Adapted from a chapter of a philosophy non-fiction book i’m currently writing and welcome thoughts
Special Mode Homme, Jack Davison, 2023
Few pairings of emotions are as intertwined as praise and envy in shaping our sense of self-worth. Praise, at first glance, appears as a lantern of approval from parent to child, with the seemingly encouraging “Well done!” and “Good job!”. These words, though simple, carry the power to cultivate a budding sense of capability and direction. Yet, as we step into adulthood, such affirmations grow sparse, reserved for moments of extraordinary achievement. As a result, in this void — this hushed absence of praise — envy grows insidiously fertile.
Imagine two children. One, nurtured on a steady diet of applause, comes to expect admiration as part of the natural order. The other, raised without it, learns instead to rely on an internal compass, unpolished yet sturdy. Over time, the former may find themselves haunted by envy, an agonising hunger for what was once freely given but now lost. The latter, while perhaps resilient, carries their own scars — doubts of self-worth and a tendency to retreat at the first sign of failure; like an imposter, where being good is simply a self-illusion to survive. Praise then, once the hearty garden soup of granny at winter, turns sour into envy, and become defined solely by the ghost of habit — with its absence or loss cutting deeply into the human spirit.
But envy, by itself, is no more vicious than fire, which can either cook our food or burn ourselves alive. It is only because our innate loss aversion tendency, the praise-turned envy becomes the root of unhappiness. We are, by nature, creatures of imbalance: the pain of losing £50 eclipses the joy of gaining the same amount, a psychological bias proven time and again in behavioural science. This asymmetry defines so much of human experience. The happiness of finding a partner pales in comparison to the anguish of losing one. Loss is not merely an emotional wound but a mirror reflecting our greed and shame — the greed of wanting to hold onto what we treasure, the shame of not valuing it enough when it was ours.
This dynamic seeps into the blurred boundaries between possession and love. Too often, we mistake the ache of losing someone for a rekindling of love. We return to an ex-partner, not out of genuine affection, but because the absence of their presence stirs an itch to reclaim what once was ours. Yet the enchantment of possession dissipates once it is restored; it is the pursuit, the unattainable siren’s call, that captivates us. And so, the cycle begins anew, driven not by love but by a desire to possess and a fear to lose.
This fixation on the process over the end result echoes throughout our lives. Consider the tales we cherish in theatre or literature — the prince on his quest for the exotic princess, the hero chasing a distant ideal. We are enthralled by the journey, the struggles, the uncertainties. The moment the quest concludes, the story ends. It is not the happily-ever-after that moves us, but the striving that precedes it. Likewise, in love, it is the unfulfilled yearning, the rose-tinted vision of a person we do not yet possess, the possibilities, that gives an unbearable restlessness. Once attained, the charm is replaced by routine, where the passion of the pursuit is killed by familiarity, and that monotonous ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’.
This endless hunt for the next conquest — be it love, achievement, or possession — reveals a truth about human nature: we are insatiable seekers. Forever backfacing our own possessions, and gazing at that distant star on the horizon; longing for an imaginary ideal. Yet, as I’m seeing the still-life reflection of icy trees painted in hues of gold, next to the glow of a dim-lit candle, on the frost-kissed window at mid-winter night; I take comfort in the companionship of such flaws. In the age of terrorising technology, and the zealous worship of analyticity, it touches me to be reminded that we are still human, too human — irrational, absurd, yet profoundly alive.
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