Transcending Rigidity Part VI: Self-Actualization and Transcendence

In the last essay, I stated that both authenticity and respecting others are high moral ends in our culture. In vernacular, they are captured by the catchphrases “you do you” and the ancient-but-never-so-modern “do no harm.” In practice, the two values become, “Do what you want as long as you don’t hurt anyone else.” The primary value, then, is self-expression and authenticity, and “doing no harm” because a sort of guide rail for how to “do you” without drawing a foul. If “you do you” is, increasingly, a primary cultural value, where does it come from and what might it lead to? We’ll take these two questions in turn.

“You do you”—the quest for authentic self-expression—sits within a broader question, old as philosophy itself: “What is the good life?” Even the ancient Oracle at Delphi gave the sterling advice, “Know thyself.” “Express thyself,” we can imagine, might follow soon after.[1] But it was not until the rise of existentialism and phenomenology in the 18th century that the idea of authenticity—being true to one’s self—put on steam as a broader cultural value. An authentic life, in existential thought, is a life lived from inner conviction rather than a mindless alignment with cultural norms.[2] By this definition, for example, an unthinking Christian who is a Christian simply because he was born in a Christian household is inauthentic (as Soren Kierkegaard made clear in his critiques of 19th century Denmark). But consider: thoughtful consideration of our inner motivation is a luxury. Who has time to contemplate authenticity when what matters is getting the crops in and keeping the children fed?[3] In a society committed to material survival—the situation of the great majority of societies and people across time and history—writing poetry and making art, let alone contemplating authenticity, are privileges which “come after.” Indeed, only once society has enough stability, or those in a stable society have enough wealth, can the inner life become as important as the outer life. Once survival is assured, and not before, do we have time for self-expression.

Twentieth century psychologist Abraham Maslow created his famous “hierarchy of needs” (1943), in part, to express this simple idea. The hierarchy of needs contains, as its highest ideal, what Maslow called “self-actualization,” which mirrors the contemporary value of self-expression.[4]

Maslow’s hierarchy suggests that once we have our most basic needs met (food, water, shelter), we can progress to meeting deeper needs, such as self-respect and love, before attaining self-actualization. In our affluent Western world (despite its ongoing poverties), never have so many had the time and space to struggle with internal issues. Never have so many been situated as “kings and queens” of their own personal dominions. This may explain why depression and mental health issues are so prevalent; when you aren’t busy assuring your own survival, there’s a lot more time to get stuck in pathology.

The progress of Maslow’s hierarchy is simple and, in its basics, obvious; yet it is an essential rubric for understanding both basic human motivation and the progress of society and culture.[5] And families for that matter: think, for example, of how often a father or mother works hard to provide for their family’s external needs (the lower half of the pyramid), but their children, with the luxury of taking such security for granted, end up frustrated with their parents’ emotional or psychological distance (the upper half of the pyramid).

The hierarchy can also help us understand cultural dynamics and generational change. Consider, for example, how much grief millennials get for “being soft” or “more self-focused” compared to the generations that came immediately before. Millennials are not as focused on money and job security as boomers and more committed, compared with previous generations, to deriving meaning from their work over money, putting purpose over paychecks. This focus can seem to boomers as “wanting it all” and opens millennials to the criticism that they are spoiled, without the gut or backbone to “suck it up” as the boomers did. But what we are witnessing in such a generational dispute is a classic movement up the pyramid. We cease being satisfied with mere survival and aspire to thrive, which may include enjoying our work and feeling we are contributing to the world over and above simply making money. This is all well and good and how the world works (according to Maslow, anyway). Millennials are not meant to have the same values as the generation(s) that came before; that’s not how human development works. Many such disputes across generations are based in shifting values as you head up the pyramid.

At the top of his pyramid hierarchy, Maslow initially placed “self-actualization.” He said, simply, “What a man can be, he must be.”[6] We might say, then, that “self-actualization” means “realizing one’s potential.” One might become a great scholar or a great athlete or a good, moral person. But we might ask, “Towards what end?” or “With what goal in mind?” Even with Maslow, who coined the phrase, the idea is somewhat ambiguous. Actualization seems to be a drive that “just is.” But he was clear that someone who actualizes his or herself may have to let go of the very human desire for social praise and approval which stands in the way of self-expression and actualization. Indeed, Maslow placed anything below “self-actualization” as a deficiency need, which might indicate that our longing for love, connection, and friendship is actually a weakness standing in the way of our self-expression.

Beyond Self-Actualization

In later years, Maslow edited and re-cast his theory, stating that beyond self-actualization lies “transcendence.” Transcendence is the act of giving one’s self to something beyond one’s self. “Transcendence refers to the very highest and most inclusive or holistic levels of human consciousness, behaving and relating, as ends rather than means, to oneself, to significant others, to human beings in general, to other species, to nature, and to the cosmos.”[7]

In this distinction between self-actualization and transcendence, Maslow hits at the core distinction and critical issue: the battle between self-actualization as “you doing you” and transcendence as “giving yourself to another.” He re-cast hierarchy to capture the truth that beyond self-expression, we long for (we are made for, if you will) transcendence. We are made for love, where love is action taken on behalf of another. There is no real meaning without something or someone we are willing to die for. There is no real meaning apart from a love that is willing to sacrifice for someone else or some greater cause.[8]

Imagine an Olympic champion who has self-actualized as the greatest athlete in her sport. Imagine her standing on the podium as her national anthem plays. But imagine she feels deflated in victory because her ego’s sole motivation was to prove herself, and there is no further carrot to chase and, worse, the end result—even her triumph—is unsatisfying. “Is this all there is?”, she might ask. But you might also imagine her feeling full and content, crying as the anthem is played because she longed to bring honor to her country, which she loves. Or imagine instead that she won with the goal of using Olympic fame to further a cause she cares deeply about. Of course, our motives are never so cut-and-dry, but you can see quite easily that even at a zenith of self-actualization, there is something beyond, something transcendent, which is the only thing that can actually satisfy us. We can only be content when we have someone or something greater than ourselves in mind.

Maslow’s hierarchy points us into a question about human ends. What satisfies us? What are we made for? Can we find self-expression meaningful in itself, or do we require something beyond it? And it illustrates a simple truth: because the West is so prosperous, generally speaking and despite ongoing deprivations, we have on the whole more time to explore what we can become. But the distinction between actualization and transcendence is now every bit the difference it was in Maslow’s mind seventy years ago. What is our goal? Self-expression and actualization, with a focus on ourselves? Or transcendence, with a focus on some thing or someone beyond ourselves? And where do we look for our guiding ideals—to Instagram and social media? Reality TV? Social institutions? Indeed, does our ideal have anything to do with becoming virtuous—that is, becoming a person who truly cares for others? Or is it about cultivating a life of appearances? In a culture driven by the refrain “you do you”, the path of least resistance is the path of mere self-expression, and the path towards spiritual maturity is easily ignored. Neil Postman warned that we are on course to “amuse ourselves to death”, and perhaps there is nothing so amusing as endless attempts at our own self-expression.[9]

Christian Self-Actualization

At the same time, even as there is something deeply Christian about our contemporary virtue of “playing nice” (and certainly in the morality of “respecting others”), there is also something deeply Christian in the idea “you do you.” Authenticity is a Christian virtue. The Judeo-Christian narrative established universal human dignity through the world-changing idea that all individuals, regardless of birth or social status, have equal intrinsic value before God.[10] The Greeks taught that masters were, by nature, superior to their slaves, just as men were superior to women. This is aristocratic dogma in pure form: you are your birth and your station. The Judeo-Christian tradition upended all that.[11] Hear the words of the Apostle Paul: “In Christ, there is no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male and female. For you are all one in Christ Jesus.”[12] In the Greco-Roman world, this is a call to revolution, an overthrowing of social systems with men above all and slaves at the bottom. And in this revolutionary idea of universal standing before God, a new morality, regardless of social status, was born. As it spread, Christianity revolutionized the world with its insistence that all human beings are equally valuable, and the Christian norm of caring for the victim and the marginalized—its founder himself being a victim of unjust violence—began to re-make the world.[13] Thus, from the Judeo-Christian narrative, the ideals “do no harm”, “be fair”, “respect others”, and even “you do you” trace back. Our culture, which often blanches at Christianity, is, ironically, deeply Christian.[14] In fact, we now live in the continual paradox of a post-Christian world which still largely functions according to Judeo-Christian values. Our cultural institutions, specifically news media and universities, often criticize Christianity or Christian institutions using the language of Judeo-Christian morality while failing to recognize they are operating within a Judeo-Christian ethic. Of course, it must be noted, because our Christian institutions are often Christian in name only, failing to live up to the Judeo-Christian ethic, such critiques are not without merit. We should remember that Jesus critiqued the religion of his day for not living up to its own ideals.

If we are going to discuss actualization, then, we should consider what Christian actualization would mean. Having noted that the impulse towards authenticity and self-expression so current in our culture bloom from the Judeo-Christian insistence that all people have universal value, we must also recognize how easily distorted this narrative is. Self-expression was never contextualized within the Judeo-Christian ethic as “for its own sake” or “as its own end.” In Christianity, the highest ideal always is to give yourself for the sake of another.[15] And to deprive yourself (to negate yourself, which is the opposite of self-expression, in some sense) for the sake of another, if need be. As Jonathan Sacks, former Chief Rabbi of the United Kingdom, writes: 

The highest achievement is not self-expression but self-limitation: Making space for something other and different from  ourselves. The happiest marriages are those where each spouse makes space for the other to be his or her-self. Great parents make space for their children. Great leaders make space for their followers. Great teachers make space for their pupils. They are their when they are needed, but don’t crush or inhibit or try to dominate. They practice…self-limitation, so that others have the space to grow. That is how God created the universe, and it is how we allow others to fill our lives with their glory.[16]

This is transcendence of the highest order. Sacks further comments on the danger of missing transcendence and focusing instead on our own personal self-actualization, at the expense of others. “We [have moved],” he says, “from a world of “We” to one of “I”, the private pursuit of personal desire.”[17] An apt reading of our culture and a prophetic warning.

Simply stated, the Western narrative has changed. Christianity, at its best, provided a guiding moral narrative in which we respect others and honor human dignity because this is what God Himself does and because we are called to become like God.[18] Love becomes the highest form of self-expression, even when it demands self- abnegation or the diminution of our comfort. Yet sacrifice in this context is self-expression, not its denial. Self-actualization becomes transcendence and transcendence becomes self-actualization. Self-denial in service of expressing love we find supremely meaningful!

Of course, in our contemporary world, we still find self-denial and sacrifice inspirational. Humans always will. We are made for the transcendent. But we now have very little moral narrative by which to contextualize sacrifice and self-denial. Now we seek to “become good” or “do good” without any sense that “becoming good” is part of a comprehensive narrative at all. Perhaps values such as “be fair” or “respect others” are simply materialistic mandates—evolutionary imperatives, as it were—which we “should” adhere to with an inchoate sense of conviction, but with little other supporting narrative to guide us. In the Christian ethic, the idea was to become like God who cares for all, and in so doing to secure a salvation.[19] Within Christian spirituality, true self-expression becomes rooted in and inseparable from humility and a belief that we cannot become truly good in our own selves apart from God, and only through union with him. But now the ideal is simply to be a good person with little recourse to know whether we are actually becoming good or not and if it truly matters, anyway. In such a world, image and appearance easily substitutes for actual virtue and true inner goodness. And when we become obsessed with curating an ideal life in which our own self-expression is the highest ideal, we have left the Judeo-Christian narrative altogether. Social media and technology become doors to endless entertainment and a world of simulacra and seeming, without the need to do or become good let alone to be in caring, transformative conversation with people who hold different views or opinions. We need deeper values, then, than “be fair” and “do no harm” and “you do you.” We need a narrative that demands our transformation as we learn to care for others. We need a story that demands we listen to, hear, and thoughtfully consider others. A culture without such values ends up, by the path of least resistance, with “express yourself” as the dominant imperative. Such a culture will shortly devour itself.

Our lack of vibrant moral narratives, then, makes it difficult to mature spiritually, or to live in the transcendent focus of Stage 4.[20] In the next essay, we will explore how our lack of guiding narratives is part of a greater cultural confusion.

[1] Or, as Shakespeare put it, “To thine own self be true.” Hamlet, Act 1, scene 3, 78-82.

[2] Scott Peck’s frank appraisal was that most people will remain perfectly happy to live in Stage 2 their entire lives. Peck, M. Scott. A Different Drum: Community Making and Peace. Touchstone Press. 1987. Page 199.

[3] Though it should be noted that it is often the poor who are most in touch with authenticity and least able to hide behinds masks of inauthentic pretext. The poor are too close to the sharp edges of reality to pretend otherwise. Without glorifying poverty, Jesus calls this placed “blessed.” See Matthew 5:5-12.

[4] Image from “Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs” at https://www.simplypsychology.org/maslow.html [January 13, 2020]

[5] Also an interesting overlay with Scott Peck’s schema (again, see Essay 1 in this series). Stage 2 spirituality is akin to conservative politics: it is about conserving what is, preventing chaos. This is the traditional/conservative archetype in both religion and politics, which we will explore in a future essay. In Stage 2 spirituality, you are less likely to question authorities or cultural/religious norms and call this lack of questioning “faith.” In Stage 3 spirituality, there is an impulse beyond conserving what is, even if it means leaving the boundaries of Stage 2. This movement from security towards questioning is akin to the movement up Maslow’s pyramid. Of “self-actualizers”, Maslow says, “Their notions of right and wrong and of good and evil are often not the conventional ones.” Again, to overlay with Peck, self-actualization would be descriptive of those who have left—or internalized—the conventions of Stage 2, arriving at an authentic expression of morality even if it doesn’t line up with the Stage 2 structures and morality in which they were raised.

[6] Maslow, A.H. Motivation and Personality: A General Theory of Human Motivation Based Upon a Synthesis Primarily of Holistic and Dynamic Principles. Harper & Brothers. 1954. Page 93.

[7] Maslow, Abraham. Farther Reaches of Human Nature. New York. 1971. p. 269. Again, cf. M. Scott Peck’s Fourth Stage (Mystical/Communion), which is directly analogous to Maslow’s description of transcendence.

[8] “There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” John 15:13 NLT

[9] See Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business. Penguin Books. 2005.

[10] For an excellent description of this revolution, see Luc Ferry’s A Brief History of Thought: A Philosophical Guide to Living. Harper Perennial. 2011. Pages 71-78.

[11] Though there was misogyny in Judaism and early Christianity, much as there is today. Revolutions are not accomplished in a moment.

[12] Galatians 3:28. The implications of this revolution are far-reaching and deeply biblical. The “you do you” narrative is, in some sense, dependent on the Judeo-Christian narrative as evidenced in Galatians. If each person is an image bearer of God, a child of God, then all are called up on to uniquely express themselves.

[13] For an exploration of this idea in its entirety, see Rene Girard’s incomparable I See Satan Fall Like Lightning. James G. Williams, trans. Orbis Books. 2001.

[14] You can imagine a Harvard or Berkley professor arguing for dignity, which is an entirely Christian norm, while rejecting the notion that there is anything transcendent or supernatural about them.

[15] Again: “There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” John 15:13 NLT

[16] Sacks, Jonathan in Covenant and Conversations: Life-Changing Ideas in the Parsha. “Making Space.” March 7, 2018.

[17] In an interview with Jonathan Haidt. Morality in the 21st Century Podcast. “Episode 8: Jonathan Haidt.” September 3, 2018.

[18] Notwithstanding the failure of Christians and Christian institutions to live up to this ideal.

[19] Although even this aim has largely been subverted by the Church, replaced with the ideal of “going to heaven when you die,” with no demand on transformation/character change/caring for others in this world. See my book, with Bill Hull, The Cost of Cheap Grace: Reclaiming the Value of Discipleship. Navpress. 2020. “Chapter 3: The Gospel Americana.”

[20] See essay 1 and 2 in this series.