Humility Is Less of Ourselves
In our current cultural landscape, there’s a fascinating phenomenon worth examining: the growing obsession with self-promotion and personal branding. Perhaps the most visible manifestation is the rise of “influencers”—a term that itself reveals much about our values. What many who adopt this label might not realize is that true influence rarely announces itself so boldly.
Consider this: when someone uses carefully curated photos of themselves on vacation to promote products, are they truly influencing, or are they themselves being influenced by sponsors? In many cases, they’ve become sophisticated ad delivery systems rather than genuine cultural influencers. The platforms and brands they represent are often the true beneficiaries of this arrangement.
Humility stands in stark contrast to this dynamic. Yet ironically, humility is one of those virtues that loses its essence the moment someone begins to advertise their possession of it.
C.S. Lewis captured this paradox beautifully in his 1952 book Mere Christianity:
Do not imagine that if you meet a really humble man he will be what most people call ‘humble’ nowadays: he will not be a sort of greasy, smarmy person, who is always telling you that, of course, he is nobody.
Probably all you will think about him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who took a real interest in what you said to him.
If you do dislike him it will be because you feel a little envious of anyone who seems to enjoy life so easily. He will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all.
The profound insight here is that true humility manifests not in self-deprecation but in genuine curiosity about others. The humble person knows when to listen rather than speak. They express interest in others not as a technique or strategy, but from authentic curiosity.
When I reflect on the people who’ve made the deepest impression on me throughout my life, they share this quality: they’re comfortable talking about themselves when asked, but they’re naturally more inclined to listen than to dominate conversation. Their focus extends outward rather than constantly turning back toward themselves.
This quality is increasingly rare in a world where we’re encouraged to build personal brands, curate our image, and broadcast our thoughts on everything from breakfast choices to political opinions. Yet the most meaningful connections I’ve experienced have been with people who seem refreshingly unconcerned with how they’re perceived—people who are present in conversation rather than performing for an invisible audience.
Perhaps the greatest irony is that those who practice this kind of humility often end up being more influential than those actively seeking influence. When we encounter someone who truly sees us—who listens without calculating what to say next, who expresses genuine interest without ulterior motives—we tend to value their perspective more highly.
This doesn’t mean we should never share our experiences or insights. But it suggests that the path to meaningful connection might involve less self-promotion and more genuine curiosity about the world beyond ourselves. True humility isn’t thinking less of yourself—it’s thinking of yourself less.
In a culture that celebrates visibility and self-promotion, choosing to listen more than you speak, to be genuinely curious about others, and to resist the urge to make everything about yourself might be a quiet form of counterculture. It’s also, perhaps, a path to deeper satisfaction than endless self-promotion could ever provide.
After all, what’s more fulfilling: a life spent carefully crafting how others perceive you, or a life rich with genuine connections to the fascinating people and ideas all around you?