The Narcissism Of Humanity

When NASA released a blogpost that threatened to turn Sagittarians into Scorpios, I don’t think they anticipated the panic and viral outreach that ensued. It turns out that ‘Mystic Maggie’ at the back of your local paper telling you to avoid toast on Tuesday draws a loyal crowd. Those who follow astrology as some kind of lifestyle guidance system seemed to take the news extremely personally.

Astrologers were quick to dispel fears of this ‘new’ 13th sign in the zodiac named Ophiuchus, the implication being that astrology and those who practice it are fraudsters and con artists. Popular astrologer and blogger Salvador Russo has stated in response to NASA:

“I think it’s aimed at discrediting astrology to prevent people from gaining wisdom and enlightenment.”

Following murmurs of blame and finger pointing, NASA released a statement outlining how very apathetic their intentions were:

“We didn’t change any zodiac signs, we just did the math.”

The fact that people truly believe science has an agenda to ruin their day is a testament to the relationship that objective facts can have with personal feelings and emotions. But most importantly, it highlights the tumultuous relationship that humanity has with the truth, especially if it contradicts what we already think.

Civilisations through the ages have looked to find meaning in the universe and how its structure relates to us. Looking to the stars was a way to understand purpose and add a sense of destiny to our lives. Comets in the past were omens of disease, famine and war. It was thought that the universe was offering a warning, a sign meant just for us. It turns out the universe couldn’t care less. If we were all vaporised tomorrow, that comet would still continue on its trajectory through space. It might even be a comet that does the vaporising.

So why do so many of us still believe in these cultural narratives, when evidence clearly points to the contrary? Why does it make us feel better to hear ‘everything has a purpose?’ The simple answer would be to assume it’s comforting. When the universe is described in such bleak terms, it’s easy to understand the repulsion and dislike for the subject. It’s not the kind of conversation you want to have at the dinner table. A person profusely refuting another individual’s superstitions over desert while pointing out there is no purpose to anything might seem rude, abrasive and arrogant. Admittedly, there might be a more appropriate time and place to talk about such things. But is it really fair to tarnish someone who speaks their truth as arrogant over another who believes the universe speaks to them and that the formations of the celestial planets and stars is a direct reflection of their own sense of self? From a scientist’s perspective, announcing you are Leo rising might come across as incredibly egotistical and self-centred.

Obviously, it would be grossly unfair and inaccurate to claim that all people who believe in astrology are arrogant or narcissistic. But these kinds of irrational beliefs do raise some interesting questions about why some humans choose to believe that earth, and by extension the human race, is at the centre of the universe. What if we’re only on the periphery, far from the centre of anything? What if there is no centre at all? It could be argued that our biological makeup doesn’t really encourage us to think this way.

At some level, we all need to believe that our existence is needed in the world. It’s what makes us all go to work in the morning and contribute to society. It’s also what drives competition. We all need to feel as though we matter and have purpose. And we’re willing to fight for it. Whether securing that promotion or winning a marathon, we all desire to excel. In nature, animals strive to survive a sometimes violent existence so they can continue their genetic legacy. Animals don’t possess the intellectual consciousness to analyse their motives to stay alive and thrive. But we do. And our track record for supressing enlightening evidence speaks volumes about our capacity to tolerate fear inducing paradigm shifts. For thousands of years, those who have pointed out the way things actually are, and that conflicts with the way we want things to be have faced imprisonment, social exile and even death.

Sometimes the truth and our desires nicely co-align and we can breathe easy, safe in the knowledge that an occasional glass of wine is both delicious and good for you. And sometimes we are all faced with a rude awakening of our own ignorance. The famous quote “knowledge is power” from Francis Bacon highlights this constant friction human beings have between our animalistic and enlightened selves. We understand that truth is something external to our wants and desires. Our ambition to cultivate it for personal gain however appeals to our need to dominate, thus making us simultaneously alike and very unalike to other animals around us. We use truth as an abstract resource and method of currency. And humans are exceptionally devious in producing convincing replicas.

If we used Bacon’s quote as a formula for logic and reason in relation to human dominance:

Knowledge = Power

then the equation for religious dogma or other superstitions in a similar context might look like this:

Stories (e.g. creationism) = power

False Knowledge

In other words, they are cheating. It’s not fair, it certainly doesn’t aid progress, but it’s effective for maintaining control. The two juxtaposing concepts of knowledge and power define humanities efforts to try and mould observable truths to our own sense of meaning and existence. We always need to relate our discoveries back to ourselves. We can’t stand to be on the periphery of significance. Science makes no such promises to quieten these anxieties and so many view it as a threat to security and order. Truth is a wild card in that it won’t bend to human desires if those desires do not correspond to the laws of the universe. Therefore, to those already in power, emerging information can be potentially dangerous and volatile to their authority.

With the rise of ‘straight talking,’ ‘tell it like it is’ political candidates such as Donald Trump, Nigel Farage and Pauline Hanson, the world has witnessed a new breed of coward. Trump could be described as a classic narcissist. He presents himself as an ‘alpha male,’ ‘tells it like it is’ type who appears strong and capable by using aggressive rhetoric. In addition, his provided credentials for presidency are his own grandiose opinions of himself and how much money he makes. Superficially, ‘building a wall’ can provide a false sense of security, and in an increasingly globalised world, any candidate for leadership who claims to find order in the chaos provides a soothing balm to the wounds of those terrified of change. But underneath all of the vitriolic hatred, bravado and nationalism is most probably a deep seated fear. It is evident that Trump’s tactic of highlighting the weaknesses of others and dominating conversation through obnoxious shouting and interruptions is reminiscent of a silver back gorilla beating his chest. With this style of communication, Donald is speaking the only language he knows how to speak. I

n the information age, refusing to acknowledge facts and logic shows Trump, in his own bigoted way, running scared. He cannot compete on that level. So he reduces the argument to a level that is more comfortable for him, where he can dominate. Bigots don’t like to see the winds of change rippling the water because now they can’t see their reflection in its surface. It is a world where the rules are changing, where brains beat brawn. If you cannot see your values mirrored in the society around you, it might feel like you are disappearing. Religious extremism presents similar issues. The violent and inhumane outbursts are clearly life threatening, but on a societal level it is an indication that their existence is under threat.

Various religions like to claim that God made humans in his image. The irony is that it is us humans who look for ourselves in everything. Even re-imaginings of aliens are highly anthropomorphised. We have spent most of our existence categorising and ordering everything within reach without taking account for our own anthropological bias. When these confirmation biases of our own importance cannot be found in nature, we desperately build fantasies to fill the void. It’s almost as if humans live in a constant fractured prison of their own making, praying to their own imaginary creations in order to keep fear at bay. More often than not, it appears that many enjoy holding a mirror to their own reflection far more than looking through the window of uncorrupted truth that science can offer. It can be difficult to accept that we cannot shape truth to reflect how we see ourselves. Our only choice is to change ourselves to come into alignment with the universe.

It’s the ultimate lesson in humility. And it is only through this prism that we can better understand who we really are in relation to each other and the cosmos. The only problem this presents is that it challenges traditional notions of what it means to be the alpha species. For many, fear and the resulting instinct to dominate overrules their curiosity to gain enlightenment.

It is not only in religion and politics where we see this conflict between self identity and change manifest. The scholarly disciplines of the arts and sciences also lend themselves ideally to the interconnected nature between knowledge and power. On the one hand, science acts as a mechanism for understanding the mechanics of the universe. Scientists observe, experiment where necessary, relay the information and then explain their findings. Human emotions are removed from the equation. That’s where the arts come sweeping in. Artistic expression is the exploration we have as human beings with these findings. This essay won’t be so bold as to try and define a discipline that generations have agonised to do. Instead, in the interests of this discussion, the following quote provides but one notable interpretation of art vis-à-vis humanity.

"Art is a vice. You don’t marry it legitimately. You rape it."

-Edgar Degas

Is our obsession to find meaning, and to construct art with integrity egotistical? After all, we are assuming that our interpretations are important, simply because it is in our nature to believe we have purpose. Our pattern recognition abilities may make us superior by anthropological standards on planet earth, yet beyond our vast universe they may hold no further value. In lieu of this possibility, society seems to be setting its sights higher, observing the universe with greater neutrality in the golden age of technology. The Trump types who seek power for power’s sake are being replaced gradually by a generation, that in the majority, value ideals that are more global minded, cooperative and ethically transparent. We are now recognising the unsustainability of colonising people, land and resources for power born of fear. Progress dictates a new interest in power born in the pursuit of truth via facts and evidence. And art is the medium by which we try to colonise these truths to serve us and our existential dread in some way. One might go as far to say that art fulfils the narcissistic self affirming habits of humanity without violence. Now we look outwards…

And yet when we hear a beautiful symphony or read exquisite prose, it can bring us to our knees. It is a beauty that seems beyond us. The logic of art being a reflection of our own self obsession seems sound, but it is an unworthy explanation cast in shadow by the light of our incredible capacity for intense complex emotions and outreach of feeling. Although there are a plethora of novels and films that serve to merely makes us feel good, truly great art won’t reinforce how we like to see ourselves but instead will help us come to terms with mostly uncomfortable but necessary truths. It can be a humbling experience.

The irony of reading an article that attempts to question the egotistical human need to find meaning by analysing and defining possible reasons for such is probably not lost on many. Yet you cannot have one without the other. It is this paradoxical construct that provides the ultimate challenge for us as the top predators on earth. Paradox can be seen everywhere in nature and has puzzled philosophers, artists and scientists alike for millennia.

The following conundrum is deeply intriguing:

Socrates: “What Plato is about to say is false.”

Plato: “Socrates has spoken truly.”

Our instinct is to categorise, organise and take ownership of certain truths. When we find new species for example, we like to label and group them. Mostly, when we are presented with absolute truths, we can move forward and plant our flag of knowledge on the land of these new horizons. When we are presented with logic such as this, its very nature defies categorisation. It is the universe and its laws refusing to be conquered. We cannot dominate this truth or bend it to our will. It provides not a solid foundation but an eternal balance, a constant state of logical purgatory.

With that said, we need to keep our narcissism in check. It’s acceptable to want to be the best, but we should always reflect on what ‘best’ actually is and channel our competitive natures via safe avenues.

Imagine a world where we were humble enough to shape our behaviour and political frameworks to the laws of the universe rather than our deep insecurities as a species? Imagine if we could all sit around that dinner table, eating dessert and debate the nuances of logic rather than the polar opposites of fact and childlike fiction? Unfortunately, ‘everybody is entitled to their own opinion’ is the self entitled phrase of the moment that would most likely bring this conversation to a premature end.

---