Envy

Prepare to confront a hidden architect of human behavior: envy. In "Envy," Helmut Schoeck doesn't just define envy; he dissects it, revealing its pervasive influence on everything from language and culture to politics and even black magic. This isn't a comfortable read; Schoeck challenges conventional wisdom, forcing you to confront the uncomfortable truth that envy, though universally condemned, is a fundamental force shaping societies and individual actions. You'll gain a startling new perspective on why societies function as they do, why inequality persists, and why even seemingly altruistic movements can be fueled by the green-eyed monster. Prepare for an intellectual journey that will leave you questioning the very foundations of social justice, equality, and the human condition itself. This is not a feel-good exploration, but a rigorous, often unsettling, and ultimately enlightening examination of a force that quietly dictates so much of our world.

Helmut Schoeck unveils envy as a foundational human drive, a silent architect shaping societies across history, present in language, culture, and individual experience, a force often condemned yet perpetually present. He points out how envy, though destructive, ironically fosters social control, a paradox at the heart of human interaction. Schoeck challenges the modern psychological dismissal of envy, asserting its universality and influence, and criticizes social philosophies that naively assume envy's curability through equality, like a persistent weed in the garden of social progress. He urges us to see the world through the eyes of the envier, acknowledging that a predisposition to envy is, paradoxically, essential for self-preservation and justice; without it, one risks being trampled. Schoeck illuminates how the repression of envy, the ability to act as if it doesn't exist, paradoxically fuels economic growth and innovation, and this creates a social climate where unequal achievements can be protected for the greater good. The author paints a picture of the envious man as fundamentally lonely, rejecting social connection with the envied, trapped in self-pity, a poignant isolation. Schoeck emphasizes the importance of ideologies, like the concept of luck, that can mitigate envy, serving as personal theories to divert attention from the success of others. Finally, Schoeck pierces the veil of modern social sciences, which often avoid the term 'envy,' suggesting a repression of an uncomfortable truth, and he advocates for an honest appraisal of envy's role in shaping not only individual psychology but also social policy, particularly in the allocation of resources, because ignoring it leads to suboptimal decisions rooted in fear.

In this chapter, Helmut Schoeck delves into the linguistic nuances that differentiate envy from jealousy, revealing how language often softens the blow of admitting to envy, a sentiment deemed more ignominious than jealousy, which arises from competition rather than inherent inferiority. Schoeck observes that even behavioral sciences shy away from directly addressing envy, cloaking it in terms like 'ambivalence' or 'aggression.' The author points out the Oxford English Dictionary's treatment of 'envy' and 'jealousy' as near synonyms, tracing their Latin roots to highlight their historical meanings, noting how 'envy' carries connotations of hostility and ill-will, a displeasure at another's superiority. Schoeck illuminates a crucial distinction: jealousy guards what is rightfully one's own, finding rest when secure from rivals, while envy often denies the very value of what another possesses. It is as if jealousy erects fences, while envy seeks to salt the earth. Contrasting this, the chapter references Webster's dictionary, suggesting a modern American usage that blurs these lines, where 'envy' slides into a desire to possess, not destroy, mirroring a shift in cultural perception. Davidson's definition from the Encyclopedia of Religion and Ethics is highlighted, painting envy as selfish, malevolent, and rooted in a consciousness of inferiority, a painful emotion that finds twisted joy in another's misfortune. The chapter then contrasts envy with emulation, clarifying that emulation inspires improvement without spite, unlike envy's destructive core. John Gay's analysis further enriches the understanding, pinpointing envy as anguish triggered by the prosperity of specific rivals, underscoring the role of social proximity. Adam Smith's belief in reason tempering envy is presented, balanced against Scheler's concept of 'causal delusion,' where the envied person is wrongly perceived as the cause of one's own lack. This delusion, Schoeck argues, echoes primitive magical thinking, a belief that another's success diminishes one's own through malevolent means. Grimms' German Dictionary's definition encapsulates envy's vindictive, tormenting displeasure, a desire to destroy or possess what another has, emphasizing the act of perception itself as key to understanding envy. Finally, the chapter explores proverbs across cultures, revealing envy as a phenomenon of social proximity, fueled by subjective perception, an inescapable human drive, and ultimately self-destructive. Schoeck concludes by examining how envy is discussed in contemporary contexts, from media portrayals to advertising strategies, and the rare instances of individuals confessing to envious motives, highlighting the complex and often unspoken role of envy in human interactions.

In this exploration of envy, Helmut Schoeck reveals a fundamental tension: societies universally condemn envy, recognizing the envious individual as a disruptive force, a saboteur who can never truly be placated, yet inequality, the very seed of envy, is intrinsic to any viable social structure. He notes that no ethical system or religion has ever lauded envy as a virtue. Schoeck paints a stark picture: the envious man, forever comparing, forever wanting, stands as a negation of societal foundations. The author then broadens the lens, observing that cultures develop intricate customs to navigate the treacherous waters of envy, allowing for individual differences without triggering societal collapse; these mechanisms, though varied, underscore envy's inescapable presence. He cautions against assuming that the absence of specific institutions implies the absence of envy itself, a mirage easily conjured by the complexities of cultural adaptation. Schoeck uses the example of the Siriono tribe, where individuals often eat alone and hide food, driven by a primal fear of sparking the envy of others, even within their own families. He dispels the romanticized notion of harmonious primitive societies devoid of envy, a myth perpetuated by sociological theory, revealing instead a landscape where envy simmers beneath the surface, shaping behaviors and dictating social norms. Ultimately, Schoeck argues that societies don't eliminate envy; they merely learn to deflect or restrict its expression, striving to create conditions where social life can proceed *as if* envy didn't exist, a delicate dance of perception and reality. He underscores that distinctions and differences, the very building blocks of social existence, inevitably give rise to envy and resentment, whether rooted in material wealth, social prestige, or even individual excellence, a constant reminder of the human condition's inherent contradictions.

In this exploration of envy's shadowy influence, Helmut Schoeck casts light on its connection to witchcraft and black magic across cultures. He begins by unraveling the historical association of witches with the envious, those suspected of malevolence born from their own deprivation. The narrative tension arises from envy's double-edged sword: the disadvantaged, marked by ugliness or misfortune, are first suspected, but as societies evolve, the tables turn, and the envied—the beautiful, virtuous, and wealthy—become targets. Schoeck, drawing on Max Scheler's analysis, highlights how feelings of impotence can mediate resentment, even linking the figure of the witch to the perceived weakness of women, though he acknowledges cultural deviations where men are equally, if not more, implicated. Consider the Navaho, where the elderly, both men and women, are feared for their potential sorcery, a stark reminder that envy often festers where power and longevity intersect. The Azande of Africa offer a contrasting perspective, their cultural values condemning the envious man, their proverbs echoing European wisdom: 'Envy and jealousy kill the strongest man.' Evans-Pritchard's work among the Azande reveals a society acutely aware of envy's dangers, where even the suspicion of harboring such feelings can lead to social ostracism. The Amba distinguish between witches, driven by incomprehensible lust for human flesh, and sorcerers, motivated by ordinary envy, jealousy, and hatred, highlighting that envy is often provoked by tangible social situations. Schoeck then pivots to the Sukuma, who view black magic as a planned crime born from unappeasable envy, a sentiment so strong it can lead to ostracization or even lynching. Krige's observations among the Lovedu further cement this connection, revealing a society where any deviation from equality is viewed with suspicion, attributed to the malicious activity of envious tribesmen. The Lovedu's fear of competition and conspicuous success underscores a deeper yearning for equality, a norm disrupted by the realities of life. Ultimately, Schoeck argues that envy, fueled by a misinterpretation of inequality, drives individuals to seek retribution, whether through black magic or more modern methods, such as taxes that harm the intended beneficiaries. The author suggests that primitive man's superstition should not be equated with his chronic state of envy of his fellow tribesmen, or one be used to explain the other. The essence of envious black magic lies in the desire to drag others down to one's own level, a retaliatory impulse rooted in the memory of past suffering. This manifests even in modern society, where the older generation may impede the progress of the younger, driven by envy of their easier future, revealing the timeless and universal nature of envy's destructive force.

In this chapter, Helmut Schoeck delves into the insidious role envy plays in hindering the progress of developing countries. He begins by highlighting how fear of envy stifles open communication and collaborative planning, essential for future development. Schoeck draws upon Eric Wolf's concept of 'institutionalized envy,' illustrating how backbiting, fear of the evil eye, and black magic create barriers to individual economic advancement and community progress. Imagine a village shrouded in secrecy, where every success is met with suspicion, every innovation viewed as a threat. The author cites studies from Guatemala, Haiti, and Jamaica, revealing how peasants disguise their true economic positions to avoid becoming targets of envious black magic. One crucial insight is that the pursuit of minimizing others' perceived advantages often overrides the desire for collective progress. Schoeck observes that even in societies with relatively equal standards of living, the fear of envy can be pervasive, leading to mutual suspicion and the inability to pool resources. He explores William Watson's study of the Mambwe tribe in Northern Rhodesia, where successful men are often suspected of supernatural machinations, their prosperity attributed not to hard work but to sorcery. Oscar Lewis's account of a Mexican village further underscores this point, depicting a culture of extreme secretiveness, where any sign of progress is concealed to avoid attracting envy. Like carrying precious goods under a concealing blanket, every advantage is hidden from view. The author reveals that development programs often fail because they overlook this fundamental aspect of human behavior, assuming that new skills and techniques will automatically spread from family to family. The Reichel-Dolmatoffs' research in a Colombian village exposes how envy permeates every aspect of life, with black magic used as a leveling force against anyone perceived as having an advantage. Schoeck elucidates that the fear of envy can lead to a preference for commiserating in misfortune rather than celebrating success, creating a culture of suspicion and isolation. Hu Hsien-chin's study of the Chinese concept of 'face' reveals how the fear of losing face is essentially a ritualized attitude designed to avoid envy and Schadenfreude. Schoeck emphasizes that the most effective prophylactic measure against envy is often to appear poor, ill, and already in trouble, highlighting the dilemma faced by individuals seeking to improve their circumstances. Ultimately, the chapter suggests that overcoming the envy-barrier requires a shift in cultural attitudes, fostering an environment where success is celebrated rather than feared, and where cooperation and open communication are valued over secrecy and suspicion. Only then can developing countries truly unlock their potential for progress.

In Helmut Schoeck's exploration of envy, he reveals that its roots lie not in vast inequalities, but surprisingly, in the minimal differences that whisper, 'I could almost have that.' Drawing from observations across diverse cultures, Schoeck notes envy's presence even in simple tribal societies, often sparked by seemingly insignificant trifles. Like a single ember igniting a forest, these small disparities fuel disproportionate resentment. He suggests that child psychology, particularly sibling jealousy, offers a lens to understand this phenomenon, where coveted possessions appear finer merely in the envious child's imagination. Victor Frankl's experiences in a concentration camp further illustrate this, showing how even in extreme suffering, individuals find grounds for envy in the smallest qualitative differences. Schoeck then delves into Freudian perspectives, highlighting how early sibling rivalry transforms into a clamor for social justice, a demand for equality masking a deeper envy. Freud argues that social feeling arises from the reversal of hostile feelings, influenced by a common tie to a leader, yet the demand for equality applies only to the group's members, not the leader. The author then presents Abram Kardiner's critique of Freud, pointing out that inequalities in wealth are a source of aggression. Schoeck considers animal behavior, citing Yerkes's experiments with chimpanzees, suggesting even they exhibit a form of social conscience, hinting at envy-avoiding conduct. Further ethological studies, including Scott's work on aggression, reveal that motives for aggressive behavior often stem from close family life, and Baumgarten's analysis of pecking orders reveals envy-like responses in animals fighting for rank. Finally, Schoeck explores experimental social psychology, where experiments by Asch and Milgram demonstrate how individuals often mistrust their own senses to conform to a group, fearing the envious annoyance of others if they dare to stand out, with Milgram's Norwegian experiment illustrating a high degree of conformity and fear of being seen as showing off. Pepitone's work on attraction and hostility is also examined, revealing how even in experiments designed to provoke envy, the concept itself is often overlooked, showcasing how deeply ingrained the avoidance of acknowledging envy is in social interactions, and that in the end the braggart is breaching good taste.

In this chapter, Helmut Schoeck explores how the social sciences have often overlooked or downplayed the role of envy in shaping human behavior and social structures. He argues that envy, though frequently denied and repressed, is a fundamental force in social control, creating a 'gravitational field' that keeps individuals within the bounds of accepted norms; it’s not always about seeking approval, but about avoiding the potential envy of others should we dare to deviate, suggesting a deeper motive than simple acceptance. Schoeck critiques the tendency of modern social psychology to substitute the motive of seeking acceptance for the more accurate motive of avoiding envy, a symptom of a broader repression. He posits that individuals may experience group membership not as fulfillment but as a diminution of their individuality, finding compensation in exacting conformity from others, a phenomenon visible across various group dynamics, from political parties to families. This leads to a crucial insight: in the establishment of power structures, those who have already submitted to a new authority often become the most zealous enforcers of conformity, begrudging those who still maintain their distance. Schoeck examines how the concept of 'conflict' in sociology can obscure the underlying role of envy, as conflict implies a mutual awareness that isn't always present in the silent, secretive nature of envy; it's like mistaking the shadow for the beast. He contrasts envy with jealousy, clarifying that jealousy pertains to a possession one believes they have a rightful claim to, whereas envy focuses on the desirability of what is denied, regardless of any right. Furthermore, Schoeck highlights how sociological ambivalence, as described by Merton, often skirts around the issue of envy, using more palatable terms to describe situations where envy is clearly at play, like working-class parents reluctant to send their children to grammar school for fear of neighbors' envy. Schoeck points out the blind spot in modern behavioral sciences, noting the absence of envy as a topic in comprehensive inventories of human behavior, despite its pervasive influence. Finally, he suggests that the reluctance to address envy may stem from the egalitarian impulse within social science itself, a desire to create a society of equals that avoids confronting the uncomfortable reality of envy's persistent presence, even in utopian models; it’s as if the field is trying to build a bridge while ignoring the chasm beneath.

In this chapter of *Envy*, Helmut Schoeck delves into the disturbing manifestations of envy, revealing its capacity to fuel violent and destructive acts. He begins by illustrating how private property serves as a crucial defense against the envy-driven aggression of those less fortunate, arguing that a society of perfect equality would ironically become a hotbed of insecurity and malice. Schoeck presents chilling case studies: a basketball hero struck down out of sheer resentment for his glamour, a series of suspicious fires at Cornell University targeting exceptionally gifted students, and a co-ed brutally attacked by her less attractive roommate, each a stark example of envy's destructive power. The author explores how envy can even motivate murder, citing the case of Lee Harvey Oswald, whose actions, according to some interpretations, stemmed from envy of President Kennedy's success and charisma. Schoeck then pivots to vandalism, portraying it not merely as senseless destruction but as an expression of resentment, particularly among those who feel excluded from the affluence they see around them; imagine a slum child gazing at the air-conditioned luxury of a new school, a constant reminder of what they lack. He further dissects the concept of "envious building," where individuals deliberately inflict damage on others, even at their own expense, driven by a desire to diminish the perceived advantages of their neighbors. Schoeck critiques Erich Fromm's frustration theory of envy, suggesting that the belief in universal equality, when unmet, can paradoxically exacerbate envious crime, especially in societies where disparities are glaring. He contrasts this with the relative lack of crime among refugees, who attribute their deprivation to external factors rather than internal comparisons. Finally, Schoeck underscores the insidious nature of envy, highlighting its tendency to disguise itself as mere desire or harmless longing, even as it fuels resentment and a destructive impulse to deny others their satisfactions, a darkness lurking beneath the surface of human interaction.

In this chapter, Helmut Schoeck explores the pervasive idea that humans are threatened by the envy of supernatural beings, a concept found across diverse cultures and throughout history. He notes how the Greeks attributed great significance to the envy of the gods, a sentiment echoed in other religions, where even the dead are sometimes perceived as envious. Schoeck highlights Lifton's interviews with Hiroshima survivors, the *hibakusha*, who grappled with intense ambivalence—joy at survival shadowed by the pain of others' deaths, a poignant illustration of what Yoko Ota terms the 'shame of the living.' This feeling gives rise to the need to restrain oneself, to avoid ostentatious displays that might provoke divine envy. Schoeck emphasizes how cultures struggle to define and localize envy, with the Greeks often attributing it not to specific gods but to a vaguely conceived divine principle, a general power. He suggests that the Christian condemnation of envy, personified in the devil, may have facilitated the rise of civilizations with unequal citizens, as God was deemed incapable of envy. Aeschylus's depiction of Agamemnon's homecoming vividly illustrates the Greek fear of divine envy, as Clytemnestra's treacherous purple carpet aims to incite the gods' wrath. Ranulf's study reveals classical scholars' reluctance to acknowledge that the Greeks ascribed envy to their gods, preferring to see it as a matter of cosmic harmony, a symmetrical balance of fortune. Schoeck then delves into the Greek concept of fate, *Moira*, as a means of explaining varying lots in life, suggesting that unequal portions of food, a primordial stimulus for envy, are better accepted when distributed by an unquestionable authority. Nilsson's analysis reveals that the gods are ultimately subordinate to *Moira*, a regulating power that distributes life's portions. The chapter culminates in an examination of nemesis, the classical conception of a divine power representing the principle of envy, and how fear of hubris and nemesis shaped Greek actions. Dodds connects this fear to a deeply rooted human tendency to touch wood after boastful remarks, a cultural universal reflecting anxiety about one's favorable position inviting supernatural danger. Piers then contrasts guilt-driven and shame-driven individuals, arguing that Western culture's shift from guilt to shame has fostered progress and innovation, leading to a modern era of relative freedom from the fear of envy, where Weber notes a shift from joyless recognition of luck to a joyful unenvying one. Ultimately, Schoeck concludes, systems of belief designed to control envy are crucial for social peace, even if they are sometimes dismissed as social opium. The New Testament ethic, he asserts, sought to secure differentiated human existence in a world full of envious people, emphasizing love of neighbor and avoidance of ostentatious displays to appease the envious. The challenge remains: to prevent the envious from perverting this ethic, demanding conformity to their own yardstick, rather than embracing individual achievement and creative power.

In this exploration of envy as depicted in literature, Schoeck begins with Herman Melville's *Billy Budd*, a profound study of envy's destructive power. Melville introduces Billy Budd, an exceptionally good and handsome sailor, and John Claggart, the master-at-arms consumed by an innate malice, a depravity according to nature. The central tension arises from Claggart's inexplicable hatred for Budd, a hatred rooted in envy of Budd's innocent nature and popularity. Schoeck notes that Melville meticulously builds Claggart's character, revealing how the envious often conceal their feelings behind a mask of negative virtues, capable of self-injury to harm their target. Melville even recognizes the paranoid aspect of such envy, where chance happenings are twisted into deliberate insults. Schoeck highlights the blind spot in literary criticism, where the envy-motive in *Billy Budd* is often overlooked, despite Melville's explicit development of it. Then, Schoeck shifts to Eugne Sue's *Frederick Bastien: Envy*, a novel with a psychotherapeutic approach, illustrating how envy can be sublimated into honourable competition. Sue presents a young man, Frederick, whose envy is triggered by a visit to a chteau, making him painfully aware of his own home's poverty; like a creeping vine, envy takes root, camouflaged by shame and withdrawal. Schoeck emphasizes Sue's accurate portrayal of the envy-syndrome and its double camouflaging: the envious man confesses to almost any other sin before admitting to envy, and those around him are slow to recognize it as the true motive. Next, Schoeck examines Yuri Olesha's *Envy*, set in Soviet society, where the hero Kavalerov, a miserable failure, envies the successful technocrat Andrei Petrovich Babichev. Kavalerov embodies envy, fixating on food and digestion, reflecting the hunger and deprivation of post-revolutionary Russia. Schoeck observes that Olesha presents envy as an accepted phenomenon, a clash between the old, decadent pre-revolutionary types and the new Soviet man. However, the shame associated with being recognized as envious remains universal. Finally, Schoeck analyzes L. P. Hartley's utopian novel *Facial Justice*, a satire on the drive towards uniformity and the political exploitation of envy. In Hartley's world, equality is the highest value, and envy is the most taboo word. Schoeck underscores Hartley's incisive observation that the weight of official disapproval falls on those who evoke envy, inverting traditional values. In closing, Schoeck broadens the view, noting that poets like Chaucer and Milton have long recognized envy as a phenomenon of social proximity, ubiquitous and enduring, and he traces envious intrigue among literati, particularly in the Renaissance, where limited patronage fostered intense competition and jealousy.

In this exploration of envy through the lens of philosophy, we journey from Aristotle's keen observations to the nuanced perspectives of contemporary thinkers. Aristotle, in his *Rhetoric*, pinpoints envy as a feeling reserved for our equals, a desire not to possess what another has, but to see it diminished—a sentiment as old as Hesiod's potters pitted against each other, forever locked in a silent war of comparison. Francis Bacon, a courtier well-acquainted with envy's sting, advises on tactics to deflect its gaze, suggesting the wise create a scapegoat, a lightning rod to draw envy away from themselves, or even feign self-harm to appease the envious gods. He distinguishes public envy, a discontentment that can bridle the powerful, from the more insidious private envy, a constant companion in the human drama. Adam Smith, ever the pragmatist, sees envy, malice, and resentment as forces that, unless contained by law and order, threaten the very foundations of economic growth and social stability. Immanuel Kant, with his unwavering moral compass, consigns envy to the 'abhorrent family of ingratitude and Schadenfreude,' a vice that corrodes not only our duty to others but to ourselves, a disinclination to see our own good overshadowed by the good of others. Kant astutely observes how we often cloak envy in socially acceptable terms, describing another's happiness as 'enviable,' a subtle maneuver to gain influence or control. Schopenhauer, ever the pessimist, sees envy as the soul of mediocrity, a silent alliance against excellence, driving the praise of the bad and the silencing of the good. Kierkegaard, wrestling with envy's pervasive presence, calls it a 'concealed admiration,' a twisting of devotion into resentment, particularly acute in the small town where envy becomes a pastime. He foreshadows an age of levelling, where envy, disguised as the will of 'the Public,' erodes meaning and individuality. Nietzsche, drawing from his own experiences of being envied, rails against the 'slave morality' of resentment, where the unhappy seek to shame the happy, a world turned upside down. He sees the ascetic priest as a deflector of resentment, redirecting blame inward to maintain social order. Max Scheler delves into *ressentiment*, that slow-burning, self-poisoning envy that festers when one feels powerless to change their situation, leading to a distorted perception where only that which feeds malice is seen. Eugne Raiga, in his comprehensive study, echoes Spinoza, seeing envy not as a vice but as a natural phenomenon, an inevitable outcome of social interplay, perpetually shaping our behaviors and interactions. The philosophers converge on a singular truth: envy is a complex, multifaceted emotion, deeply intertwined with our sense of self, our relationships with others, and the very fabric of society, a shadow that follows us from the potter's field to the philosopher's study, a constant reminder of our shared humanity and our individual struggles.

In this chapter of *Envy*, Helmut Schoeck delves into the intricate dance between envy and politics, revealing how democratic systems, despite their ideals, often become fertile ground for the exploitation of this base emotion. Schoeck begins by highlighting H.L. Mencken's observation that a distaste for democracy may stem from an incapacity for envy, suggesting that the political arena, far from being a realm of rational debate, frequently descends into appeals to envy for factional gain. The author explains how politicians, even the weakest, can leverage envy by promising the destruction or confiscation of others' assets, a tactic that requires no constructive program, painting a stark image of political campaigns as potential envy-fueled battlegrounds. Fiscal measures like progressive income tax and death duties, Schoeck argues, can be driven by an unattainable quest for equality, influenced by intellectual elites more than the average voter's actual feelings, creating a sense of guilt among the economically successful. The chapter explores how envy can distort legislative decisions, preventing sensible measures due to fear of public indignation, and how certain groups, like farmers and trade unions, have institutionalized envy into political taboos. Schoeck then navigates the complex terrain of egalitarian arguments, citing authors like Max Lerner and C.A.R. Crosland, who defend the role of envy in social movements as a means to minimize social resentments and equalize opportunities, yet he cautions that the manipulation of envy, especially when tied to utopian promises of an envy-free society, often leads to chaos and paralysis, evident in developing nations and historical examples like Cuba. Schoeck analyzes the 1896 United States presidential election, a battleground over bimetallism, where William Jennings Bryan exploited the envy of the masses against the gold standard, illustrating how even technical economic issues can be weaponized by demagogues. Finally, the chapter examines the ancient Athenian practice of ostracism through the lens of Svend Ranulf's work, suggesting it was a manifestation of societal envy towards outstanding individuals, a concept often repressed by modern scholars who prefer humanitarian explanations, revealing how easily envy can be disguised as social concern, but also how dictators can fall prey to the same forces they seek to control, as seen with Nikita Khrushchev. Schoeck concludes by asserting that while exploiting envy may be politically expedient, the socialist endeavor to build an economy devoid of envy is fundamentally flawed, for in seeking to eliminate inequality, it paradoxically reinforces the very conditions that breed it.

In this chapter of *Envy*, Helmut Schoeck explores the complicated relationship between prosperity, social criticism, and the ever-present force of envy. He begins by noting a modern tendency to criticize affluent societies, a criticism that never seems to commend societies for being impoverished, raising the question: does misery bring one closer to the truth? Schoeck traces this sentiment back to Marxist ideology, where the bourgeois mindset was deemed incapable of perceiving truth, and extends it to a broader suspicion of anyone enjoying the fruits of an affluent society. He recounts Carlyle's critique of Goethe's "velvet life," suggesting that comfort corrupts genius, setting up a tension between material well-being and intellectual or moral purity. The author then navigates the history of sumptuary laws, revealing them as manifestations of envious pressure targeting signs of inequality, with luxury itself being a fluid concept, defined more by the envy it provokes than any inherent quality. Schoeck illuminates how easily societies can absorb nonsense without collapsing, drawing a parallel to science, where approximate understanding often suffices for control and prediction. He observes a defiance among some young people towards Western society, a discomfort rooted in inequality and a romanticized view of societies like Red China or the Soviet Union, where inequality is rationalized as being "for the people". This leads to the insight that envy often masks a deeper desire: not to possess what others have, but to eliminate the possibility of anyone enjoying it. Schoeck points out the hypocrisy in tolerating extravagance among political leaders while condemning it in ordinary citizens, highlighting that envy thrives among equals or near-equals. As the narrative unfolds, we see how political movements, even those fueled by envy, inevitably create new privileged classes, demonstrating that power structures tend to replicate themselves. Schoeck concludes by examining the cult of poverty, noting the congruence between the resentful poor and sympathetic members of the envied classes, a phenomenon driven by envy-avoidance and social guilt. Ultimately, Schoeck suggests that a healthy society balances envy and achievement, allowing legitimate envy to function as a social control while protecting individuals from pathological envy. For in the theater of social life, envy, if unchecked, can rewrite the script, turning progress into a tragedy of its own making.

In his exploration of envy, Helmut Schoeck illuminates how our sense of justice is intertwined with our capacity to envy, acting as a vital, if volatile, force in shaping political and social orders. He begins by noting that equality before the law arises from the tug-of-war between lawmakers and those governed, a system refined by the envy citizens harbor toward anyone receiving preferential treatment. Schoeck cautions, however, that the pursuit of absolute equality can paradoxically undermine the very principles of justice it seeks to uphold. Like a tightrope walker, society must balance the need for equitable treatment with the recognition of individual differences and merit. He cites the work of Edmond N. Cahn, who emphasizes that our acute sense of injustice stems from a deep-seated, almost visceral reaction to perceived unfairness, a primal defense mechanism against threats to our well-being. Schoeck then contrasts this innate sense of equity with the modern obsession with equality, noting that individuals often desire not absolute equality, but rather the measure of inequality they deem appropriate. This is echoed in the observations of industrial sociologists, who found that workers are more concerned with the recognition of their unique contributions than with equal pay. Max Scheler adds that modern egalitarianism is often rooted in resentment, a desire to diminish those perceived as superior, rather than a genuine pursuit of justice. The narrative then considers the role of luck and chance, concepts that help societies manage envy by attributing disparities to impersonal forces. As Schoeck notes, societies lacking these concepts often struggle more with envy. He argues that the confusion between luck and happiness has led to a dangerous belief that equality of opportunity will lead to equality of happiness, a fallacy that ignores the inherent unpredictability of life. Furthermore, Schoeck critiques the pursuit of absolute equality of opportunity, pointing out that it often leads to unintended consequences, such as the postponement of status struggles or the devaluation of education. He concludes by emphasizing the importance of distinguishing between legitimate indignation and vulgar envy, warning against the use of envy as a tool for political manipulation. In the end, a society that cultivates and channels envy constructively, rather than allowing it to fester, is more likely to achieve genuine social progress, recognizing that the dream of an envy-free society is not only unattainable but also undesirable.

In this chapter, Helmut Schoeck delves into the deeply ingrained human tendency to feel guilt about inequality, a phenomenon that predates Christianity yet is often misconstrued as a uniquely modern or Christian burden. Schoeck challenges this notion, highlighting how the New Testament, in fact, liberated believers from this primitive fear of envy, a liberation essential for the development of modern society. He points to socialist thinkers who, misunderstanding this historical mastery over envy, revived and moralized concepts of inequality, echoing primitive mindsets. Schoeck then focuses on Paul Tournier's work, particularly his exploration of genuine and false guilt feelings, noting Tournier's reluctance to directly confront the issue of envy, even when his analysis skirts its edges. Tournier observes how a faster typist might induce guilt in slower colleagues, but Schoeck argues this is fundamentally about envy, not guilt, and how attempts to assuage this envy often backfire, breeding resentment. The author observes that fear of others' judgment, which he equates to fear of envy, stifles creativity and innovation, creating a culture of conformism. Schoeck critiques Alexander Rüstow's argument that the enviable, not the envious, is responsible, asserting that envy seeks any available difference and cannot be eliminated through social engineering alone. The author also analyzes Tournier’s personal anecdote about seeking permission from factory workers for a family vacation, illustrating the absurd lengths to which people go to preempt potential envy. Even the Christian doctrine of salvation struggles to fully alleviate this guilt, as the favored still grapple with the question, 'Why was I saved?' This primal fear of envy, Schoeck contends, persists even when individuals are secularly or religiously justified, suggesting that the promise of grace for all challenges a sense of justice rooted in envy. Schoeck concludes by examining the modern Westerner's masochistic tendencies, seen in the preoccupation with global suffering, suggesting that this 'love for the distant' may be an alibi for a lack of connection with those nearby, fueled by a desire to preempt envy and legitimize personal good fortune, a need that Max Weber identified as a universal human quest for reassurance.

In this chapter of *Envy*, Helmut Schoeck explores how the eminent—those who achieve distinction—navigate the often-unspoken tensions of an egalitarian society. Schoeck observes a peculiar phenomenon: highly educated and privileged individuals often find themselves drawn to ideologies that seemingly contradict their own positions, such as communism. This, he posits, stems from a deep-seated sense of guilt, a feeling of unease about their own success when others are less fortunate. The intellectual elite, paralyzed by the fear of triggering envy, may even advocate for systems that, ironically, diminish the very qualities that set them apart. Schoeck references Andr Gide's disillusionment upon discovering the stark inequalities within the Soviet Union, a society purportedly built on equality, highlighting the chasm between the elite's comforts and the common person's struggles. This guilt, Schoeck suggests, isn't necessarily about desiring a simpler existence, but rather a hope that a radically egalitarian system will absolve them of their perceived moral debt. He then pivots to the modern manifestation of this phenomenon, noting a growing irresolution in confronting envy, where even the mere expression of envy is enough to trigger a sense of guilt. Schoeck draws a parallel to primitive societies, where the fear of the 'evil eye' held sway, suggesting a regression in modern Western societies where an over-sensitiveness to envy dominates. Examining the autobiographical accounts of Beatrice Webb and Simone de Beauvoir, Schoeck illustrates how even staunch egalitarians grapple with the ethical quandaries of their own success, the struggle to reconcile personal affluence with socialist ideals creating a persistent tension. Like a tightrope walker, they attempt to balance their achievements with their social conscience, often resorting to justifications that, while logical, betray an underlying unease. Schoeck then introduces Arthur Koestler's insight: the socialist zeal may originate from a yearning to realize a just society in the abstract, compensating for the unattainable justice in personal life. He emphasizes that striving for a society devoid of envy is not only unrealistic but also potentially destructive, stifling innovation and progress. The author argues that the imperative to 'be oneself' is often suppressed by the fear of provoking envy, leading to a culture of conformity. He references David Riesman's 'other-directed person' as an example of this envy-avoidance behavior, where individuals prioritize fitting in over expressing their true selves. Schoeck concludes by suggesting that while modesty is a virtue, the manipulation of envy-avoidance can be exploited by those in power to enforce levelling measures and control society, noting that the modern undermining of talent stems from deeper inhibitions, more pronounced in rural societies than industrial ones.

Helmut Schoeck embarks on a thought experiment, questioning what a society truly free from envy would resemble, immediately dismissing simplistic notions of mere levelling. He points out that material inequalities, though seemingly problematic, often serve as a crucial buffer, diverting envy from more personal and potentially violent comparisons. To envision this utopia, Schoeck emphasizes it wouldn't be a place devoid of a sense of injustice, but rather one where equality is so deeply ingrained that any deviation is immediately apparent and unacceptable. He then turns our gaze towards an existing model: the Israeli kibbutz, a social laboratory deliberately founded on socialist ideals. These communities, in their pursuit of absolute equality, reveal a fundamental tension: while striving for a society without envy, they often inadvertently amplify it through intense scrutiny and the suppression of individuality. Schoeck notes the irony that the kibbutz, in its attempt to create a superior society, relies heavily on the achievements of more individualistic societies, highlighting the inherent paradox of utopian aspirations. He observes that even in these close-knit communities, the problem of authority emerges, as those in leadership positions are met with suspicion and mistrust, creating a cycle of resentment and avoidance. The dream of equality, it turns out, can cast a long, restrictive shadow, inhibiting innovation and personal expression. Schoeck illustrates this with the example of privacy, noting how the fear of arousing envy can lead to a pervasive lack of solitude, even in cultures that otherwise value it. He references Martin Buber's vision of a community where everyone is constantly accessible, questioning whether such a state is desirable or even achievable. Ultimately, Schoeck argues that true freedom from envy is not a societal problem to be solved, but an individual task, a matter of personal resilience and self-awareness. He cites examples of individuals who have managed to overcome envy, not through societal engineering, but through inner transformation. Schoeck suggests that while societies may attempt to mitigate the effects of envy, the underlying capacity for it remains, a constant reminder of the complexities of human nature, a reminder that the utopian dream of a society redeemed from envy is likely to remain just that—a dream, forever shimmering on the horizon.

Helmut Schoeck, in his exploration of envy, confronts a paradox: socialism, often seen as morally evolved, echoes primitive envy where equality is prized even in scarcity. He argues that economic expansion hinges on neutralizing social envy through clear laws and beliefs, allowing success without guilt. The rise of consumerism, with its focus on individual achievement through effort, once diminished envy's hold, but Schoeck warns against modern doctrines that legitimize envy as a basis for economic policy. Such approaches, fueled by resentment and Schadenfreude, distract from individual potential and exacerbate the very emotions they aim to quell. Consider Sartre's rejection of the Nobel Prize, or a theologian's call for collectivism; Schoeck suggests these seemingly disparate stances can converge into policies driven by a desire to assuage the envy of the less well-off, even at the expense of overall prosperity. This sensitivity to others' envy is so ingrained, he notes, that concessions made to it are often misconstrued as both morally superior and expedient. The allure of revolutionary messianism, whether Marxist or socialist, lies in its appeal to a primal fear of the envious, resurrecting the primitive notion that another's prosperity inherently diminishes one's own. Schoeck then dissects the economic thinking of envy-ridden societies, like the Dobu Islanders, who perceive resources as strictly limited, fostering accusations of theft against those who excel. This mentality, he contends, mirrors the starting point for socialist and progressive economic doctrines, representing a regression to a childish stage of economic thought. Welfare economics, aiming for the least possible envy, may inadvertently prioritize preventing the greater prosperity of a few over the overall well-being of all. E.J. Mishan's survey highlights the idea that subjective well-being is often prejudiced by the income groups above, leading to calls for progressive income tax to placate lower-income groups. Schoeck cautions against overlooking the envy directed at those valued for their functional importance in society, evidenced by symbols of status. He pivots to private property, challenging the notion that it's a late development by pointing to animal behavior and observations of children spontaneously claiming ownership even in communal settings. The very young, like those in kibbutzim, show innate desires for ownership, suggesting it's a primary, natural phenomenon, not merely a societal construct. The author paints a picture of children, in communal nurseries, squabbling over toys, their cries of "It's mine!" piercing the utopian ideal. Schoeck concludes that abolishing private property may not eradicate the underlying drives and characteristics associated with it, merely shifting the focus of ownership to the collective level. He critiques the idea that solving the problems of property ownership is as simple as abolishing individual ownership. Even Semichastny, a Soviet official, recognized the deeply ingrained nature of private property, proposing rental shops as a way to introduce the concept of "ours" rather than "mine." Ultimately, Schoeck suggests that the critique of property often overlooks the pride and greed that can exist within a small collective, potentially exceeding that of an individual. He questions the practicality and health of a society that constantly suppresses the natural urge for property, potentially leading to resentment and bitterness, a world forever drawing a boundary between thine and mine.

In his exploration of envy, Helmut Schoeck directs our attention to social indignation, that potent emotional charge ignited by perceived injustices in the distribution and use of resources. He begins by noting the surprisingly persistent critique of capitalism centered on the destruction of food, a sentiment vividly illustrated by Arthur Koestler's conversion to communism, fueled by the American policy of destroying food stocks during the Depression. Schoeck, however, complicates this narrative. He observes that similar indignation is strangely absent when private interests, such as strategically timed strikes, disrupt supply chains, causing waste and hardship, a discrepancy that highlights our selective outrage. The author then reveals that the destruction of provisions isn't unique to any one economic system; even socialist economies, like Ghana in 1964, have resorted to such measures to manipulate prices. Robert E. Lane's research further underscores this point, illustrating how egalitarian pressures in controlled economies can lead to the spoilage of goods rather than allowing unequal distribution, a stark example being the British Ministry of Food's prohibition of Devonshire cream production. Schoeck then pivots to the deep-seated aversion to wasting food, particularly bread, suggesting it stems not merely from avarice but from a primal fear of starvation, perhaps even rooted in our prehuman past. He contrasts our discomfort with discarding bread to our nonchalance about wasting water, pointing out that we often fear destroying the symbol, not the substance. This leads to a deeper question: Is it fear of the envy of the gods, a pre-Christian anxiety, that makes us hesitate before throwing away a stale loaf? The author then shifts to the indignation aroused by individual precautions against potential disasters, noting that such foresight can provoke animosity from those who fear it will attract misfortune. He illustrates this with the anecdote of a European intellectual who, in the 1950s, arranged for food parcels to be sent to him after a hypothetical Third World War, an act that triggered surprising outrage among his peers. Schoeck concludes by arguing that the more someone prepares for a potential fellowship in misfortune, the more envy they incur, while present luxuries are often met with less indignation. He posits that success in power politics hinges on manipulating this vulnerability, this primal anxiety about relative deprivation. The manipulators smile, knowing that everyone, from the lowest rungs of society to the highest, fears the envy of those they perceive as inferior, a fear that is a constant throughout cultural development. Ultimately, Schoeck suggests that this unease, this sense of guilt about being better off than others, is an indelible part of the human condition, a primeval motive that, though sometimes tempered by social progress, always returns, like a persistent echo in the halls of our social interactions.

Helmut Schoeck delves into the unsettling alliance between envy and taxation, revealing how societies, democratic and dictatorial alike, have historically exploited the green-eyed monster to ensure fiscal compliance. He begins by noting how even in the United States, despite the confidentiality of tax returns, a sense of mutual envy is subtly cultivated among taxpayers, each watching the other. Schoeck shines a light on the U.S. Internal Revenue Service's practice of publicizing rewards to informers, a morally questionable tactic that weaponizes envy. Bentham's suggestion that the state should craft taxes to exploit envy as a cost-effective watchdog is discussed, illustrating a long history of deliberately harnessing this destructive emotion for state purposes. Schoeck then transports us to Swiss communities where tax returns are public record, even highlighting a village where schoolchildren peddle lists of residents' income and assets, turning envy into a local pastime. Here, a vivid image emerges: neighbors whispering, comparisons drawn, the air thick with judgment, all fueled by the numbers on a page. The author challenges the notion that progressive taxation is driven by a genuine sense of justice, citing research suggesting that even the poorest citizens find confiscatory tax rates unimaginable, questioning whose envy such policies are meant to appease. Schoeck argues that extreme progressive taxation, often championed by intellectuals, is more about symbolic equality and redistributing power than actual fiscal necessity, pointing out that the power wielded by tax policy experts far outweighs that of wealthy individuals. He draws a parallel between modern taxation and the muru attack of the New Zealand Maori, where any deviation from the norm could trigger a communal plundering, suggesting that punitive taxation echoes primitive impulses rather than reflecting social progress. Schoeck underscores that while the Maori had a clear concept of private property, the institution of muru created an environment where no one could truly count on keeping anything, thereby stifling incentive. The author concludes with a warning: by legitimizing and activating envy, socialist programs risk undermining the very trust and cooperation needed for communal progress, suggesting that suppressing envy is crucial for achieving genuine supra-individual goals.

Helmut Schoeck, in his exploration of envy, turns a penetrating gaze toward social revolutions, identifying how the envy-motive acts as both a catalyst and a consequence. He begins by outlining four scenarios where envy thrives, from full-blown social upheavals to subtle, long-term resentment within specific groups. The author cautions that actions taken in the name of social justice don't always lead to equality, using West Germany's post-WWII equalization efforts as a case where superficial redistribution coexisted with burgeoning wealth. Roscher's historical analysis reveals that revolutions often spring from a potent mix of rich-poor confrontation, complex labor divisions obscuring performance-reward links, and the unrealistic expectations stoked by democratic ideals. Schoeck then directs our attention to anti-colonial movements, where envy, paradoxically, targets the very institutions necessary for economic advancement, like a mob tearing down the scaffolding of its own future. He observes that envy often zeroes in on tangible targets—doctors, merchants—rather than abstract concepts, leading to the scapegoating of specific groups. The author underscores a crucial duality: what is deemed intolerable provocation when held by a few becomes normalized when accessible to many, like the democratization of crime itself. Drawing on Francis Bacon, Schoeck highlights how a government's fear of envy can inadvertently fuel its spread, ultimately dismantling the barriers to insurrection. Spengler's critique exposes the cynical manipulation of envy by revolutionary figures, stirring up simple minds with promises of equality. Barnett's anthropological lens reveals the role of the envious individual as an innovator, a rebel who, by defying social norms, can inadvertently introduce beneficial changes. Schoeck then distinguishes true envy—a paralyzing force of hatred and self-pity—from a more constructive discontent that drives societal improvement. He contrasts the destructive envy fueling the French Revolution, driven by hunger and scarcity, with the more pragmatic envy-indignation of the American colonists, a spark for justified rebellion. Hobsbawm's analysis of primitive rebels reveals the urban populace's focus on extracting ransoms from the wealthy, rather than seeking true equality, a vision more readily grasped by rural peasants. Finally, Schoeck delivers a stark warning about developing countries, where revolutions often decimate the most talented and educated, setting back progress for generations, a chilling vision of potential squandered.

In this chapter of *Envy*, Helmut Schoeck navigates the complex terrain of envy, revealing its paradoxical role in shaping human societies. He begins by establishing that envy's presence varies significantly across cultures, challenging any simplistic developmental model. Schoeck illuminates how a minimal level of envy might be essential for social cohesion, while excessive envy acts as a deterrent to progress, creating an 'envy-barrier,' particularly evident in developing nations. The author masterfully illustrates that the intensity of envy bears little correlation to actual inequality; instead, it thrives in the gaps between performances and rewards. Schoeck points out that envy, like a subterranean force, threatens anyone who dares to excel, fostering a pervasive fear, a fear so deeply embedded that it manifests even in rural customs aimed at warding off 'envious sorcery'. While most view envy negatively, Schoeck argues for its indispensable function, noting how it can both inhibit innovation and fuel revolutionary fervor. The key lies in understanding that envy stems from a fundamental discontent with another's advantages, be it in tradition or progress. He poses a crucial question: is envy purely destructive, or can it indirectly contribute to cultural change? Schoeck proposes that envy, when domesticated, can act as an unofficial watchdog, safeguarding property and limiting the unchecked power of any single group. The resentful man, driven by a 'Now I'll show them' attitude, can be a catalyst for innovation, transforming envy into a competitive impulse. The escape from envy, according to Schoeck, isn't asceticism but rather engaging in value-asserting, dynamic activities. He further explores the limits of envy, questioning why it hasn't reshaped the world entirely. Cultural norms, like envy-inhibitions, restrict its reach, ensuring that society doesn't succumb to its destructive potential. Hope, the antithesis of the envious man's conviction that others are always luckier, serves as a vital counterforce. Schoeck concludes by suggesting that the pressure of envy can even be a civilizing factor, driving innovators to migrate and diffuse their ideas, enriching culture as a whole. He posits that social co-existence relies on mutual control, fueled by the fear of arousing envy, which ultimately led to the formation of larger social groups. Man, as an envious being, paradoxically became truly human. Schoeck underscores that while envy is a constant, culturally creative beings learn to disarm the envious through concepts like luck or political reservations for the unequal. The chapter culminates with a critique of social philosophies that prioritize assuaging envy, arguing that restraining envy is equally crucial for a functional society. In essence, Schoeck challenges us to recognize envy not merely as a vice but as a complex force that, when understood and managed, can paradoxically contribute to the very fabric of civilization.

Helmut Schoeck's 'Envy' presents a chillingly insightful exploration of a universally condemned yet perpetually present human emotion. The book dismantles romanticized notions of envy-free societies, revealing envy not as a mere aberration, but as a fundamental, often subconscious, mechanism of social control and, paradoxically, innovation. Schoeck masterfully demonstrates how envy subtly shapes our interactions, institutions, and even our perceptions of justice and equality. The core takeaway is the recognition of envy's pervasive influence, often disguised and repressed, yet consistently driving individual and societal behaviors. Emotionally, 'Envy' is an unsettling read, forcing self-reflection and challenging comfortable assumptions about human motivation. It evokes a sense of unease, prompting readers to confront the less palatable aspects of their own feelings and the social dynamics they participate in. The book's wisdom lies in its pragmatic approach. It doesn't offer a utopian solution to eliminate envy, but rather provides a framework for understanding and managing its destructive potential. Schoeck's analysis highlights the importance of acknowledging envy, rather than suppressing it, and of developing social structures that mitigate its negative effects while harnessing its potential for constructive competition and innovation. Ultimately, 'Envy' is a call for greater self-awareness and a more nuanced understanding of the complex interplay between individual emotions and societal structures.