Imagined Human Beings. Bernard Jay Paris

creates anxiety of a different kind from that experienced by those toward whom the world has been begrudging. They are afraid of other people whose genuine accomplishments or refusal to indulge them call their inflated conception of themselves into question. Note that Horney does not posit a primary narcissism, as do many other theorists, but rather sees narcissism, like aggression, as a reaction to an unhealthy environment.

      As adults, narcissists seek to master life “by self-admiration and the exercise of charm” (Horney 1950, 212). They have an “unquestioned belief in [their] greatness and uniqueness” that gives them a “buoyancy and perennial youthfulness.” The narcissist “has (consciously) no doubts; he is the anointed, the man of destiny, the great giver, the benefactor of mankind.” He feels that there is “no one he cannot win” and is adept at charming people “with a scintillating display of feeling, with flattery, with favors and help—in anticipation of admiration or in return for devotion received.” His insecurity is manifested by the fact that he “may speak incessantly of his exploits or of his wonderful qualities and needs endless confirmation of his estimate of himself in the form of admiration and devotion” (194).

      Like arrogant-vindictive people, narcissists use people and do “not seem to mind breaking promises, being unfaithful, incurring debts, defrauding” (Horney 1990, 195). But they are not “scheming exploiters”; rather, they feel that their needs are “so important that they entitle [them] to every privilege.” They expect unconditional love from others, no matter how much they “trespass on their rights.”

      Because their imagination is captivated by “the glory of the dramatic,” narcissists resent “the humble tasks of daily living” as “humiliating.” They have fantasies of “quick and glamorous achievement,” avoid consistent effort and attention to detail, and quickly lose interest as a face-saving device if they encounter obstacles (Horney 1950, 313–15). When disillusioned they may give up their ambitions, telling themselves that they would have accomplished something great if they had decided really to try.

      On the surface narcissistic people are “rather optimistic” and “turn outward toward life,” but “there are undercurrents of despondency and pessimism” (Horney 1950, 196). They see the world as a fostering parent, expect continual good luck, and demand the fulfillment of their wishes by fate and other people. Their bargain is that if they hold onto their dreams and their exaggerated claims for themselves, life is bound to give them what they want. Since life can never match their expectations, they feel, in their weaker moments, that it is full of tragic contradictions.

      Predominantly narcissistic characters who have been discussed in Horneyan terms include King Lear (Paris 1991a) and Richard II (Paris 1991b) in Shakespeare, Jane Austen’s Emma Woodhouse (Paris 1978b), Mathilde de la Mole in The Red and the Black (Paris 1974), and Conrad’s Lord Jim (Paris 1974).

      In Neurosis and Human Growth, Horney gives the least amount of attention to the perfectionistic solution, but she discusses it also in New Ways in Psychoanalysis, where she argues that an adherence to “rigid and high moral standards” and a “drive toward rectitude and perfection” (1939, 207) are not products of an instinctually based superego but special needs of individuals who have had a certain kind of childhood. They were made to feel worthless or guilty if they did not live up to their parents’ demands, but by conforming to expectations they could put themselves beyond reproach and gain a feeling of superiority. Perfectionists do not revel in a sense of being wonderful, like narcissists, but derive a sadistic satisfaction from their rectitude because it shows others “how stupid, worthless, and contemptible they are.” They want to “strike others with righteous indignation from the height of their infallibility,” to “inflict the same injury” on others that their parents inflicted on them (218–21).

      As adults, perfectionists feel superior because of their “high standards, moral and intellectual, and on this basis look down on others” (Horney 1950, 196). They easily feel guilty but regard this as a virtue because it proves their “high sensitivity toward moral requirements.” If the analyst points out that their self-recriminations are exaggerated, they may feel that the analyst is inferior and “cannot possibly understand” them (Horney 1939, 220). Unlike narcissists, perfectionists work hard and pay obsessive attention to details. What really matters is not the details themselves “but the flawless excellence of the whole conduct of life” (Horney 1950, 196). Only this will reduce their anxiety, make them feel superior to others, and give them a sense of controlling their own destiny.

      Since they are pursuing the impossible, perfectionists must find ways to defend themselves against failure and its consequences. One defense is to equate “standards and actualities—knowing about moral values and being a good person” (Horney 1950, 196). While they deceive themselves in this way, they may insist that others live up to their standards and “despise them for failing to do so. [Their] own self-condemnation is thus externalized.” The imposition of their standards on others leads to admiration for a select few and a critical or condescending attitude toward most people.

      The bargain of the perfectionist is based on a legalistic conception of the world order: “Because he is fair, just, dutiful, he is entitled to fair treatment by others and by life in general. This conviction of an infallible justice operating in life gives him a feeling of mastery” (Horney 1950, 197). Success is not a matter of luck, of being the favorite of fortune, as it is for the narcissist, or of superior shrewdness, talent, and ruthlessness, as it is for the arrogant-vindictive person; rather, it is a proof of virtue. Ill fortune may mean that he is not really virtuous or that the world is unjust. Either conclusion shakes him “to the foundations of his psychic existence,” invalidating “his whole accounting system” and conjuring up “the ghastly prospect of helplessness.” If he recognizes “an error or failure of his own making,” self-effacing trends and self-hate may come to the fore.

      Predominantly perfectionistic characters who have been analyzed in Horneyan terms include Brutus and Coriolanus (Paris 1991b), Othello, Cordelia, and Macbeth before the murder (Paris 1991a) in Shakespeare; Samuel Richardson’s Clarissa Harlowe (Eldredge 1982); and three characters in Jane Austen—Elinor Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility, Knightly in Emma, and Anne Elliot in Persuasion (Paris 1978b).

      People who are predominantly resigned or detached usually have had a childhood in which there were “cramping influences” against which they “could not rebel openly, either because they were too strong or too intangible.” Demands were made for love, understanding, conformity, or emotional support that threatened to “engulf” them. They felt that they had to submit to these demands in order to obtain love, but they also wanted to rebel against “the bonds put around” them. They handled this situation by withdrawal. Putting “an emotional distance between [themselves] and others,” they no longer wanted affection nor did they want to fight. This helped them preserve their individuality, but they had to put a check on their feelings and “retract all those wishes and needs which would require others for their fulfillment.” While retracting their wishes made them more independent, it also sapped their “vitality and maim[ed their] sense of direction” (Horney 1950, 275–76).

      Whereas self-effacing people crave love and expansive people seek mastery, detached people worship freedom and independence. They want to be left alone, to have nothing expected of them, to be subject to no restrictions. They have a “hypersensitivity to influence, pressure, coercion or ties of any kind” (Horney 1950, 266, emphasis in original). They may react with anxiety to physical pressure from clothing, closed spaces, long-term obligations, the inexorability of time, the laws of cause and effect, traditional values and rules of behavior, or, indeed, anything that interferes with their absolute freedom. They want to do what they please when they please, but since they are alienated from their spontaneous desires, their freedom is rather empty. It is a freedom from what they feel as coercion rather than a freedom to fulfill themselves. Their desire for freedom may take the form of a craving for serenity, which means for them “simply the absence of all troubles, irritations, or upsets” (263).

      Detached people disdain the pursuit of worldly success and have a profound aversion to effort. They have a strong need for superiority and usually look on their fellows with condescension, but they