The beam in my eye

Pointing the finger at others

3 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?
4 Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?
5 Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye. [Matthew 7:3 - 5, KJV ]

The universe seems determined to keep me thinking about the difficult issue of judging the conduct of another. This morning I read in the news that the comedian Russell Brand—ten years ago, a darling of the progressive left—is now accused of rapes, sexual assault and abuse of women. Over the last decade, he has moved to a role of online dissenter and contrarian.

I am ashamed to say that my first (instinctive) thought was that sometimes, those who love to point out the motes in the eyes of others turn out have a very significant beam in their own eye.

Photo by Andy Li on Unsplash

Then my internal lawyer woke up properly, and I castigated myself, saying to myself firmly, “Brand is innocent until proven guilty.” I can’t know if the accusations are true until they are properly tried. I hope the matters are brought to trial so that this can be determined, given the seriousness of the accusations.

My instinctive reaction towards those who are very ready to point out the flaws of others has basis, however. A few years back, I read a book called Stop Walking on Eggshells, about people with ‘high conflict personalities’, also known as personality disorders. At pgs 20 to 21, the authors, Mason and Kriger, outline the common attributes of high conflict personalities (HCPs):

Internal Fragility

Most HCPs are shame-based, insecure and troubled by feelings of worthlessness. For HCPs, admitting that they made a mistake is intolerable and unthinkable. Even admitting that they could make a mistake is intolerable. That admission would be catastrophic for their self-image, so they refuse to take any responsibility.

An HCP can’t admit that their opinion is flawed, or say “I’m sorry.” If they did, they would feel insignificant, inferior, and shameful—and they would imagine that this insignificance, inferiority, and shame would be vividly on display for everyone to see. So they will defend themselves in any way they know how. …

Projection, Criticism, and Blame

When a person projects, they cannot accept a quality that exists in themselves. Instead, they see it in—and project it upon—another person. Essentially, they blame someone else for having the same faults they refuse to see in themselves.

…

All-or-Nothing Thinking

HCPs tend to split people and situations into black-and white extremes. Either they love you and you’re their soulmate and savior, or they hate you and you’re trying to destroy their life. …

It’s projection I want to discuss. I’d suggest—given the Bible verse I quoted above—that this tendency has been known for a long time. Some people cannot accept that a negative quality exists in themselves, and instead, to rid themselves of that intensely discomforting feeling that they may have behaved badly, accuse others of having the very faults they possess. A more extreme version is to immediately deny, attack, and then reverse victim and offender (‘DARVO’) when criticised.

The difficulty is that sometimes a denial of wrongdoing has basis, and sometimes criticisms are baseless, or the other person is an aggressor. So it can be difficult to know what you are dealing with: a genuine denial or an instance of DARVO.

A further complication is that it is genuinely very difficult to take criticism. It takes a lot of humility and practice. I try to keep in mind the beam in my own eye. I am the first to admit that I am not perfect. Criticism can feel like attack for all of us.

I wrote the other week of a “Reviewer 2” experience, in which a peer reviewer seemed to want me to write an entirely different paper to the one I submitted. You may not be surprised to hear—if you read this rant about peer review—that my initial draft response to the review was rather grumpy. Fortunately, I did not send it off, but ran the draft past a friend, who told me to calm down, clarify what I was doing with my article, and pinpoint where I differed from the reviewer and justify this. I did. The end result was vastly improved from the initial submission. Ultimately, I was grateful to “Reviewer 2”. While I think “Reviewer 2” and I will never agree on a whole range of issues, they made my paper better by questioning me. They forced me to interrogate exactly what I was doing, clarify it, and justify where I disagreed. That is what academia should be about. Criticism is uncomfortable, and sometimes even enraging or unfair, but necessary.

We don’t just project our bad qualities onto other people. Because I also have an interest in animal law, I am fascinated by the instances where humans have projected their flaws onto non-human animals. The most vivid and well-known instance of this is the scapegoat, a phenomenon I’ve been fascinated with for decades, as this artwork below (by me) shows.

Scapegoat, by Katy Barnett 2006

The scapegoat comes from the Book of Leviticus, 16:21-22 (again KJV, because I like the poetry of it):

21 And Aaron shall lay both his hands upon the head of the live goat, and confess over him all the iniquities of the children of Israel, and all their transgressions in all their sins, putting them upon the head of the goat, and shall send him away by the hand of a fit man into the wilderness:

22 And the goat shall bear upon him all their iniquities unto a land not inhabited: and he shall let go the goat in the wilderness.

It’s part of an ancient Jewish ceremony which used to take place on Yom Kippur: the head priest or Cohen Gadol sacrifices a bullock for his own sins at the door of the Tabernacle, then he takes two goats from the people, and casts lots to determine the fate of the goats. One goat is sacrificed at the door of the Tabernacle, while the other, the scapegoat (עזאזל or ‘azazel’), is sent into the wilderness, to carry the sins of the people into the desert, and pushed into a ravine.

I like to imagine the scapegoat managed to scramble down the ravine wall and survive quite well down there, given the amazing skills of goats to scale mountains.

Photo by Amza Andrei on Unsplash

This ceremony is no longer performed, obviously. But the psychological aspects of it are fascinating. It seems to me to be part and parcel of the broader phenomenon of personification of animals, something that is also visible in the Biblical stipulations regarding goring oxen, and the necessity for goring oxen to be put to death for their “crimes.”

In the end, I don’t have any answers, and no great wisdom to impart, other than to note that these issues are difficult. I can only beware my own tendency to bridle at criticism and be aware that others may, at times, be projecting their flaws onto me without realising it. When this happens, it’s not about me—it’s about their own discomfort—and consequently I shouldn’t take it personally. It says a lot more about them than it says about me.

Finally, yet again, I implore us all to be careful in coming to judgement.