Pointless Competition

It is constantly drummed into us by modern western society that life is a competition, jobs are tournaments, nice guys come last, it’s a dog eat dog world, the early bird gets the worm and success comes from going the extra mile, the extra effort the final push, doing just that smidgen more than the other guy.  Life is a race, with winners and losers and who wants to be a loser.

We worship at the altar of winners.  Our greatest role models are sports stars.

Not all cultures see the world in this way.  This is the language of Jackal.  Marshall Rosenburg of the Centre for Non-Violent Communication, and one of my all round favourite people in the world, tries to teach Giraffe.


We all speak fluent Jackal.  It goes a bit like this :

“Who left that dirty cup in the sink?  Was it you?”.

“No, it wasn’t me, but you always yell at me when things go wrong.”

“That’s because you never clean up this house you lazy lump.”

“Call me lazy?  At least I go to work instead of sitting around on my arse all day.”

“Well you can cook and clean up after yourself from now on.”

“Fine, if that’s the way you want to  go maybe we can arrange a divorce”.


The same conversation in Giraffe goes more like this:

“I’m feeling tired now and someone just put their cup in the sink instead of the dishwasher.  When that happens it makes me feel that all I am is a skivvy and that makes me feel devalued as a person.”

“Yes, it is so inconsiderate when people treat others like this.  Let me look after it. You cooked and served the dinner, you deserve a rest”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome”


Western society foists jackal upon us.  Jackal is quick, witty, sometimes funny.  Giraffe is slower, takes more thought, more time and lots more consideration.

There is an entire entertainment industry focused on turning co-operative pursuits into destructive competitions.  Big Brother, the Apprentice, Survivor.  You don’t “survive” by beating your fellow survivors!

Don’t believe that life is a competition.  This is a myth.  There don’t need to be winners and losers.  We can all be winners.  We can all be fulfilled and self-actualized.  Ask instead who is perpetuating the myth, and why?

Sometimes the competitive impetus becomes truly bizarre and when you begin to watch for it actively it is a fun form of people watching.  Here are some great examples from areas where no competition should ever rear its ugly head:

The book club:  I read more books than you.   –  Yes, true, but I read better books than you do.

New mothers:  My Daniel was walking at 11 months and toilet trained by 20 months.  I see your Luke is not trained yet…how old is he now?  Two years?

Yoga class:  That new girl thinks she is so cool with her three minute headstand.  Her downward dog looks like a sack of spuds, she has terrible technique.

Diet:  I have eliminated all carbs from my diet and I feel so much better for it.  If you tried it you might be less….bloated!

Drinking:  Come on you wimp, you are still on your first pint and we are three beers in.  Drink up and be a man!

Eric Berne in his seminal Transactional Analysis text “Games People Play”  called this the Martini game or “I have a better way”.  When he wrote the book the skill of a host was symbolised by the ability to mix “The perfect martini”.  In a social context player A describes their perfect approach to an issue.  Player B steps in and tells of “a better way”.  In transactional analysis terms player B wins the “game”.

Food Ritual

Spit roast

Social carnivores have strict hierarchical rules for access to food, to reduce fighting and limit injury caused by fights for access to meat.  The Pride leader eats “The Lions Share”.  Hunting dogs, wolves and Hyenas all maintain an ordered approach to who eats and when.

Jane Goodall in her studies on chimps observed how the eating of meat from a hunt was different in nature from the “normal” grazing behaviour of the animals.  Chimps have a highly ordered tribal society.  This organisation is most important during the hunting process, where male chimps must co-operate if the hunt is to succeed.  When a hunt is successful the meat is portioned out by the alpha male and it is used to cement loyalties, reward service and exclude those who may challenge the status quo.

In primitive human hunter-gatherer society we can see a similar dynamic at play.  Gathered foods are unremarkable staples.  A large kill, on the other hand, is a cause for celebration and feasting.  Tribal leaders or the leader of the hunting party apportion out the prime cuts according to a complex mix of societal needs.  They decide who gets the desirable cuts of offal, and how the meat is apportioned.

Fast forward to modern society and we still celebrate our feasts with a big “kill”.  It may be a Turkey or a Goose for Thanksgiving or Christmas, in the South Pacific it is more likely a suckling pig, in Muslim countries a sheep or a goat.  Nothing quite sets up a festival like the sight of large animals roasting over an open fire on a spit.  It speaks of plenty, it says there will be something for everyone.

We have different rituals around feast meals than we have around our daily fare.  And what is most interesting is that a ritual surrounding a food makes it taste better.

For a food marketing company, the secret to the success of a product may be to design a ritual for its consumption.

In one experiment, Kathleen Vohs from the University of Minnesota and colleagues explored how ritual affected people’s experience of eating a chocolate bar. Half of the people in the study were instructed to relax for a moment and then eat the chocolate bar as they normally would. The other half were given a simple ritual to perform, which involved breaking the chocolate bar in half while it was still inside its wrapper, and then unwrapping each half and eating it in turn.

Something about carefully following these instructions before eating the chocolate bar had a dramatic effect. People who had focused on the ritual said they enjoyed eating the chocolate more, rating the experience 15% higher than the control group. They also spent longer eating the chocolate, savouring the flavour for 50% longer than the control group. Perhaps most persuasively, they also said they would pay almost twice as much for such a chocolate.

This experiment shows that a small act can significantly increase the value we get from a simple food experience. Vohs and colleagues went on to test the next obvious question – how exactly do rituals work this magic? Repeating the experiment, they asked participants to describe and rate the act of eating the chocolate bar. Was it fun? Boring? Interesting? This seemed to be a critical variable – those participants who were made to perform the ritual rated the experience as more fun, less boring and more interesting. Detailed analysis showed that this was the reason they enjoyed the chocolate more, and were more willing to pay extra.

So, rituals appear to make people pay attention to what they are doing, allowing them to concentrate their minds on the positives of a simple pleasure. But could there be more to rituals?

In his book, The Symbolic Species, Terrance Deacon claims that ritual played a part in human evolution at the transition point where we began to acquire the building blocks of language.  The point when we rose above chimps to become humans.

Deacon’s argument is that the very first “symbols” we used to communicate, the things that became the roots of human language, were extended and complex sequences of group behaviours, rituals. These symbols began as family groups shared the spoils of hunting. Early humans needed a way to tell each other who had what responsibilities and which privileges; who was part of the family, and who could share the food. Rituals were the answer to the conundrum of connecting human groups and checking they had a shared understanding of how the group worked.

So, according to this theory, our love of rituals evolved with our need to share food. Primitive humans who performed rituals had less in-fighting and more offspring. We programmed ourselves to enjoy food ritual.  As a result, foods with rituals are more enjoyable.

Feast;  by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I drank at every vine.

The last was like the first.

I came upon no wine

So wonderful as thirst.
I gnawed at every root.

I ate of every plant.

I came upon no fruit

So wonderful as want.
Feed the grape and bean

To the vintner and monger:

I will lie down lean

With my thirst and my hunger.