On inhibition
Sometimes I want to ask a question, hazard a theory, speculate wildly, seek emotional support, or share something about myself, but I’m hesitant, because I’m worried that it will make me look bad. Maybe it will reveal that I lack knowledge or understanding; maybe I’ll seem badly-informed, or silly. Maybe it will highlight a character flaw or vice. Maybe it will make me seem immoral or uncaring.
Often another part of me overrides the hesitancy, often it doesn’t. I think most of us inhibit ourselves like this to some extent. I suspect that some people do this extremely often, to the extent that it basically prevents them from having certain kinds of conversation at all.
In my case, the desire to express myself feels impulsive, desirous, like the id or an IFS firefighter, whereas the inhibitors feel considered, analytical, like the superego or an IFS manager. Because society generally favours managers over firefighters, the inhibitors seem more moral to me; if I let the desire to speak win, then I have been akratic and bad. But I’m not convinced that this type of inhibition is moral, most of the time. If I inhibit myself in order to make a better impression on people, isn’t that a bit deceitful? Shouldn’t you want people to have an accurate impression of your qualities, rather than an artificially high one? Do you lie on your CV and dating profile?
‘Ok’, you might say, ‘but lying is different from just “not saying something” — am I not entitled to internal privacy?’
Yes — I’m not on board with ‘radical honesty’, whose proponents say that we should have no filter and continually broadcast every thought that crosses our mind. Sometimes inhibitions are good — for example, if what you want to say is unnecessary and would be hurtful to your listeners, inhibiting yourself is often the right choice. I also don’t think that we have to go out of our way to publicize our flaws. But if we have a habit of systematically inhibiting ourselves to create the best possible impression on others, those continuous little steps add up, and we become accustomed to subtle but constant deceit.
