The Spectacle of Self Aggrandizement

 
The embarrassing spectacle of self-aggrandizement is not embarrassing because confidence is shameful. It’s embarrassing because it mistakes noise for substance, display for worth, and self-advertisement for achievement.

At its core, self-aggrandizement is insecurity dressed up as certainty. It announces itself too loudly, too often, and too desperately. The person who truly is something rarely needs to keep telling the room what they are. The need to constantly proclaim one’s brilliance, virtue, suffering, success, or importance is usually a sign that these things feel fragile on the inside.

What makes it particularly awkward to witness is the imbalance between claim and evidence. Genuine accomplishment carries a quiet weight. It alters the way others respond without being declared. Self-aggrandizement, by contrast, demands applause in advance. It insists on recognition before it has earned trust. The audience is placed in an uncomfortable position: expected to validate a performance rather than respond to reality.

There is also a moral dimension to the embarrassment. Self-aggrandizement often borrows the language of humility, service, or righteousness while doing the opposite. “I don’t like to talk about myself, but…” is a familiar prelude to a lengthy monologue about oneself. Virtue is signaled rather than practiced. Suffering is paraded rather than processed. Achievement becomes branding.

Social media has intensified this dynamic. Platforms reward exaggeration, constant visibility, and the cultivation of a personal myth. The line between healthy self-promotion and narcissistic display becomes thin, and many cross it without noticing. The result is an arms race of self-importance, where everyone must be exceptional, enlightened, traumatised, or victorious at all times. Ordinary humanity gets crowded out.

The tragedy is that self-aggrandizement ultimately works against the person engaging in it. People are remarkably good at sensing when something is being pushed too hard. Bragging erodes credibility. Performative virtue invites scepticism. The louder the self-praise, the more listeners begin to look for the cracks.

In contrast, restraint has power. Quiet competence is compelling. Letting others discover your strengths rather than announcing them creates trust. There is dignity in allowing work, character, and consistency to speak over time. This doesn’t mean shrinking yourself or hiding your achievements. It means understanding that confidence does not require constant reinforcement.

The most respected figures in any field tend to share a common trait: they are oriented outward. They focus on the work, the problem, the craft, the people around them. Their sense of self is not built on perpetual validation. Ironically, this is precisely what makes them impressive.

Self-aggrandizement is embarrassing because it reveals the machinery behind the mask. It shows us someone trying too hard to be seen, admired, or confirmed. And most of us recognise it instantly because, if we are honest, we have all felt the temptation to do it ourselves.

The antidote is not self-erasure, but proportion. Know what you’ve done. Stand by it. Then move on. Let your presence be felt rather than announced. That quiet confidence is not only more effective - it’s far more human and will evoke far more respect.

Keep Writing!

Rob Parnell 


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