I live in a third-world country. Before you feel bad for me, consider the fact that the average 21st-century third-world resident has more access to resources than most kings of yesteryear. Technology has transformed our fingertips into wands that grant us access to food, information, transport, and entertainment almost on demand. We’re rich, you and me, even if it’s not obvious to us. If a person from the 1700s found themselves in our world, they’d think they were overdosing on a particularly potent drug (and not only because of the time travel).
But amidst this rapid progress lies one of the greatest paradoxes of our era – we live in times of material abundance but suffer from a scarcity of mental contentment. And if you ask me, evolution is to blame.
Our species evolved in a very different environment. A time when every calorie was precious, and not being intentionally burned on a treadmill going nowhere. We are designed for that world – one that didn’t satisfy our needs by default. Our needs were hard-won, limited in number, and easy to identify.
Since the industrial age, we’ve progressed beyond satisfying our needs to the uncharted territory of attempting to satisfy our wants. But the world of wants is a maze that confuses our minds far too easily because they don’t know which direction to head in. They don’t know what to want, because evolution never needed to teach them.
In my quest to understand why I want the things I want, I stumbled upon Rene Girard’s explanation of Mimetic Desire. In it, he explains that we decide what to want by observing what other people, especially those we consider our peers, want. With enough time, the desires of a peer group tend to synchronize, until everyone wants similar things.
Girard is not wrong. I’ve observed this scene play out multiple times in my own life.
As I’ve moved from one city to another, from one career to another, or from one educational institution to another, I’ve noticed that the things I want align uncannily with the things that my peers want. Whether it was a job offer I decided to covet, or a university that I decided to apply to, some of the most significant decisions of my life have been shaped by the preferences of my peers. I’m guessing it’s been the same for you.
In simpler times, this tendency to want what our peers wanted wasn’t a major cause for concern. The menu of items from which we could each pick our wants was limited, and our peer groups were small. But today, both those things have changed.
Firstly, modern capitalism has transformed a limited menu of items to want into an infinitely scrolling digital catalog. Our list of potential wants isn’t limited to those in our local environments anymore. We can want almost anything, from anywhere. Good? Yes. Overwhelming? Also yes.
Secondly, social media has expanded our perceived peer groups enormously. It doesn’t matter where you live or what you do, Instagram will expose you to the achievements and fulfilled desires of someone you barely know. You don’t see the full picture of their lives, so you assume that they’re just like you. Suddenly you want what they’ve got. And then, you want what they want. Their goals become your goals. Your hard-coded human tendencies designed for a different era have led you into a status game with somebody who barely shares your context. You’ll play, and you’ll probably lose.
Taming capitalism’s urge to expand our range of choices isn’t feasible for us as individuals, but the second problem is one we have control over. Our perceived peer groups may shape our desires, but we have the power to shape our perceived peer groups. After all, perception resides in the mind.
The goal of a well-pruned peer group isn’t the elimination of desire – that is practically impossible for those of us that aren’t mountain-dwelling monks.
The goal is the customization of desire.
The creation of desires that are tailor-made for our circumstances. In a world of abundance, a well-pruned peer group can lead us to desires that eliminate envy, because they kick-start personalized pursuits we enjoy.
In its purest form, a perfectly pruned peer group would include just one person – ourselves.
It would involve discovering our personal monopolies – an intersection of skills, ideas, and experiences that are unique to each one of us. This would create an arena in which we thrive, where competition is non-existent, and status games are irrelevant. In a situation like this, no matter the size of capitalism’s menu, your preferences will be perfectly clear.
In my own life, I’ve only recently found my footing somewhere near the intersection of building software, writing, and solopreneurship. In little over a year, I’ve gone from being confused about what to do in my free time, to not having enough free time to do the things I know I want to do. From being envious of the achievements of my friends to being indifferent, and on occasion, genuinely happy for them. And most importantly, I’ve gone from being pessimistic, to being excited about the future.
My journey started with a conscious effort to reduce my consumption of peer-generated content and increase the time I spent dabbling and creating things in fields I was curious about. It’s been an emergent process with loads of false starts, but none that I regret. If you’re interested in making the journey yourself, today’s a good day to start.
As a first step, I recommend uninstalling Instagram.
Thanks to Trevor Brown, Janahan Sivaraman, Chris Wong, and Shubham Khoje for their feedback on earlier drafts of this piece.