On Lacan’s “jealousy as the archetypal social sentiment”

Disclaimer: Firstly, this article contains spoilers for the movie The Substance. Secondly, these complex ideas cannot be fully captured in 1000 words. Worse still, the theory has been interpreted by a subject, making any possible truth rift with distortions. Thus, the below articulates ‘something’ of the theory: what it is and what it isn’t.

 As we approach the festive period – a time when we all find ourselves in the company of loved ones and, typically, immersed in complicated and conflicting emotions that cause our stress (and alcohol) levels to spike – I figured it could be worthwhile to think a little about how jealousy might shape our relationships with others. Or more specifically, why Jacques Lacan, one of the most renowned (and controversial) French thinkers and psychoanalysts of the 20th century, makes the ever-elusive argument that “jealousy shows itself as the archetypal social sentiment”. Lacan outlines how jealousy shapes our relationships in a twofold way.

Firstly, for Lacan, the ego (i.e., that part of ourselves which enables us to think we are who we are) and the other come to be at the same time. In other words, we can only come to know that we exist as a separate creature through an encounter with separation, i.e., with something ‘other’ to us. That ‘something’ other is, in fact, an image of ourselves when we come to “ah, this is who I am for you”. Prior to this stage, all the infant experiences, so the myth goes, was a kind of fragmented ‘one-ness’: the one who feeds, cleans and nurtures is a part of them. Then, at some point in time, owing to various other factors, the infant will come to see that the ‘thing’ they’ve been seeing in the mirror (or the gaze of the Other) is, in fact, them.

The infant assumes this identification with jubilance; after all, that image of a whole and unified being stands in stark contrast to the fragmented body they had previously known. However, it is external and separate from them, thereby also mocking the infant in their inferiority. In other words, this image before them – in all its asymmetry and discordance – is perfect, and in being perfect, it shows the infant how helpless, dependent and utterly chaotic they are. Thus, this ego, or ideal-I, bears a mix of idealization, jealousy and an ever-present threat to thrust the infant back into their (now known to be) anxiety from whence it came. If we want to imagine this, Coralie Fargeat’s movie The Substance (2024) poignantly articulates this tension (albeit in reverse). In it, an older character depends on a younger, perfect image to sustain herself, but this image also highlights her own flaws, leading to a sense of jealousy and resentment. That older character ‘needs’ that perfect, younger image, yet it mocks her, belittles her and ultimately is quite content to kill her.

However, this ‘lodge of a lack’ is only the first step. The mirror encounter sets the child on a path of identification, where they begin to encounter other children or siblings. In this context, the “other” refers to these peers rather than larger social structures, which Lacan refers to as the “big Other” and pertains more to that original, archaic Other; the one that fed us and was felt to be part of us. At this early stage, these interactions with little “others” are intensely rivalrous because these others, by virtue of being recognized as separate from them, are also as unified and whole as that image, revealing once again their lack and inferiority. As Lacan notes, children’s play illustrates this dynamic well. They don’t necessarily need the physical presence of another child to play; rather, their games often represent an internal struggle between two conflicting roles – active and passive. This rivalry positions them as either the possessor of something desirable or the one who seeks to take it away from others.

For Lacan, these relationships operate within the imaginary level, which works with (and often against) the symbolic and real dimensions. In Lacanian terms, the imaginary realm is characterised by images, identifications and the desire to return to a sense of wholeness that is imagined to have existed before lodging that lack in the mirror. In other words, it was a fantasy about that state of unity we experienced when we were undifferentiated from the Other. This drive to recapture a state of completeness thus perpetuates jealousy and rivalry, as we are drawn to the perfect image of the other – Oh my God, they must have it! – while simultaneously contesting for our place in the shared social landscape – if I can take it from them, then I’ll have it! However, that idea of a pre-weaning bliss is purely fantastical, because we only came to ‘be’ by virtue of leaving it. It speaks to a kind of inorganic state whereby the only way to actually return is to die, as addictions and eating disorders – i.e., conditions which seek a kind of annihilation of the Subject – show us. In other words, this phantasmatic sense of bliss we are chasing is utterly and hopelessly imaginary.

Now, of course, there is love beyond these kinds of imaginary encounters. However, the crux here is that we can love others not only for who they are, in a symbolic and beyond-identification way, but also for how they recognise us beyond the prison of a semblance. This complex interplay means that while we strive for connection and intimacy, we can also feel threatened by the very qualities that attract us to others. This complicates our relationships, where love can easily morph into jealousy, especially when we feel our worth is diminished by the presence or accomplishments of others.

Ultimately, then, I guess I am attempting to remind the reader that this interplay of desire, jealousy, and the pursuit of an unattainable ideal can shape our encounters with others, especially during the festive period, when we confront the complexities of our relationships with those that were there at the beginning. So, if you find yourself feeling insecure, exhausted or absolutely heartbroken at seeing just how much more successful or attractive your friends or siblings are, try to find ways of creating space between you and that allure of inferiority. Or even more precisely: try to speak to that loss of a state of bliss underpinning the conflict.

Written by Molly Fitz