This is the first in a two-part series on envy - the subtle, relational strategies it fuels in professional spaces, online exchanges, and intellectual circles. Part 1 focuses on how to spot envy in interactions. In Part 2, I’ll explore the emotional mechanics behind it, how it links with shame, and why it often targets those who break unspoken rules of hierarchy and legitimacy.
I have been writing about covert narcissistic tactics periodically for the past four years on Substack to expose the subtle controlling manoeuvres that cloak themselves as safe and caring when they are manipulative, controlling, and attempts to assert their authority in a power struggle for dominance.
I’ve introduced how to spot covert narcissism at work, including knowledge vampirism; a form of knowledge theft driven by envy and covert tactics, often at the root of toxic collaborations. I described in detail how to spot soft control and passive aggression when they’re being used on you (or by you), to spare everyone the futility of trying to dialogue with people who are doing this. I also dissected shame in a way I haven’t seen done before, using it as a tool for growth and maturation, so that we can understand how intolerance to feeling shame is fuel for interpersonal narcissism: the need to control, dominate, and assume a stance of superior status to soothe the intensity of shame.
I have been writing about envy as a partner to shame in the covert control tactics that result in toxic collaborations. As I began to go deeper it became clear that envy had become my muse and teacher in the envy classroom studying the envy curriculum. I became hyper aware of my interactions with people, especially online where I can freeze an exchange and have the time to analyse it when I notice something feels off about it.
I was provided with fertile ground in which to examine the various manifestations of envy when my daily posts on scapegoating at work went viral and my visibility and engagement skyrocketed on another platform. My follower count more than doubled in six weeks, and I received a high volume of messages, requests and comments that were sincere and others that gave the illusion of admiration but with an edginess I couldn’t ignore. I felt the presence of envy concealed within some of the saccharine-coated barbs.
I didn’t want to admit it at first because then I would seem arrogant, presumptuous and paranoid. Why would anyone envy me, especially those who are well established, have higher social status and prestige, and visibility? I don’t write about myself. I don’t post selfies or posts about my accomplishments or triumphs. My posting ranges from opinions to educational content on specific topics. I don’t talk about my clients or pat myself on the back about the success in my practice. I also don’t have a book published with a known publisher, or a TED talk, or a Top Voice badge, or anything that says I have been approved by the social media gods.
I am also academically homeless and have developed my body of knowledge without any formal qualifications on the topic. My insights didn’t emerge from formal study in an academic institution but were inspired by its dysfunction, my experience of it, and a critical examination of my own and others’ behaviour in different settings. To anyone looking at my professional journey, they would see that it is completely unconventional, especially after aborting my fantasy of being a tenured professor and scientist. Despite having earned a PhD in a field I am no longer in, I am an outsider, an unknown with no real place on the social hierarchy. Not the insider who gets this level of attention. For reasons I will get into, having a status that’s hard to place within a social hierarchy makes me appear suspicious or confusing to some, and admirable to others.
I’m describing my own experience here because it reflects a broader pattern I’ve observed in how visibility, status ambiguity, and what I call resonant novelty, original insights that describe what others haven’t yet articulated, can trigger relational friction especially in the form of covert envy. Analysing interactions that seemed absurd in the moment helped me identify what many experience but struggle to describe: the quiet pushback that arises when someone can’t be easily controlled or dismissed.
Still, what is also true is that with increasing visibility and recognition, envy inevitably follows.
Envy isn’t just an emotion. It’s a social force, a psychic signal, and in many ways as I’ll attempt to describe, a relational strategy.
Other emotions like anger, grief, empathy, and shame have been widely explored and circulated in the public sphere, and turned into branding tools by the organisational development, wellness, and workplace sociologist gurus. But envy? Not so much. One reason might be that envy is one of the seven deadly sins, and we want to distance ourselves from anything that is seriously frowned upon by a high-trust and civilised society. Another reason is that envy often operates unconsciously. It doesn’t fit the desirable image of a good person, so it stays hidden, even from the person experiencing it.
Defining envy
Envy is usually described as the painful awareness that someone has something you want, which goes beyond mere longing to have it. Envy carries discomfort due to a threat to your sense of adequacy or significance. It is described as upward comparison paired with a desire to close the gap by diminishing the other, in order to restore perceived status.
The behaviour envy produces doesn’t always appear hostile. It can be quiet and rationalised, and pass itself off as helpfulness. It is expressed as unsolicited advice, strategic reframing of ideas, selective praise, or repeated efforts to position oneself as an equal or evaluator. This is especially noticeable in professional and intellectual settings that cloaks competition with politeness.
To help recognise it, I use three criteria that signal when an interaction might be operating under the influence of covert envy:
Upward comparison: The other person has or does something you value.
Status anxiety: Their presence creates discomfort or insecurity about your own standing.
Desire to reassert hierarchy: There’s a subtle attempt to contain, diminish, or redirect their momentum to restore internal order.
These signs don’t usually arrive with drama. They are often wrapped in praise and expressed through concern or curiosity, which is why they are easy to miss. When all three are present, what appears to be collegial engagement might actually be an attempt to recalibrate the status balance without appearing confrontational.
Envy has been widely studied across philosophy, psychology, and cultural analysis.
has described it as a corrosive force that hides behind the language of fairness, often surfacing as resentment toward those who stand out. René Girard’s theory of mimetic desire1 highlights how we learn what to want by watching others, turning them into rivals. Both frameworks point to the disruptive power of envy but they don’t fully capture how envy is expressed through language and posture in professional or intellectual settings.So here I go.
Covert expressions of envy
I recently encountered a pattern that felt disturbingly familiar. What began as praise and curiosity slowly turned into unsolicited corrections and quiet positioning. The compliments were pleasant on the surface, but carried an undercurrent. A quiet challenge that whispered:
I know this too. I see it better. You’re not the authority you think you are.
Covert envy is easy to miss because it isn’t dramatic or malicious. It appears as steady commentary, repeated praise, and subtle edits of your ideas. It presents as generosity, but conceals a quiet effort to correct, dilute, redirect, or assert one-upmanship.
Here’s a fictionalized version of an actual dynamic I’ve experienced:
Initial message
Hi Nathalie, just read your piece on resilience in remote work cultures. I understand the core argument, but one part was unclear to me. When you refer to "accumulated micro-defections," are you talking about colleagues withdrawing from one another or managers disengaging from their teams? Thanks in advance if you get a moment to clarify. I've been following your work for a while now and really appreciate your voice.My reply (same day)
Hi Lina, thank you for your question. Yes, the phrase refers to both. Those subtle withdrawals that happen across all levels of a system when psychological safety is missing. The post offers some suggestions for how to notice it and interrupt the pattern. I appreciate you reading my posts.3 days later
Hi Nathalie, that clarifies it. I saw you’re based in Toronto. We loved visiting last year. Just sent a connection request if that’s alright. The topics you raise are very timely and relatable.3 weeks later
Hi Nathalie, I just read your post on “Remote Teams and Quiet Collapse.” Brilliant framing. Looking forward to more of your posts.My reply (same day)
Thank you so much Lina. Really glad that one resonated. More to come.2 days later
Yes, some parts really resonate. These dynamics are so common. I'm sure people appreciate that you’re naming them. One small addition I might offer. Sometimes what looks like withdrawal might be exhaustion, not necessarily avoidance. Just something to consider.1 week later
Your post on “invisible misalignment” gave me chills. It’s so true that in some places, unless you say yes to everything, you’re seen as the problem.1 week later
Hi Nathalie, just finished your piece on “When the team stops mirroring your efforts.” Insightful. One point I wanted to mention. When you say "self-trust dissolves quietly," I wonder if that's always due to internal doubt. In some cases, it might be due to a lack of coherent feedback or clear goals, not just confidence loss. It can be hard to untangle the two.1 week later
Hi Nathalie, your post on leaving high-functioning toxic teams was excellent. Just a thought on your line about “a system that depends on self-blame to survive.” In my experience, it’s sometimes more about silence or ongoing disorientation, especially in gaslit environments. I’ve found guilt is not always the central mechanism.2 weeks later
Hi Nathalie, just read your article on what happens after someone exits a high-conflict team. Very thought-provoking. That said, I keep thinking about a different lens through which to understand the whole withdrawal pattern. Might be worth exploring that angle too. In any case, always insightful reading your work.My reply (same day)
Thanks Lina.
Analysis: the Quiet Corrector
This is a soft campaign of covert envy, disguised as curiosity and affirmation. What initially reads as polite engagement gradually unfolds into a pattern of subtle power moves. When viewed in sequence, each message reinforces a quiet effort to reposition and contain. The behaviour meets the three core criteria of covert envy: upward comparison, status anxiety, and a subtle attempt to reassert hierarchy.
Positioning through polite inquiry
The first message presents as admiration and interest. The tone is warm. The question appears simple. It’s not really about gaining clarity. It’s a positioning move. By directing the question privately, she avoids public engagement and places me in the role of explainer. The question doesn’t build connection or deepen conversation. It asks me to clarify something that wasn’t ambiguous to begin with. This is the soft start of an authority check. “Do you actually know what you mean?”
Correction disguised as contribution
The next messages arrive with compliments, but each one includes a twist. “One thing I might add…” or “It’s not always guilt, it could be confusion or exhaustion…” They are subtle pivots that redirect the focus rather than insights offered to develop a shared idea. The tone is deferential, but the message implies: “You missed something. I see what you didn’t.”
Persistent proximity through soft commentary
Even without any invitation from me, the messages continue. Each one affirms the work, but also attempts to modify it. It seem like proximity-seeking more than a desire for conversation. She is staying close to the traction my work is generating, inserting herself gently into the narrative as someone who understands it just as well…perhaps even better. The goal is to signal her relevance while trying to appear as if she’s relating.
Reframing as a claim to status
Eventually, she offers a new interpretation. “I was thinking about it from a completely different angle that could shift how we interpret the whole dynamic.” She presents her version as a reframing of the entire conversation, not as a companion idea. The message is not “Here’s another layer” but “This might be the real frame.”
This is how covert envy often appears. It affirms just enough to stay close, while making quiet moves to redirect and revise. The effect is destabilising when these interactions are repeated and the status squashing gradually builds. It isn’t driven by conscious malice, but by the need to reinstate control and assert dominance by building a subtle case to diminish your value and put you back in your place.
Other expressions of covert envy
Not all interactions unfold as ongoing threads. Some arrive as public comments or private messages that appear supportive, but carry subtle signals of envy through correction, attempts to reposition and contain your ideas.
In my experience over, the way covert envy gets expressed often splits along gendered lines. Men tend to appeal to authority: they cite credentials, reference big-name thinkers, or use correction as a way to reassert their place in the hierarchy. It comes across collegial rather than hostile but the move is usually about status.
Women are more likely to appeal to shared identity or assumed sisterhood. Their messages often come cloaked in support or admiration but include a quiet redirection, a soft critique, or a vague invitation to connect that implies mutuality without offering anything clear in return. There’s often an unspoken pressure: if I say no, I’ve broken some kind of unwritten pact of solidarity and am now seen as a traitor to the Sisterhood.
Some men use these tactics too, but they tend to do it more directly: “Great stuff, would love to chat about this…are you free this weekend?” The goal is the same: to get closer, to gain access, to reposition themselves near the thing that’s generating attention. The difference is in the presentation of covert envy.
Here are several examples that I’ve grouped by the underlying strategy. Each section unpacks how covert envy operates through soft tactics of status reinforcement. The analysis highlights the positioning move, the unconscious motive, and the impact on the recipient.
Legitimacy audit disguised as praise
“Thank you for your outstanding posts on LinkedIn. Clearly, you’ve done a lot of research into dysfunctional organisations. Are your research papers accessible? Any books you recommend?”
This message open with warmth and affirmation but quickly pivots to a request that implies true legitimacy lies in institutional validation. The unspoken question is: where did you learn what you know, and can it be trusted if it didn’t come from a known source? I’ve learned to recognise this as a soft audit. It’s less about curiosity and more about placing me within a hierarchy they understand. It’s assessing whether I’ve earned my authority on a topic through the proper gatekeepers. The effect is discrediting, even if it sounds benign. It quietly introduces doubt and positions me as someone who still needs to prove my intellectual worth.
Status reassertion through public correction
“Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Nathalie. As a professor who has studied organisational behaviour for decades, I just want to point out that scapegoating is a systemic phenomenon. It’s important we don’t reduce it to interpersonal issues.”
This presents as thoughtful elaboration, but it’s actually a public correction. By stating their credentials upfront, they establish dominant authority before redirecting the discussion away from my framing using a collegial tone to make a hierarchical move.
The appeal to academic authority is meant to eclipse my framing by re-anchoring the conversation in their domain of expertise. I’ve seen this pattern repeatedly. Instead of building on the original idea, the responder redirects the focus to their preferred frame and signals that my lens is partial, possibly even misinformed. There is no curiosity to check their interpretation, only a subtle push to remind others of their seniority. The effect is to push my work down a rung on the ladder of legitimacy.
Referencing authority to question originality
“Hi Nathalie, great to connect. Random question but I’ve seen [academic and published author who is a vocal supporter of my work] sharing your scapegoating work, and I was wondering whether you’ve read much of René Girard’s work on the topic? I don’t know much about it but it seems fascinating.”
The tone is casual, even friendly. But the reference to Girard is doing the heavy lifting. By invoking an established thinker in the field, the message implies that my work might not be original or that it requires validation through a more established voice.
They want to protect the authority structure they trust by testing whether I’ve earned my right to speak on the topic by passing through the same gates they did. My insights are only interesting if they can be traced back to someone they already respect. If I haven’t read the right thinker, how can they be sure I’m legitimate?
The impact is to dilute the originality of my contribution. Even if they don’t mean to diminish me, they reposition my insight as an echo rather than a source before getting across my body of work.
Containment disguised as guidance
“Have you read [well-known author/public intellectual]’s latest book? I really think it would strengthen the work you’re doing. It goes deep into the exact themes you’ve been exploring, like a blueprint. If you were to pick it up now, I think you'd find it clarifies and sharpens a lot of what you're already saying. It could take your insights to the next level as it did for me.”
At first glance, this message looks like encouragement, but it carries a subtle power move. By pointing me to a more institutionally recognised thinker, they position themselves above me; someone who not only sees the gaps in my thinking but knows how to close them. It is a soft assertion of superiority: that they understand my work well enough to guide me, that it needs improving, and that someone else, usually someone already approved by the intellectual establishment, holds the key.
This move is not about the content of my work. My authority on the topic unsettled their sense of order. Instead of engaging with the originality of what I offered, they bypass it and suggest that my work becomes credible only when filtered through someone else. Their gesture is aimed at reducing the impact of my presence by containing me within a hierarchy that protects their standing. The effect is that I am no longer recognised for what I am saying on its own terms. I am interpreted through someone else’s lens so they can preserve their internal sense of balance and their position within the social order they believe in.
Soft extraction through casual connection
“Hi Nathalie, I just came across your profile and loved your post on narcissistic leaders. I’m based in [major city] and work in team dynamics too. Thought I’d reach out to see if you’d like to connect sometime over a virtual coffee. Who knows, maybe we can trade perspectives!”
At first glance, this message seems friendly and interested. They compliment my post, mention a shared area of work, and suggest a virtual coffee to “trade perspectives.” But there is no specific reason for the connection, no clear purpose or defined value. The request is open-ended, framed as mutual, but vague enough that it places the burden on me to find the meaning.
This is a positioning move. They present the invitation as a casual gesture, but underneath is an unspoken assumption that I will benefit from the exchange. By appealing to affinity (ie. same field or shared interest) they create the appearance of a peer-level interaction. In the absence of offering anything concrete, the ask becomes a soft attempt to access my time, insights, or visibility without naming what is actually being requested. This is often a red flag of Knowledge Vampirism.
The effect is subtle pressure. If I don’t respond, I risk seeming dismissive. If I do, I enter an undefined exchange where the terms are unclear and the expectations and consequences are mine to manage. The ambiguity prompts me to hold the boundary, while they maintain the appearance of friendliness and generosity.
Emotional resonance as a cover for extraction
“Hi Nathalie, I read your post on narcissism and how corporations sideline high performers. It really hit home for me. I’d love to hear more about your work with individuals who are overlooked or quietly let go. This topic has been on my mind for at least a year.”
Like the previous example, this message starts with warmth and admiration. She shares a personal connection to my post and signals emotional alignment. But it quickly shifts into a vague request to hear more about my work. There is no context, no stated purpose, and no offer of mutual value.
This type of message relies on emotional resonance to bypass professional boundaries. It is presented as a heartfelt connection, but functions as a subtle attempt to access insight or language she can use, without explaining how she intends to use it or offering anything in return.
The effect is a familiar double bind. If I respond, I open myself to unpaid labour under the guise of shared interest. If I don’t, I risk being seen as withholding or unkind. What presents as admiration is a disguised attempt to extract value without acknowledging the exchange or being honest about her purpose.
Friendly approach with vague intent
“Hi Nathalie, just read your recent piece on scapegoating in psychological safety cultures. Such an important and under-discussed issue. I’m in HR and have seen these dynamics play out first-hand. I’d love to connect and swap stories sometimes. It’s always valuable to learn from one another’s journeys.”
This message follows a familiar pattern warm affirmation followed by an undefined request. What sets it apart from the previous two examples is the framing of the interaction as a peer-to-peer “story swap.” The phrase suggests equality and shared experience, but the purpose is left open-ended.
Unlike the more direct request for information or guidance in the previous messages, this version uses informal language to create the appearance of mutual benefit. But with no offer of reciprocity or clarity about the intent, it becomes another attempt to gain access under the guise of collegiality. The effect is similar as I’m positioned as the one holding insight while the other party creates an opening to extract it, without acknowledging the exchange or recognising the labour involved.
Public reframe as authority assertion
A leadership coach responded to one of my posts on scapegoating. Rather than engage the core message, she shifted the conversation toward feedback styles and individual self-awareness. Her comment opened with:
“Not every exit is a symptom of toxicity; sometimes it’s a signal that feedback was delivered like a blunt weapon instead of a bridge.”
This might read as insight, but it redirects attention away from systems and toward individual fault. It reframes scapegoating as a communication failure rather than a structural pattern.
When I clarified that the post was about systemic scapegoating, not just exits or feedback, she responded by agreeing with the distinction then expanded again, layering in her own authority:
“A workplace doesn’t start out toxic. It becomes toxic when feedback becomes blame... Yes, people must take responsibility... but organizations also need to support that growth.”
These aren’t just comments. They’re strategic insertions. She wasn’t building on the post’s insight. She was repositioning herself as the one offering the balanced, nuanced take. It’s a subtle but effective move: redirect the narrative, centre your voice, and appear reasonable while displacing the original framing.
The interaction looks collegial, but it operates as a soft override marking intellectual territory on someone else’s post under the guise of thoughtful expansion.
Some people reading this might think, “Isn’t she reading too much into things?” or “She sounds like the narcissist,” or “Maybe she just can’t handle critique.” That reaction is exactly why covert envy is so slippery. It hides behind politeness, praise, and professionalism. It’s easy to dismiss or invalidate especially since many of us, myself included, have done some of the things in these examples. I’m not writing this to whinge about awkward exchanges. I’m sharing the process I use to recognise the emotional undercurrents that shape behaviour, so I can exercise discernment and avoid getting pulled into confusion. Behaviour is not neutral. It carries an emotional charge, a relational intent, or an unspoken signal that can support or interfere with genuine connection.
I also want to mention that not every suggestion or redirection is driven by envy. Sometimes people really are trying to help. But when a pattern of unsolicited feedback repeats itself, framed as support with a subtle correction vibe, I pay attention. Discernment doesn’t mean assuming the worst. It means recognising when goodwill masks a quieter struggle for status, control, and relevance.
This is about recognising how disowned emotions distort behaviour in ways that feel personal but operate socially. Envy, shame, and status anxiety shape tone and intent, that can turn engagement into soft control. When left unexamined, they push people to contain what challenges them even when they think they’re being generous.
The impact on those receiving envy
Covert envy is difficult to detect in the moment because it often arrives through friendly language, affirming gestures, and a tone of generosity. But it creates a subtle disorientation that doesn’t match the surface of the exchange. The interaction might look benign, but it leaves you slightly unsteady trying to decode what was really being said.
This kind of exchange doesn’t trigger obvious alarm, but it lingers. You reread the message wondering if you misinterpreted the tone and find yourself second-guessing your response. There’s no clear rupture or visible conflict, yet something about it continues to tug at your attention.
When envy is disowned by the person expressing it, the distortion becomes more difficult to articulate. The emotional signal doesn’t match the language but you might feel residue of the interaction through a sense of being watched, a spike in self-consciousness, and doubt about your own perception. The impact accumulates, slowly leaving you slightly off-centre each time.
Why this matters in professional and intellectual settings
In professional spaces that reward originality and polish, envy rarely appears as open conflict. It often arrives through feedback, suggestions, invitations to connect, or efforts to refine your message. When someone outside the usual hierarchies gains traction, it can stir discomfort in those who expect authority to come through more familiar channels. What follows is often an attempt to restore personal equilibrium by reshaping what feels unfamiliar into something more recognisable.
When envy and shame are disowned, they become instruments for preserving the existing order, and are emotional defences people use to stabilise their own sense of status. When these emotions are left unexamined, they shape whose voice is taken seriously and who gets subtly managed.
In Part 2, I’ll explore the emotional mechanics behind these dynamics: how disowned envy and shame collaborate to police hierarchy, how they distort relationships, how they injure through psychic interference, and why taking responsibility for our envy is key to building a more honest and generative intellectual culture.
If you’ve found yourself on the receiving end of these patterns, or suspect you might be enacting them, this reflection tool might help. I created an Envy Audit to support deeper self-awareness on how envy operates in your thoughts, responses, and online interactions.
This tool is not meant for moral judgment or self-flagellation. It’s designed to help you recognise your own relational habits and unspoken status calculations (and those of others), so you can take control of your responses.
The Envy Audit is available to paid subscribers. Upgrade your subscription for full access.