Writings on Narcissism: Part 7

Rastinews — Today's narcissist… 7

Narcissism, it should be said at the outset, is not merely an individual character trait. It has become a historical and cultural stance. The mythical Narcissus loved only his own reflection, yet he still remained subject to the laws of nature. Today's narcissism does not stop at self-love; it seeks to place itself above the limits of being human. The goal is no longer simply to be beautiful, but to be creative; not simply to exist, but to occupy the position that determines existence. According to Reinhard Haller, the myth of Narcissus shows that when an individual cannot find an equal, he turns to himself — because the only one equal to him is himself. Narcissus lacks the capacity to put himself in another's place; in other words, he cannot feel empathy. Nor has he developed the capacity to regulate his own emotions. He cannot form emotional resonance with others. The emotional alphabet has, in a sense, never been written for him; he remains in a kind of emotional illiteracy.

A word here: I have written extensively on empathy, and I want to correct a common misunderstanding about it. Empathy is usually defined as the ability to understand another's feelings, to perceive things from their perspective. In this definition, the person turns toward the other, trying to see through their eyes. That much is true. But empathy is not only this. Its precondition is that a person makes room in their own heart for the other. Because that space exists, one can draw close to the other. Empathy, in other words, means opening one's heart to someone else — giving them a place in one's own inner world. It means allowing the other to use your heart as a shelter. In the psychoanalytic sense, this is part of what empathy aims at: letting the other find a place within you. Here the direction reverses. You no longer move toward the other; the other moves toward you. And empathy becomes the capacity to receive them as they are, and hold them in your heart.

Empathy is not only going to the other; it is being a place the other can come to.

In the traditional world, human beings were not the creators of their own existence. Birth, fate and death were parts of an order that operated beyond human will. The human being did not bring himself into the world — he was brought into it. He did not create — he was created. For this reason, the human being stood in a passive relation to his own existence. God was the creator; man was the created.

But the modern technological world has begun to transform this ontological hierarchy. Reproductive technologies, IVF methods, genetic interventions and artificial insemination centers are turning birth from a purely natural event into a technically manageable process. The child is no longer simply a being who is "given"; it becomes a being who is planned, scheduled, even made possible under specific conditions. A man who cannot become a father, a woman who cannot become a mother, can now overcome that lack through the laboratory. Birth thus moves out of the realm of fate and into the realm of technique.

This shift is deeply connected to narcissism. Because here the subject wants to be master not only of his own image, but of the very conditions of his existence. Being created is no longer enough; what is desired is to be the creator. This is narcissism's most radical form: the subject positions himself not merely as a beloved object, but as the very principle that makes existence possible.

In this sense, modern narcissism is not only self-admiration; it is also a claim to a divine position. For God's defining trait is that He creates. To create is to bring into being what did not exist. Through technology, the modern subject draws closer to this position. He no longer merely produces his own image; he also makes the continuation of his own lineage technically possible.

But a paradox lies here too. The closer man draws to the power to create, the more deeply he experiences his own fragility. For this creation is not absolute; it is mediated by technique. The subject's power lies not within himself, but within the technique. That is why modern narcissism, even as it installs itself in a divine position, can sustain that position only through external instruments.

Perhaps this is why today's narcissism is not only self-admiration but also an attempt to deny the limits of being human. The subject no longer wants merely to see himself; he wants to see himself as creative, determining, absolute. Narcissus's reflection in the water has today given way to the embryo in the laboratory. In both cases, the subject is not content merely to experience his own existence; he wants to see it as an object before him, and to possess it.

What is at stake here is not only a technical shift, but a shift in how man understands himself. Throughout history, man has experienced his own existence as bound to sexuality. Human birth depended on the meeting of two bodies, on two lacks turning toward one another. Reproduction was not only a biological process but a relational one. Man was a being who could not produce himself alone. For this reason, human existence was ontologically dependent on the other.

Even in religious narratives, this dependency is the rule, not the exception. The creation of Adam and Eve is presented as a divine act that occurred outside of sexuality. Likewise, the birth of Jesus is told as an exception that occurred without sexuality. But precisely for this reason, these exceptions are held to be divine. For creating without sexuality is a power that belongs to God, not to man. God can create without need of sexuality; man cannot create — he can only reproduce. The difference between creating and reproducing is decisive here. Reproduction is dependent; creation is independent.

Modern technology has begun to blur this boundary. Assisted reproduction techniques, IVF methods, and fertilization processes carried out in the laboratory are separating birth from the direct experience of sexuality. The physical union of two bodies is no longer technically necessary. Reproduction can now shift from being a lived experience of sexuality into a technically administered process.

The implications of this run deep. Sexuality is not merely a means of reproduction; it is also the domain in which man experiences his own lack. In sexuality, too, man experiences that he is a being who cannot suffice for himself. He needs another. He turns toward another. Without the other, he cannot secure his own continuity. Sexuality is the clearest proof that man is not self-sufficient. In sexuality, man lives his own sexuality through the other. Even masturbation requires an imaginary other. Technology, however, carries the promise of eliminating this dependency. Reproduction ceases to be a desire directed at another and becomes a plannable process of production, of incubation. The child becomes the object not only of desire, but of a project. This changes man's position in relation to his own existence. For here the subject moves from merely reproducing to organizing the production itself.

This shift is connected to the deep structure of narcissism. For narcissism is the subject's desire to be self-sufficient. It is the fantasy of being able to exist without needing another. The technical bypassing of sexuality can be experienced as a way of approaching this fantasy. The subject may come to believe that he is no longer ontologically dependent on another to secure his own continuity. But this, too, is not absolute independence. For technique does not replace the other; it merely transposes otherness onto a different plane. The laboratory, the doctor, the technical system — all of these lie outside the subject. The other does not disappear; it only changes form. The subject becomes dependent not on a direct other, but on a technical order. Perhaps this is why modern man, for the first time, lives within this tension between the illusion of approaching a divine position and his own fragility. To the extent that he believes he can produce without sexuality, he feels himself a creator; but to the extent that he knows this creation springs not from his own inner power but from external technical systems, he cannot escape his own limitation.

In traditional religious and metaphysical accounts, humans were not the source of their own existence. They were created. Their form, body, sex, fate — all of it was fixed outside their own will. A human being was not the cause of their existence, but its result. This left humans passive before themselves. They had not chosen themselves. They had not made themselves. In the modern world, this relationship has begun to reverse. Humans no longer simply live out an existence given to them; they also transform it. They can change their bodies, reshape their faces, erase the marks of aging, even change their sex. Hormone treatments, cosmetic surgery, genetic intervention and biotechnology have opened a field of control over the human body that never existed before.

This is why modern humans are no longer merely beings who "are"; they are also beings who "make" themselves. They work on themselves, shape themselves, construct themselves. Existence stops being a fixed fate and becomes a project that can be worked on. This shift also changes the structure of narcissism. The mythological Narcissus was in love only with the image given to him. He could not change that image; he could only look at it. Modern narcissism, however, does not stop at looking at itself; it wants to change what it looks at. Rather than accept the image handed to it, it wants to produce its own image. Modern narcissism is therefore not passive admiration but an active act of creation. Here the subject approaches itself not merely as a being but as a creator. It becomes work and artist, object and subject at once. It becomes a principle that works on itself and determines its own form. This produces an experience that brings the subject close to a divine position. For the defining trait of the divine is not accepting what is given, but holding the power to shape existence.

But this also produces a new narcissistic tension. The subject now faces not only what it is, but also what it has failed to become. The ability to create oneself brings with it an obligation to be dissatisfied with oneself. If a person can change themselves, then staying as they are starts to look like a choice rather than a necessity. This forces the subject to keep surpassing itself, to keep reconstructing itself. The mythological Narcissus is in love with himself. His tragedy is not that he loves himself, but that what he loves is only an image. Yet Narcissus's love is still direct. Nothing comes between him and it. He needs no one else's approval to love himself. The reflection in the water is not proof of another's love; it is only a silent mirror of his own existence.

Today's narcissism, in this sense, differs from Narcissus. The modern narcissist's deepest problem is an inability to love themselves. They have no love that flows directly toward themselves. To reach themselves, they need a mediation: the gaze of another.