Why copying the visible signs of success without understanding what creates them can distort self-worth, responsibility, and the way we define a good life.
The term “cargo cult” became widely known after World War II. The inhabitants of some Melanesian islands observed the military: they built airfields, erected antennas, gave commands — and then planes arrived carrying supplies.
When the military left, local people began reproducing what they had seen: they built imitation runways, made wooden headphones and antennas, and acted out the work of air traffic controllers. They repeated the visible features of the process without understanding the system that actually made the planes arrive.
Today, the term cargo cult can be applied to a much broader phenomenon: copying the outward form of success without understanding what actually creates that success.
It seems to me that this way of thinking has proved particularly persistent in the post-Soviet world.
For many years, great importance was attached not only to who a person actually was, but also to how they appeared in the eyes of others. The right position, a diploma, useful connections, official references, an apartment, social standing — all of these were supposed to communicate something about the person.
After the collapse of the Soviet Union, the attributes changed, but the underlying pattern largely remained.
Today, one system of symbols has been replaced by another: an expensive car, certain brands, restaurants, travel, an attractive Instagram profile, the status of an entrepreneur, investor, psychologist, or simply someone who has “made it.”
The problem begins when the signs of success are confused with the causes of success.
You do not necessarily have to become a good professional — it may seem enough to look like one.
You do not necessarily have to know how to build relationships — it may seem enough to display a happy family.
You do not necessarily have to be financially stable — it may seem enough to create the impression of being well-off.
Even behavior itself can turn into a collection of attributes. A person knows what a “successful” individual is supposed to look like: how to dress, how to speak, what tone to use, how to carry themselves, how to walk, and what kind of confidence to project.
The result is a kind of social performance.
And this, in my view, is where a problem emerges for the younger generation.
A child rarely receives a ready-made lecture on what constitutes a worthy life. A child learns by watching.
They observe whom adults respect. Whom they envy. Whom they speak about with admiration. What signs make someone appear accomplished and successful.
This model is transmitted not only by society. Very often, it is transmitted by the family.
“Look, he already has a car.”
“Now that’s someone who has made it.”
“Their son is doing well — he earns good money.”
“What will people say?”
Gradually, a young person absorbs not so much the cause-and-effect relationships of life as its external symbolism.
They know what a good life is supposed to look like, but understand far less clearly what it is actually built from.
And it is usually built from much less impressive things: the ability to learn, tolerate failure, work for a long time without immediate reward, take responsibility for decisions, admit mistakes, build relationships, tolerate limitations, manage money, and sometimes give up something one wants.
None of these things are particularly suitable for display. They are almost impossible to showcase on Instagram.
And this is where cargo cult stops being merely a social curiosity and becomes a psychological problem.
If a person spends a long time building not a life, but its external decoration, sooner or later a gap appears between image and reality.
You can project confidence, but that does not create competence.
You can buy an expensive car, but that does not create financial stability.
You can display happy relationships, but that does not create intimacy.
You can collect dozens of certificates, but that does not make you a professional.
And the more effort that goes into maintaining the image, the more painful the collision with reality becomes.
Especially when self-esteem has already become dependent on that image.
Then the loss of money, status, a relationship, a job, or recognition is experienced not as a specific problem that needs to be solved, but as the collapse of one’s entire idea of oneself.
And this creates another danger.
In order to preserve the image, a person has to see less and less of the cause-and-effect relationships in their own life.
Why am I in debt again?
Why do my relationships keep falling apart?
Why am I not developing professionally?
Why do the same problems keep appearing over and over again?
It is much easier to find an external explanation: the parents are to blame, the partner, the boss, the government, an unfair society, bad people, a lack of opportunities.
Of course, external circumstances genuinely affect our lives. But if a person systematically removes themselves from this chain, the possibility of changing anything begins to disappear.
Because change does not begin with the right decoration.
It begins with understanding which of my actions are creating the results I am getting.
Perhaps this is one of the most important things we can teach young people: to distinguish between the signs of well-being and the causes of well-being.
An expensive car is a sign.
Professional competence is a cause.
Beautiful family photographs are a sign.
The ability to negotiate, respect boundaries, and tolerate conflict is a cause.
Performative confidence is a sign.
The ability to take responsibility for one’s own decisions is a cause.
Because it is possible to reproduce the form with remarkable accuracy.
But a real airplane still will not arrive simply because we built a wooden radio tower.
About the author
Author: Hrachya Badalyan
Hrachya Badalyan is a psychologist specializing in addictions. I work with gambling addiction, codependency, and anxiety-related conditions. I help people struggling with addiction and their loved ones build a more stable life, restore personal responsibility, and break out of familiar destructive patterns.
Specialist’s page: Hrachya Badalyan
