A recently published interview in the New York Times with George Saunders feels, true to form, literary on the surface but lands squarely in psychological territory. In the interview, Saunders suggests that much of our suffering comes from three core delusions — assumptions so baked into our operating system that we rarely question them:
- We are permanent.
We move through life as if death is an abstraction — something that happens to other people. - We are the most important thing.
From early childhood, we experience ourselves as the protagonist. The camera is on us. - We are separate.
We feel fundamentally distinct from others — “I am me; you are you” — as though the boundary is solid and absolute.
He argues that all three are evolutionarily understandable — they help us survive. But they are not ultimately true. And clinging to them creates fear, defensiveness, judgment, and isolation.
Or, phased through the lens of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT)
- The “permanence” delusion runs directly counter to radical acceptance of impermanence.
- The “I am the most important thing” narrative maps onto fusion with ego and identity.
- The “separateness” belief undermines compassion and relational attunement.
Saunders isn’t prescribing a grand spiritual solution. He’s describing moments — brief, almost accidental ones — where those delusions loosen. He talks about meditation helping him see thoughts as “brain farts” rather than identity. He describes how deeply inhabiting a fictional character dissolves easy judgment. He reframes kindness not as niceness, but as the ability to be present enough to ask, “What would actually help here?”
And then he offers a line that stopped me:
Any moment in this life when you get clear of that trio of delusions, you’re saved.
Not saved in a theological sense (though for some this could be). Saved in a psychological one.
If I’m not permanent, I don’t have to defend against death every second.
If I’m not the most important thing, ego threat softens.
If I’m not separate, compassion becomes more natural than effortful.
In our work here at Cooper — where mortality is not theoretical, where distress is acute, and where our roles can quietly inflate or exhaust our sense of self — this framing feels particularly relevant.
How often does conflict at work boil down to one of these three delusions?
- A reaction rooted in “this shouldn’t be happening to me.”
- A defensiveness fueled by “this reflects on my worth.”
- A distancing from patients or colleagues that protects us but also isolates us.
And how often do our best moments — the ones that feel grounded, calm, and quietly meaningful — occur when those narratives temporarily fall away?
In ACT language, it’s self-as-context.
In DBT language, it’s Wise Mind.
In Saunders’ language, it’s stepping out of the movie where we are the star and realizing we’re part of something larger and more interconnected.
I’m not naïve about how hard this is. Saunders himself is clear that he’s anxious, busy, grumpy at times — very human. Me too.
The point isn’t to “achieve” saintliness. It’s to recognize that the mind is constantly generating stories, and we don’t have to believe all of them.
If you’re interested in reflections on kindness, ego, death, literature, and the psychology of being human — I highly recommend reading the full interview. It’s thoughtful, humble, and surprisingly practical.
You can find it here:
https://www.nytimes.com/2026/01/10/magazine/george-saunders-interview.html