In the 1950 movie “Harvey” Jimmy Stewart plays Elwood P. Dowd, a certifiable eccentric befriended by 6-foot invisible rabbit named Harvey.
It’s a light comedy, but at one point Dowd says something meaningful: that in order to be liked, one had to be “Oh, so nice or oh, so wealthy.”
On the whole, being liked is a good thing. It comes with advantages such as having a permanent seat at the Cool Kids Table in the cafeteria, being elected president of things, name recognition and so on. Being liked is sometimes deemed more important that good looks for moving forward in life.
In today’s culture, those who resort heavily to social media or seek to make their fame and fortune as an “influencer” work hard to accumulate “likes” on their posts. The more likes the more status.
Enough thumbs up and heart icons can lead to more followers. For those who make their living off the internet, more followers mean more advertising revenue. At its finest, it means retiring decades early.
Of course there is a saturation point for all these influencers. It is a rough life, always having to create something new that others will consume. Every creative endeavor is risky because it could fail and bring down the influencer.
The competition is greater because trends and popularity constantly pivot. One change in our culture and the crowd turns against an influencer. It is game over and they are has-beens that lead people to ask, “Who?” It’s like the Old West where there is always a new kid with a faster gun.
Even for those who are not trying to get rich via social influencing, there is something addictive about their number of followers and likes. It is competitive, sometimes with a scoop shovel full of smugness: “Oh, I have more followers than you and many more likes.” Instantly, they feel like a superior person.
That sort of addiction to risk and success promotes release of dopamine, that feel-good chemical in our brain that shopaholics get after a spending spree, drug
The far greater danger is when someone is so addicted to being liked they will do almost anything to get the next hit. People so desperate to be liked are sometimes willing to trade it for their self-respect. They are willing to sell their souls in return for a short-lasting hit of dopamine.
We can cut corners. It doesn’t matter our age or profession. It doesn’t take great brains to do it because we can always figure out a method.
Years ago, when I was teaching college history, we talked about academic honesty. In short, no plagiarism. Wikipedia was becoming increasingly popular, and it was a shortcut for students who didn’t want to put in the hard work. They could lift out whole paragraphs, change a few words and pass it off as their own.
One of my students apparently did not get the memo on honesty. I caught him when he wrote a term paper that was well out of his league. I asked if he had used Wiki and he was firm he didn’t cheat. “My sister did my homework for me,” he explained.
If they didn’t get caught they got good grades. But ultimately, how would you like to entrust your life to a lawyer or surgeon who cheated his or her way through school, passed their exams and got into their profession? Sooner or later, they will be found out and people will lose respect for them.
Today, it is even easier because of AI, Chat GPT and a host of other programs. Like all clergy, I face that challenge every week. Do I do the study and preparation for the Sunday message, or spend a few minutes and let AI do it for me? Every newspaper writer and editor faces the same challenge.
When we take these shortcuts in life, regardless of the project we are doing or our profession, we lose a bit of our self-respect. We might buffalo others, but we know the truth. As a result, we will forever be looking over our shoulder to see if someone has caught on to us.
Even if we get away with it for years, we know we were a 14-carat fake. Our self-respect is gone. We’ll see it every time we look in a mirror. That is no way to live, and we know it.
The British have an interesting phrase they use to say goodbye to someone important to them: “Mind how you go.” It is more than drive safely, be careful out there or some other phrase.
This is a reminder about making moral and legal choices, and be certain to make the right ones. Your reputation depends on it.
