Monthly Archives: February 2013

Where have all the heroes gone?

A version of this piece was published on the front page of the Sunday Times Review section on February 24th 2013.

It ends with the catastrophic fall from grace, but it starts with us. All of us, ordinary people, fans and followers, the media and the machineries of marketing and brand creation. We take note of a person’s sublime performances and we elevate them to the status of icon, hero, role model, even saint. They become potent symbols of our own yearning for achievement against the odds, for perfection and omnipotence.

And then we lose sight of their humanity and, sadly, very often so do they. In colluding with the myth-making, we allow our celebrities and heroes to believe they are somehow not bound by natural laws and the normal civilities. So we withhold the necessary corrective feedback when they behave badly and then one day it all comes crashing down.

Oscar, Lance, Tiger and Hansie. They have broken our hearts and betrayed our trust. But remember it started with us.

Somebody asked me recently why we even need heroes, but the question is pointless. Heroes and icons are inevitable. Their existence tells us something about our aspirations and something equally important about our needs and weaknesses.

Inevitably, we idealise.  I imagine that there are good evolutionary reasons why we seek larger-than-life heroes as role models. We feel we can learn from their strategies and attitudes, and there is potential survival value in following the path they have taken.

Heroes also make us feel better about the world and we draw inspiration from their triumphs against the odds.

For a while Oscar Pistorius showed us that it is possible to be born physically disabled and still make the final of an open Olympic event. Ashwin Willemse showed us that it is possible to be born in the Cape Flats and sworn into a gang, yet still play for the Springboks one day. Nelson Mandela had tea with Betsy Verwoerd and modelled a degree of forgiveness and reconciliation that was almost superhuman in its transcendence of trauma and bitterness.

Up to a point these are inspiring stories, promises of a better life no matter our circumstances. That’s why there have always been and always will be heroes. And that’s why we tend to cast these heroes as role models.

At the same time, heroes have been letting us down throughout history. Lucifer was a fallen angel while Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden of Eden. Darth Vader was once Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Warrior, until he joined the Dark Side. Charles Lindbergh, aviator and all-American hero of the 1920s, turned out to be a Nazi sympathiser, while our own Winnie Mandela, Mother of the Nation, was directly implicated in the kidnapping and assault (and eventual death) of 14-year old Stompie Moeketsi. Lance Armstrong beat cancer and drug testing protocols, and Oscar Pistorius … well, you get the point.

Nevertheless, our blind faith in heroes is often at the expense of the truth. Psychologists say this idealisation has its roots in the infantile defence mechanisms of ‘splitting’ and ‘primitive idealisation and devaluation.’

Splitting is seeing people or situations as either all good or all bad, so we unconsciously choose not to know about the messy and dangerous parts of our superheroes (and ourselves). We let ourselves believe that the villain is the Other and that he’s out there. That’s why our fairy tales are full of the polarities of good fairy godmothers and wicked witches, perfect princes and scheming barons, trusty steeds and bloodthirsty dragons.

Idealisation and devaluation are part of the same process. When we idealise celebrities, sports heroes or people in our own lives, we allow ourselves to know only what we admire about them. But when they disappoint us we are can see only what is spoiled and bad.

All defence mechanisms help us manage anxiety and protect us from what may be overwhelming or distressing. However, a central task of psychological maturity is the capacity to tolerate knowing that everybody, including people we admire and love and people we fear and dislike, and ourselves, are neither all good nor all bad. We need to integrate the difficult feelings evoked by this sometimes unsettling reality.

My thoughts have been prompted by Oscar Pistorius’s explosive and horrifying fall from grace. Obviously, terms and conditions apply to my next statements. We don’t know what really happened and we need to be careful neither to condemn nor absolve until the truth is exposed.

If, however, it turns out that Oscar (first names only for heroes) is found guilty we shouldn’t be that surprised. After all, we have been complicit in the myth-making. What Oscar has achieved is amazing, but there has been plenty of evidence along the way of as darker side. There are the alleged shooting incidents, police call-outs to domestic disturbances, disgruntled ex-girlfriends, boat crashes, risk-taking behaviours and so on. In many articles I’ve re-read about Oscar, journalists describe a whole range of dangerous behaviours and ominous portents but seem unwilling to come to any conclusion other than that these are part of a heroic temperament.

If, however, Oscar turns out to be innocent of any intention to kill, my argument still holds: he then turns out not be the monster we created either, but a man of enormous grit, charm and flawed impulses.

There is another explanation for our tendency to idealise heroes and make them into role models. We could argue, for example, that Oscar was good at running on blades, that’s all. Joost van der Westhuizen was good at rugby, Tiger Woods was a star golfer, Mel Gibson was a compelling actor, that’s all.

That is, we take a piece of known information about our heroes and we generalise it, and that little bit of them we know becomes the all of them. Oscar had courage and extraordinary levels of determination grit, and he was successful. So we assumed this meant he was the good guy in his private life and in the way he treated women, even if there were signs that this might not be the case.

When we are finally confronted with the ugly truth, it challenges the way we have arranged the world in our minds and it disturbs our equilibrium. We thought we knew our heroes, even though we really knew very little about them. We feel humiliated, foolish and angry because we believed in their goodness, even their greatness. Ask Lance Armstrong’s fanboys and public defenders. The final step is as inevitable as it is self-defeating – we move from idealisation to devaluation. We can hear no more good about our tarnished role model.

On the subject of role models and public perception, whenever I witness the latest downfall I find George_Orwell_press_photomyself turning once again to the ideas of the writer George Orwell. Orwell is a role model for how to look at role models, so to speak.

In an essay on Ghandi, Orwell was critical of the idea of saints (or heroes). He wrote ‘Saints should always be judged guilty until they are proved innocent … The essence of being human is that one does not seek perfection, that one is sometimes willing to commit sins for the sake of loyalty, that one does not push asceticism to the point where it makes friendly intercourse impossible, and that one is prepared in the end to be defeated and broken up by life, which is the inevitable price of fastening one’s love upon other human individuals. No doubt alcohol, tobacco, and so forth, are things that a saint must avoid, but sainthood is also a thing that human beings must avoid.’

So, too, the worshipping of saints and heroes.

We can still have heroes and objects of fantasy, but they should not be confused with role models.  As the former American basketball player, Charles Barkley, put it, ‘I’m not a role model. Just because I dunk a basketball doesn’t mean I should raise your kids.’

For these we should look closer to home. Parents who overcome their difficult pasts to raise sturdy, happy children, teenagers who overcome tragedy to succeed at school, nurses who deliver babies in the middle of the night, the vet who strokes your dog’s head while he passes away – these are the kind of ordinary role models we should draw our children’s attention to.

New York writer Madeleine George sums it up well: “… if you need your heroes to be perfect, you won’t have very many. Even Superman had his Kryptonite. I’d rather have my heroes be more like me: trying to do the right thing, sometimes messing up. Making mistakes. Saying you’re sorry. And forgiving other people when they mess up, too.” 

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The problems of praise and positive thinking

WE live in the age of positive thinking, an urgent pursuit of self-improvement and feeling good about ourselves. In this we are guided by the opinions of “experts” and book shops teeming with tomes on self-help, not to mention the Oprah-fixation of the airwaves.

To put all of this in perspective, it’s worth noting two things: most psychopaths and highly aggressive, violent people happen to think very highly of themselves (debunking the theory that people are aggressive to make up for low self-esteem); and many of the world’s greatest thinkers and doers have lived filled with self-doubt and even unhappiness.

Assuming you don’t want to raise a psychopath or a miserable artist, reconsider what society has been telling you about raising your child. We are emerging from an era defined in the West by the striving for perfection and individual success, dominated by a belief in the importance of high self-esteem.

Smile-or-Die-How-Positive-ThWestern culture has long been largely intolerant of pessimism or “negativity”. The American social commentator Barbara Ehrenreich, in her book “Bright-sided: How the Relentless Promotion of
Positive Thinking Has Undermined America” (also called “Smile Or Die”), tells how people didn’t want to hear that she was miserable about having breast cancer; they wanted her to tell them how she was going to defeat cancer with positive thinking. 

I believe self-esteem and positive thinking have become two of the most overused and misunderstood terms today. Parents often tell me that they want to raise their children to be motivated and have good self-esteem. Schools commonly suggest that a pupil’s problem is related to a lack of it. 

One of the strategies parents have been encouraged to use in order to build their kids’

self-esteem and improve motivation is to lavish praise and recognition. Judiciously used, all good things!

incredibles-dash

 

But the problem with this approach, when used excessively and uncritically, is revealed in the animated film The Incredibles. Dash is angry when his mother tells him he is not allowed to win races and that, in any case, everyone is special. Dash retorts: “That’s just another way of saying nobody is.”

 

 

Easy, ubiquitous praise and false reassurances do not build your child’s self-esteem — mainly because you can’t easily build self-esteem from the outside in. In a 2009 study published in the journal Psychological Science by Wood, Perunovic and Lee, it was found that people with low self-esteem actually felt worse about themselves after repeating affirmations of their lovability. The authors say that “repeating positive self-statements may benefit certain people, but backfire for the very people who ‘need’ them the most”. The greater the gap between our fantasised ideal self and our own experience of our authentic self, the greater the likelihood of dissatisfaction, anxiety and even depression.

How and when you offer praise is important:

  • Praise in moderation;
  • Always be sincere and authentic; and
  • Praise a specific effort not an attribute; give “process praise”. In other words, focus on engagement, perseverance, improvement and so on.

The last point is the most important. In a study on motivation by Carol Dweck, it was found that children who were praised for an innate ability, for example being smart, did worse than kids who were praised for something they did, like trying hard, or studying. That’s because you can control or repeat an action, but not who you “are”.

Children who believe that they are successful because of innate ability have what Dweck calls a fixed mind-set. They don’t recover well from setbacks, become preoccupied with image maintenance and are afraid to risk making a mistake.

In contrast, kids who believe that their achievements are related to their efforts and learning have a growth mind-set and are more likely to persevere, persist and study.

Dweck says that focusing on and praising effort gives children a variable they can control. If they make mistakes, they understand that they can expend effort to correct it.

Often, parents resort to excessive, generalised praise when they feel anxious they are not doing enough for their children. However, authentic, robust self-esteem and motivation develop not from overdoses of praise and “positive thinking”, but from feeling loved by, connected to and understood by our parents and carers.

We feel better about ourselves when we experience success in tasks that are important and meaningful to us; when we fail it is easier to cope and try again when we receive realistic and empathic feedback about our efforts from people who care about us.

And yes, that means being praised when we deserve it too.