Why We're Addicted To Other People's Downfalls: Tall Poppy Syndrome, Explained

Tall Poppy Syndrome refers to a cultural phenomenon rooted in Australia and New Zealand where people feel socially compelled to “cut down the tall poppies.” In other words, those perceived as enjoying too much success or public recognition (think of one poppy growing taller than the rest in a poppy field) are humbled by their peers through mocking, criticism, and minimizing their accomplishments (cutting down the tall poppy to achieve a uniform size).

The impulse stems from a deeply ingrained egalitarian ethos, a collective belief in equality that casts anyone who rises above the rest of the field as arrogant or threatening the social harmony of modesty and economic fairness. Similar sentiments can be observed throughout the world. In Japan, they have the proverb “deru kugi wa utareru,” or “the nail that sticks out gets hammered down.”

Nordic countries have The Law of Jante, a social attitude of disapproval toward expressions of individuality and personal success. The United States, however, has always been a uniquely individualist society that celebrates ambition and success, known iconically as the American Dream. Where Americans say “the early bird gets the worm,” collectivist cultures like China warn that “the bird that sticks its head out gets shot” or “the early bird may get eaten.”

Those perceived as enjoying too much success or public recognition are humbled by their peers through mocking, criticism, and minimizing their accomplishments.

In other words, standing out, achieving something singular, and rising above one’s peers have traditionally been celebrated American virtues—qualities to emulate, not suppress. Collectivist cultures and even our more egalitarian Western peers have a social norm embedded in the culture toward envy and resentment of inequality, as though punching up is a way of socially alleviating this inequality.

Even further than that, much like the Chinese proverb, to take a considerable risk by swinging high and being proactive rather than just blending in or accepting your station in life reflects the East–West value distinction. The East values pragmatism, simplicity, compassion, patience, relationships, community, and the greater good. The West is innovative, adventurous, self-sufficient, unique, independent, and autonomous. You can think of Western countries that place great emphasis on egalitarianism as being in tension between these two axioms. There’s a cultural expectation in Australia, for instance, that it’s crude to be boastful.

Downplaying your own achievements in the name of humility makes you unpretentious and a “fair dinkum bloke” who doesn’t look down on other people less fortunate than you. You can see echoes of this in subcultures within the United States, too. In the hood, for instance, it’s a point of pride to “remember where you came from” and not get too big for your britches. Those who leave the hood for bigger and better things are viewed as traitors to be clowned on.

The egalitarian ethos prizes humility and mateship, so success is meant to be earned and enjoyed quietly—invisibly, even.

As The Scandinavian Standard notes, the Nordic model is “capitalist but coexisting alongside a socialist welfare model.” In such a society, “those with the means of production also get the credit for success.” The result, they write, is a culture in which “individuals strive to be financially and socially successful, while also eschewing the self-promotion that often accompanies this kind of success.” The same tension exists in Australia. It’s a capitalist economy with a robust welfare state, which creates an implicit contradiction: ambition is fine, but advertising it isn’t. The egalitarian ethos prizes humility and mateship, so success is meant to be earned and enjoyed quietly—invisibly, even.

Any overt display of status feels culturally gauche, even vaguely un-Australian. This attitude, while it may be an understandable defense mechanism, has never produced greatness or resilience in its adherents. It keeps the envious stunted in their lack of agency and guilts the successful, poisoning their well-deserved good fortune as something sinister. A spiritually communist ethos, even if it’s not literally communist in practice.

Americans Are Starting to Cut Down Tall Poppies, Too

Thankfully, the larger context of the United States has remained unapologetically upwardly mobile, ambitious, and proud of success, which has been historically associated with hard work, intelligence, sacrifice, and conscientiousness. Ascending up the class rank and accumulating wealth generally meant you were creating jobs and providing immense value. Inequality, then, is seen not as unfairness, but the inevitable result of those who create vs. those who extract value. That is, until very recently. Something has shifted in recent years.

Maybe it’s COVID, disillusionment with immigration, or the fact that this is the first time in American history that young people will be worse off than their parents were at the same age, but Americans are growing less eager to celebrate others’ success. Homeownership is out of reach for most young people. The median age of the first-time homebuyer is 38 years old today, versus 29 years old in 1981, and the median home price-to-income ratio has risen from 3.5 in 1985 to 5.0 in 2025. Thanks to soaring inflation in recent years (which has recently leveled off, but the cost of living remains high), many Americans feel financially cynical. They’re unable to afford homes, take vacations, or thrive beyond living paycheck to paycheck.

What’s more evident than ever is just how little patience the American worker has for people doing better than they do in life, love, and work.

With advancements in technology like AI threatening job security and a record number of young single people, it feels like we’re losing our grip on humanity. Men and women are more polarized than ever, to the extent that many are opting out of dating altogether. The simultaneous love and economic recession are crushing the American ethos that by locking in and working hard consistently, you’ll be rewarded for it. And gone too are notions that wealth and status are the rewards reaped from contributing immense value to society, in the wake of crypto scams, online influencers, grifters, and other get-rich-quick schemes that seem to dominate the modern economy.

People look for scapegoats to blame: boomers, women with fake email jobs, a shadowy cabal—having someone to blame is measly comfort when it amounts to the same consequences. What’s more evident than ever is just how little patience the American worker has for people doing better than they do in life, love, and work.

Erosion of Economic Mobility and Social Media Comparison Fuel Envy

Some recent social trends that have led me to believe tall poppy syndrome is well on its way to overthrowing America’s meritocratic convictions have to do with the way that people engage with celebrity culture and, as a result of social media, influencer culture. First, it’s essential to understand what fuels Tall Poppy Syndrome: envy. Not all envy is made equal, however. There’s the corrosive kind that inspires such strong feelings of jealousy mixed with inadequacy that we feel the need to bring that person down a peg.

The other kind of envy, however, is more emulative; when you see something someone else has, you recognize a desire within yourself to achieve new heights; you’re inspired to work harder to achieve the same pinnacle of achievement or to acquire particular coveted possessions. In the context of competitive sports, we can see how the refinement of skill, the pinnacle of athleticism, and the drive to reach new heights in sports run on this culture of “benign envy.” The same can be said for innovation in general.

Arguably, we owe benign envy to some of the most iconic sports rivalries of all time. Whether it’s the three-way tennis match-up between Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, and Novak Djokovic, or Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen, there’s no doubt that these athletes’ greatness fueled their rivals. They wanted to beat them, yes, but there was an underlying air of admiration and respect in their rivalry.

People in American culture tend to feel justified in cutting down those they perceive to be in the class of elites: the ultra-wealthy A-list stars and billionaire entrepreneurs who live a life of abundance and access we couldn’t dream of.

So, benign envy runs on emulation and fuels self-improvement, while malicious envy usually comes from low self-esteem, lack of mobility, and "instead of trying to improve myself because I feel I can’t, I try to destroy that person’s happiness.” You cut someone down because they’re enjoying a state of contentedness and well-being that feels like a spit in the face, and when you’re paralyzed by learned helplessness, you lash out in the only way you know how: spitefully attack them and their accomplishments.

Author Dr. Douglas Garland argues that Tall Poppy Syndrome is alive and well and has been for a long time in American culture; it’s just that it’s mainly gone unrecognized. He argues our tall poppies tend to be high-profile because of the exposure provided by social media and television. Notably, celebrities in Hollywood, elite athletes, politicians, and people who work in entertainment and media more broadly are frequent targets.

You probably see this in action all the time. A hot new up-and-comer in the entertainment industry is at first beloved by all. No one denies their talent, good looks, and affability, but once they get to the point of grating overexposure, a little “too” liked, public opinion turns. This is Tall Poppy Syndrome in action. People in American culture tend to feel justified in cutting down those they perceive to be in the class of elites: the ultra-wealthy A-list stars and billionaire entrepreneurs who live a life of abundance and access we couldn’t dream of.

The Toxic Psychology Behind Schadenfreude

What do we hear so often when a rich and famous celebrity complains or expresses some vulnerability? “Cry me a river.” Of course, this idea that just because one is high-profile, well-liked by millions of fans, and financially set for life, that they now live life on “Easy Mode,” having erased virtually all of their problems, is far from reality. “More money, more problems,” as they say. Given that humans are quite adaptive, no increase in fame, money, or status can provide long-lasting satisfaction. The excitable bliss will peak early but swiftly plateau until it becomes your new normal. This is called hedonic adaptation, and it’s the psychological rationale behind the platitude “money can’t buy happiness.”

The more accurate phrase, however, would be that an increase in wealth does not result in a proportional increase in happiness. Once you have enough to cover all of your bases and live a comfortable lifestyle, and money is not the source of your stress or anxiety, more money makes a minimal difference to your overall well-being. If this isn’t a good enough reason to guard your envy, then this should be: “bad” envy—the corrosive kind that causes you to tear someone down and derive joy or satisfaction from their misfortune, or when someone brings them down a peg—is known as schadenfreude, and it is proliferative online.

Per Lampoon Magazine, “The omnipresence of media and social platforms (as a part of the internet culture) has intensified the impact of Schadenfreude in modern society. Celebrity mishaps, public scandals, and controversies become fodder for widespread amusement and mockery, creating a culture where the misfortunes of others are not just observed but actively shared and celebrated.” Online anonymity makes this behavior all the more irresistible because there’s no accountability for antisocial behavior. Even worse, social media platforms incentivize and reward it via viral content that exposes the vulnerabilities or failures of others by its amplification through likes and shares, providing the cruel poster with instant gratification and incentive to continue.

Perhaps the biggest offenders of this tendency are found on overtly political social feeds. “Political landscapes are fertile grounds for Schadenfreude, with supporters of opposing ideologies taking pleasure in the setbacks of their rivals,” Ario Mezzolani writes for Lampoon Magazine. “The polarization fueled by social media platforms amplifies the joy derived from the misfortune of political adversaries, fostering an environment where empathy and understanding take a back seat to schadenfreudian satisfaction.”

I can vouch for that, and I won’t feign moral superiority; I’m certainly guilty of this myself. But as I’ve grown older and (hopefully) matured, I like to think I’ve outgrown this behavior. That’s because I’ve recognized its toxicity when I notice it taking hold in my peers. Take, for example, this harmless post a mom of four shared to X of her impressively toned physique 36 weeks postpartum after having four babies in four years. She urges her followers, “Don’t believe the lies that having kids destroys you.” The post is wholesome, aspirational, motivating, and reassuring all at once. Yet judging by the avalanche of furious replies, you’d think she’d declared that women hit the wall at 30 and never recover.

So, what’s going on here? Well, it seems a bunch of childbearing women who have struggled with losing postpartum baby weight are watching someone flaunt what they lack. The most obvious flex is her physique, but as you can see from the comments, a bunch of other details of privilege and good fortune can be inferred: exceptional fertility, good health, financial stability, and support to handle four back-to-back pregnancies and “bounce back” every time. A combination of genetic, behavioral, and status markers that register as a subtle act of superiority, if not accusations that, should other women not measure up to her standard, they’ve committed some personal failure.

This is, of course, not really a reasonable reading of the post to anyone with a modicum of self-esteem. But therein lies the problem. The people who are responding that way are the ones most at risk for toxic displays of envy, while high-esteem, high-agency people congratulate her for setting such an aspirational, optimistic example.

Professional counselor, educator, and content creator Dr. Todd Grande explains that schadenfreude tends to be strongest when someone feels inferior, has low self-esteem, or perceives the target as a high achiever whose success is undeserved. Another condition that primes a person for schadenfreude is simple envy. One of the leading theories behind the phenomenon, Dr. Grande notes, is that it functions as a psychological defense mechanism: it protects or restores one’s self-image after a threatening comparison. In essence, it rebalances self-worth by removing the basis for envy. If Tall Poppy Syndrome is the reflex to cut down success, envy is the fuel, and schadenfreude is the reward.

Schadenfreude tends to be strongest when someone feels inferior, has low self-esteem, or perceives the target as a high achiever whose success is undeserved.

But while schadenfreude gives us the illusion of evening the playing field, the schadenfreudian isn’t actually moving up a rank, as Dr. Grande points out. “It may make that person feel better, but it doesn’t offer any improvement. It doesn’t actually make them better. It’s leveling the playing field by bringing a high performer down to a normal level, but it’s not increasing the ability or the skills of the person who feels inferior, so in that sense, it’s really an immature response.” Even more concerning is what it indicates psychologically. Schadenfreude is associated with Dark Triad traits like narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy. In other words, it’s an antisocial trait at odds with empathy.

It is also strongly related to low self-esteem, which predisposes people to feeling threatened by successful people. It should come as no surprise, then, that we’re witnessing an explosion of antisocial behavior like schadenfreude just as social psychologists have been warning that narcissism is on the rise. Evolutionary psychologist Dr. Nigel Barber notes a significant influence seems to be that social media facilitates self-centeredness, self-promotion, and boasting, all the while documenting envy-inspiring activities like exotic travels. Their followers experience FOMO, which incentivizes them to inflate their self-image to keep up with other people’s lifestyles. “Social media encourages people to behave like individuals with narcissistic personality disorder,” he warns.

If social media is fueling both narcissistic and sociopathic personality traits, and we’re seeing a rise in the joy of others’ misfortunes—in a knee-jerk inclination to tear others experiencing joy or success down—then we should be concerned that American culture is under siege by tremendously bad actors. In recent years, culture has taken a disturbing, antisocial turn: young people callously celebrate tragic accidents, murders, and acts of terrorism when they befall the successful.

Namely, billionaires like United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson or the passengers on the OceanGate submersible that exploded at the bottom of the ocean on its way to view the Titanic wreckage. Most recently, we witnessed an outpouring of glee and terrorism apologia in the wake of conservative political commentator Charlie Kirk’s assassination. When ambitious mountain climbers with money take on the task of hiking Mt. Everest and meet an unfortunate fate, the world rolls its eyes and comments, “Deserved.”

Research shows that social media rewards schadenfreude-driven aggression, strengthening in-group identity through public humiliation and making cruelty addictive by removing accountability through anonymity. Over time, constant exposure to this humiliation culture normalizes cruelty, inhibits empathy, and makes people more accepting of real-world violence. This is the true cost of tear-down culture driven by envy and a desire to humble others.

Over time, constant exposure to this humiliation culture normalizes cruelty, inhibits empathy, and makes people more accepting of real-world violence.

Tall Poppy Syndrome is socially corrosive because it posits success as a social liability. When everyone is secretly rooting for the other’s downfall, when people stop sincerely wanting the best for each other, we’re on the path to a low-trust society. And the necessary conditions that give rise to innovation and creative expression, like risk-taking, are suffocated by a repressive culture of mediocrity.

If benign envy is more closely correlated with positive emotions, higher self-esteem, and self-improvement, while malicious envy is associated with the inverse, then we have everything to gain from rooting for success, good fortune, and wins of all stripes for their own sake, and everything to lose by indulging in others’ downfall. A nation that resents its winners doesn’t create new ones.