Of all human oddities, pride may be the oddest.
Other creatures flaunt to convince a mate. Henry prances fetching a bone. But only humans inflate with a fantasy of superiority, imagining our species laddered from worst to best and, even crazier, crediting ourselves for our supposed eminence.
Jesus wondered at this too.
Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedConsider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:And yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.
Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.
Suffer the little children to come unto me and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.
(Man, that Jesus could talk. He almost makes me want to quit trying.)
Nearly every subset of humanity – gender, color, nation, creed, alma mater, athletic allegiance – seems to believe in its comparative excellence, notwithstanding overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Few are immune to this lunacy. I once believed Yale was better – and America. Fancy that!
What infatuates us with this obvious fallacy?
Only humans, apparently, suffer self-contempt. Few psychopathologies are fun but this one really sucks. “Striving to better oft we mar what’s well” (King Lear). We are not good enough. We are not worthy. Good enough for what? Worthy of what? I’m guessing our parents’ regard. Parents look to their kids to buttress their wobbly self-worth. Invisibly, insidiously, I was programmed to be the paragon my dad wasn’t and the dream-boy my mom didn’t marry – no pressure, mind you.
Other species sensibly fledge their young, abandoning them to their facts. Parents breed, hatch, whelp, nurture to survivability, then be off with you, have a nice life. I doubt Henry remembers his silky mom; his dad was a few quick thrusts. Human parents, with obvious self-interest, preach a myth of inheritance and filial responsibility. As if our kids asked to be born.
Our pride evolves in self-defense, that we’re not just satisfactory but improved outcomes! The world is fortunate to have us! Our busy brains, like defense attorneys, assemble arguments in our favor, transforming facts into boasts. How I longed to satisfy my parents – and best my siblings – while secretly decrying their obsession with appearances. I was proud how deftly I fooled people into thinking me who I wasn’t, like an undercover spy. The more we believe our self-gratulatory narratives, the less tempting humility. Praise is pleasant, even if it’s for the mannequin not the man.
While I can hardly claim to have cast off pride – my prose swanks like a rooster – I’ve come to enjoy the comedy of my imposture. What an ass I am! – not always, but often enough to pelt myself with ridicule. Especially when I’m feeling outgunned, I observe myself exaggerating my achievements. Even here, in the silence, I must beware veering into vaunting. Am I doing it now – daring to disclose myself?
Henry never feels bad about himself because who else could he be? He may demonstrate more than ordinary affection when he’s angling for food, but he doesn’t feel guilty, it’s just tactics. He doesn’t need to preen before other dogs: if they get along, dandy, if not, hey-ho. How I envy his easy repose!
Humans may be smart but pride is stupid. Not only does it disquiet, it makes no sense. My attributes, moment, parents, nation, notions are none of my doing. No more can a branch boast how it bends in the breeze. We are accidents all. I bless my luck.