Mar 2009
Einfeld: a case study in narcissistic blindness?
25/03/09 12:18 Filed in: Narcissism
This week, former Federal Court Judge Marcus Einfeld was sentenced to a minimum of two years’ gaol for perjury. For a reasonable background to this story, checkout the wikipedia entry via this link. Suffice it to say here that Einfeld was convicted for lying under oath about a speeding fine, saying that a person who was later revealed to be dead at the time was driving his car when it was photographed travelling up to 10 km/h over the speed limit.
You may have read my earlier post about naked narcissism; about the legend of Narcissus, who fell in love with a reflection of himself. While the obvious frustration of trying to interact with a naked narcissist is their persistent self-absorption, in my view there is a form of madness at the heart of the narcissism, and it is this: If real-life events contradict a narcissist’s view of himself, he will ignore, deny or otherwise eliminate the inconsitency by favouring his own view. When pushed, a naked narcissist will simply refute reality itself if it contradicts part of her own perfect self-image. This wilful blindness is exemplified by comments Mr. Einfeld makes in a pre-sentencing interview conducted on ABC’s Four Corners Program.
For example, when asked by journalist Sarah Ferguson “Do you have a habit of dishonesty?”, he replies firmly: “No I'm not dishonest, no, no. I mean, I don't want to be offensive but that's a bit offensive and I don't think I'm in the slightest bit dishonest. I just made a mistake.” The point here is that, honestly, all of us can be dishonest at times. To say otherwise is itself dishonest. It is discussed in the program that Einfeld had received infringements notices in the past and “On each occasion in sworn statements he named friends of his from the US and the UK as the drivers, when records showed that none of them were in Australia at the time.” When asked if this shows a “pattern of dishonesty”, Einfeld states that these were not deliberate lies, they were “mistakes”. When Sarah Ferguson says there are “it looks like a lot of mistakes”, Einfeld initially agrees, then says “No it's not a lot of mistakes, I'm sorry. There were three events plus this one. I've admitted to this one. If I'd been called upon to meet the others I might have admitted to one of those when I'd got the facts and I'd checked up on them. It might have been, it might have been possible. But so ah, and I might have not, I might have not admitted to two or one or something of the kind. So maybe there were two occasions let's say at the majority, at the maximum in the past which I might have admitted to if I'd been called upon to do so.”
That’s the thing about narcissism: it’s all about being married to a rigid, ultimately unrealistically idealized view of one’s self, and sticking to that view, even if reality (in the form of a TV journalist asking the question outright on the eve of your sentencing for dishonest behaviour) shows otherwise. So here’s some more honesty: you are narcissistic too. We are all narcissistic, to some degree. Without at least a bit of it, you’d be a complete doormat, easily led in whatever direction someone else with a bit of narcissism wanted to lead you. Narcissism is only a problem if you deny your faults, try to pretend you don’t have them, or otherwise get caught up in a naiive fantasy about your own flawlessness. To do so is itself naked narcissism, and may result in you eventually getting a rude shock, like Marcus Einfeld did. To quote him: “obviously [with hindsight]I would have not done what I did, and it was an aberration, completely mad.” The self-delusion that is required in order to sustain that narcissistic view of self is the madness at the heart of naked narcissism. “I don't have any idea how and why I did it now. I just lost my senses at the wrong moment. I'm certainly sorry to the public at large because they have been in effect my audience over the years, audiences over the years.” A naked narcissist is a performer who never admits lying to his audience.
You may have read my earlier post about naked narcissism; about the legend of Narcissus, who fell in love with a reflection of himself. While the obvious frustration of trying to interact with a naked narcissist is their persistent self-absorption, in my view there is a form of madness at the heart of the narcissism, and it is this: If real-life events contradict a narcissist’s view of himself, he will ignore, deny or otherwise eliminate the inconsitency by favouring his own view. When pushed, a naked narcissist will simply refute reality itself if it contradicts part of her own perfect self-image. This wilful blindness is exemplified by comments Mr. Einfeld makes in a pre-sentencing interview conducted on ABC’s Four Corners Program.
For example, when asked by journalist Sarah Ferguson “Do you have a habit of dishonesty?”, he replies firmly: “No I'm not dishonest, no, no. I mean, I don't want to be offensive but that's a bit offensive and I don't think I'm in the slightest bit dishonest. I just made a mistake.” The point here is that, honestly, all of us can be dishonest at times. To say otherwise is itself dishonest. It is discussed in the program that Einfeld had received infringements notices in the past and “On each occasion in sworn statements he named friends of his from the US and the UK as the drivers, when records showed that none of them were in Australia at the time.” When asked if this shows a “pattern of dishonesty”, Einfeld states that these were not deliberate lies, they were “mistakes”. When Sarah Ferguson says there are “it looks like a lot of mistakes”, Einfeld initially agrees, then says “No it's not a lot of mistakes, I'm sorry. There were three events plus this one. I've admitted to this one. If I'd been called upon to meet the others I might have admitted to one of those when I'd got the facts and I'd checked up on them. It might have been, it might have been possible. But so ah, and I might have not, I might have not admitted to two or one or something of the kind. So maybe there were two occasions let's say at the majority, at the maximum in the past which I might have admitted to if I'd been called upon to do so.”
That’s the thing about narcissism: it’s all about being married to a rigid, ultimately unrealistically idealized view of one’s self, and sticking to that view, even if reality (in the form of a TV journalist asking the question outright on the eve of your sentencing for dishonest behaviour) shows otherwise. So here’s some more honesty: you are narcissistic too. We are all narcissistic, to some degree. Without at least a bit of it, you’d be a complete doormat, easily led in whatever direction someone else with a bit of narcissism wanted to lead you. Narcissism is only a problem if you deny your faults, try to pretend you don’t have them, or otherwise get caught up in a naiive fantasy about your own flawlessness. To do so is itself naked narcissism, and may result in you eventually getting a rude shock, like Marcus Einfeld did. To quote him: “obviously [with hindsight]I would have not done what I did, and it was an aberration, completely mad.” The self-delusion that is required in order to sustain that narcissistic view of self is the madness at the heart of naked narcissism. “I don't have any idea how and why I did it now. I just lost my senses at the wrong moment. I'm certainly sorry to the public at large because they have been in effect my audience over the years, audiences over the years.” A naked narcissist is a performer who never admits lying to his audience.
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Let the longing linger
What does it mean to want something, someone? Ask yourself: What do you want? You may find yourself dreaming of a desired holiday, object, or treat. “What do I want to eat?” might be the sort of question you ask yourself when planning meals for the week. In affluent western society, “want” is synonymous with “anticipate” most of the time. In other words, as soon as we think of something we want, we also think of how we might go about getting it, and usually won’t think about it much more unless it’s to plan or anticipate getting what we want. Depression could therefore be understood as being confronted with one or more powerful desires that cannot be fulfilled. The worst way to be, even worse than not having something, is not having something we want.
“I want to lose weight.”
“I want to quit smoking.”
“I want to be more organised.”
“I want to see more of my family.”
If you have said one or more of these things to yourself or someone else, consider what the feeling was that went with these statements.
“I want to order pizza tonight.”
“I want another drink.”
“I want to go to bed now.”
How about these? Does the word ‘want’ here refer to a longing or an anticipation?
“I want my money back!”
“I want to go home.”
“I want off this merry-go-’round.”
These, in my view, are the types of statements that reflect true ‘want’. You can’t ‘want’ something unless (a) you feel a longing for it; (b) you can’t see how to get it, and (c) there’s nothing you can do to change the situation to make the feeling go away. Sometimes, frustratingly, the only way to get what you ‘want’ (lose weight, quit smoking, be more organised), is to allow for the unpleasant ‘wanting’ feeling to linger long enough to do its job. Think about it: if you ‘want’ to lose weight, sooner or later you’ll have to spend some time, simply sitting with a feeling of ‘want’ (in this case, hunger).
If you really ‘want’ to get what you ‘want’, then you have to let the ‘longing’ linger.
“I want to lose weight.”
“I want to quit smoking.”
“I want to be more organised.”
“I want to see more of my family.”
If you have said one or more of these things to yourself or someone else, consider what the feeling was that went with these statements.
“I want to order pizza tonight.”
“I want another drink.”
“I want to go to bed now.”
How about these? Does the word ‘want’ here refer to a longing or an anticipation?
“I want my money back!”
“I want to go home.”
“I want off this merry-go-’round.”
These, in my view, are the types of statements that reflect true ‘want’. You can’t ‘want’ something unless (a) you feel a longing for it; (b) you can’t see how to get it, and (c) there’s nothing you can do to change the situation to make the feeling go away. Sometimes, frustratingly, the only way to get what you ‘want’ (lose weight, quit smoking, be more organised), is to allow for the unpleasant ‘wanting’ feeling to linger long enough to do its job. Think about it: if you ‘want’ to lose weight, sooner or later you’ll have to spend some time, simply sitting with a feeling of ‘want’ (in this case, hunger).
If you really ‘want’ to get what you ‘want’, then you have to let the ‘longing’ linger.





