Rat Race
Rat Race
Parshas Korach: Mimetic desire and self-actualisation
Why do we wish for what others have? And why are we never satisfied despite getting the object of our cravings? The philosopher René Girard maintained that we both misunderstand what drives our desires and the things we truly seek.
Subconsciously, all man wants is to exist in fullness. We yearn to lead lives of consequence, to leave lasting impressions on reality. Inconsequential existences seem wasteful, so we seek significance that endures after our bodies turn to dust. This innate impulse has driven presidents, poets, conquerors, and kings—even public atheists aspire to establish an immortal legacy. Though they deny a soul that outlives the flesh, they pine for a name that does. It's impossible to resist this existential desire, independent of the material, to be a something. This drive to elevate our being, bolster our identity, and become true selves.
But why do we pursue tangible possessions if our underlying aspirations are abstract and non-physical? Girard presents an unsettling but insightful answer. The coveted object itself seldom stimulates our obsession with particular products, positions, or experiences. In reality, we choose items we want by imitating individuals we consider to possess a fullness of being already. These are people whose identities we long to inhabit. Celebrities, parents, entrepreneurs, or exceptional colleagues qualify as role models. We adopt their passions as our own, desiring what they pursue and aspiring to their values. Girard calls this impulse mimetic desire.
Mimetic desire underpins much of today's culture. Celebrity-sponsored products make sense for this reason only. Consider Nike's widely popular Jordan Sneakers, endorsed by basketball icon Michael Jordan. The slogan Nike initially used to promote them was "Be Like Mike." Offered implicitly here isn't just a pair of sneakers but an identification with Michael Jordan's spirit and stature, inviting you to share in his greatness. There is no escaping the faulty logic at work behind this. We fool ourselves by assuming it must be the acquisition of tangible items that grant our models their fullness of being. To do so, however, is like expecting to become the Man of Steel by sporting a Superman costume.
Korach, our Parsha's antagonist, is also motivated to act. Yet it's never clear what he's after or why he wants it. We know from the Talmud that Korach was outrageously wealthy; one would think such an individual already has it all and is unmotivated by personal gain. Many mystical works attribute lofty messianic ideals to his demands. Korach, from the verses alone, seems to selflessly advocate national equality:
"You take too much upon yourselves, for the entire congregation is holy, and God is in their midst. So why do you raise yourselves above God's assembly?" {Bamidbar 16:3}
But darker aspirations lurk underneath this righteous facade. Rashi, citing from the Midrash, asserts that Korach harboured jealous ambitions for becoming Kohen Gadol, the high priest. The parsha begins with the words 'Korach took' upon which Rashi scathingly expounds:
"He took himself to one side to dissociate himself from the congregation." {Bamidbar 16:1}
Korach sought to bolster his self-conception by differentiating himself from his peers, challenging Moshes' authority and arguing for his own leadership. Yet such a project was always doomed for failure. Even if Korach realised his dreams, he would never have found what he really sought. He didn't just want what Moshe and Aahron possessed; deep down, he was after their essence. He was determined to 'be like Moshe'. In his writings, Kierkegaard ridicules the wish to be someone else. Arguing that nothing is more delusional than believing one could trade his self for another "as easily as putting on a different outfit." So what lay behind Korach's fantasy? We will understand why we fall victim to mimetic desire by answering this question.
The Midrash tells how Korach undermined Moshe by questioning the coherence of the Torah laws he transmitted. Mockingly, Korach inquired, “Does a garment that is all techeiles need tzitzis? Does a house full of seforim need a mezuzah?” There is an unmistakable rationality to these arguments. Yet they are categorically false; Halacha requires a garment that is all techeiles to have tzitzis. And mezuzahs are mandatory even in rooms brimming with sefarim. But where is the conceptual flaw in Korach’s seemingly cogent argument? Understanding how he erred will expose the flawed worldview which left him vulnerable to mimetic desire.
The fundamental failing lies in Korach's premise that spiritual life has a finite and static definition — once a person attains holiness, the journey is over. But what actually makes us holy is imitating God. And since He is infinite, the road to holiness is definitionally unending. We find true spirituality in relentless progress towards the unattainable. As the Maharal frequently points out, limiting spirituality automatically destroys it. Accordingly, techeiles tzitzis form a line leading to the beyond. So too, the doorway's mezuza is an arrow pointing beyond itself.
God crafts human life. The self, our individuated spirit, is the most sublime part of that creation, made in the Divine image. A self undergoing perfection is the holiest entity in existence. But if one feels that holiness has limited boundaries, he will feel it possible to acquire someone else's selfhood as a possession. Such individuals view other people's very being as no less attainable than their belongings. Rashi tells us that Korach envied Aaron and Moshe's 'greatness', but his fatal flaw was not understanding that their greatness was not something that could be neatly packaged into their titles or roles. In reality, their selves were rooted in a place far beyond worldly acquisitions, however sublime.
Mimetic desire can leave us floundering in any corner of life. I've noticed it affects me most profoundly when I imitate my spiritual role models and peers. Whilst mimicking certain behaviours is not inherently problematic, it is vital to realise that individuals' greatness cannot be fully accounted for just by their actions. As an old friend once put it, 'Great people are not mathematical equations'. He meant that I could technically imitate every behaviour or practice of a role model, and I would still fail to become them:
We cannot trade ourselves for another, and ultimately, we will feel sourly cheated by the process.
A famous Chassidic saying reports that Reb Zusha announced, “In the coming world, they will not ask me: why were you, not Moshe, but they will ask me why I was not Zusha". Simply understood, God does not expect us to become someone we couldn't possibly be but holds us accountable for what we could have achieved. Whilst this is undoubtedly true, there is a more profound reading. Even if Reb Zusha had externally accomplished everything Moshe had, God would still ask why were you, not Zusha? Our goal is not to imitate others en route to self-transformation but to connect the within to God through self-realisation.
Good Shabbos, and Keep Pondering!