Who’s Mediating You?
“The worst thing for a writer is to know another writer…” – Charles Bukowski
As artists and creatives, we naturally possess a fear of mimesis (imitation). We want to be original, authentic, wholly unique. How else can we compete if we aren’t differentiated from everyone else? Not only is this fear natural, but it’s also entirely warranted. Plato himself feared mimesis. But what exactly is it? Why is it worth fearing? How can we use it to our advantage?
As children, we learn by watching those around us. How they talk, walk, and do everything they do is eventually how we learn to talk, walk, and do everything we do. We inherit culture and knowledge via imitation. We don’t know what to value and so we look to our families, cultures, and traditions to know what is valuable or worth wanting. This is called mimetic desire.
We perceive those who appear to experience a “fuller” or more “real” sense of being and we wish to partake in this perceived fullness of being, and so we take them on as models or mediators of our desire.
In some cases we come into contact with these models, and they too appear to want what we want. This produces mimetic rivalry, in which two rivals striving for the same object make a model of one another, thereby bringing rivalrous tensions to a climactic point– usually leading to a loss of identity, sabotage, and even in extreme cases murder.
The more that this desire is tied to something intangible, metaphysical– like for instance status, glory, recognition, pride, or similar objects– the greater likelihood of producing pathologies in the individuals involved. Lucky for us, creatives never seem to desire such things as these– do they?
As a burgeoning creative, it is all too easy to become caught up in mimetic rivalry. I have experienced it first hand, on multiple occasions, and over the course of multiple relationships. It has destroyed many relationships, opportunities, and what otherwise would have been good days or years of my life. All due to an unawareness of my mimetic desire.
Example: I arrive to film a punk rock show. Someone else there has a camera. I go up and talk to them, asking about their gear, their work, them, and I’m met with tension– from them and from within myself– which I am unable to explain.They eye me and my camera suspiciously, and I know not why. We are put off by one another. To an outsider we seem like we’d get along great, considering our similar occupations. Over the course of the night I find myself eyeing them, secretly hoping their footage will be corrupted, that I’ll be the sole proprietor of the night’s best video. That I will be seen as more capable, more reliable, more creative than the other camera person. I happen upon a great shot, a great angle, and get situated in the perfect position to film the show. Then, they come and stand just in front of me, blocking my shot, capturing the exact same angle that would’ve been mine. I want to retaliate, but there’s no way for me to do so, other than to return the favor.
Think about it– we are offended when someone seems to steal our style, or copy our idea, or do what we do the same or perhaps better than we do. Why should we be so opposed to the people that are the most similar to us? If imitation is flattery, why does it appear as such a threat?
In the creative field all of this is heightened tenfold, precisely because of the nature of our work. The whole point is to be creative; to do, think, and be what has never been. And so to see someone else threatening our unique position is of course the ultimate offense to us.
Ever since I became aware of mimetic theory, I’ve found myself less likely to be swept up into rivalry. That certainly doesn’t mean I no longer feel mimetic desire, but rather that I am more capable of recognizing it when it flares up. I am more likely to realize who my desires and actions are being mediated by. Awareness of one’s mediators gives one the privilege to accept or decline their mediation, to the degree it is possible.
It is a fool’s errand to pretend that mimetic desire can be overcome by sheer force of will. Even if you could, it is not clear that ridding oneself of one’s mimetic nature would be preferable. Mimesis is how we learn and relate to others. It can only be made more transparent to oneself; steered in more holistic directions.
Even when we think we are going against the grain– “rebelling–” there is a specific paradigm we are defining our identity in contradistinction to. Attempting to be anti-mimetic is perhaps the most mimetic move possible. A child rebelling against the tradition of their parents is still fundamentally mediated by their tradition, just in the opposite direction. The authentic self is a pernicious myth we have enslaved ourselves to.
What should the creative do in the face of our inevitably mimetic nature? Simply put, one needs to become aware of it and take advantage of it however one can.
Survey your personal values and scrutinize them to see if anything snuck in that shouldn’t be there.
Become aware of who you are mediated by. Who do you wish you were more like? Who do you find yourself both interested in and flustered by?
Join groups that share similar goals and values, effortlessly gravitating you where you want to go.
Renounce your desire to be recognized, thereby reducing the potential for pathologies to arise.
Collaborate with those whom you would otherwise wish to compete against.
Submerge your identity in imitation of the masters of old who have been proven to be worthy of imitation.
Without this mimetic nature, we would not be humanity– we would not have culture, or art, science, or anything. Generate awareness of your mediators, and curate them to better understand yourself and your goals. Take what is valuable from them and discard the chaff.
“[I]n the multitude of counselors there is safety.” – Proverbs 11:14b
