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Beyond Perfection: The Choice to Be Good

Created at: August 10, 2025

And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good. — John Steinbeck
And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good. — John Steinbeck

And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good. — John Steinbeck

Perfection’s Shadow, Goodness’s Opening

At the outset, Steinbeck’s line reverses a familiar moral pressure: the chase for flawlessness often paralyzes, while permission to be imperfect releases us to act. Perfection is static—a brittle performance—whereas goodness is dynamic, made of choices, repairs, and renewals. By lifting the impossible standard, the sentence redirects attention from appearing pure to doing what helps. That shift from image to impact is the hinge on which meaningful change turns. It invites responsibility without the crushing weight of moral exhibitionism, preparing us to consider a broader ethic of agency rather than absolutes.

Steinbeck’s Moral Universe: Timshel and Choice

In Steinbeck’s East of Eden (1952), the doctrine of timshel—“thou mayest”—proclaims that humans are neither fated to sin nor guaranteed to be righteous, but summoned to choose. The quoted sentence harmonizes with that vision: once absolved of the demand to be perfect, a person can actually will the good. Freedom from perfectionism is not moral laxity; it is the precondition for agency. Thus, the novel’s moral landscape privileges the daily exercise of choice over unattainable purity, implying that goodness grows through practice, not through the fantasy of never erring.

Psychology of Perfectionism and Self-Compassion

Psychology echoes this insight. Research on maladaptive perfectionism links it to anxiety, procrastination, and impaired performance (Hewitt & Flett, 1991). By contrast, self-compassion sustains motivation and resilience after setbacks, enabling corrective action instead of shame-fueled avoidance (Kristin Neff, Self-Compassion, 2011). When people no longer fear that a single mistake defines them, they take responsibility sooner and help others more readily. In this light, Steinbeck’s sentence names a practical mechanism: reduce the inner threat of failure, and moral energy is freed for constructive work.

Practical Wisdom Over Purity in Ethics

Philosophy further clarifies the move from perfect to good. Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics prizes phronesis—practical wisdom that chooses the fitting act in messy circumstances—over abstract purity. Similarly, D. W. Winnicott’s “good enough” caregiving (1953) shows how reliable, imperfect care fosters real growth better than anxious striving for flawlessness. Even Augustine’s Confessions (c. 400) portrays goodness as repeated turning, not a single unblemished state. Together, these traditions converge with Steinbeck: moral life advances through calibrated effort and repair, not through an impossible, image-perfect ideal.

Stories of Imperfect Redemption

Literature makes the shift vivid. In Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables (1862), the bishop’s mercy releases Jean Valjean from the prison of identity as a thief, enabling a life of service; goodness begins where perfectionism ends. More recently, The Good Place (2016–2020) dramatizes moral improvement as iterative learning, where feedback and community enable change. Across such narratives, the common pattern is liberation first, transformation second: when characters stop proving they are flawless, they start becoming good.

Practicing Goodness Without Perfection

Finally, the quote invites concrete habits. Choose the next right action over the abstract perfect one; set process goals (show up, revise, repair) rather than spotless outcomes; and hold brief, blameless retrospectives to turn errors into better systems, as in Google’s Site Reliability Engineering (2016). Journaling a “learning ledger,” making amends quickly, and celebrating small repairs keep goodness in motion. Thus, Steinbeck’s line is not an excuse—it is a method: remove the fetish of flawlessness, and goodness becomes both possible and repeatable.