True or False: Ayn Rand’s The Virtue of Selfishness was the first book on egoism intended for a popular audience.
False. A quarter century earlier came The Art of Selfishness, a number one bestseller by psychiatrist David Seabury.
At times, Seabury sounds strikingly similar to Rand: “We have been left for centuries with only the echo of a workable philosophy. We have been given no true middle way between insipid spirituality and brute conquest: either act like a stained-glass saint or ape a tyrant” (p. 122). But unlike Rand’s book, The Art of Selfishness is a self-help book, not a work of philosophy. It is not systematic. It does not work from first principles and basic observations about human nature. It is not especially careful about terminology. It is not trying to prove its case.
But it is useful. Seabury offers a cornucopia of practical advice. For example: “Keep your problems objective. Don’t identify with them. Don’t become involved or personal. Treat them as an interesting experience and do what you can in each new adventure” (p. 40).
The Art of Selfishness uses an informal case study approach on the model of medicine. Seabury also adds discussions of principle and many lists of how to do and not do things, ranging from how to invest to how to get to sleep.
Seabury reduces his ideas to two basic principles, which help to organize his thinking. The first is: "Never compromise yourself" (pp. 4-5). I take it to mean, "never surrender your judgment or your authentic needs."
The second principle is: “No ego satisfactions” (pp. 4-5). This may give pause to an admirer of Rand's work, but in Seabury's context, it means: no spite, no self-aggrandizement, no martyrdom, etc. In Nathaniel Branden’s terms, it means: “no pseudo-self-esteem.” As Seabury says about this principle: “To win, you must obey nature. Her will, not yours, is omnipotent” (page 5).
Some of Seabury’s notions derive directly from the two principles. For example: “Nothing becomes an obligation merely because someone tells you it is” (p. 61). Some, while consistent with the two principles, derive more from Seabury’s clinical insight, as on page 103 where he counsels, “Make your thinking into experience. Make your theories tangible.... Try out your ideas by imagining them in action.” There are gems like this scattered throughout the book.
Some more examples:
On pages 138-9, Seabury discusses the use of sex manuals and the danger of employing them mechanically. He advises identifying with the methods, becoming one with them, and following them as an artist follows his technique.
On the subject of sex, Seabury spins one of many witty remarks when speaking of a shy but inwardly passionate man: “At heart he is a son of Eros. He would like to have a hairy chest and follow the phallus to everlasting glory” (p. 140).
Much of Seabury’s advice is common sense (although it probably wasn’t when the book was first published in 1937), but some of it is quite amazing. In the chapter “How to Avoid Suicide,” he states, “If your primary relation is social, every trend of the group … will overpower you. Only he who makes some basic contact with natural objects, things of the earth, its animals and trees, its minerals and mechanics — only he is safe” (p.145). We could point out that Seabury's inventory of reality is a bit too narrow, but his basic point is surely sound.
One of my favorite chapters is “New Skills for Quarreling.” It brims with good advice, such as remaining silent while your partner gets to speak her piece, and bringing to the surface any unadmitted fears that might motivate your own position.
In addition, he lists some of the common blame patterns. One pattern worth mentioning is blaming someone for being born as they are. Seabury encourages accepting the assortment of talents and dispositions one has inherited from one's ancestors, and not trying to force oneself into a cookie cutter.
A lot of the advice in The Art of Selfishness is concerned with difficult people; there are at least three mentions of kicking parasitic in-laws out of the house.
Sometimes, however, one wants or needs to keep a person in one’s life. In such cases, Seabury counsels “scheming,” or benign manipulation — referring to techniques such as reverse psychology. A reader would have to decide for him- or herself the appropriateness of such techniques, which may strike some as questionable. For example, if your husband has a contrary nature and always wants the opposite of what you suggest, Seabury might advise that you suggest the opposite of what your want.
At the same time, Seabury repeatedly advocates benevolence and mutual aid. He has an enlightened attitude on the subject of women and children. He is explicit in stating that selfishness does not require hurting other people. In fact, he proposes that unselfishness hurts people because it keeps them dependent.
Not everything in The Art of Selfishness is wonderful. Seabury is often philosophically confused, speaking of "good" and "evil" selfishness, and "good" and "evil" unselfishness, without making totally clear the principles that differentiate them. He is unclear about the human need for self-esteem, and consistently condemns pride as a vice. Perhaps his biggest fault as a writer is his tendency to deluge the reader with lists of loosely catalogued precepts and observations — a symptom of his lack of theoretical structure.
On the other hand, The Art of Selfishness has much to offer in the way of practical wisdom, and the reader who patiently mines it can discover many a gemstone. Seabury may not offer formal definitions of the cardinal virtues, but he will tell you how to say “no.”
Maybe the best take on Seabury’s work is that he offers abundant raw material that can be edited, corrected, and integrated by the philosopher in each of us to provide a fleshed-out science of living.
(review originally published on The Atlasphere)