Wanting

Wanting Plot Summary

Introduction

Desire drives human behavior in ways far more profound than we typically recognize. Yet most of us remain unaware of the hidden mechanisms that shape what we want. The concept of mimetic desire offers a revolutionary framework for understanding how our wants form not independently but through imitation of others. This insight challenges our cherished belief in authentic, autonomous desire while explaining phenomena ranging from fashion trends to financial bubbles, from workplace rivalries to international conflicts. The mimetic theory of desire reveals that humans don't simply want things spontaneously—we want things because others want them. This triangular structure of desire, involving not just us and what we want but also the models whose wanting we imitate, operates beneath our conscious awareness yet profoundly influences our lives. By recognizing how desires form through imitation rather than arising from within, we gain critical perspective on conflicts that previously seemed mysterious and develop strategies for more intentional wanting. Understanding mimetic desire doesn't just explain human behavior; it offers a path toward greater freedom and authenticity in what we choose to want.

Chapter 1: The Hidden Mechanism: How Mimetic Desire Drives Human Behavior

Humans have a profound capacity for imitation that goes far beyond what we typically acknowledge. While we value originality and innovation, the truth is that our desires are rarely our own. Instead, they are shaped by models—people who show us what is worth wanting. This hidden mechanism of desire operates beneath our conscious awareness, influencing everything from the products we buy to the careers we pursue. The concept of mimetic desire reveals that we don't want things spontaneously or independently. Rather, we want things because others want them. When someone we admire desires something, that object becomes transfigured in our eyes. It's no longer just an object; it's an object desired by our model. This triangular relationship—between ourselves, our models, and the objects of desire—explains why our wants often seem to fluctuate without reason. Babies demonstrate this mimetic tendency from birth. Research by developmental psychologist Andrew Meltzoff shows that newborns as young as forty-two minutes old can imitate facial expressions. This innate capacity for imitation is what allows humans to build sophisticated cultures, but it also has a dark side. As we grow older, our open imitation transforms into hidden mimesis—we continue to take cues from others about what to want, but we deny that we're doing so. This denial is what René Girard calls the "Romantic Lie"—the false belief that our desires emerge spontaneously from within us. We tell ourselves stories about why we make certain choices: because they fit our personal preferences, because we recognize their objective qualities, or because we simply saw something and wanted it. But the truth is more complex. There is never a straight line between us and the things we want; the line is always curved by the influence of models. The power of mimetic desire explains why advertising works so effectively. When Edward Bernays, the father of modern public relations, wanted to make smoking acceptable for women in the 1920s, he didn't focus on the cigarettes themselves. Instead, he created a spectacle where debutantes lit "torches of freedom" during a parade, associating smoking with liberation and social status. Women began to desire cigarettes not for their inherent properties but because influential models made smoking appear desirable. Mimetic desire also explains market bubbles and crashes. When Tesla's stock price skyrocketed in early 2020, analysts were baffled by the disconnect between the company's fundamentals and its valuation. But from a mimetic perspective, it made perfect sense: investors weren't just responding to information; they were responding to each other's desires. As Google searches for "Should I buy Tesla stock?" spiked, it revealed the mimetic nature of the market—people wanting something because others wanted it.

Chapter 2: Models and Mediators: The Triangular Structure of Wanting

Models of desire come in two distinct varieties, creating fundamentally different dynamics. External models exist at a distance—whether separated by time, space, or social hierarchy—making them safe to imitate without rivalry. These models populate what might be called "Celebristan," a realm where celebrities, historical figures, and distant role models reside. We can freely imitate their desires without fear of direct competition because the separation prevents conflict. A teenager can admire a rock star's guitar without competing with them for it; a reader can adopt a historical figure's philosophical outlook without rivalry. Internal models, by contrast, exist within our social sphere—friends, colleagues, neighbors, and peers. These models create what could be termed "Freshmanistan," where imitation leads to competition because we desire the same objects in the same social space. When your colleague buys a new car and you suddenly want the same model, or when friends compete for status within a group, you're experiencing the volatile dynamics of internal mediation. The closer our models are to us socially, the more intense the potential rivalry becomes. This distinction explains why we often experience more envy toward peers than toward billionaires or celebrities. The colleague who received the promotion you wanted generates stronger feelings than a distant CEO because they serve as an internal model whose success feels attainable and directly comparable to your own situation. The proximity makes the desire more acute and the comparison more painful. This mechanism underlies much of social media's psychological impact—platforms bring countless internal models into our awareness, triggering waves of mimetic desire and comparison. Our perception of reality becomes distorted through mimetic desire. When we adopt someone as a model, we attribute a special quality to them—a sense of self-sufficiency or authenticity that we lack. This perceived ontological superiority makes their desires seem more valid than our own. We don't just want what they have; we want to be what they are. This "metaphysical desire" explains why acquiring the object often proves disappointing. The car, house, or achievement fails to transform us into our model, leading to disillusionment and the search for new models. The distortion extends to how we view obstacles. When someone blocks our path to a desired object, they paradoxically increase our desire for it. This explains why forbidden fruit tastes sweetest and why playing hard to get can be an effective romantic strategy. The obstacle intensifies desire by suggesting the object's value. This dynamic creates feedback loops where rivals intensify each other's desires through mutual obstruction, escalating conflicts beyond the value of the original object. Even our attempts to differentiate ourselves often follow mimetic patterns. When we deliberately choose the opposite of what our model wants—a phenomenon called "mirrored imitation"—we remain bound to them through negative imitation. The hipster who rejects mainstream trends is still defining desires in relation to the mainstream. True independence would require stepping outside the mimetic framework altogether, which is extraordinarily difficult given how deeply imitation is woven into human psychology.

Chapter 3: Rivalry and Conflict: When Shared Models Lead to Competition

Mimetic desire operates as a flywheel—a self-reinforcing cycle that gains momentum over time. This dynamic explains how rivalries escalate from minor disagreements to consuming conflicts. Consider the legendary rivalry between Ferruccio Lamborghini and Enzo Ferrari. What began as Lamborghini's complaint about a faulty clutch in his Ferrari transformed into a business rivalry that defined both men's legacies. After Ferrari dismissed Lamborghini's concerns, suggesting he stick to tractors, Lamborghini resolved to create a superior sports car. The rivalry motivated both men to push automotive boundaries, demonstrating how mimetic competition can drive innovation even as it intensifies conflict. The flywheel effect works in both positive and negative directions. Destructive cycles begin when people imitate each other's desires for objects that cannot be shared, leading to escalating rivalry. Each person becomes increasingly fixated on defeating their rival rather than enjoying the original object of desire. The rivalry becomes self-sustaining, with each party serving as both model and obstacle to the other. This explains why conflicts often seem disproportionate to outside observers—the participants are no longer fighting over the original object but for validation of their being. Positive flywheels form when people imitate constructive desires that don't create scarcity. When a team member demonstrates dedication to a shared mission, others may imitate that commitment, creating a culture of excellence. Similarly, when people model generosity or intellectual curiosity, these qualities can spread through communities without generating rivalry. The key difference lies in whether the desired goods are rivalrous (limited in supply, creating competition) or non-rivalrous (abundant, allowing shared enjoyment). Mimetic contagion explains how desires spread through social networks like viruses. Ideas, fashions, and behaviors propagate through imitation, often accelerating as they reach critical mass. This mechanism underlies both trivial phenomena like fashion trends and consequential social movements. The contagious nature of desire means that environments significantly influence what we want—we absorb desires from those around us, often unconsciously. Organizations and communities develop distinct systems of desire that shape members' aspirations. Corporate cultures signal what achievements merit recognition, educational institutions establish which credentials matter, and social groups define status markers. These systems create hierarchies of value that guide individual wanting. Understanding these systems allows us to recognize when our desires stem from social conditioning rather than authentic needs or values. When mimetic cycles intensify without resolution, they can lead to crises where distinctions collapse and chaos threatens. In primitive societies, such crises were resolved through scapegoating—the collective violence against a designated victim. Modern societies have developed more sophisticated mechanisms for managing mimetic tension, including legal systems, market competition, and cultural norms. Nevertheless, the underlying dynamics remain active in contemporary conflicts, from office politics to international relations.

Chapter 4: The Scapegoat Mechanism: Violence as Social Control

When mimetic rivalry intensifies throughout a community, it creates a crisis of undifferentiation—social hierarchies break down, distinctions blur, and chaos threatens. Historically, societies resolved such crises through scapegoating: the unanimous violence against a single victim. This victim, chosen somewhat arbitrarily, absorbs the community's accumulated tensions. The scapegoat mechanism functions as a pressure release valve, transforming chaotic all-against-all violence into focused all-against-one violence. The effectiveness of scapegoating depends on a collective misrecognition—participants must believe in the victim's guilt. The community projects its own violence onto the scapegoat, convincing itself that this individual or group is responsible for the social disorder. This misattribution allows violence to appear justified rather than arbitrary. The scapegoat typically occupies a marginal position—visible enough to be targeted but isolated enough to lack defenders. Outsiders, strangers, and those with distinctive characteristics often fill this role. Ancient societies institutionalized this process through sacrifice. Religious rituals reenacted the scapegoat mechanism in controlled settings, using animals or designated individuals as substitutes for spontaneous violence. The word "scapegoat" itself comes from Leviticus, describing a goat symbolically loaded with the community's sins and driven into the wilderness. Similar practices appeared across cultures, suggesting the universality of this social mechanism. Modern equivalents of scapegoating persist in more subtle forms. Corporate executives take the blame for organizational failures, politicians become lightning rods for social frustrations, and marginalized groups face discrimination during times of social stress. Even entertainment often follows scapegoat patterns—reality television shows typically culminate in the dramatic expulsion of contestants, providing viewers with vicarious catharsis. The scapegoat mechanism remained largely invisible throughout history because participants genuinely believed in their victims' guilt. What changed this pattern was the gradual unveiling of the mechanism's arbitrary nature. The Hebrew and Christian scriptures played a crucial role in this unveiling by consistently telling stories from the perspective of victims rather than persecutors. The biblical account of Joseph, falsely accused by his brothers, and the crucifixion narrative, which portrays Jesus as an innocent victim of mob violence, both expose the injustice of scapegoating. This revelation has transformed modern consciousness, creating what some call "the concern for victims" that characterizes contemporary ethics. Modern societies increasingly recognize the innocence of scapegoats and the injustice of collective violence. This awareness has weakened the scapegoat mechanism's effectiveness—it cannot fully resolve social tensions when participants doubt the victim's guilt. The result is a paradoxical situation: we've become more aware of victimization but less capable of achieving the social unity that scapegoating once provided.

Chapter 5: Breaking Free: Developing Anti-Mimetic Strategies for Authentic Desire

Developing resistance to destructive mimetic forces requires understanding how desires form within systems. Every organization, community, and relationship creates a particular ecosystem of desire that makes certain things appear more or less desirable. The Michelin Guide exemplifies such a system in the culinary world—it establishes standards that shape what chefs aspire to create and what diners value. Chef Sébastien Bras made headlines when he returned his restaurant's three Michelin stars, explaining that the pursuit of maintaining this distinction had become a constraint rather than an inspiration. His decision illustrates how stepping outside a mimetic system can restore autonomy and authentic creativity. Mapping the systems of desire operating in your life constitutes a crucial first step toward mimetic awareness. These systems include professional environments that signal what achievements merit recognition, social circles that establish status markers, and media ecosystems that shape aspirations. By identifying these influences, you gain critical distance from them. This doesn't mean rejecting all external influence—which would be impossible—but developing discernment about which models to follow and which desires to cultivate. Testing desires before fully embracing them helps distinguish between thin, mimetic wants and thick, authentic ones. Thin desires fluctuate with social trends, provide fleeting satisfaction, and often leave disappointment in their wake. Thick desires connect to core values, offer lasting fulfillment, and contribute to personal growth. One effective testing method involves projecting yourself into the future: imagine having achieved different potential goals and notice which scenarios bring genuine consolation rather than anxiety. Another approach examines desires' origins—those arising from comparison or status-seeking typically prove less fulfilling than those emerging from intrinsic interests or values. Disruptive empathy offers another powerful anti-mimetic strategy. Unlike sympathy, which fuses our emotions with others and makes us susceptible to mimetic contagion, empathy allows us to understand others' experiences while maintaining self-possession. This distinction matters because mimetic cycles intensify when people react reflexively to each other's emotions—anger triggers anger, fear spreads fear. Empathy disrupts these cycles by creating space for non-reactive understanding. Practicing empathy involves genuinely listening to others' stories of meaningful achievement and recognizing their core motivations without adopting them as your own. Sharing "Fulfillment Stories"—narratives about times when you took actions that brought deep satisfaction—reveals patterns in your authentic desires. These stories typically involve activities where you felt fully engaged and expressed your unique capabilities. Analyzing multiple such stories often reveals consistent motivational themes: perhaps you consistently find fulfillment in exploring new domains, mastering complex skills, or bringing order to chaotic situations. These patterns point toward thick desires that align with your intrinsic motivational drives. Silence and solitude provide essential conditions for desire discernment. Modern life bombards us with models and messages that trigger mimetic wanting, making it difficult to distinguish authentic desires from socially conditioned ones. Extended periods of silence—ideally several days without digital devices or external stimulation—allow the noise of mimetic influences to subside. In this quieter state, thick desires often emerge with greater clarity. While complete withdrawal isn't always practical, regular intervals of digital detox and contemplative practice can significantly enhance mimetic awareness.

Chapter 6: Transcendent Leadership: Modeling Desires Beyond Mimesis

Transcendent leadership begins with a fundamental insight: leaders don't merely respond to existing desires—they shape what people want. Conventional approaches to leadership often focus on meeting established demands or following data-driven feedback. While responsive leadership has its place, truly transformative leaders recognize their role in generating and directing desire. They help people want more, want differently, or want better than they did before. This capacity to influence wanting constitutes leadership's deepest impact. The distinction between immanent and transcendent desire proves crucial for leadership. Immanent desire operates within closed systems where all models exist inside the same framework. Like a Gravitron carnival ride that pins everyone against the wall in identical circular motion, immanent systems trap participants in predictable patterns of wanting. Organizations dominated by immanent desire become self-referential—people want what others within the system want, creating mimetic echo chambers. Transcendent leadership, by contrast, introduces models from outside the existing system, expanding the horizon of possibility. Maria Montessori exemplified transcendent leadership in education. Rather than imposing adult desires onto children, she created environments that allowed their authentic desires to emerge and develop. She recognized that children fundamentally want to grow into capable, dignified adults—not merely to earn gold stars or please authorities. By shifting the center of gravity away from herself and toward the children's developmental needs, Montessori modeled a leadership approach that liberates rather than constrains desire. Effective leaders similarly avoid becoming obstacles or rivals, instead pointing toward goods that transcend their relationship with followers. The speed at which truth travels within an organization directly correlates with its health and adaptability. Mimetic forces naturally distort truth—people conform their perceptions to match models or conceal information that might threaten status hierarchies. Leaders counter these distortions by creating environments where truth moves quickly and freely. This involves practical measures like reducing approval layers for information flow and cultural elements like celebrating those who speak uncomfortable truths. Organizations where truth moves slowly become vulnerable to disruption because they cannot adapt to changing realities. When President Kennedy told Americans, "We choose to go to the Moon," he modeled a desire that surpassed what people had previously dared to entertain. He didn't just set a goal; he articulated a desire that would "organize and measure the best of our energies and skills." Our greatest desires give shape and order to all our other desires. Transcendent leaders tap into underdeveloped desires rather than simply responding to existing ones. Whitney Wolfe Herd, founder of Bumble, saw potential in the Indian dating market despite the country's reputation for gender-based violence. "Just because something is not as progressive as another place in the world," she said, "doesn't mean there's not a desire for that." Similarly, Toni Morrison didn't settle for writing what white audiences wanted to read. She wrote "the kind of book, with that subject—those most vulnerable, most undescribed, not taken seriously little black girls—had never existed seriously in literature." She created what she wanted to see in the world. Great leaders understand that desire is, by its very nature, transcendent. We are always looking for more. The question is whether we will help people move closer to fulfilling their greatest desires or unknowingly peddle them pathetic ones.

Summary

Mimetic desire operates as a fundamental force shaping human behavior, yet remains largely invisible to those under its influence. By recognizing how our wants form through imitation rather than arising spontaneously from within, we gain critical perspective on conflicts that previously seemed mysterious. The triangular structure of desire—involving not just us and what we want, but also the models whose wanting we imitate—explains everything from fashion trends to financial bubbles, from workplace rivalries to international conflicts. This framework reveals that freedom doesn't come from following supposedly authentic desires, but from developing awareness of how desires form and making conscious choices about which models to follow. The transformation of desire represents both a personal and collective challenge. At the individual level, it involves developing anti-mimetic practices: mapping systems of desire, testing wants before embracing them, cultivating empathy that disrupts negative cycles, and creating space for authentic desires to emerge through silence and reflection. At the social level, it requires leadership that transcends closed systems of wanting, institutions that channel mimetic energy constructively, and new approaches to managing the accelerating forces of technological mediation. The stakes of this transformation extend beyond personal fulfillment to the very sustainability of human communities in an age of unprecedented connectivity and mimetic acceleration. By understanding how wants shape our identity and relationships, we gain not just insight but agency in navigating the complex landscape of human desire.

About Author

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Luke Burgis

Luke Burgis has founded and led four companies in wellness, consumer products, and technology. He’s currently Entrepreneur-in-Residence and Director of Programs at the Ciocca Center for Principled Entrepreneurship where he also teaches business at The Catholic University of America. Luke has started and serves on the board of several new K-12 education initiatives. He studied business at NYU’s Stern School of Business and philosophy and theology at a pontifical university in Rome. He’s Managing Partner of Fourth Wall Ventures, an incubator he founded to build, train, and invest in people and companies that contribute to a healthy human ecology. He lives in Washington, DC with his wife, Claire, and writes regularly at lukeburgis.com.

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