Heroism

The Heroic Delusion Cheat Sheet

Photo by Brozzi

Yesterday I went into detail about the difference between a healthy heroic imagination, which is a force for positive growth, and unhealthy heroic delusions, which can be dangerous.

That article was long and detailed, because it offered my arguments for the differences that I see. But I think it can be reduced to a simple cheat sheet, which might be helpful in identifying hero delusions when you see them. So here we go:

1.

If a person wants to change themselves to meet the challenges of a difficult world, that’s a sign of heroic imagination.

If they want the world to change to fit them, that’s fertile ground for hero delusions.

2.

Heroic imagination makes a person more prepared for situations where heroic action is needed, but they don’t actively seek out those situations.

Hero delusion leads a person to seek out chances to be the hero.

3.

A heroic imagination helps a person develop realistic responses to problems.

Hero delusions give rise to wildly unrealistic solutions.

4.

Someone with a heroic imagination can communicate their ideals to others, because they are both inspiring and realistic.

Someone with hero delusions develops fringe ideas that most people can’t get behind.

5.

Someone with a heroic imagination may be an introvert or an extrovert, but they can work as part of a team toward a common goal.

A person with hero delusions is a loner. They see themselves as the only one who can make a difference and are unlikely to work in a team.

6.

A heroic imagination accepts and responds to real world limits, which may mean many years of hard work to make even a small change.

Hero delusions prefer a single, dramatic act that (they believe) will change everything.

7.

Heroic imagination leads to pro-social behavior and consideration of the needs of others.

Hero delusions lead to anti-social behavior and imposing one’s will on others.

8.

Taken to an extreme, heroic imagination fails by celebrating everyday behavior as heroic.

Taken to an extreme, hero delusions cause violent and forceful acts.

9.

Heroic imagination is contemplative.

Hero delusions are narcissistic.

L Days cover_front only_half size

My book Lúnasa Days is available in paperback and on Kindle. Get your copy here.

Standard
Heroism

Is There a Difference Between Heroic Imagination and Delusion?

Photo by Yazeed

Yesterday I spotlighted Roger Griffin’s theory that mass shooters—like the one at Isla Vista last week—delude themselves into believing they’re heroes.

That leaves some uncomfortable questions for those of us who believe in heroism.

According to hero researchers, cultivating a “heroic imagination” is a good thing. People who can imagine themselves in a heroic role, and who picture themselves helping others in an emergency, are more likely to do so in real life. This is so central to the psychology of heroism that Dr. Philip Zimbardo has built his entire heroism program around it. If you can get people to think of themselves as heroes, they’ll start to act like heroes.

That doesn’t seem to sit well next to the diagnosis that Griffin gives the Isla Vista shooter, Elliot Rodger. Rodger felt lonely and powerless and came up with fantasies of how he could teach the world a lesson. In one dramatic act, he hoped to both prove how powerful he was and serve “justice” to all womankind. It’s like a twisted version of of a Hollywood underdog tale, and Rodger was sure he was the hero.

So is this a case of the heroic imagination gone awry? Does envisioning yourself as a hero lead to rash and violent acts?

I don’t think there’s any reason to believe it does. I’m going to suggest that the positive “heroic imagination” and Rodger’s delusion of heroism—let’s call it a “hero fantasy”—may both touch on hero myth in their own ways, but they represent two very different psychological forces.

I’m not saying Griffin is wrong. From Rodger’s manifesto, the delusions of heroism are clear. He believed he stood for something and that his revenge served a greater purpose. That is disturbing in the extreme, and it’s a perversion of heroism.

But I think there’s a real difference between that and someone who envisions themselves standing up for others, then goes on to create positive change. It’s not just two different outcomes from the same fantasy, as if heroic imagination were a coin toss. A healthy heroic imagination has a completely different framework.

Opposite Instincts

Let’s start by looking at how heroic imagination and hero fantasy each work. Even on paper they don’t look much alike.

When we talk about heroic imagination, we can mean several things. We may mean watching a hero movie and picturing yourself as the main character. We may mean taking that experience and contemplating how it templates onto your real life—do you have what it takes to act the way your heroes act? Or we may mean reacting to news stories about disasters by thinking through what you would do if you were there.

The key to all forms of the heroic imagination is that, on some level, you are are challenging yourself to rise up to difficult events around you. The heroic imagination is a way to fit yourself into a messy, challenging world.

But a deluded individual with a hero fantasy tries to make the world fit them. The whole framework is reversed. Elliot Rodger wanted to be a ladies man and be respected for it. When women rejected him, he didn’t engage in any serious reflection on how he could be a better man. Instead he imagined a world where everyone knew just what a real man he is.

These two approaches have different outcomes. Heroic imagination is a process of introspection, of seeking to improve oneself in response to challenges. That leads to being better equipped for future challenges. It’s a mental preparation of how you’d handle stress, danger or crisis. Thus, it creates someone who is more aware of their own abilities and the needs of those around them. That’s someone you want around in an emergency.

But hero fantasy has the opposite effect. It makes the individual less and less equipped for navigating the real world. They can’t deal with challenges realistically because every time something is hard it’s unfair and they demand the world change for them. But the world doesn’t work that way. So at best you have an individual who’s doomed to a difficult and unhappy life, and in some cases you get an Elliot Rodger who attempts dramatic, desperate action—and fails at even that.

The chilling coda of hero fantasy is that the great, dramatic action doesn’t even work. It’s as ineffective as everything else the deluded person has done, because it’s still based on an unrealistic understanding of the world. Elliot Rodger succeeded at his plan, but he will never be with a woman again. No one respects him as a true man; no one thinks we underestimated him; at best we pity him. And he didn’t even send the strong message to womankind that he hoped to send. In fact, his spree caused a rallying of feminists against his very worldview.

So Elliot Rodger didn’t get what he wanted. And people who suffer from a deluded hero fantasy never will, because delusions make poor foundations for creating change.

Tellingly, fanatics go out and try to create a heroic encounter. But people with heroic imagination—who are actually better equipped if there is such an encounter—don’t seek out those dramatic moments.

That’s the fundamental difference between heroic imagination, which produces capable, stable individuals, and a hero fantasy that creates killers. One is reflective and the other is narcissistic.

But that’s all inside the person’s head. How can we tell the difference? When someone pictures themselves as a hero, how do we know if they’re healthy or dangerous?

Look For the Signs

I believe an individual with a heroic imagination comes across very differently from someone with delusions. The difference is going to be pretty clear in their behavior and the way they talk about themselves.

One of the first things I learned about heroism is that there is no nice, tidy victory like in the movies. It would be nice if, for example, completing my Journey would inspire millions of people to head off on soul-seeking journeys of their own. But that’s not the way the world works. What I can hope for is that a small number of people might join me here and there, while a few others go on journeys of their own, and still others read my work and embark on other kinds of projects, that don’t involve a journey at all.

Someone with a heroic imagination may start off with grand plans but they learn to accept the limits of the real world. That doesn’t mean they give up, it just means they accept that it takes a lot of continuous, long term, hard work to make even a small lasting change.

A hero fantasy doesn’t accept these limits. Elliot Rodger believed that his one act could have world-changing repercussions. One spree in one city would send a message heard round the world. He didn’t see a need for years of hard work, messaging and campaigning to spread his (awful) message. He was fed up and chose to act, and oddly he thought that one act would be a big success.

This same delusion also means hero fanatics tend to work alone. People with a healthy heroic imagination reach out to others and try to build cooperation. Let’s say you have strongly held convictions about the environment (which I do). Heroic imagination leads you to try to prepare for and react to the many challenges involved in cleaning up the earth. You realize quickly that you’ll make a lot more progress with a coalition or group and you can see that others are already doing good work and might make good allies. Thus the heroic imagination leads you to form organizations and to talk openly and clearly about your goals with others. As a bonus, since your goals aren’t based on delusions, people tend to agree with you and it’s not painfully hard to get allies.

Someone with a hero fantasy cannot get allies, or not more than a handful of extremists. That’s because none of the above applies to them. They have an inflated sense of their own importance and they believe, wrongly, that a single dramatic act can make a lasting change. If a fanatic like this has strongly held environmental views, they might bomb a power plant but they’re unlikely to have the patience—or the social skills—to sit through meetings, find common ground and make compromises. Again, their goals and beliefs are based on a fantasy, not reality, and their own sense of importance is exaggerated; they cannot respond meaningfully to the needs or concerns of others. So even if they saw the value in compromise it’s unlikely they could offer a good one.

Thus, the two different internalizations of heroic myth result in two very different portraits: one of a realist who puts in hard work and considers themselves a small part of a bigger shift, and the other of a narcissist who can’t work with others even toward a common goal.

Worst Case Example

A final striking difference between the two approaches is the downside of each. Both heroic imagination and hero fantasy can go wrong, but they go wrong in amazingly different ways.

The biggest risk of heroic imagination—and I warn against this a lot—is when it becomes a pat on the back to reassure us we’re already heroic. In “hero” programs based on Joseph Campbell and in any public discourse about heroism, you start to get people saying we’re all heroes. Teachers are heroes for teaching, doctors are heroes for doing their jobs, moms and dads are heroes for raising their kids. When we take heroic imagination too far, it stops encouraging us to reach for a higher ideal and make changes. Instead it starts to reassure us that we’re doing plenty already, and no change is needed. When heroic imagination goes wrong the outcome is confident mediocrity.

But when hero fantasy goes wrong it turns deadly. It’s the idea that one person can solve the world’s problems by imposing their will on others. Like an action movie hero, there is no problem that enough bullets can’t solve. The fanatic gets so focused on their perceived role as a crusader, a rebel, or a savior (and above all as a victim) that they lose sight of the moral context in which their frustration takes place. The lives of other people don’t matter as long as they get to make a point.

So a proper, healthy heroic imagination and a narcissistic hero fantasy can both go wrong. But the worst outcome of heroic imagination is settling for average. That’s frustrating, because ideally heroism would inspire us to be or do more, not just hand out attaboys. But it doesn’t kill anyone.

On a final note, I want to point out that I haven’t focused on violence versus nonviolence. So often when we talk about heroism we discuss kids stopping bullying or bystanders saving a life in a subway. Those are peaceful examples. But a healthy heroic imagination is not necessarily strictly nonviolent: there may be times when doing the right thing really does require taking up arms, like in a struggle for independence. But the heroic imagination, as a force for realistic action, also reminds us that violence is far more likely to fail than to succeed. And that a lone individual imposing their will on others is never heroic.

There are many of us today who still believe in heroism, and we want to learn how to live up to the heroic ideal. The good news for all of us is that our heroic imagination is a positive thing. But some people, committing horrible acts, will appeal to the same hero myths and ideals that we do. That’s why I think it’s crucial to recognize delusion for what it is—and most importantly, never tolerate those who pretend it’s heroism.

Individuals who have high ideals but dramatic, unrealistic plans are not heroes. Ideals only matter when you live them, really.

L Days cover_front only_half size

My book Lúnasa Days is available in paperback and on Kindle. Get your copy here.

Standard
Heroism, Spotlight

Heroes, Mental Illness, & Fake Heroes at Isla Vista

Last week there was another horrific mass shooting in my home country of the United States. I didn’t get a lot of details at first, partly because I’m out of the country and don’t get US news—but partly because my Twitter feed had less actual news and more rallying cries like this:

I don’t believe that all criminals are mentally ill, and the vast majority of people coping with mental illness are certainly not criminals. But something about this sentiment seemed off.

Ari Kohen did a great job of summing up why, making three points:

  1. People with mental illness shouldn’t be stereotyped as criminals;
  2. We should be careful using the word “crazy” for everything we find weird or different;
  3. Nonetheless, we must not ignore the fact that this shooter was clearly mentally ill.

In other words, it doesn’t help anyone if we pretend that psychopaths are healthy balanced folks. But Ari sort of made an assumption: he’s saying someone who unloads bullets on lots of people “must” be mentally ill. Is that assumption really fair?

According to Roger Griffin, one of the world’s foremost experts on terrorism, it’s a totally fair assumption. In fact, Griffin believes that mass shooters aren’t just mentally ill, they have their own unique mental illness.

The Dark Side of Heroism

Griffin says that such shooters typically have a sense of impotence, powerlessness or aimlessness tied to loneliness and isolation. To fill that sense of purpose and reclaim a sense of power they construct violent fantasies in which they are the hero, and in which they can make things right with a single dramatic act. They then grossly overestimate their own ability to change the world. They believe completely that one violent act—their mission—will have world-changing repercussions. Thus they are not only violent, they are also deluded into seeing themselves as heroes.

(Note that in different circumstances imagining yourself as a hero can be a positive force for change.)

In the case of Elliot Rodger, who committed the recent mass-killing at Isla Vista, every one of these boxes is checked. He fits this diagnosis to a T.

When defenders of the mentally ill (a cause I respect and agree with) took to Twitter after the shooting, I imagine they didn’t have many details yet. They probably didn’t realize that Rodger had written a lengthy manifesto portraying his murder spree as an act of justice. They weren’t aware of his megalomania, or how firmly he believed this one bloody act would set everything right in the world. And they almost certainly didn’t realize that he viewed himself as the hero in a cosmic battle of good against evil.

Because if they had known any of that, I hope they wouldn’t have told us the shooter wasn’t mentally ill. A better message may have been, “Most people who struggle with mental illness are peaceful and friendly,” or even, “If he’d had the treatment he needed, this might never have happened.” Both of those fit neatly into 140 characters.

But there’s no doubt Elliot Rodger suffered from delusions—delusions that didn’t just lead him to stab or shoot 20 people, but to believe that doing so was a great act of service.

This is the dark side of heroism. This is how heroic fantasy becomes a track to live out personal desires at the expense of others. Which is exactly why I insist on a litmus test for any heroic act: it has to not only meet the basic definition of heroism, but it can never be an act of forced dominion. If you are imposing your own will on others then, no matter how noble your cause (in reality or in your delusions), you can never be a hero.

I highly recommend reading the full interview with Roger Griffin at War is Boring.

L Days cover_front only_half size

My book Lúnasa Days is available in paperback and on Kindle. Get your copy here.

Standard