm right and you're wrong!" I often ask people what they would prefer: To think of yourself as being perfect and having others agree, or to try to reach your full potential? Unfortunately, as with any other choice between delusion and reality, you can't have both. Many say they prefer the latter only to realize that they should but don't. Our pull toward group safety is strong, and it's even stronger for perfectionists.

Admitting a mistake, or disagreeing with one's own group, can feel terrifying, as though one lost some significant qualification they'll never be able to earn back. In an HBO documentary on the family of German SS officer Rudolf Höss, titled The Commandant's Shadow, there's a scene in which Rudolph recounts his role in murdering millions of Jews during the holocaust. While noting that there's some sense of guilt, it's easily displaced by his sense of duty. In the film, Rudolph was described in ways one may describe a perfectionist: rigid, preoccupied with excellence, and diligent. He lived according to his values, almost flawlessly; yet, the majority of the world considers him to be one of the most evil individuals to have ever lived. One may consider what he experienced an inner struggle, which I implicitly advocated for, but the important difference here is how he managed it; he silenced it with conviction, which, he admitted, solely favored a specific group.

While this example is extreme, it epitomizes believing one is good without actually being good. As with many of the other Nazi generals, for part of his adult life, Rudolph chose not to admit any wrongdoing, instead noting that he believed he was doing good; his daughter even remarked that she considered him to have been a good person. (Near the end of his life, however, sentenced to death, he noted he was responsible for those murders, asking for forgiveness.) This may sound ridiculous to most of us, but consider how often you care about being good rather than looking and feeling good. How often do you doubt yourself and acknowledge your moral infancy?

To deeply care about goodness, one has to constantly be aware of how they fall short; they can't believe they're perfect or will ever become perfect. So, we ask our patients: What is a meaningful life to you? Is it one where you become more aware of and attempt to reach your potential? Or one where you erroneously believe you have already reached it? Some decide to conceive of themselves as mature instead of perfect, learning to live with the relentless haunting of their flaws. Nuance may kill conviction, but it takes hubris down with it.