The Superhuman Fantasy

The fear that one will be discovered for the unworthy, incapable soul that one truly is has been identified in people often enough that it has been given a name: Fraud Syndrome. It is also called Impostor Syndrome. Like many social ills, I believe it stems from what I call the Superhuman Ideal.

After decades of watching polished personas on TV and in the movies, after centuries of reading fiercely edited texts of writers trying to make specific points, after millennia of watching specialists doing their jobs very well, we humans have developed the delusion that some people are perfect, or at least that their work is perfect. Unless we notice a flaw in the work of others, we tend to believe there isn’t one. Unless we see the mess backstage, we tend to believe that the show went off without a hitch from conception to closing night.

The belief that the good works or admirable personalities we perceive in others are more than just good—that they are perfect—creates in us a ridiculous standard. Our standards become perfectionistic. We create Superhuman criteria for humans because we believe we have seen proof. Some examples of the “evidence” for perfect humanity are:

George Washington was honest to the core.
Abraham Lincoln was honest to the core.
Ghandi was consistently peaceful.
The Beatles could not make bad music.
The World War II generation had ideal ideals.
Warren Buffett makes no business errors.
Rush is right.

When we observe the accomplishments of others, we tend to believe that they are more capable than us, that their accomplishments come easy for them, and that they have never created an abysmal mess for themselves at any point in their lives. But when we look at ourselves, we see the mess backstage. Seeing the flaws in ourselves, we feel anxious about the admiration we receive from others. Dialogues like this occur:

Other: “Oh, you were fabulous in the church choir.”
Self: “No, I messed up a couple of times.”

Other: “Your daughter is so well behaved.”
Self: “That’s what you think.”

Other: “Your house is beautiful.”
Self: “Oh my gosh no. It’s a mess.”

Even if we do not say these things aloud, we may be thinking them inside. The idea is that no matter what we have accomplished, we believe that if people got a look backstage at our lives or our personalities, they would see we’ve been faking it. We fail to accept ourselves as accomplished. We have set a Superhuman standard for ourselves.

This self-imposed standard not only causes us to hurt ourselves, but we soon find ourselves imposing it on others. So, if we like another person’s work, we see it as perfect; but when we see a few flaws in another person’s work, we may become very critical. Good enough is never good enough.

It is difficult to get past this illusion because society supports this incredible standard by highlighting the lives of child prodigies and accentuating the successes of our beloved heroes.

To dismantle this absurd standard, it is necessary to create a human standard that concedes incredible weakness, mountains of mistakes, intermittent immorality, and major messes in all humans. Then we need to adore accomplishments, celebrate baby steps, and honor late bloomings where we see them.

Of course, this shift to viewing ourselves and others as perfectly imperfect may be difficult or even impossible—but hey, we can fudge it. No one will notice.