Wanting: The Power of Mimetic Desire in Everyday Life by Luke Burgis

A groundbreaking exploration of why we want what we want, and a toolkit for freeing ourselves from chasing unfulfilling desires.

Gravity affects every aspect of our physical being, but there's a psychological force just as powerful--yet almost nobody has heard of it. It's responsible for bringing groups of people together and pulling them apart, making certain goals attractive to some and not to others, and fueling cycles of anxiety and conflict. In Wanting, Luke Burgis draws on the work of French polymath René Girard to bring this hidden force to light and reveals how it shapes our lives and societies.

According to Girard, humans don't desire anything independently. Human desire is mimetic--we imitate what other people want. This affects the way we choose partners, friends, careers, clothes, and vacation destinations. Mimetic desire is responsible for the formation of our very identities. It explains the enduring relevancy of Shakespeare's plays, why Peter Thiel decided to be the first investor in Facebook, and why our world is growing more divided as it becomes more connected.

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Wanting also shows that conflict does not arise because of our differences--it comes from our sameness. Because we learn to want what other people want, we often end up competing for the same things. Ignoring our large similarities, we cling to our perceived differences.

Drawing on his experience as an entrepreneur, teacher, and student of classical philosophy and theology, Burgis shares tactics that help turn blind wanting into intentional wanting--not by trying to rid ourselves of desire, but by desiring differently. It's possible to be more in control of the things we want, to achieve more independence from trends and bubbles, and to find more meaning in our work and lives.

The future will be shaped by our desires. Wanting shows us how to desire a better one.

Descarte says, I think, therefore I am. Not to get too cliché here, but I always thought "I want, therefore I am." Every choice I've made in the past (??? five ????) years has been in pursuit of a single-minded goal. An ambition. I fondly call it "my prodigy complex" because I'm a little bitch to myself and score in the 99th percentile for grit—meaning that I can endure a sort of physical/mental/spiritual suffering long past when everyone else gives up. There's opportunity cost and sunk cost and ego negatively swirled in there too, but as a whole: I set a goal, and I do it. End of story. I have beaten <0.01% odds two separate times, and I will do it again in other capacities.

I don't believe in manifesting necessarily because I think a lot of the time, the woo-woo proponents of that just translate into unacknowledged privilege, but I do believe in willpower and resources and literal continuous stubbornness until it kills you, maybe.

But long story short—I always thought that was because what I wanted was so clear and concrete that I knew I'd do anything possible to achieve what I wanted to. I will put anything aside. I will mold myself however I need to. I will come back stronger, etc,.

But this book did throw me for a loop some, because—what if you can change what you want?

Do You Actually Want What You Think You Do?

I've always thought that I knew what I wanted. Hell, I've known what I've wanted since I was a kiddo. I've been remarkably consistent in my desires and ambition for years, which is partly why I'm so comfortable with the long game. ("I don't do it for you but I'm glad you're here," etc,. etc,.)

But as this book proves, we are way, way more impacted by our social circles than we think. I knew that from Connected and from the many books I devour on unconscious influences, but hadn't experienced a narrative so narrowed in on desire specifically before.

We know (and I know, from a marketing POV and from my day job of writing product reviews) that buzz feeds buzz and desire feeds desire. Jealousy is a base human instinct because it evolutionarily serves us to level up around competitors and peers.

“Humans learn through imitation to want the same things other people want.”

The book goes on to illustrate how mimetic desire often leads people to want shallow things or "the easy way out" in a way that often leads them unfulfilled. Which is why sometimes you do get what you want and just feel...empty.

On a personal level, I've worried about this. I've worried about pouring 7 years of my life (and a whole lot of my self-identity) into the pursuit of a book deal and landing with a Pyrrhic victory. Did I maybe sacrifice too much in the process? What is a pursuit of validation versus what is a soul-deep need (that perhaps aligns with my value system in a way conducive to Stoic philosophy?) Do you actually know what you want, ever? What if you don't?

“It's easy to be an armchair contrarian. It's hard to take contrarian action.”

The book talks about René Girard, who studied desire in the 1950s. The book talks about the role of scapegoats in culture (and boy—that concept is worth an entire other deep dive blog post analyzing all the insights) and models we make for taste. How do we decide who makes our taste? (I think a lot about this.) How do you construct the models of what you should want? We are constantly looking to others for guidance, whether you're going to draw from your parents (so, this book was super helpful in understanding why certain families produce multiple athletes in specific Olympic events, for example—always a wild phenomenon), friends, or other community members.

It talks about the difference between modeling desires from those we view as celebrities or idols, versus who crosses over into the familiar—and how what we pull from each demographic affects us differently. You're more likely to view the closer desire as a threat to your own autonomy if you don't achieve it but the other person does, for example. And models are most effective when they're hidden—so if you're aware that your model is why you want something, you're less impacted by it. The insidious aspect of course is that a lot of us aren't willing to examine the deeper reasons why we've constructed our desires the way we haves—so we may not realize what holds such intense sway over us.

“An unbelieved truth is often more dangerous than a lie. The lie in this case is that I want things entirely on my own, uninfluenced by others, that I'm the sovereign king of deciding what is wantable and what is not. The truth is that my desires are derivative, mediated by others, and I'm part of an ecology of desire that is bigger than I can fully understand.”

“Desire, like gravity, does not reside autonomously in any one thing or person. It lives in the space between them.”

“The imitation of desire has to do with our profound openness to other people's interior lives—something that sets us apart as humans.”

The book itself gets oddly (and perfectly) interdisciplinary. It talks about influencer culture, The Count of Monte Cristo (another recent relevant reread), Maslow's hierarchy of needs (needs being different than desire), our attempts to distinguish ourselves from others, the role of social media networks in tightening our mimetic webs, viral trends, the algorithm, sibling rivalry, how to make morality attractive, war philosophy, etc,.

It does get a little wide in scope, but is a good time. The writer is clearly enmeshed in the Silicon Valley startup culture (so his insights could feel a little tech bro-y á la Atomic Habits) but I was overall really pleasantly surprised by the depth and variety of his conversation, and it did fundamentally change the way I thought about what I want and why I might want it.

You May Have a Harder Time with Those Similar to You.

At any given time while reading something nonfiction or psych-related, I'm reading a novel that enacts those concepts in practice. In this case, I'm thinking about Daisy Jones & the Six, and how Billy and Daisy clash and get along partly because they each remind each other so much of each other. We are fundamentally uncomfortable with people who serve as mirrors to us. It's proven that you're more competitive with and suspicious of people who remind you of yourself.

“We should choose our enemies wisely, because we become like them.”

“[People believe] there is a straight line between them and what they want. That's a lie. The truth is that the line is always curved.”

Which: let's get into it. I'm an identical twin. My entire life is built on these concepts of independence vs. codependence, blurring vs. autonomy, classic vs. divergent. What keeps me my own person when others are determine to shove us or label us together? Similarly, Hannah (twin) is my absolute best friend and soul mate, but we absolutely have periods of targeted clashing—usually when we're both in very transitional states in which we're both not entirely sure we're making the right choices. It's easier to look at someone who's almost parallel with you (nature vs. nurture and all that) and wonder if you took the wrong fork. For that reason, we were totally 100-percent a-okay throughout college, but struggled way more (at least, I did) with jealousy and comparison for about a year or two post-grad. And that's definitely because of the concepts laid out in this book about mimetic (or comparative) desire.

Of course, there's also some stubborn desire to win against others that drives us too. When we see someone want something that we do, you sometimes get the desire to beat them or outlast them in your endurance—which can give you the strength you. need to succeed. Etc,. etc,. For that reason, even our rivals are making us the best versions of ourselves and influencing the standards we hold ourselves to. It's why you might not have a crush until someone's off the market, or why exclusion is sometimes contagious. We are always taking cues on who and what others want, and in some ways, that's a self-fulfilling prophecy.

We are also sometimes suspicious of what comes to us too easily.

“It's the paradox of importance: sometimes the most important things in our lives come easily—they seem like gifts—while many of the least, most important things are the ones that, in the end, we have worked the hardest for.”

It's a helpful reminder that effort does not inherently equal value, and lack of friction doesn't indicate lack of value. We just often fall victim to our paralysis of choice or fear that we don't deserve something because it's easy (and therefore cannot fully trust it.)

I personally have this bizarre obsession with mirror neurons. They activate when reading and dancing, which may be why, and I would love to be more attuned to body language as a whole. So I love when a book brings them up. Negotiation psychology in Wanting was fascinating, with insights like how in one study, those who mirrored others' body language reached a settlement 67 percent of the time while those who didn't reached a settlement 12.5 percent of the. time. Wild!

The Contradictions of Our Desire

I loved certain parallels that Wanting drew, like how we're each subject to the affects of desire by our close and far connections—but we're most attracted to people who seem like they are not affected by mimetic desire. It's sort of an impossible standard to live up to, and explains the rush of dopamine and novelty of meeting someone new but then losing interest once you realize they're an actual, independent person and not an idea you've created that you can project onto. We love the strange and otherworldly folk because they seem exempt to this kind of fallacy, but secretly crave conformity for insecure, evolutionary reasons. And the truth is that nobody's entirely unaffected by what others want, even if they're strong and secure within themselves.

“The affectation of self-sufficiency is fascinating.”

“People worry about what other people will think before they even say something—which affects what they say. In other words, our perception of reality changes reality by altering the way we might otherwise act [in self-fulfilling circularity.]”

Concepts & Lines I Loved

• The oh-so-real realization that sometimes someone wants you because someone else wants you. The contagion of a social network, sexual rivalry, etc,. etc,. "Desire spreads faster than we can imagine."
• This resonant tension between being affected by others but always needing to carve out an identity and prove that we are not—as a twin, I totally understand the despair and confusion of this.
• René Girard believed that all desire is metaphysical. For example, it's not the handbag someone wants, but the feeling of newness or confidence the handbag will bring to their lives. Feels like an accurate insight, especially as a shopping writer myself.
• A discussion of liquid modernity and how rapidly everything changes and warps nowadays. I love that term.
• "The fastest way to become an expert is to convince a few of the right people to call you an expert." As someone who regularly interviews experts for national magazines: I completely agree with this assessment, which is the basis behind most effective PR.
• This theory that it's not smartphones that we're addicted to, but access to others' desires that inform our own. Feels right, and probably the most pressing argument for getting off social media entirely.
• The book also talked about Sisyphus, Aristotle's entelechy, and other philosophical ideas I've been mulling over lately—so it weirdly felt made for me and my current vocabulary of references at this exact moment. Right book, right time!
• The illusion of freedom, the denial of the network making you more susceptible to its influence, the pursuit of genuine happiness divorced from expectation, our desire for hierarchy and rankings, etc,. etc,.

“Desire is a path-dependent process. The choices we make today affect the things we want tomorrow.”

I Need to Forcibly Stop Myself from Talking More About This Book, Which Is Proof I Love It.

I could go on for lists and quotes and ages about what value is in this book. I'm kind of obsessed with it, and haven't been hit this hard by a specific concept since Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman.

Luke Burgis definitely comes off as tech bro-y in a way that makes me a little suspicious of his data (sorry, my bias) but it's such a clear and well-rounded book that brings in a lot of disparate ideas. You could find it chaotic or disjointed, but if you're anything like me, you'll appreciate the breadth of the discussion and its application to your life. It's of course informative, historical, psychological, referential, etc,. but doesn't feel like too much or too simplified either—very conversational and relaxed in tone. Big fan of all the conversations I want to have (and anticipate having) because of this, and odds are that I'll continue book-clubbing quotes on the blog anyway shortly. More on this to come, but I'd absolutely library it or buy it for a significant shift in perspective. I hope and plan to read the studies and books further referenced in this book.

TL;DR: you don't want what you think you do, and you can forcibly rewire yourself into wanting something else at any time. Instead of this making me feel off-kilter, it's actually a bit of an existential relief. I always thought "what I wanted" (and how deeply I wanted it) was the one aspect I couldn't change, but now I have the understanding to shift my want and make anything work. It feels freeing to just know you can largely force yourself into anything and be happy, actually, and I still have a lot I want to chat about re: this book. So read it! And come book club with me after.

PS. I am a little tired of books with "the power of X" in the subtitle. But I digress.

For fans of:

Atomic Habits by James Clear; Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman; You're Not Listening: What You're Missing and Why It Matters by Kate Murphy; Deep Work by Cal Newport; Drunk Tank Pink by Adam Alter; etc,.