Those who can, do; those who can't, cut down. Doug Garland, paraphrasing George Bernard Shaw

Breaking Free from the Cutting Down Culture

What I Learned About Success and Sabotage

How to Survive Tall Poppy Syndrome

0:00

/1290.565079

1×

I used to think success was straightforward—work hard, achieve your goals, and people would celebrate with you. I was wrong. What I discovered instead was something called the Tall Poppy Syndrome (TPS), and once I understood it, everything changed. Now I see it as one of life's greatest teachers, showing me how to build real resilience while helping others do the same.

Big Picture

Let me tell you about the day I realized I was living in a minefield I didn't even know existed.

I was scrolling through Dr. Doug Garland's research on TPS when I came across his personal story. Here was a successful surgeon—someone improving lives—who found his office mysteriously moved to a less desirable location. At first, he was confused. Later, he realized what had happened: his achievements had made him a target, and someone had metaphorically cut him down.

That's when it hit me. I'd been experiencing this my entire life without having a name for it.

I remembered the colleague who stopped inviting me to meetings after my promotion, the friend who couldn't celebrate my new job without mentioning how "lucky" I was, the family member who consistently downplayed my achievements with comments like "Must be nice to have all that free time now that you don't have to do real work." I'd internalized these moments as personal failures, wondering what was wrong with me that success seemed to bring out the worst in people around me.

But Garland's research revealed something profound: this isn't personal. It's universal. We live in a culture with a complicated relationship to success, even in America. We celebrate it, but only on our terms. We admire achievement, yet scrutinize how it was earned. We want people to excel, but not too much, not too obviously, and certainly not without our permission.

This phenomenon isn't just about envy, the main cutter dark emotion, though that's part of it. It's what Garland calls a mixture of "dark emotions"—namely, those labeled the seven deadly sins (see The Tall Poppy Syndrome & The Seven Deadly Sins). Some people find it easier to tear others down than to do the hard work of building themselves up. Others feel genuinely threatened by success around them, as if someone else's achievement somehow diminishes their own worth.

What makes this particularly insidious is how it manifests. In America, we have a unique obsession with "deservingness." We don't just cut down the successful—we investigate their backgrounds, scrutinize their methods, and pass judgment on whether they "earned" their success. Think about Martha Stewart. Her insider trading conviction didn't just damage her financially; it gave everyone permission to collectively sigh with relief and say, "See? She wasn't as perfect as she seemed."

I've watched this pattern play out everywhere—from political figures like Mitch McConnell facing populist backlash to media executives like James Bennett of the New York Times losing their jobs for controversial decisions. It reaches into our personal lives, affecting relationships with family, friends, and colleagues who may unconsciously undermine our achievements.

But here's what I've learned: understanding this dynamic is the first step toward transcending it. When I recognized the patterns, I could choose a different path—one that leads a more virtuous life and perhaps become a "stone poppy," someone who not only withstands the cutting down but actively works to lift others up.

Tactics

Learning to See What I Couldn't See Before

My journey began with a painful realization: I'd been blind to the invisible cuts happening all around me.

I think about Sarah, a teacher whose story Garland shares. When her daughter received student loan forgiveness, her friends' responses weren't the congratulations she expected. Instead, she heard comments like "Must be nice to have that kind of luck" and "I wish my kids were that fortunate." It took time for Sarah to realize these weren't supportive statements—they were subtle expressions of resentment disguised as conversation.

I started paying attention to similar moments in my own life. The colleague who suddenly became distant after my promotion. The friend who couldn't celebrate my success without immediately shifting the conversation to her own struggles. The family member who consistently used phrases like "Well, some people just have all the luck" whenever I shared good news.

These moments had always left me feeling confused and slightly guilty about my achievements. Now I understand why. I wasn't imagining the subtle hostility—I was experiencing TPS firsthand. Recognizing these patterns gave me power to respond rather than simply absorb the negativity.

Building My Inner Fortress

Once I could see the pattern, I knew I needed to build resilience from within. This wasn't about becoming callous or defensive—it was about developing what psychologists call an internal locus of control. I needed to measure my worth by my own standards rather than external validation.

The first tool I discovered was gratitude, though it seemed counterintuitive at first. When you're being cut down, the last thing you want to do is feel grateful. But I learned that gratitude shifts your focus from what you lack to what you have, from comparing yourself to others to appreciating your own journey.

I started keeping a simple journal, writing down three things I was grateful for each day. It sounds almost too simple to work, but I watched this practice gradually immunize me against the corrosive effects of others' resentment. When someone made a cutting remark about my success, I could anchor myself in genuine appreciation for my journey rather than getting swept away by their negativity.

I also embraced what researchers call a growth and abundance mindset—the belief that my abilities aren't fixed, that I can always learn and improve, and there is plenty for everyone. When someone criticized my success or tried to diminish my achievements, I started asking myself: "What can I learn from this?" Sometimes the answer was "nothing," but sometimes I discovered valuable insights about myself or my approach that strengthened me.

Transforming My Relationship with Envy

Perhaps the most powerful transformation occurred when I learned to alchemize envy—both my own and others'—into motivation. Garland distinguishes between good envy and bad envy, and learning this distinction changed everything for me.

Good envy looks at someone's success and says, "I want to learn from that." Bad envy looks at the same success and says, "That person doesn't deserve it." I started paying attention to my own envious feelings, using them as a compass pointing toward my own growth rather than letting them fester into resentment.

When I felt that familiar pang of envy, I learned to pause and ask myself: "What is this emotion trying to teach me?" Often, it was highlighting something I wanted in my own life. The person whose success triggered my envy was showing me what was possible in my own field.

This same principle applied when I was on the receiving end of others' envy. Instead of taking their cutting down personally, I started seeing it as information about their own struggles and insecurities. This didn't mean accepting bad behavior, but it did mean responding with wisdom rather than reactivity.

I also accentuated kindness, the virtuous antedote to envy. It became easier to disarm the competitor with kindness rather than fisticuffs. As Michelle Obama stated, "We go high when they go low." Dr. Garland claims he saw many deaths during his career, but none were due to too much kindness.

Creating Ripples of Change Around Me

I realized that my ultimate goal wasn't just personal resilience—it was cultural transformation. Every time I chose to celebrate someone else's success instead of cutting them down, I was planting seeds of change. Every time I offered genuine encouragement instead of backhanded compliments, I was modeling a different way of being.

I started small. In conversations, when someone shared good news, I resisted the urge to qualify it or diminish it. Instead, I asked questions that helped them savor their success: "How did you feel when you found out?" "What was the best part of that experience?" "What did you learn that you're most proud of?" These simple questions transformed potentially envious moments into celebrations.

I also began speaking up when I witnessed others being cut down. When colleagues started subtly undermining a successful team member, I found ways to redirect the conversation toward appreciation. When friends began gossiping about someone's achievements, I gently shifted the focus to what we could learn from their success.

Most importantly, I searched daily for examples of private TPS in my tribes and in public TPS. I learned to identify and assign ownership to the dark emotions driving the cutter and the egregious dark emotions of the tall poppy (TP), which justified the public's cutting them down. Finally, I named the specific virtue that would have prevented the dark occurrence.

My Daily Practice for Staying Strong

Living free from TPS requires consistent attention, like tending a garden. Each morning, I set an intention to notice and celebrate the successes around me. Each evening, I reflect on moments when I felt triggered by others' achievements and consider how I might respond differently next time.

I've learned to build relationships with people who genuinely celebrate my successes—these relationships become my anchor during difficult times. I've also learned to distance myself from those who consistently diminish my achievements, not out of revenge, but out of self-preservation. I surround myself with people who understand that success isn't a zero-sum game.

I keep learning, keep growing, and keep reaching toward the sun. I've discovered that the world needs more tall poppies, more people willing to achieve their potential despite the inevitable attempts to cut them down. My success, when approached with wisdom and humility, doesn't take away from others—it shows them what's possible.

The path forward isn't about avoiding cutting down entirely—that's impossible in a world where TPS is woven into the fabric of human nature. Instead, it's about becoming unshakeable in my own worth while helping others rise alongside me. It's about becoming not just a TP, but a stone poppy—virtuous but not signaling, beautiful, strong, and impossible to cut down.

Every day, I choose to be the person who lifts others up rather than cuts them down. Every day, I work to create environments where people support each other's growth rather than compete for scarce resources. This is my daily practice, my ongoing commitment to transforming not just my own life, but the culture around me.

And you know what I've discovered? When you stop trying to cut down the TPs and start becoming one yourself, the whole field becomes more beautiful.

You could be good today, but instead, you chose tomorrow. Marcus Aurelius