Truth and Consequences
Sometimes people hold strange views about themselves. Groucho Marx put it well: "I'd never join any club that would have me as a member." Psychologists are calling it the self-verification theory, and it's generating much interest and some bad feeling in their profession.
In a way, the bad feeling is perfectly appropriate. If its champions are correct, applying the self-verification theory may be able to help the world's depressed and put-upon people. (At the onset of winter in an election year, who better fits that description than Alaskans? Trust me---this may be stuff we need to know.)
William B. Swann Jr., a psychologist at the University of Texas in Austin, is probably the leading champion of the newly popular theory. He explains it as a digression from what we've long understood about our psychic makeup.
Start with the view of humans as social animals. Being accepted by our fellows is as important to us as it is to any wolf in a pack or chimpanzee in a troop. Finding our place in the group is important; we have a built-in yen to be top dog, so to speak. Yet even more important is simply being accepted as a member of the group.
Thus, psychological theories have built on the assumption that people need to be liked by their fellow humans. A person who is liked is obviously acceptable, and therefore psychologically secure. If someone has been warped by early experience to think of himself or herself as somehow unlikable, as a not-so-acceptable person, then a helpful therapist should work to overcome that negative self-image. If the patient says, "I'm clumsy," the therapist should say, "Nonsense. I've stumbled over that rug often myself."
Swann disagrees with this view. He asserts that even stronger than our social-animal drives for acceptance are our needs to live in a world that somehow makes sense. We want to understand what's going on. This need for psychological coherence means that sometimes we want to be told that we're just as bad as we've thought we are. Objective truth doesn't count; belief does. We would rather be right than happy.
Swann offers a classic example in the case of a man who thought of himself as not very bright. One day he overheard his wife praising his intelligence. After the first glow of pleasure and pride faded, the man became very upset. How could his wife misunderstand him so completely? Hadn't she been paying any attention to him?
Swann comments that the good feelings produced by praise can be "chilled by incredulity"---instead of accepting that possibly they aren't so bad after all, depressed or downcast people feel they're being lied to. Studies he conducted with college students seem to support Swann's views. Twenty mildly depressed and 30 nondepressed volunteers were given bogus ratings of apparent artistic or athletic ability after an interview, then were told they could follow up with a clinician to hear more about their ratings. Nondepressed students didn't want to hear any more about their supposed limitations; the depressed ones did. Both groups were willing to hear more praise about what they perceived to be their strong points; positive reinforcement was fine, but positive comments could not override what the depressed students saw as the bitter truth about their own shortcomings.
Though Swann's pet theory is being disputed by some psychologists, others think the self-verification theory supports what they've observed in their patients. Just possibly, they also may find it a terrific relief to speak some bitter truths. Now, when they encounter a clumsy patient, they can say, "Yes, you are a bit of a klutz. Maybe we can work on that later."
