Freedom from Perfection, Room to Be Good
Created at: August 10, 2025
And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good. — John Steinbeck
The Relief of Permission
Steinbeck’s line in East of Eden (1952) suggests that once we release ourselves from impossible standards, we create space for moral action and kindness. Perfection paralyses; goodness moves. The sentence functions like a permission slip, loosening the knots of shame and fear that keep people from doing the next right thing. And because it reframes success as participation rather than flawlessness, it invites us into a more humane ethic. From this permission flows a deeper insight about how we choose to live.
Choice, Not Purity, Defines Goodness
As the novel’s timshel motif implies, human beings may choose the good rather than manifest a rigid purity. Aristotle’s practical wisdom, phronesis, in the Nicomachean Ethics, treats virtue as a skill honed in ordinary circumstances, not as an abstract perfection. Goodness, then, emerges through fallible attempts that learn from consequences. By shifting attention from spotless outcomes to responsible choices, Steinbeck steers us toward ethics we can actually live, where progress is measured by fidelity to the next right step.
What Psychology Says About Perfectionism
Modern psychology corroborates the point. Multidimensional perfectionism research by Hewitt and Flett (1991) links self-critical standards to anxiety and depression, while a meta-analysis by Curran and Hill (2017) documents rising perfectionism among young adults. Fuschia Sirois has shown how fear of imperfection fuels procrastination, delaying helpful action. Once the demand to be perfect is dropped, cognitive load and avoidance shrink, making room for consistent, prosocial behavior. Thus the mind grows quieter exactly when it stops chasing flawlessness.
Learning Through Iteration and Satisficing
Learning thrives on iteration. Carol Dweck’s work on growth mindset (2006) shows that viewing abilities as developable encourages persistence after setbacks, and Anders Ericsson’s research, popularized in Peak (2016), demonstrates how deliberate practice depends on tolerating small failures to improve. Economist Herbert Simon called the practical alternative satisficing: selecting a good-enough option when perfection is costly or unknowable. In this light, Steinbeck’s invitation is not to lower the bar but to keep moving the bar forward through feedback, one workable improvement at a time.
Imperfection as the Engine of Creativity
Artists and makers often treat imperfection as a catalyst rather than a defect. Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird (1994) blesses the messy first draft; jazz improvisation turns near-misses into motifs; and the Japanese aesthetic of wabi-sabi honors the beauty of the flawed and transient. By normalizing rough beginnings, creativity models how dropping perfection enables authenticity, surprise, and, ultimately, work that resonates. That artistic lesson loops back to moral life: authentic goodness rarely looks airbrushed, yet it carries deep, lived authority.
Progress in Public Life and Work
In public life, perfectionism can stall progress. Voltaire’s aphorism that the perfect is the enemy of the good, articulated in his Dictionnaire philosophique, warns policymakers against all-or-nothing thinking. Approaches like kaizen in the Toyota Production System and agile methods in software favor small, testable improvements that deliver real benefits while reducing risk. Harm reduction in public health likewise chooses workable betterment over unattainable purity. In each case, accepting imperfection accelerates humane outcomes without waiting for ideal conditions.
Putting Steinbeck’s Wisdom Into Practice
Practically, Steinbeck’s wisdom becomes a rhythm: define what good looks like for today, act, learn, and iterate. Set explicit good-enough thresholds, pair ambition with recovery time, and replace self-flagellation with accountability and repair when you miss the mark. Seek communities that reward progress, not performative flawlessness. In time, the pressure to seem perfect fades, and the capacity to do good—reliably, humbly, and with joy—takes its place, fulfilling the promise of the line that set us free to begin.