In New Zealand we call it the Tall Poppy Syndrome. Leslie Lipson, an American political scientist who came to New Zealand to do a Tocquevillian study of our democracy, described it like this:
“Democray itself can imitate the policy of Periander the Greek and remove the heads that stand above the crowd. There is a tendency for the idolaters of equality to sacrifice talent on the altar of their God.”
And Ray Bradbury wrote of the phenomenon like this:
“Not everyone born free and equal, as the constitution says, but everyone made equal. Each man the image of every other; then all are happy, for there are no mountains to make them cower, to judge themselves against.”
It is the mocking of those students who dare to take an interest in their classes, the disdain for the politician who attempts to inspire with their voice, the half-hearted congratulations to an employee who wins an award for hard work. It is not a public policy nor a conscious act, and the most well-meaning are often among the most guilty.
I’ve thought a lot about why this seems to be a circumstance in small democracies like ours and not in all. It seems to me that it is the peculiar combination of a love for equality and the fact of proximity. Because most New Zealanders have only two degrees of separation from the prime minister, they demand similarity. In a larger country like the United States there may be a similar love for equality, but without proximity there is no expectation of similarity.