“It is our common miseries that direct our hearts towards humanity,” wrote Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
Our miseries guide us, and unite us with others, because they are more abundant than our virtues.
Civilization is born and consolidated from the miseries that have been rectified, which invites us to claim them as the fertilizer for change and to think that our miseries are not only bad.
In the 21st century, losers suffer the same fate as miseries: they abound, but no one wants to find out about their existence. A walk around the Internet is enough to realize that the only thing that matters is successful people and success stories; it doesn’t matter if success is ephemeral, fabricated, or ridiculous.
Who is successful has at some point been a loser and the population of losers is infinitely larger than that of successful people.
Although it is normal to be a loser, nobody wants to be; losing is socially penalized in this century. Today being a loser is like being a leper in the 19th century. Let’s abuse the analogy and say, considering the number of losers on the planet, that today we all have leprosy, except for that minority of healthy successes who are constantly promoted on the screens.
Why doesn’t anyone tell us in a newspaper or newscast, with the narrative hype of success stories, the life of a butcher who failed and continued to fail until he died? Perhaps from his failure, dull and continued, we would obtain more useful conclusions, more applicable to our lives as losers, than from the success story of an athlete or the owner of an emporium in Silicon Valley.
Like our miseries, our defeats guide us and unite us with others, but in the mediaphere we do not like losers, we are spared that mirror that would be very useful. Fortunately we have novels and films, works of fiction starring dear losers, which allow us to understand the reality of what reality spares us.