Honeysuckle Walks

View Original

Mimetic desire and immortality

The Holy Grail (1895), Johannes Adam Simon Oertel 

Desire is like an eternal flame. We go through life stoking it—we want a better job, to live in a nicer house, to be fitter or prettier, to have certain clothes or products or experiences or relationships.

And once we fulfill our desires, we’re still not satisfied. The flame burns brighter. But why do we desire all of these things? Why do our desires never extinguish? What can we do about it?

René Girard’s theory of mimetic desire and the portrayal of desire in Milan Kundera’s novel Immortality reveal the answer lies in a primal, deep-rooted tendency: imitation. 

Mimetic desire

The Dancing Class (1871), Edgar Degas

René Girard (1923-2015) was a French historian, philosopher, and Stanford professor who pioneered the theory of mimetic desire. He wanted to understand why we have desires beyond what’s driven by our survival instincts and basic needs.

Girard concluded that, in most cases, our desires aren’t actually our own. We want things because other people do.

“Girard discovered that most of what we desire is mimetic (mi-met-ik) or imitative, not intrinsic. Humans learn—through imitation—to want the same things other people want, just as they learn how to speak the same language and play by the same cultural rules.” – Luke Burgis, Wanting

According to the theory of mimetic desire, we unconsciously mimic the desires of others because we believe what they want is valuable or will give us a similar sense of satisfaction. We want what others want, and they want what others want—creating a cycle of imitated desires.

Virtue signaling

Cardinal and Theological Virtues (1511), Raphael

Mimetic desire explains why people voice certain opinions. For example, when you express the belief of a group (e.g., a political party or religion), you signal to the world that you share the same values.

People often express opinons not because they genuinely believe them, but because they want to feel socially or morally superior, which is virtue signaling. Consider this example from Kundera’s novel:

“What then did Rimbaud’s poems really give Paul? Only the sense of pride that he belonged among those who loved Rimbaud’s poetry.” – Milan Kundera, Immortality

In this example, Paul doesn’t genuinely enjoy Rimbaud’s poems. He enjoys the status of sophistication and intellect that accompanies being associated with Rimbaud’s poetry.

Mirrored imitation

Mimetic desire doesn’t just influence the things we want and the beliefs we hold, but also the things we don’t want. When we don’t like someone (or an entire group of people), mimetic desire takes the form of wanting the opposite of what our rivals want—which is called mirrored imitation.

With mirrored imitation, our desires still depend on others’ desires; we just want the opposite.  

“When mimetic rivals are caught in a double bind, obsessed with each other, they go to any length to differentiate themselves. Their rival is a model for what not to desire. For a hipster, the rival is popular culture—he eschews anything popular and embraces what he believes to be eclectic.” – Luke Burgis, Wanting

Narcissuss (c. 1600), Caravaggio

Milan Kundera (whether knowingly or not) provides an example of this in his novel Immortality:

“We must ask ourselves why a person who loves a cat (or Mussolini) is not satisfied to keep his love to himself and wants to force it on others. Let us seek the answer by recalling the young woman in the sauna, who belligerently asserted that she loved cold showers. She thereby managed to differentiate herself at once from one-half of the human race, namely the half that prefers hot showers.”

In Kundera’s example, a young woman enjoys—or claims to enjoy—cold showers in order to distinguish herself from the masses. If the majority of the population enjoyed cold showers instead, the young woman would claim to enjoy hot showers. Her desires are inversely shaped by her rivals.

 A longing for immortality

The Fountain of Youth (1546), Lucas Cranach

Deviating from Girard’s theory, our desires can be motivated by a longing for immortality—to be known and remembered after we die.

We adopt the desires and beliefs of others not just for social recognition, but to attach ourselves to something greater and more enduring than our individual lives. After death, a person can transcend into an idea—which can live forever.

“Because for me that’s the only real life: to live in the thoughts of another. Otherwise I am the living dead.” – Milan Kundera, Immortality 

In this way, we can feel a deeper sense of existential purpose or fulfilment, to feel that our time on earth was infinitely significant.

Knowing your values

The Astronomer (1668), Johannes Vermeer

Understanding mimetic desire brings us to the importance of knowing our values. We fall prey to mimetic desire when we lack self-awareness, finding it easier to let other’s desires inform our choices than figuring out what we value.

“Our self is a mere illusion, ungraspable, indescribable, misty, while the only reality, all too easily graspable and describable, is our image in the eyes of others. And the worst thing about it is that you are not its master.”

To escape the cycle of imitated desires, we must establish our own values—by thinking about and prioritizing what matters to you independently.

“Knowing what to want is much harder than knowing what to need” – Luke Burgis, Wanting.

When you make decisions, let your values inform them instead. This ensures you’re acting according to your own principles rather than being influenced by the desires of others.

If you liked this post, check out these:

The art of imitation

Nietzsche’s eternal return

Milan Kundera, original sin, and the ideal form of love