Chapter 2: Acquisitive Mimesis

As did Girard, I will focus the rest of my reconstruction only on the acquisitive side of mimesis: mimetic desire. After introducing these technical terms properly in their respective sections, I will detail how mimetic desire ranges from physical desire to metaphysical desire (Section 2.1), from external mediation to internal mediation (Section 2.2), and, from the positive to the negative phase (Section 2.3).

2.1 Physical Desire and Metaphysical Desire

The species of mimetic desire that features most heavily in Girard – metaphysical desire – is motivated to acquire objects not for their inherent qualities but to be like a model who also desires or already possesses the object. I use objects here in the broadest sense of the word: materialities, positions, companions, experiences, etc. It is termed metaphysical because the strength of this desire – unbeknownst to the desiring subject who truly craves the object – is not correlated to any qualities of the object and takes upon a reality of its own based on the desirability of the model. It is, in short, deceitful. The drive, in Girard’s own words, “to be what the other becomes when he possesses this or that object”[1] permeates our daily existence, most noticeably in celebrity culture and advertising slogans such as “Be like Mike!”[2]

But we don’t select models randomly nor is it any arbitrary state of being that we want. Girard’s insight is that behind every state of being we seemingly want to acquire – smart, attractive, successful, etc. – lies a common denominator that we are really after: “metaphysical autonomy.”[3] This term may be unfamiliar even to those intimately acquainted with Girardian theory. I concede, Girard only uses this exact formulation in a single utterance: “In Dostoyevsky’s eyes the false promise is essentially a promise of metaphysical autonomy.”[4] When describing the state of being we are really after he, much more commonly, uses “reality,”[5] “freedom,”[6] “self-sufficiency,”[7] and “pride.”[8] So why have I chosen, instead, to use “metaphysical autonomy?” First, the other formulations carry with them heavy philosophical baggage that may be as limiting as they are revealing. I prefer to begin with a cleaner connotative slate and introduce dimensions of this concept at my control. Second, metaphysical autonomy captures the two distinct and, as we will soon see, competing ideals that constitute this state of being – reality (metaphysical) and freedom (autonomy). Third, as I’ve just mentioned, “metaphysical” carries a negative connotation in Girard’s use of “metaphysical desire” as describing that which has a reality that is deceitful, illusionary, or false. This description will also be accurate for metaphysical autonomy – for numerous reasons we have yet to explore, it is a goal that will constantly allude the Girardian subject. Of course, this is just a minor interpretative choice, nothing of substance would be lost if we used any of the other formulations instead.

As should be made obvious by his undisciplined interchanging of these term, Girard is characteristically unsystematic in his use of this concept and never gives a fully formed definition. Therefore, just as we elucidated the form of mimesis in a dialogue with Hume, I suggest that we understand metaphysical autonomy under the light of Hegel. In his famous Phenomenology of Spirit, Hegel describes a hypothetical subject’s[9] journey to realize freedom. In the earlier sections, Hegel’s subject aims to do so by searching for free things externally in the world. Then, the Phenomenology takes a turn, starting from the section titled “Self-Consciousness.” From here on, instead of searching for freedom in external things, the subject itself tries to become free. It is this latter part of the Phenomenology – the subject’s quest for its own freedom – that is especially illuminating for Girard. Specifically, there are three qualities in Hegel’s notion of freedom that help add clarity to Girard’s idea of metaphysical autonomy.

Metaphysical autonomy and freedom are, first and foremost, ontological statuses. Contrary to everyday usages of the word, Hegel describes “freedom” primarily with ontological language, as the “absolute … what truly exists … it is the essence, or, what exists-in-itself.”[10] Alongside this positive definition of freedom as that which is most real, Hegel also introduces an important negative criterion: to not depend on an other. These same ontological intuitions can also be found in Girard. In his main book on mimetic psychology – Deceit, Desire, and the Novel – Girard describes the fluctuations of metaphysical autonomy, in at least three instances, as a gain or loss in “reality.”[11] Furthermore, Hegel’s negative criterion of independence, as will be spelled out in a later section, will also find its way into the concept.

Second, for both Hegel and Girard, this ontological status requires practical confirmation. That is to say, it is not through reasoned analysis that we gain certainty of our ontological status but through practical interactions. In Hegel, this point is exemplified in the master-slave dialectic. The master gains certainty of his freedom not by sitting in a room, philosophizing about metaphysics, but through his relationship with the slave. Positively, the slave transforms the world to be habitable to the master – who, in turn, gains certainty of himself as real because he sees real objects in the world, tailored just for him, that give concrete expression to his being and character. Negatively, the master is not dependent on the slave. Again, this should not be interpreted metaphysically – that the atoms which constitute the master aren’t gravitationally bound by those of the slave – but socially and ethically – the slave does not impose any normative obligations upon the master, he exists merely to serve. The master, for example, can go hunting without asking for the slave’s permission – the former’s ontological independence is confirmed through his practical independence. Just as this ontological status requires practical confirmation, so does it carry profound practical consequences if not confirmed. When practical interactions disturb our freedom, we experience not just a mere cognitive disturbance or epistemic doubt but a deep ethical despair that pervades our being. Hegel says as much when he describes the perilous journey that his hypothetical subject goes through and the series of violations to its understanding of freedom that it will experience “as the path of doubt, or, more properly, as the path of despair.”[12] Again, these observations are echoed in Girard. What caused the fluctuations in metaphysical autonomy I alluded to in the last paragraph are not metaphysical insights but practical, social, and ethical phenomena: the allure of high society[13], “desire and hatred,”[14] and “rivalry.”[15] Furthermore, the absence of metaphysical autonomy is felt so strongly by the subject, that it manifests as none other than the animating force behind Girard’s social observations: shame. Under the light of this second point, it is perhaps easier to understand the ontological status Girard believes we are after as “existing in great measure.”

Given the practical import of freedom and metaphysical autonomy, it should come as no surprise that, third, Girard and Hegel take them to be the foundational end of human subjects. They are foundational, in one sense, because they are the true ends of our actions. Hegel seems to suggest that the utility of the goods created by the slave for the master is merely secondary. What the master is really after is the confirmation of his freedom that these tailored goods provide. As a contemporary corollary, the disproportionate allure of fine dining is perhaps better explained, not by the quality of the food, but the type of social standing we conceive ourselves to have when we are served in such a delicate way. Freedom and metaphysical autonomy are also foundational because the drive towards them are persistent. Put negatively, humans will not be satisfied until these ends have been obtained. But beyond mere persistence, these drives are also immensely powerful. In the section leading up to Hegel’s master-slave dialectic – “the Struggle unto Death” – rivals are engaged in duels where they risk their lives for the sake of their freedom. So it is with Girard: shame is going to reveal itself to be such a powerful drive that, to the more deluded Girardian subjects, life itself will seem secondary to the metaphysical autonomy of one’s being.

Yet, as helpful as Hegel may be, we should delineate two important differences between the philosophers. First, unlike Hegel – who meticulously lays out the criterion for freedom throughout the Phenomenology – Girard never fully articulates what the requirements for metaphysical autonomy are. Indeed, as we work through the contradictions of metaphysical autonomy, we will reveal specific demands, but we shouldn’t expect to walk away with a comprehensive criterion. This lack of a precise definition burdens us with a vast interpretive freedom that we must use carefully. Second, the dialectical journey of Hegel’s subject, however difficult, is eventually successful. At the end of the Phenomenology, the subject understands what the actuality of freedom looks like. While there is indeed a dialectic to be spoken of in Girard, it is a dialectical regression where subjects follow exceedingly perverse ways to obtain metaphysical autonomy.[16] We will see the ideal of metaphysical autonomy altered but never realized. The most important difference, therefore, is this: in the final analysis, the Girardian subject can only be satisfied when it renounces metaphysical autonomy as a goal. Otherwise, in so far as a subject has this ontological status as an end, it will always fail immanently, and experience constant shame.  

Metaphysical desire, then, is the faulty logic by which we aim to resolve this shame when we haven’t yet let go of metaphysical autonomy as an end. We search, however unconsciously, for models whom we perceive to have this elusive quality and try to obtain the objects that they desire or possess, with the unconscious assumption that these objects are what make them metaphysically autonomous. The exact mechanism is this: when I see someone who I consider to be metaphysically autonomous perform a behavior that I take to be constitutive of their autonomy – these have to be significant acts core to their identity – the same behavior is suggested to me, as it always is through the form of mimesis. What’s different, however, from other instances of mimesis, is that this suggestion is not just nudged but backed by the full force of my shame. This is because my shame is desperate to find its own resolution, and is quick to latch on to any behavior that could confer metaphysical autonomy. As an example, if I watch Michael Jordan put on a new pair of sneakers and advertisements convince me that those sneakers are constitutive of Jordan’s greatness, then the act of possessing and lacing up those exact sneakers will take on a metaphysical allure. I will conclude, wrongfully we must add, that my shame will be resolved once I own and put on a pair of those shoes.

Metaphysical desire proceeds through the form of mimesis and is fueled by the force of shame. Because shame is such a foundational force and its ends are so ambiguous, metaphysical desire is infinitely malleable – much more so than the desire for a burger in the example I gave. In that case, the force of mimetic behavior – hunger – is a concrete desire largely determined already by the subject. After all, hunger can only be directed to a limited array of objects, namely, food. The external suggestion of a burger merely guides this desire that has mostly been shaped by the subject. Even before mimesis gave it its final form, hunger is already – to a large degree – determined. Metaphysical desire, on the other hand, is much more malleable and requires more social constitution to give it shape. This is because its force – an ontological yearning – is one level more foundational, abstract, and unsubstantiated than a concrete desire like hunger.[17] Whereas hunger is a largely originally-authored, concrete desire that comes formed already in the subject, metaphysical desire needs mimesis to first give it shape before it can even be a concrete desire. The idea is that the ends of shame are so ambiguous, we don’t even know where to begin. If shame is to motivate our practical activity – and, for Girard, it certainly does – we first need others to suggest a more concrete desire that we can act upon. Whereas hunger can only be directed to a limited array of objects, metaphysical desire can take shape as any desire and be directed towards any object depending on who the model is. If I grew up with a Don Juan as a father, perhaps my shame takes the form of a desire for sexual conquest. If I spent my childhood with philosophers, perhaps my shame manifests as desire to write treatises. If I was educated in Imperial Japan, perhaps my shame takes on the shape of a desire to die for the Emperor.

As these examples suggest, the plasticity of metaphysical desire is how human customs can be so diverse. Yet, it is also what makes metaphysical desire so compulsive and unsatisfying. The malleability of metaphysical means that it is deceitful: we are oblivious that this intense desire we feel for the object is because of our shame and the metaphysical autonomy of model. Instead, we consider whatever concrete desire our shame manifests as to be original and its object to be extremely desirable because of its intrinsic qualities. Unbeknownst to us, what really defines metaphysical desire is, Girard observes, “pride and shame.”[18] That is to say, desire is not concerned with the object per se but what the object says about us: what metaphysical autonomy (pride) the object may confer that can resolve our harrowing sense of shame. The strength of metaphysical desire increases with the intensity of our shame, the degree of metaphysical autonomy we attribute to the model, and the strength of their desire for the object. In reality, and hidden from us, the object itself makes no contributions whatsoever. The canonical example is romance. So often we find a previously uninteresting prospect suddenly become attractive as soon as we find that a formidable rival desires them. This increase in attraction has nothing to do with the prospect and everything to do with the rival and ourselves. While metaphysical desire, from the perspective of the desiring subject, is directed at and responding to some inherent quality of the object, it really is a perverse fascination with the mediating model and one’s own ontological insecurity.

Framed in this light, it is not difficult to see why metaphysical desire will be an immanent failure: what it aims at (an object) and what it really wants (being) aren’t even the same type of thing. The idea is that, as soon as we actually obtain the object, we will realize through experience that it can’t really confer upon us the prized ontological status that we seek. And how can it if what made the object so charming was the model and not the object itself? As a result, the only objects that maintain their metaphysical allure – that we can still believe have the power to confer metaphysical autonomy – are necessarily the ones that we haven’t yet obtained because of their difficulty. This is quite plausible: it is easy for most people to reject the idea that buying shoes is the key to our ultimate satisfaction because shoes are accessible. Anyone who believes so can simply buy a pair of shoes and correct their belief through experience. The belief that financial success is not the key to our ultimate satisfaction, however, is more widely held because the object is much more difficult to obtain and, thus, harder to validate. Therefore, Girard concludes, cultures and people who are primarily motivated by this metaphysical drive often confound the difficult with the good. In its extreme form, this logic leads to the perversions of masochism and sadism which mistake the difficult (specifically, the painful) as the good.[19]

2.1.1 A New Reading

Before we further expand upon the failures of metaphysical desire, let us at least sketch out the rest of our psychological landscape. What is the relationship between metaphysical desire and mimetic desire? Are there non-mimetic desires? 

The popular reading – offered by these commentators[20] and more – identifies three categories of motivational forces or, loosely, desires: instinctual needs, mimetic desires, and metaphysical desires. According to this interpretation, instinctual needs – eating, drinking, breathing, sleeping – are non-mimetic. In the realm of human motivation, they are the exhaustive complement to mimetic desire. That is to say, we are either exclusively motivated by instinctual needs or mimetic desires. Where do metaphysical desires fit in this picture? They are interpreted to be a subset of mimetic desires, specifically inflamed ones – implying that mimetic desire is understood, just like metaphysical desire, as solely a desire “to be” with no considerations given to the object. This quote is representative of the popular reading: “mimetic desire is always a desire ‘to be,’ to exist in greater measure, a desire for an achievement or a dreamed-of completeness that one might feel stands before one but is being held onto by the other.”[21] The transition from mimetic desire to metaphysical desire is understood by this popular reading as one solely of intensification – more shame in oneself, more metaphysical autonomy attributed to the model. What is crucial here, and what I will soon find problem with, is the idea that mimetic desire and metaphysical desire operate on exactly the same logic, in search of the exact same objects – the only difference being intensity. This landscape of human motivation consists of the jointly-exhaustive, mutually-exclusive pair of instinctual needs and mimetic desire, the latter sometimes taking on an intensified and metaphysical form. The popular reading paints a picture of humanity as either engaged with the most animalistic of urges or the most lofty and abstract considerations of metaphysical autonomy. At the same time, it must demarcate the world of objects into two fundamental types: one set – air, food, shelter, etc. – to satisfy our instinctual needs and another set – cars, medals, décor, etc. – aimed at by our ontological yearning. To be sure, this bifurcation seems to be directly supported by passages in Girard like such:

Once his basic needs are satisfied . . .  man is subject to intense desires, though he may not know precisely for what. The reason is that he desires being, something he himself lacks and which some other person seems to possess. The subject thus looks to that other person to inform him of what he should desire in order to acquire that being.[22] 

My alternative reading is this: the realm of human motivation consists of two fundamental drives that have different aims but nonetheless can, and always do, co-exist alongside each other: metaphysical desire and, in Girard’s own terms, “physical”[23] desire. If metaphysical desire is directed at what objects say about the metaphysical autonomy of our being vis a vis a model, physical desire, I suggest, is directed at the experience conferred by the qualities of the object. By experience I mean the immediate, visceral moments of interacting with an object. Or, to put it negatively and tautologically, experience encompasses all the consequences of our having interacted with an object other than what it says about the metaphysical autonomy of our being. The experience of sex could be moments of pleasure or intimacy. The experience of a car could be the utility it provides in saving us time or the delight we find in its aesthetics. The experience of a job could be enjoyable flow states of engagement. Experience is transient and fluid while being is permanent and solid. A narrow but hopefully illuminating way to put it is that physical desire aims at utility whereas metaphysical desire aims at identity. I suggest that any specific instance of desire always contains these two aims – the experiences we hope to enjoy (desire “to experience” / physical desire) and the being we aim to enhance (desire “to be” / metaphysical desire) – each varying in strength depending on the specific desire. Under this light, it might be more appropriate to label “physical” desire as “phenomenological” or “experiential” desire, but I will refrain to stay closer to the original text.

The most fundamental disagreement between these two readings is this. In the realm of human motivation, the popular reading takes the desire “to be” and instinctual needs to be jointly-exhaustive and mutually-exclusive, whereas the suggested reading takes the desire “to be” and the desire “to experience” to be jointly-exhaustive but not mutually-exclusive. Framed as the latter’s critique of the former: first, instinctual needs and the desire “to be” are not mutually-exclusive. One single instance of desire can be motivated by both, as my example of fine-dining suffices to show. We can’t neatly bifurcate the world into objects that serve our needs from those that constitute our self-conception. But, perhaps I am being uncharitable – this is an easy fix anyway. The more foundational critique, then, is this: instinctual needs and the desire “to be” are not jointly-exhaustive. That is to say, the exhaustive complement of “to be” is not instinctual need, but “to experience.” This is evident after observing the many things which desire points to that are neither needs nor being. Basketball is one such example – it is clearly not an instinctual need and, even if it is pursued partially for being, there is a residual that is best described as the “experience” of playing basketball. My contributions, then, are twofold. First, a single instance of desire can have another aim co-existing alongside the desire “to be.” Second, and more significantly, that other aim is best captured by the desire “to experience” instead of instinctual need.

With this new model in view, it is not hard to find where “mimetic desire” fits in the picture. In so far as desire is substantiated through the mimetic form, it is a mimetic desire. Otherwise, it is a – what we can call – “original” desire. Clearly, there are mimetic physical desires, such as the example of ordering a burger – my desire for the experience of food is given shape by a mimetic suggestion. There are also original physical desires: if, after reasoned deliberation, I choose to get a salad instead. And while metaphysical desires are inherently mimetic,[24] we should still permit them to vary on a spectrum between mimetic and original. That is to say, there are some paths of achieving metaphysical autonomy that are mere copies and some which involve more synthesis and, as a result, originality.

This chart represents the full scope of human desires, or, motivations. But, for the rest of the project I will be focusing on the top half of mimetic desire because we are, to repeat, focused on reconstructing the landscape of mimetic behavior; furthermore, the operation of mimesis is so pervasive that even the most original of desires will have, as I have already argued, mimetic traces.

In summary, mimetic desire is a desire that proceeds through the mimetic form which always contains within it, although in varying proportions, a desire “to be” and a desire “to experience.” Contra the popular reading, mimetic desire is not just a desire for being, even though it may contain such ends; that is to say, mimetic desire is not just the same species of desire as metaphysical desire merely less intense. Under this light, the transition from mimetic desire to metaphysical desire isn’t just an inflammation of the former. It is marked by an intensification of the metaphysical dimension of mimetic desire combined with a crowding out of any physical considerations for the object.

The central role which the desire “to be” plays in Girard, makes it easy to overlook the contributions of the object and neglect an entire spectrum of desire. Indeed, the current interpretation leaves little room for the object’s qualities to influence our desire beyond satisfying our most basic of instincts.

If we read Girard carefully, or so I hope to show, we will find plentiful textual support to make the interpretative moves I am suggesting. My strong demarcation between two species of mimetic desire – the physical and the metaphysical – aims, above all, at doing justice to Girard’s utterance, in his first book, that “the ‘physical’ and ‘metaphysical’ in desire always fluctuate at the expense of each other.”[25] Clearly, desire is furnished with more than metaphysical concerns; it also has a physical dimension directed at the “concrete value”[26] of the object. Mimetic desires are always at risk of the metaphysical component being inflamed and crowding out any physical considerations: “As the role of the metaphysical grows greater in desire, that of the physical diminishes in importance … [metaphysical] passion becomes more intense and the object is emptied of its concrete value.”[27] The transition from mimetic desire to metaphysical desire is not just one of inflammation but an extinction of an entire species of the desire – physical desire. We can find similar textual evidence in Girard’s later works. On at least four occasions in Things Hidden, Girard insists that our desire isn’t solely metaphysical, differing only in intensity. Instead, the metaphysical stage is something transitioned to from a distinctly different type of desire altogether: “the desire to acquire … quickly degenerates into what I call metaphysical desire, whereby the subject seeks to acquire the being of his or her model. At such times [and only at such times], I want ‘to be what the other becomes when he possesses this or that object.’”[28] In another instance, Girard talks about “the ‘metaphysical’ threshold”[29] at which point desire makes this radical transformation. In yet another, he clearly draws a distinction between “having objects and being busy with them” (physical desire) with being “taken over completely by the mimetic models”[30] (metaphysical desire). In this particular line, we are given a clue to what this other non-metaphysical desire may be directed towards: “Desire becomes detached from the object, bit by bit, and attaches itself to the model.”[31] As common sense would expect, and as I have already suggested, this alternative desire is one directed towards the qualities of the object; or, more accurately, the experiences made possible by the qualities of the object.

But even beyond these textual considerations, we can embark on an empirical inquiry to reveal the limitations of the current interpretation. Imagine a seasoned surfer, living in a coastal town. She wakes up early in the morning, excited to catch some waves. How do we explain her desire for surfing? The current interpretation only permits us to understand her desire as instinctual – which surfing clearly is not – or motivated by metaphysical concerns. Indeed, she may have gotten into surfing motivated solely by a desire “to be.” As a young girl in a culture that prioritized leisure, she may have been exposed to certain popular celebrities who also surfed, and, in an act of imitation, decided to take up the hobby. Looking forward to her first day, without any experience of surfing or any similar activities, her desire can reasonably be described as largely metaphysical. That is, the strength of her desire to surf is not correlated to the experience of surfing, for she has none, but rather to the autonomy of the celebrities that mediated her decision. But is this still the case years later when she has countless of hours of experience under her belt? To be sure, part of her desire for surfing can still be metaphysical – maybe now mediated by a specific professional surfer. But it seems implausible to explain the strength of her desire in its entirety by only appealing to metaphysical concerns; barring extreme cases, the experience of surfing – the thrill and adrenaline rush – must factor into it as well. As this thought experiment demonstrates, by introducing experience as a legitimate object of desire alongside being, I relieve mimetic theory of much explanatory burden and the charge of implausibility. As generative as it is, the mimetic pursuit of being alone would be hard-pressed to produce satisfying explanations for a whole host of psychological phenomena, such as flow states, which are an undeniable part of human experience that seem to have little to do with metaphysical concerns. By distinguishing experience from being, I demarcate an explanatory sphere mostly reserved for other psychological theories, while clarifying and lessening the burden of Girard’s own. 

Furthermore, there are three central philosophical reasons why the current interpretation can be improved. First, it may lead us to underestimate how problematic desire is. The standard reading differentiates between an inflamed metaphysical desire and non-inflamed mimetic desire, which makes the latter seem unproblematic. Yet the logic of the desire “to be” – which we are rightfully concerned about in metaphysical desire – is already fully formed in mimetic desire. This desire is always problematic because, first, the goal it aims for – metaphysical autonomy – is impossible to achieve for reasons we will explore. It is always an immanent failure. Second, this prideful striving for autonomy is always accompanied by a crippling sense of shame. To be sure, this desire can be instrumentally valuable in providing us with other goods even if it is always an immanent failure – the despairing researcher may be motivated to make productive discoveries which are of material benefit even if they don’t resolve his shame. And certainly, the desire “to be” can be tamed to a point where it is manageable. But this does not change how problematic the desire “to be” which exists within mimetic desire is, even when it is not inflamed. More worryingly, every one of us is almost always motivated by this drive and plagued by shame, however subtly. To illustrate how pervasive the problematic nature of our desire is, Girard called the prideful lie of metaphysical autonomy an “illusion which permeates our world”[32] and the corresponding shame a condition “common to all men.”[33] The centrality of the metaphysical drive in Girard is a reminder of our common fallenness. Just like the Christian concept of original sin, we are almost always plagued by the desire “to be.” We should ask “how much” and not “if” we are under its grasp. By describing metaphysical desire as an inflamed version of mimetic desire, the popular interpretation suggests, even if it does not intend, that there is a healthy species of the desire “to be” and the same problems that trouble metaphysical desire aren’t already contained within everyday mimetic desire. It paints shame as a pathology instead of a constitutive experience of the human condition.[34] My alternative reading emphasizes that there is no unproblematic desire “to be” and no total escape from shame. They can, for the most part, only be tamed but not extinguished. It emphasizes how problematic desire is in and of itself, even without considering the disastrous social consequences it leads to.

Second, and paradoxically, the current interpretation can lead us to overestimate how problematic desire is for Girard. This is because it does not permit, apart from our basic needs, any contributions from the object to inform our desires. If mimetic desire is only a desire “to be,” then any non-instinctual activity must be solely motivated by metaphysical ambitions. And, since this ontological goal is impossible, these activities will be completely illegitimate. We would have to say to the entrepreneur building a new venture, the artist creating a masterpiece, the athlete in a state of flow, and the academic working on a groundbreaking treatise: “the desire you have for your work has no grounding in reality and experience whatsoever and, even worse, what you are really after – metaphysical autonomy – is completely unobtainable. Not only are your pursuits immanent failures, but they are complete failures – you will have made absolutely no progress towards the only thing truly motivating you.” Instead, my interpretation offers: “the part of your desire directed at the experience of practicing your craft can be satisfied, but the hope that you can make yourself real by practicing your craft is an illusion. You will immanently fail at obtaining metaphysical autonomy, but there may be plentiful experiential rewards along the way.” Not only is the former explanation empirically implausible, as I have argued, but it is also deeply alienating to consider our most intimate desires – the love for our spouses, the drive to mastery, the care for our family – as entirely deceitful. This is perhaps why Girard is commonly accused of ignoring the relevance of the object and its contributions to desire. To be sure, there are instances, where the metaphysical component is so inflamed that it completely crowds out any physical concerns – in these cases, the object does not matter at all. And certainly, even our most intimate desires, the ones we consider to be solely “our own,” can and often do have external origins. But even the staunchest Girardian must concede that there is also a wide array of desires where the object does play a significant role. Lest we delegitimize and problematize the entirety of the human condition, we must make room for a species of desire that is informed by the reality of experience.

These first two points can be summarized as such: the standard reading does not problematize desire enough by implying that there is an unproblematic version of the desire “to be”; it overly problematizes desire by declaring that, other than satisfying our basic needs, we are enveloped in narcissistic pursuits of making our being real with no other legitimate ends in view.

Third, and most relevant to this project, the current interpretation precludes any psychological solutions. If, other than a narrow array of instinctual needs, we only have the desire “to be,” and this is as problematic as I have made it seem, then there is no way out. If we encourage this drive, we merely exacerbate the problem. Yet, if we tame this drive, we have no dynamic motivational resources to call upon. The same stroke that extinguishes the desire “to be” would condemn the human subject into a state of vegetation.

For these overwhelming textual, empirical, and philosophical reasons, I suggest that we can best defend the plausibility of mimetic theory by interpreting it to say that we are motivated by both desirable “experiences” as well as the metaphysical autonomy of our “being.” Certainly, the boundary between “experience” and “being” is not so clear. Who we conceive ourselves to be colors our experiences as much as experiences, if ever so subtly, shape our self-conception. But one ought only examine how different the consequences are of, say, pursuing a job because the work is engaging (experience) and because of what it says about us (being), to see that the distinction I have drawn is nonetheless meaningful as a heuristic, especially at the extremes. 

To be sure, those critical of my interpretive suggestions can point to a number of considerations, textual and philosophical, that appear to justify their skepticism. Philosophically, Girard has always rejected the Romantic depiction of spontaneous desire and the enlightenment’s concept of the self-sufficient, rationally-directed individual. By introducing original and physical species of desire, I seem to be, at the very least, betraying the extent to which Girard insisted that we are mimetic, relative, and social creatures. After all, aren’t I just promoting “the lie of spontaneous desire … [defending] the same illusion of autonomy to which modern man is passionately devoted”[35]? Textually, Girard often makes claims such as “imitative desire is always a desire to be another”[36] which seemingly precludes any contribution from the object whatsoever.

To the textual critique, I respond that my emphasis on physical desire as a central interpretive device is indeed not positively supported by every utterance Girard makes on the matter. But it can be made consistent if we consider that on at least three occasions[37] Girard concedes that he often uses “desire” or “mimetic/imitative desire” when he is referring specifically to “metaphysical desire.” Claims about desire’s sole metaphysical origin that seem total prima facie, like the quote provided, is only meant to apply to metaphysical desire. Another path of resolution, for utterances like this is to take “always” to mean “present but not necessarily all-encompassing.” That is to say, mimetic desire always has a component of the desire to be, but it is not necessarily just the desire to be.

To the philosophical critique, I respond that even if I have limited the extent to which we are mimetic in the realm of human motivation, I have not taken away the possibility that specific social conditions can inflame our desires such that it becomes exclusively metaphysical and mimetic. In other words, I have not limited the extent to which the desire “to be” can influence society, and have kept the integrity of Girard’s social conclusions intact.

Furthermore, mimesis still permeates the landscape of desire, as I have painted it, for three key reasons. First, desire is always constituted by both metaphysical and physical considerations, what varies is the proportion. Even a (seemingly) physical activity as drinking water may be embellished, ever so slightly, with metaphysical conceptions of how our favorite celebrity athletes replenish themselves.[38] Desire will always be somewhat mimetic because there will almost always be a metaphysical component that is inherently mimetic. Second, there are traces of mimesis even within original physical desires. This is because experiences are constituted by contributions from both us as well as qualities of the object. Specifically, our interpretations of the world radically change the nature of our experience and what we desire. Holding the view that “cows are sacred” would change our original physical desire for beef as much as the attitude “the purpose of life is leisure” may enhance our experience of surfing. Interpretations alter the landscape of experiences. Since they, in no small part, have mimetic origins – that is to say many of them are adopted through imitation – even our original, physical desires are mimetic, albeit through a more indirect route. Under this light, mimesis is not everything, but everything is mimetic. That is to say, mimesis is not the core mechanism behind every psychological phenomenon, but it permeates all of our capacities. Thirdly, recognition is an experience we desire. The pursuit for recognition will involve me mimetically inhabiting the minds of others to understand their values so that I can pursue the objects they deem worthy of recognition. The point I am trying to make is this: the desire for the experience of receiving recognition – even though it is an original physical end – requires us to use our mimetic capacities. With these three moves, I hope to have shown that my interpretation has not limited the extent to which our motivational resources our mimetic. On the contrary, it shows how fundamental and permeated mimesis is as well as the varied forms it can take.

2.1.2 Mimesis and Recognition

The intuition behind my last defensive move, however, raises an important objection to Girard we must now turn to. This objection is not, as the ones I have been diffusing are, on the plausibility of Girard’s psychological observations, but rather their originality. Namely, in a philosophical canon that has not withheld ink on the centrality of recognition for human beings, what does Girard’s mimetic account have to offer? Prima facie, it seems that instances of imitation can be more elegantly explained, with less philosophical baggage and assumptions, by understanding mimesis as merely a stratagem to win recognition. To defend Girard’s originality against this intuition, we will now put him in dialogue with Rousseau. Rousseau’s proximity with Girard makes him a particularly threatening recognition theorist and one who, through this dialogue, will illuminate the role that recognition plays in mimesis and vice versa.

Rousseau differentiates between two primary species of human motivations: amour-propre and amour de soi.[39] For our purposes, it is sufficient to understand amour de soi as encompassing the passions which aim at our self-preservation – food, shelter, sex, etc. – it is a motivation we share with animals.[40] Amour-propre, on the other hand, is concerned with others’ judgements of us or, in Rousseau’s own words, it yearns “to have a position, to be a part, to count for something.”[41] It is a desire for recognition, specifically, two distinct species of recognition: respect and esteem.[42] Respect is a recognition of one’s legitimacy: that one is morally worthy and that one’s ends deserve consideration. Respect is what underlies, say, human rights – it is a status we confer upon all subjects who meet some general criteria. Esteem, on the other hand, is a recognition of one’s desirability: that one is excellent at what one does, often that one is better than others, and that one is worthy of praise and emulation. Esteem is what underlies, say, academic awards – it is a status we confer upon a specific subject in proportion to their particular qualities and achievements. Importantly, and what will prove so threatening to Girard, the ultimate end which amour-propre seeks is not a mere cognitive confirmation that one is recognized nor a fleeting feeling from being respected or esteemed but an existential confirmation of our reality.[43] In other words, when we are seeking recognition, what we are really after is for others to confirm our being as real. Furthermore, just as mimetic desire is for Girard, amour-propre, for Rousseau, is both the characteristic that defines humanity as well as the constitutive psychological motor behind our social ills as well as our collective achievements.[44]  To this drive, Rousseau ambitiously claims, “we owe what is best and worst among men: our virtues and our vices, our sciences and our errors, our conquerors and our philosophers.”[45] Even stronger, the capacities which we often consider constitutive of humanity – morality, freedom, rationality, even subjectivity itself – are all, in some sense, made possible by amour-propre.[46]

The first and most obvious threat, then, are the similar roles which mimetic desire and amour-propre play in their respective theoretical systems. Both are psychological mechanisms that define the human condition, aimed at relative goods, mediated by others, and responsible for the best and worst of humanity. This superficial similarity must be what hastens commentators to conclude (wrongfully I will show) that mimetic desire “is just another name for Rousseau’s amour propre.”[47] This concern is fairly easy to assuage: despite their similar roles in social theory, the aims and logic of both are fundamentally different. The Rousseauian subject aims to be recognized, its success is dependent upon winning the recognition of others. The Girardian subject, on the other hand, desires a specific object that is indeed mediated by an other, but one whose recognition is irrelevant. After all, when people are mimetically compelled to buy Michael Jordan’s shoes, they aren’t deluded in thinking that Jordan himself will personally recognize them in any way. The logic of mimetic desire, however deceitful, is that the mere possession of the object is enough to confer metaphysical autonomy with or without explicit recognition from the model. A canonical defense would be to point to figures such as Don Quixote[48] whose pursuits are rarely accompanied by any observers to even confer esteem – with whatever few observers present offering more derision than esteem. In these circumstances, it is more plausible to understand Don Quixote as gaining metaphysical desire for the deeds of Amadis of Gaul rather than pursuing external recognition.

The task to defend Girard becomes much harder, however, when we permit amour-propre to be directed by an internal form of recognition. Rousseau seems to suggest, even if he does not develop this point fully, that we tend to take on the normative judgements and perspectives of others, collecting them into an “inner observer.”[49] Amour-propre desires the recognition coming from this inner observer who resides within us but whose origins are nonetheless foreign as much as it does from real, external others. In other words, certain acts that appear internally motivated without the support of any external forms of recognition still retain characteristics of being observed and recognized by an other – they are still motivated by a desire for recognition. Don Quixote may have internalized the values of Amadis of Gaul to form an inner observer, the rebuttal goes, that motivates through recognition albeit not in the traditional, external way. To this, the Girardian must concede: the internalization of normative attitudes does indeed encompass a great deal of mimetic phenomena. But, the form of mimesis, as a theory of agency, is more fundamental as it explains the precise mechanism by which this inner observer is formed. Framed as a critique: it is simpler and cleaner to think of this process as simply internalizing normative values through mimesis than a roundabout description of forming some unnecessarily complex inner observer. Furthermore, mimesis also explains the acquisition of many behaviors that are not normative attitudes (e.g. patterns of speech) that are poorly explained by a pursuit for recognition, even in an internal form. Therefore, mimesis underlies, encompasses, explains, and expands the scope of Rousseau’s inner observer as it did for Hume’s sympathy.

More crucially, Girard would add, to understand this process of internalization as a pursuit of recognition, while not wrong per se, does not place enough emphasis on what the human subject is really after: the ontological status of our being. This is because, for Girard, the desire for recognition is fully explained and fueled by our desire for metaphysical autonomy. Therefore, it would be misleading to discuss the former as an autonomous desire without the latter in view.

To fully develop this point we need to uncover the precise relation between recognition and metaphysical autonomy in Girard by turning to his discussion of the coquette in Things Hidden. The coquette – a seductive woman who basis her identity and worth on her ability to charm men – achieves metaphysical autonomy to a certain degree: Girard describes her as having “self-sufficiency.”[50] Her success – however limited as we will soon find it to be – is because she has a “desire of the self for the self.”[51] What Girard means is that she is able to affirm her own sexual desirability or, using a concept we have already developed, esteem herself. This self-directed esteem is what makes the coquet, to some degree, metaphysically autonomous. Why is that? Girard does not give an explanation but we can reconstruct one for him. First, I remind the reader that it is the desire from a metaphysically autonomous model which gives objects an ontological prestige or, as Girard puts it, what “transforms [an] object into something that appears super-abundantly real.”[52] If desire is the authority through which metaphysical autonomy is conferred upon objects, then it requires little strain to see esteem – which can be understood as an abstract species of desire that confirms an other’s desirability – as having the same authority for subjects. We gain metaphysical autonomy by being desired or, more generally and abstractly, esteemed. Second, what is equally as important is that the coquette does not esteem or desire anyone or anything else. The only species of desire she has is directed at herself, a “circular desire that never gets outside itself.”[53] The idea here is this: if my desire pursues an external object that I consider to have reality, then I am, at the same time, alienating and projecting this coveted ontological status externally upon that object. Yet, by directing her desire only towards herself and not showing interest in anything external – this is what Girard meant by her “indifference”[54] – the coquette is unalienated and affirms her being and her being alone as the locus of worth and reality.

We can only speak of a proper desire for recognition, however, after Girard’s next move: the coquette is only able to desire herself in this way because she attracts a suitor that desires her. What Girard has in mind is the idea that we can only convincingly and sustainably hold a certain self-conception if that self-conception is also held by others. If everyone tells us that we are ugly, we are still free to believe that we are sexually desirable, but that belief will be deficient, unstable, lack a degree of reality, and ultimately unable to confer the ontological status that we seek. Put more generally, we can only manifest a behavior with certainty and confidence if it proceeds through the form of mimesis – if we can call to mind an external instance of said behavior that originates from an other. In these cases, we act more assuredly from a larger “we” and not just from a single “I.” I will not attempt a systematic defense of this claim but merely direct the curious reader to examine instances where we seem to act the most confidentially and easily: singing in a church choir, cheering on a sports team in a large crowd, chanting in a ceremonial ritual, etc. The assumption I hope to have teased out of Girard is that the form of mimesis not only provides suggestions for behavior but also imbues behavior with an added degree of confidence and certainty. Thus, while the suitor’s desire may be helpful for the coquette’s autonomy in and of itself – as esteem confirming the desirability of her being – its primary import is instrumental: it “offers her a form of desire she can copy … The flame of coquetry can only burn on the combustible material provided by the desires of others.”[55] And just as the coquette’s self-directed desire is made possible by the suitor’s desire, so is the suitor’s desire by the coquette’s desire. Girard explains that indifference and narcissism – even, or maybe especially, when feigned – are such common tools of seduction because they project an immense desire towards oneself for others to imitate. Consider the inverse case: if the coquette does not have such a strong, narcissistic self-directed desire, the suitor’s desire would be just as ungrounded and unconfident: “If even she does not think of herself so highly, why ought I?”

The picture Girard paints is one of dual dependency: the suitor is all the more enthralled with the coquette because she seems self-sufficient and indifferent, but she can only be so because the suitor’s intense desire reinforces this self-view. For this reason, Girard, in a surprising twist, concludes that the coquette “has no more self-sufficiency than the man who desires her.”[56] The idea must be this: metaphysical autonomy has two related but fundamentally contradictory aims. One is reality – a sense that we exist – which is conferred by esteem. But the other, which the coquette lacks, is freedom and self-sufficiency. The strength of her self-directed desire and, thus, reality is dependent on the inbound desire from the suitor. To maintain her prized ontological position, she must continue to enthrall the suitor. “Her self-sufficiency would fall to pieces if she were wholly deprived of admiration” and, thus, it is not, in the fullest sense, self-sufficient.[57] In the final analysis, esteem does not grant us the metaphysical reward in its entirety. In fact, there is a sense in which it takes us further away from it.

This new stratagem to achieve metaphysical autonomy – in Girard’s own words, to set up a “dazzling illusion of a self-sufficiency that we shall believe in a little ourselves if we succeed in convincing the other person of it”[58] – is fundamentally different than the logic of pursuing metaphysically alluring objects we previously went over. What I hope to have shown is that Girard derives the logic behind the desire for recognition solely from the mimetic pursuit of metaphysical autonomy. Put simply, for Girard, we desire recognition not for its own sake but primarily because it mimetically enables us to affirm our reality in a confident, non-delusional way. Certainly, I am not claiming that this line of thinking is completely original to Girard. Rousseau, as I have mentioned already, concedes that recognition’s ultimate end is to confirm our reality; he was also aware and deeply concerned about how our desire for recognition threatens our independence.

Despite this proximity – and to answer our motivating question directly – here is what I think Girard has to add to a recognition theorist like Rousseau. Girard is not concerned with the desire for recognition but the mimetic pursuit of metaphysical autonomy. This pursuit, as I have already shown and will continue to develop, can operate on many different logics. One such logic is the internalization of external behaviors that we consider constitutive to the model’s autonomy – I have argued that this logic underlies, encompasses, explains, and expands upon Rousseau’s inner observer. Another such logic is the desire for recognition we have just been developing. The first contribution Girard makes, then, is to uncover the deeper psychological capacities (mimesis) and motivational force (metaphysical autonomy) at play behind Rousseau’s external and internal pursuits of recognition. Second, and more substantively, by inquiring into the rules that govern metaphysical autonomy, Girard is able to uncover the logic behind a broader range of social phenomena that are related to but can’t be adequately explained by recognition. One such logic is masochism and sadism that I have already explained; another is mimetic rivalry which we will soon turn to. Girard would place these phenomena alongside the desire of recognition as stratagems to acquire metaphysical autonomy that operate on mimesis. And given how these stratagems are commensurable – they are after the same thing, operating on the same capacity after all – the Girardian challenge posed to Rousseau is that one cannot fully understand the workings of recognition without also grasping these other logics. To put it critically, Rousseau describes the existential sense we are searching for in the game of recognition too thinly: simply as a confirmation of our reality in the eyes of others.  That is to say, the very act of being recognized offers, one-to-one, this existential reward of being confirmed as real in the eyes of others. While Rousseau demarcates two species of rewards, one existential and one emotive, he makes them to be two sides of the same coin. Girard further differentiates these two species of rewards while acknowledging the relationship between them. By giving metaphysical autonomy a more independent and fundamental sphere of existence, Girard is able to unearth unique and independent rules that govern it. It will soon be clear how the quest for metaphysical autonomy, independent from the search for recognition, is responsible for so much of the world’s wonders as well as disasters. To summarize these two contributions in a single sentence: by exposing and further developing the fundamental mechanism and motive behind acts of recognition, Girard uncovers other co-existing logics that must be grasped alongside recognition in order to fully understand the extent to which we are social creatures.

2.1.3 The Economy of Metaphysical Autonomy

This lengthy discussion of recognition is not only productive in situating Girard externally in the larger canon but also informative in answering a particularly challenging question internal to Girard. Why do we only imitate some people and not others? The first answer would be that we imitate those we consider to be metaphysically autonomous. But what makes someone appear to possess this elusive quality?

A satisfying answer can’t be found through a specific interpretation of Girard but can be creatively reconstructed from resources we have already developed in our discussion of the coquette, specifically, that desire (and its more abstract form, esteem) confer metaphysical autonomy. We can conceive of the world as a social graph of desire. The nodes are either people or things and the edges represent desires – in the case when it is from person to thing – or esteem – in the case when it is from person to person. With this, we can paint a plausible developmental picture. In childhood, we are placed in this web of desire and provided with people to esteem and, therefore, considered to possess metaphysical autonomy. These may be our parents, teachings, or siblings.

From here, Girard’s own commentary on metaphysical desire is enough to answer the question. We imitate those whom we esteem, taking upon their desires for specific things and esteem for specific people, who have their own set of desired things and esteemed people which starts the process anew. So, I imitate a certain person, desire specific things, and believe some people and things to have metaphysical autonomy not due to the objective amount of desire they have directed at them but whether the people I already consider metaphysically autonomous desires them. And, of course, metaphysical autonomy is not a binary but a gradient: we consider some people and things more “real” than others. 

This external graph of desire, which changes and varies, depending on the immediate situation of the world is one of three mechanisms that shapes who and what we perceive to be metaphysically autonomous. The second mechanism, we can add to Girard in a Rousseauian move, is an internalized locus of this external graph. The idea is this: being exposed to this external graph over a long period of time, we slowly build up an internalized conception of what type of person and what category of thing has metaphysical autonomy that may prima facie appear independent and spontaneous. For example, a young child may be mediated by Steve Jobs and, over the long run, consider the entire category of “entrepreneur” to possess a heightened degree of reality. Lastly, there are symbolic gestures, such as a humiliating defeat or spectacular victory, which can confer or take away metaphysical autonomy without involving esteem. I will elaborate on this in the next section. Together, these three mechanisms – the external graph of desire, the internal locus, and symbolic gestures – govern the economy of metaphysical autonomy. It should be noted at the outset how subjective this economy is to each individual based on their contingent circumstance.

To answer our motivating question: we are intensely mediated[59] by another person to the extent that, first, we consider them metaphysically autonomous – this is determined by all three mechanisms mentioned above. Second, we ourselves experience a strong shame. And, third, they are close to us in proximity.[60] The strength of our metaphysical desire for a thing then is correlated to, first, the intensity of our mediation by people who also desire this thing. Second, the number of these people. Third, the strength of these people’s desires for the thing. These three encompass the external graph of desire. Fourth, the preconceived notions of reality of our internal locus. And fifth, this thing’s participation in any significant symbolic gestures.

2.1.4 Preference for the Physical

With my reconstruction of metaphysical desire complete, hopefully it is clear why we must emphasize physical desires to defend Girard’s plausibility. What is left to be fully explained, however, is Girard’s unmistakable preference for physical desire – “being rational — functioning properly — is a matter of having objects and being busy with them” – and wholesale rejection of metaphysical desire – “being mad is a matter of letting oneself be taken over completely by the mimetic models, and so fulfilling the calling of desire.”[61] Five unique qualities of metaphysical desire are responsible for Girard’s position.

First, metaphysical desire is impossible to satisfy. Physical desire is satisfied when it is met with the corresponding experience. Of course, one can overestimate and be disappointed but it is, in theory, satiable. Metaphysical desire, however, is not. The promise of metaphysical desire is always a lie simply because what it aims at, metaphysical autonomy, is impossible to achieve. Girard took this as fact, but now, with the resources we have developed in our discussion of esteem, we can better articulate why. Certainly, one can make steps towards the goal of metaphysical autonomy and gain a greater degree. We can either win the esteem of others or of our own internal locus. But the reality conferred to us by esteem, for aforementioned reasons, always implies a dependency on this esteem that chips away at our autonomy. If metaphysical autonomy demands not only a sense of reality but also of autonomy, then it is a lie for the simple fact that the esteem required to bring about a greater sense of reality will, at the same time, rob us of our autonomy. The other stratagems to win metaphysical autonomy will equally be met with failure. I have already detailed why this is the case for our pursuit of metaphysically alluring objects and will continue to uncover new ways in which this ontological ideal is contradictory for Girard.

Second, metaphysical desire is deceitful. Its deception lies in the fact that we always overestimate how metaphysically autonomous others are. We feel that we are the only ones lacking being.[62] I’ll have more to say about this later. But, as a result, whenever we are disillusioned by any specific pursuit we had hoped would confer upon us metaphysical autonomy, we don’t conclude that the goal in and of itself is impossible but simply our specific stratagem of pursuing it is flawed. We come to this fatal conclusion because we are deceived that many others have successfully obtained it. We start looking for new objects to acquire and new models to imitate and end up chasing an elusive quality no one really possesses. Its deceitfulness hides its impossibility and encourages us to go on one wild goose chase after another.

Third, metaphysical desire is relative. Esteem is rewarded relatively, only in relation and with comparison to others. Since the allocation of metaphysical autonomy is so intimately bound with the economy of esteem, it too is relative. With this quality comes many dangers: it could be an endlessly competitive pursuit,[63] it becomes a necessarily scarce resource, and one could improve their relative standing by deliberately harming others, etc.[64]

Fourth, metaphysical desire tends to gain an, in Girard’s own words, “’infinite’ measure”[65] of strength. When we feel like the state of our being, our spiritual existence, is on the line, we tend to pursue objects with a fervor disproportionate to the object’s value. Not only can this overriding power make us ignore other important aspects of our life not imbued with this metaphysical quality, but it also exacerbates the negative consequences of all the other qualities mentioned.

Fifth, metaphysical desire does not fall under the jurisdiction of reason. We can tease this position out through Girard’s discussion of the relationship between war and politics – the latter a social vehicle for reason and the former for metaphysical desire. Girard claims that politics can only control wars of utility that are fought for a specific physical objective in mind. It cannot contain wars of extermination motivated by a blinding metaphysical hate.[66] The idea must be this: politics can only control war if the latter has a clear and rational objective in mind that is subject to the purview of reason. We need only transplant this social insight into the psychological sphere to clarify the relationship between desire and reason. If I desire something physically, there is something concrete I can point to. Reason can examine it, weigh its tradeoffs, and potentially tame or redirect it. The goal of metaphysical desire, however, is abstract and elusive. Furthermore, this pursuit of the metaphysical autonomy of the model is always hidden from the subject, disguised as a passion for the object. Reason does not even know where to begin much less be able to quantify and “weigh” it. Even more practically, metaphysical desire tends to have such strength as to override the dictates of reason. As we will soon see, this specific quality is responsible for many of the terrifying and irrational actions of groups. Without reason to tame and direct it, the only way metaphysical desire can be resolved, if it is inflamed on mass, is violent catharsis.

The careful reader might point out that these exact same qualities of relentlessness, strength, and irrationality are also dispositions responsible for the best parts of civilization. Indeed, metaphysical desire has been an engine of progress as much as a catalyst of disaster. We will push the discussion of the positive side effects of metaphysical desire to a later chapter when we discuss what to replace it with. For the time being, we must continue to investigate how these qualities render metaphysical desire dangerous to the subject and society. It can even suck the mediating model into its sphere of corruption. To this relationship of mediation, we now turn.

2.2 Internal Mediation and External Mediation

The logic of mimetic desire and the form it takes change depending on how desire is mediated between model and subject. In internal mediation, the pair is close enough that they end up desiring and competing over a similar set of objects. In external mediation, the pair is distant enough that, even though one mediates the desire of the other, they never converge onto similar objects. By distance I refer to two specific types. Spatio-temporal distance removes the physical possibility of competition; this I call exposure, or, more accurately, a lack thereof. Social, spiritual, and intellectual distance prevents the pair from identifying with each other and believing that objects which satisfy one will also be fitting for the other; this, Girard calls differentiation. Differentiation is a fundamental belief of the pair’s inequality: that they are of, speaking loosely, different stock and essence. If a pair is both differentiated and unexposed, then no mediation happens whatsoever. External mediation occurs either when the pair is undifferentiated but unexposed or when the pair is exposed but differentiated.[67] Once more, Cervantes’ Don Quixote provides canonical examples for both. Don Quixote’s desires are mediated by Amadis de Gaula, a legendary knight of a time long past whom he identifies with. The pair is undifferentiated but unexposed. They never enter into conflict or rivalry. Don Quixote, in turn, externally mediates the desires of his squire, Sancho. Despite their physical proximity, Sancho fundamentally does not consider he and Don Quixote to be of the same stock: the difference between a learned man and a peasant is too large. They are exposed but differentiated. As a result, Sancho, while clearly being mediated by and sucked into Don Quixote’s world, desires not what Don Quixote desires but what Don Quixote suggests he should desire. Sancho wants to be a governor instead of a knight. Careful readers of Girard might pause on this new species of metaphysical desire: it is desire not according to a model but suggested by a model. The idea here must be this: if I identify a model with abundant metaphysical autonomy yet I conclude we are differentiated, I won’t go about pursuing the objects he pursues but nonetheless believe he has the knowledge of how to achieve my own metaphysical autonomy. As a result, my desires are directed by his suggestions rather than actions. In the final case, if a pair were both undifferentiated and exposed, they would enter internal mediation and eventually compete over similar objects.

Metaphysical desire and physical desire can exist in both forms of mediation, depending on the extent to which one experiences shame and attributes metaphysical autonomy to the model. But internal mediation is much more dangerous because it manufactures this shame and metaphysical autonomy through symbolic gestures within competition itself. In other words, even one who enters internal mediation motivated by physical desire will likely soon be dominated by metaphysical desire. The defining motivational force behind mimetic rivalries, however, is not just metaphysical desire but also resentment. Resentment stems from the last of the four constitutive psychological capacities yet to be introduced: transference. Transference is the drive for the Girardian subject to identify the causal origin of its shame.[68] Of course, this cognitive endeavor carries with it a strong motivational force: deep resentment and hate for what it takes to be causing its shame. I must emphasize that transference will almost always be deceitful because it is only satisfied if it identifies a single source that is totally responsible for its shame. As a result, it tends to over exaggerate the responsibility of one person if not place total blame on a completely innocent subject. When a pair is fueled by metaphysical desire for the object combined with resentment directed at each other, Girard terms the relationship a “mimetic rivalry” – the generating mechanism of violence. For clarity, I will call the period in internal mediation before mimetic rivalry when rivals are still mostly motivated by physical desire without resentment: object competition.  

The process by which object competition degenerates into mimetic rivalry is as such. The subject, imitating the model begins to desire and pursue the object. Because of their proximity – both spiritual and spatio-temporal – imitation is reciprocated: the model becomes the subject’s subject and the subject, the model’s model. As the rivals perform similar actions to procure the object, they become even less differentiated and even more exposed. Metaphysical desire intensifies due to this increased proximity. When one of the rivals secures the object or even gains a slight advantage in competition, the now trailing runner-up will draw three disastrous conclusions. First, feeling a profound shame from being bested, he will conclude that he is worthless while the victor is worthy. In Girard's own words: "The [victor], being closely identified with the object he jealousy keeps for himself, possesses — so it would seem — a self-sufficiency and omniscience that the [runner-up] can only dream of acquiring."[69] That is to say, through this symbolic gesture of defeat, the runner-up is robbed a degree of being that is attributed to the victorious model. This interiorization of shame and external attribution of autonomy is generated by the process of internal mediation itself. Second, Girard continues, the runner-up will attribute the superiority of the victor to his ownership of the object: "the possession of this object must make all the difference between the self-sufficiency of the [victor] and the [runner-up’s] lack of sufficiency."[70] As a result, the runner-up craves the object more so than ever: his shame deepens, he wants to be just as autonomous as the victor, and believes that the object holds the power of the victor’s autonomy. Third, the runner-up attributes blame to the victor and develops resentful sentiments of jealousy, envy, and hatred. Through transference the victor is given a dual character: as ultimately good (because he possesses the coveted object) and as totally evil (because he is responsible for the subject’s shame). Usually, the subject feels nothing but respect and admiration towards the model who mediates its quest for metaphysical autonomy. But, in the case of mimetic rivalries, the subject believes (often wrongly) that the model is either passively withholding the object of autonomy or actively hurting the subject’s being. Resentment, Girard observes, is reserved for those who are “both the instigator of desire and a relentless guardian for­bidding its fulfillment.”[71] Without the former, we simply feel annoyance or dislike and without the latter, respect. Resentful sentiments are ambivalent, containing within it a degree of admiration alongside hatred. Since the victor is, to some degree, blamed for the increasing sense of shame, the logic of metaphysical desire changes as well with the injection of resentment. It is no longer about acquiring the object to have the same being as the model, but to steal the object from the model robbing him of his elevated status in retributive vengeance. One cannot overemphasize the degree to which this new logic of resentment transforms relationships of mediation. If the examples of simple mediation – such as buying Michael Jordan’s shoes – already represent a perverse fascination with the other disguised as a desire for the object, then resentment makes it all the more so. In mimetic rivalry, not only is one fixated on and enthralled by the being of the model, as one already is in simple mediation, but one also wants to change or, more accurately, sabotage it.

Since competition is unstable – today’s victor might be tomorrow’s runner-up – the process I have just outlined can alternate back and forth until both rivals, feeling an intense shame, attribute a false autonomy as well as increasing blame upon the other. At this point, we enter mimetic rivalry proper. I must clarify that internal mediation is not mimetic rivalry but merely a condition where model and subject are exposed and undifferentiated. If, for whatever reason, physical desire dominates and no resentment develops, then the relationship is one of object competition. Mimetic rivalry is characterized by an inflammation of metaphysical desire and resentment.

An example will be helpful to illustrate the wide scope and irrational nature of mimetic rivalries. Consider two friends mediating each other’s goals in recreational weightlifting. Should one friend reach the goal first, the other would, first, experience a shame, however subtle, and attribute greater autonomy to the other. Second, the runner-up would reason that the increase in autonomy must be due to the victor’s increased strength and desire the goal more fervently. Third, the runner-up would, however irrationally, feel a slight resentment towards the victor as if the victor were somehow to blame. I choose weightlifting precisely because how innocuous it is and how the goal, to lift a certain amount of weights – unlike, say, competing over a romantic partner – is not exclusionary but nonetheless can create feelings of resentment through deceitful transference. To be sure, the process outlined here is only applicable to mimetic rivalries and not all relationships. But the Girardian insistence is that if we were to examine our close relationships, many would appear to take on the form of rivalry.

It seems, then, that competition encourages the development of mimetic rivalries in four ways. First, by forcing competitors to perform similar actions – they are pursuing the same objects after all – competition closes the spatio-temporal as well as spiritual distance. And since the outcome of competition is lopsided – there is a victor and loser – it manufactures, second, a sense of shame in the loser and, third, a degree of metaphysical autonomy attributed to the winner. Add to this, lastly, a heightened degree of resentment, and it becomes clear how mechanisms within competition itself transform it into mimetic rivalry where rivals are perversely fixated on each other rather than objects. This is what led Girard to conclude that the more internal the mediation the less freedom one has over what to pursue. Don Quixote’s “distant mediator sheds a diffused light over a vast surface”[72]; Amadis invites him to imitate the chivalric ideal in the abstract but does not prescribe a specific castle to conquer or particular beast to slay. A close mediator, however, usually directs our desires to more concrete goods which only heighten the chance of competition and all the perils that come with it. This entire process of growing resentment and inflamed metaphysical desire is almost inevitable in internal mediation and, as we are now going to explore, leads to violence. Girard observes: “by making one man's desire into a replica of another man's desire, it invariably leads to rivalry; and rivalry in turn transforms desire into violence.”[73]

2.3 The Positive Phase and The Negative Phase

At the peak of mimetic rivalry, rivals hold ambivalent feelings of admiration and resentment towards each other. When admiration takes central stage, rivalry is in what Girard termed the “positive” phase. Resentment may still be present, and even to a large degree, but it is dormant and secondary. The dominating narrative is: “the model is withholding and guarding something precious from me; I must take it away from him to be more like him.” Metaphysical desire is directed towards taking the object away from the blameful model in order to inhabit their being; it is an act of convergence.

But, if resentment builds up enough, the dominant narrative changes to: “the model is intentionally damaging my being; he is evil and I must distance myself away from him.” The subject will conclude that metaphysical autonomy lies not in being more similar to the now devilish-seeming model but rather from being unlike and as distant as possible. But even as resentment becomes the dominant sentiment there is a hidden attitude of admiration because there is an implicit recognition that the rival is powerful enough to have damaged the subject’s being so terribly. Resentment and admiration exist in both phases of rivalry albeit in different proportions.

Rivals in the negative phase of imitation resort to two general strategies. First, one may, in an attempt to distance themselves as far as possible from the model, pursue “false differences” as markers of independence or originality. False differences are objects we pursue and identify with because they make us feel different from the model but, in actuality, neither limits our exposure to nor differentiates us from them. The pursuit of false differences is still motivated by the goal of metaphysical autonomy and fueled by a feeling of shame and is thus a species of metaphysical desire. That is to say, even though the relationship with the model has changed – one seeks divergence instead of convergence – the fact that the pursuit is still exclusively for metaphysical being with no physical considerations given to the object has not. A classic example of the pursuit for false difference is Nietzsche’s analysis of Christian morality. The Christian priests, so Nietzsche argues, do not desire compassion for its own sake but simply because it is the opposite quality of the masters, whom the priests resent. The adherence to compassion is not primary but a vain reaction against the models they loathe.[74] But even beyond the charge of vanity, false differences, by not providing differentiation nor limiting exposure, do nothing to stop internal mediation. In fact, given how radically similar they have become, rivals often come up with similar strategies of differentiating themselves and end up converging.[75] That is to say, the quest for originality often ends in similarity. One ought only look at fashion to be convinced of this fact.[76] Previously, I offered an immanent reason for why metaphysical autonomy was impossible to achieve. Through the mechanisms of mimetic rivalry, Girard offers another social reason for the impossibility of metaphysical autonomy:

Because our desires are always mimetic or imitative, even and especially when we dream of being completely autonomous and self-sufficient, they always make us into rivals of our models and then the models of our rivals, thus turning our relations into an inextricable entanglement of identical and antagonistic desires which result in endless frustration.[77]

Metaphysical autonomy is socially impossible because the more original, independent, and self-sufficient we wish to be, the more we are motivated by metaphysical desire, and the more mediated and external our character becomes. The more real we appear to others, the more we invite imitators and become entrenched in rivalry.

The second strategy in the negative phase of rivalry is to enact violence on the model as retribution. By violence I mean any action intending to hurt which encompasses everything from verbal jabs to physical murder. Violence seems increasingly justified because of these false differences[78]: one perceives oneself as radically good and the other as radically evil. If shame and resentment build up to a certain degree, then they, for aforementioned reasons, cannot be calmed by reason. Thus, violent catharsis often becomes the only way to discharge such existential sufferings. Of course, violence, unless it is total, fails to end the rivalry because it too, Girard laments, is reciprocated: “Everyone imitates the other’s violence and returns it ‘with interest.’”[79]

The thin line between the positive and negative phase of mimetic rivalries explain why conflicts between those who inhabit a close relationship, who have or had shared feelings of admiration are so common and brutal: husband and wife, master and apprentice, Orestes and Clytemnestra, Romulus and Remus. It should be noted that the negative phase is not limited to internal mediation. Although, as I have traced in the last section, the conditions of internal mediation which generate resentment are conducive to its formation. Just as the positive phase can occur in both external and internal mediation, so can the negative phase. In internal mediation, the feeling towards the model will likely be ambivalent because there is actual conflict that both prove the rival’s prowess and blameworthiness. In external mediation, the attitude towards the model is more singular: admiration in the positive phase and resentment in the negative phase. What remains the same between external and internal mediation is the foundational logic. In the positive phase, the lie of metaphysical desire is that if only you secure the object you will be like the model you so admire. In the negative phase, the lie of false differences is that if only you secure the object you will be different from the model you so loathe. One is an act of converging, another an act of diverging. But both are fueled by a yearning for metaphysical autonomy with respect to another person by acquiring some object in response to shame.

Footnotes

[1] Girard, Battling, 31.

[2] This refers to the slogan that Nike used to sell basketball shoes affiliated with the basketball icon, Michael Jordan.

[3] Girard, Desire, 56.

[4] Girard, Desire, 56.

[5] For an example see Girard, Desire, 219.

[6] For an example see Girard, Desire, 109.

[7] For an example see Girard, Things, 370.

[8] For an example see Girard, Desire, 277.

[9] It may be inaccurate to describe the subject in The Phenomenology as “a hypothetical subject” rather than “a series of subjects” especially because the journey spans the course of history and thus its developments clearly cannot be attributed to one single subject. But, for understanding Girard, this however imperfect understanding is both adequate and more appropriate.

[10] Hegel, Phenomenology, pp 25.

[11] Girard, Desire, 85, 208, 219.

[12] Hegel, Phenomenology, pp 78.

[13] Girard, Desire, 219.

[14] Girard, Desire, 208.

[15] Girard, Desire, 85.

[16] What I have in mind here is masochism and sadism as dialectical regressions in Girard, Desire – “dialectical” in the sense that it tries to learn from the mistakes of the previous stage; and “regression” in the sense that it only worsens its condition by doing so.

[17] I am not positing that there are ontological layers of human motivation here. This is a much weaker claim: it is simply conceptually helpful to think of metaphysical desire as one layer more “foundational” than everyday uses of the word “desire.”

[18] Girard, Desire, 116.

[19] For a discussion of how the logic of metaphysical desire regresses into masochism and sadism see Girard, Desire, Chapter 8.

[20] I am not suggesting that every commentator subscribes to this reading – that the object does not contribute to our desire whatsoever – but it is quite a popular reading amongst the scholarship. Reineke attributes the source of desire exclusively to being: “Desire arises in the subject because it lacks being” in Reineke, Transforming Spaces, 40. Doran interprets Girard as saying that mimetic theory entails we never desire things directly for their intrinsic qualities: “René Girard’s theory of ‘mimetic desire’ states that we do not desire something directly, for its intrinsic qualities, but by way of another person” in Doran, Imitation and Originality, footnote 6. Reynolds intends that objects’ intrinsic value never affect our desire: “Human beings desire something not because of its intrinsic value, but because others desire it and possess it. Desire is thus imitative. A thing becomes valuable to an individual to the degree that he or she desires what others desire” in Reynolds, Creative Desire, 175. Buchoul interprets mimetic theory to say that how much we desire an object is solely determined by mediation without any contribution from the object whatsoever: “Girard explains that it is the mediation of a model that makes us desire a particular object and not the alleged intrinsic value of this object” in Buchoul, Nonself, 111.

[21] Oughourlian, Genesis, 19.

[22] Girard, Violence, 146.

[23] Girard, Desire, 85.

[24] The reason for this is because, as I’ve already elaborated, the aims of shame are so ambiguous that we need social substantiation to even transform metaphysical desire into a concrete desire we can act upon.

[25] Girard, Desire, 87.

[26] Girard, Desire, 85.

[27] Girard, Desire, 85.

[28] Girard, Battling, 31.

[29] Girard, Things, 297.

[30] Girard, Things, 311.

[31] Girard, Things, 311.

[32] Girard, Desire, 269.

[33] Girard, Desire, 14.

[34] See Girard, Things, The end of Platonism in Psychology for a discussion of Girard’s attitude to psychological pathologies: he believed that they must be interpreted as a continuation and not a radical break from normal states.

[35] Girard, Desire, 39.

[36] Girard, Desire, 83.

[37] The first instance is when Girard explicitly affirms that desire refers to metaphysical desire: “we might well decide to use the word 'desire' only in circumstances where the misunderstood mechanism of mimetic rivalry has imbued what was previously just an appetite or a need with this metaphysical dimension” in Girard, Things, 296. The second instance is on the next page, when Girard applies that when he speaks of desire he really is referring to ‘desire proper’ which is metaphysical desire: “the ‘metaphysical’ threshold or, if we put it a different way, the point at which we reach desire properly speaking, is the threshold of the unreal” in Girard, Things, 297. The third instance is when, during an interview with Rachel Adams, Girard affirms: “say "mimetic desire' when I really mean only the type of mimetic desire that generates mimetic rivalry and, in turn, is generated by it” in Girard, Reader, 63. 

[38] I have in mind how Gatorade – the sports drinks company – makes advertisements with professional athletes which give even the act of drinking a metaphysical allure.  

[39] See Rousseau, Inequality, 218

[40] See Rousseau, Inequality, 218

[41] Rousseau, Emile, II 160.

[42] For an elaboration on this point see Neuhouser, Rousseau, 31.

[43] For a discussion about the true rewards of amour-propre see Neuhouser, Rousseau,  35, 73.

[44] For an overview of how amour-propre is responsible for producing the good, see Neuhouser, Rousseau, 187 – 190.

[45] Rousseau, Inequality, 184.

[46] For a discussion of how amour-propre makes rationality possible see Neuhouser, Rousseau, Chapter 7.

[47] Todorov, Gaze, 96

[48] I use Don Quixote as an example despite the fact that he is fictional because, first, he is a canonical example used in Girard’s own discussions and, second, it is not hard to imagine a real-life character who at least partly embodies Quixote’s characteristics. 

[49] See Neuohouser, Rousseau, 247. and Honneth, Recognition, 22.

[50] Girard, Things, 370.

[51] Girard, Things, 370.

[52] Girard, Things, 296.

[53] Girard, Things, 370.

[54] Girard, Things, 370.

[55] Girard, Things, 370 - 371.

[56] Girard, Things, 370.

[57] Girard, Things, 371.

[58] Girard, Things, 371.

[59] To be mediated by someone is to desire their being and adopt their desires mimetically. We are mediated by our models.

[60] I will elaborate in the next section, that there are two types of proximity which are of particular importance. 

[61] Girard, Things, 311.

[62] For a discussion on how we mistake ourselves to be alone in our shame see Girard, Desire, 55 – 57.

[63] Metaphysical desire is endless in two ways. First, because it is deceitful, if we accomplish a goal, we will soon become disillusioned by it and start pursuing another goal. Second, and this is the relativity point, goals themselves are not absolute but relative since they are mediated by others and what they have. Goalposts are not stuck but rather move endlessly. The goal to “get a good car” shifts depending on what cars your friends buy.

[64] For the ways that esteem is dangerous because it is relative see Neuhouser, Rousseau, 74 – 78.

[65] Girard, Things, 297.

[66] Girard suggests that the more war becomes motivated by fervent ideology, the less politics is able to control war. See Girard, Battling, 37 – 40.

[67] It’s more complex than this. But because this complexity does not add to the question I am pursuing, I will only briefly gloss over it. There’s more than just being undifferentiated and unexposed as a condition for external mediation. One party still needs to be exposed to the other in some way for mediation to happen. So instead of thinking of this in a quadrant (differentiated/undifferentiated, exposed/unexposed) a deeper analysis would have to evaluate the proximities of each rival to the other and not just see the pair as one entity with the label of, say, exposed. In other words, one rival could be exposed to the other while the other is not to this rival.

[68] Transference is also the drive that attributes a causal origin to the resolution of its shame. It is this positive transference (or, as Girard called it “reconcilliatory transference”) that will form an important part of Girard’s social theory of religion. But in the realm of mimetic rivalries, transference is exclusively negative as shame only deepens. See Girard, Things, A Theory of Religion.

[69] Girard, Things, 296.

[70] Girard, Things, 296.

[71] Girard, Desire, 35.

[72] Girard, Desire, 84.

[73] Girard, Violence, 169.

[74] See the first essay in Nietzsche, Genealogy.

[75] For a discussion of how rivals fail to differentiate themselves in the negative phase see Girard, Things, 300.

[76] For a discussion of how fashion exemplifies the negative phase in rivalry see Palaver, Theory, 69 – 72.

[77] Girard, Literature, 35.

[78] Violence here may have a dual motive. On one hand it is out of revenge for perceived harm. On the other, it could be an act of distancing itself. In a very brutish way, breaking my competitor’s knee or disabling my enemies’ communication satellites are acts of creating a difference. 

[79] Girard, Things, 300.

Table of Contents

Preface

Introduction

Part I: The Psychology of Spirit

Chapter 1: A Theory of Agency

Chapter 2: Acquisitive Mimesis

Chapter 3: The Rescuer of Spirit

Part II: A History of Violence

Chapter 4: Mimetic Anthropology

Chapter 5: Mimetic Theology

Chapter 6: Mimetic Eschatology

PART III: Antidotes to Apocalypse

Chapter 7: Renouncing Violence

Chapter 8: Cultivating Love

Chapter 9: Accelerating Innovation

Conclusion