Why We Build Heroes Just to Watch Them Fall
The Rise and Fall Cycle of the Public Persona
Todays post comes from the comments of
’s recent note:And whilst I might argue more than anything people love ice cream or some other form of “pleasure” I think that Joydeep is quite right, and I wanted to explore this further. Why do we love to see people fail? We discussed some in the comments and then Joydeep set me some homework.
When a person is thrust into the spotlight their plight becomes public, like we all have a stake in their journey and there's a weird trend that can be seen time and time again in the public's perception to those people.
We discover someone with talent or vision, cheer them on as they claw their way up the ladder, then inevitably realise we want to knock them off. It happens so often that it can't be just coincidence
You may already have several people in mind who fit the bill. Are we genuinely rooting for people's success or do we secretly just want them to fail?
This deserves a proper look because it revels a lot about human nature and cultural dynamics.
1. The Build-Up: We All Love an Underdog
People love an underdog story. There's something really satisfying about seeing someone climb from obscurity to achieve excellence through sheer hard graft, determination and resilience. The narrative of the scrappy outsider challenging established powers taps into something primal in our collective psyche, think David v Goliath, Leicester winning the Premier League, Rocky IV, that woman who sues McDonalds when she scalded herself with coffee etc.
It’s why we rally behind the struggling musician busking on the street, the athlete from humble beginnings clawing their up the ranks, the entrepreneur grafting in their garage. Their battles feel familiar, even if their talents are miles beyond our own. We see a bit of ourselves in them, and that connection makes their success feel like a collective win. We’re almost in this together.
This isn’t just feel good fluff either. Studies back it up, people are psychologically wired to favour the underdog. A 2007 study in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology1 found that we’re more emotionally invested when someone is up against the odds. The more impossible the dream, the more we want to see it happen.
And when it does, it’s magical. It’s why J.K. Rowling’s story of writing Harry Potter as a broke single mum hit a nerve. It’s why Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson going from having $7 to his name to owning half of Hollywood feels inspiring. Their victories reinforce the comforting idea that success is just a bit of persistence and a smidgin of effort away.
When I’m watching football (or Soccer for some of you), I'm always on the side of the "smaller" team, the one most likely to lose. I love a good upset.
At this stage, we’re all in. The support is pure. The love is real. But then things start to shift.
2. The Tipping Point: When Admiration Turns Sour
Somewhere along the way, our cheers turn into boos. The same qualities we once admired, ambition, confidence, relentless drive, start to look suspiciously like arrogance. Success, it turns out, might have an expiry date, unless you’re Keanu Reeves.
Why? Because they stop being one of us. Once someone crosses the invisible line into “elite” territory, their relatability evaporates. We don’t see ourselves in them anymore, and suddenly their wins feel less like a shared victory and more like personal reminder of what we haven’t achieved.
Researchers call this “implicit social comparison.”2 When someone skyrockets past the realms of normal life, it forces us to reflect on our own position, and shockingly, we don’t always love what we see. Then it’s far easier and more comfortable to pick apart their success than beat ourselves up.
Stories of people rising sell well but stories of them falling sell even better. So, the narrative shifts. Fans turned critics start scouring for flaws, and soon enough, the microscope is out.
Take Jennifer Lawrence. At first, she was Hollywood’s golden girl next door, down-to-earth, awkward in a relatable way but still effortlessly cool. Then, overnight, the same traits that made her charming were suddenly "annoying" and "fake." The media decided she was trying too hard to be relatable after she claimed to be the first leading lady of Hollywood action films. Was she? Or did we just get bored of liking her?
It’s the Tall Poppy Syndrome3 in action, once someone stands too tall, we can’t resist taking a swing at them.
3. The Fall: Why We Love a Good Scandal
After the rise, the misstep happens. Because it always does. Nobody makes it through life, let alone public life, without a stumble, and when that moment arrives, we don’t just notice it, we savour it.
Tabloids crank out headlines dripping in schadenfreude. Social media erupts with gleeful dissection. The mighty have fallen, and nothing brings people together quite like collective glee in the misery of those we think deserve it.
Let’s not pretend it’s all about justice or moral outrage. Half the time, it’s just because a fall makes for a bloody good story. We love a narrative arc, and downfall makes for excellent drama.
Tiger Woods is a textbook case. His collapse wasn’t just reported, it was feasted upon. The vultures tabloids covered his personal scandals with the same energy they’d use for an alien invasion. Why? Because a godlike athlete revealing very human flaws makes for a compelling show.
Or take Ellen DeGeneres. For years, her entire brand was kindness, and people adored her for it. Then, once reports of a toxic work environment surfaced, the backlash was brutal. The irony of a “be kind” figure allegedly being a nightmare boss was simply too delicious for the public to ignore.
Of course, both Woods and DeGeneres were responsible for their own choices, but the sheer ferocity of the backlash suggests it wasn’t just about holding them accountable, it was about revelling in the spectacle. Because, in the end, their failure reassures us. It allows us to say: "I knew they weren't that special after all." It reminds us that nobody is truly untouchable. If even the most talented, wealthy, and privileged people can screw up, then maybe our own shortcomings don’t seem so bad.
So… Why Do We Keep Doing This?
The rise-and-fall cycle isn’t new. It isn’t even modern. The ancient Greeks were obsessed with this pattern, hubris, downfall, tragic redemption. The only difference now is that we get to participate in real-time, refreshing Twitter (or whatever it’s called these days) as the story unfolds.
It raises an uncomfortable question: are we actually rooting for people’s success, or do we just enjoy the ride? Do we build heroes because we admire them or because we know their fall will be spectacular?
Maybe it’s both. Maybe we need the whole cycle, the climb, the triumph, the inevitable collapse because it makes life feel more like a story.
Or maybe we just love a good bit of drama.
What do you reckon?
4. The Cycle Restarts
So, what happens after the fall? Well, that depends. Some people claw their way back into favour, while others remain permanent fixtures on the "whatever happened to…?" list.
If they pull off a redemption arc, the public can be surprisingly forgiving. Take Robert Downey Jr. from Hollywood cautionary tale to Iron Man himself, Marvel's saviour (and now Dr Doom). His honesty about addiction, combined with a cinematic career comeback, turned him into a walking, talking proof of second chances. People love a redemption story, mostly because it resets the underdog dynamic. They’re not fighting for success anymore, they’re fighting to rebuild what was lost, and we can’t resist rooting for someone making a comeback.
The same goes for Martha Stewart. One minute, she’s in prison for insider trading, the next, she’s baking brownies with Snoop Dogg and reminding everyone why her marketing team earns the big bucks. Reinvention is the key. Give the public a new narrative, preferably one that taps into struggle, humility, and a bit of self-awareness, and you might just get another shot.
But not everyone gets, or wants, a second act. Some figures fade into the background, their legacies reduced to cautionary tales. If they can’t pivot, or if the damage is too great, they become the moral of the story rather than the protagonist. Their names pop up when people need an example of "how the mighty fall" or the punchline to a joke.
While one public figure is navigating their downfall, a new fresh-faced underdog is stepping up, ready to capture our attention. The cycle begins again, as inevitable as day follows night.
Where We See This Cycle on Repeat
This isn’t just an occasional thing, it happens everywhere, maybe even in your own workplace or hometown.
Sports: Heroes to Has-Beens in Record Time
If you want a front-row seat to public sentiment doing a complete 180, look at sports.
Fans adore an underdog, until they start winning too much. Ronda Rousey was the unstoppable queen of MMA, right up until her first loss, at which point the narrative instantly flipped to "she was never that good anyway." Conor McGregor went from working-class hero to walking caricature once success and wealth changed his persona. Even LeBron James, despite being an absurdly consistent athlete, has ridden the wave of public adoration and criticism more times than he’s changed teams.
And then there’s Tiger Woods, loved, worshipped, then torn apart with almost gleeful intensity when his personal life imploded. His later resurgence, when he won the 2019 Masters, was met with a mix of admiration and "well, we knew he’d be back," because, again, nothing sells quite like a redemption arc.
Entertainment: The Hype-to-Hate Pipeline
The entertainment industry might be the best example of this phenomenon.
Remember when Justin Bieber was an adorable teen prodigy? Then he got just famous enough to be a household name, and suddenly, he was the most annoying person on the planet. Anne Hathaway went from beloved actress to inexplicable target of "Hathahate" after her Oscar win. Did she do something unforgivable or did people just decided they’d had enough of her, that she got too big for her boots?
Meghan Markle was initially welcomed into the royal family as a breath of fresh air, then, somewhere between media spin and public exhaustion, became the villain of a seemingly never ending soap opera. The moment the narrative shifts from admiration to suspicion, there’s no going back without a serious PR overhaul.
Tech & Business: From Genius to Villain
Tech and business leaders also get chewed up by the cycle.
Elon Musk was once the poster boy for innovation, a quirky nerd billionaire making electric cars cool. Then his influence grew, his persona got weirder, and the media pivoted from visionary disruptor to Nazi Twitter addict with questionable morals. He went from Iron Man to Bond Villain in less time than it took me to get through university.
Mark Zuckerberg had the same trajectory. At first, he was the awkward genius behind Facebook. Then he got too powerful, too rich, too robotic and suddenly, he was the embodiment of everything wrong with the internet. Hungry only for money and all of our data.
Even History Follows the Same Script
This cycle isn’t new, history is packed with it. Julius Caesar rode a wave of public adoration until, well a group of blokes decided he was getting a bit too powerful and gave him an abrupt retirement package, with no benefits. Napoleon went from revolutionary hero to exiled megalomaniac. Even US presidents experience this, sworn into office with sky high approval ratings, only to see them disintegrate as reality fails to match campaign promises, or reality turns stranger than fiction.
Why Do We Do This?
So, why does this keep happening? Why do we build people up just to knock them down?
A few reasons:
Envy. When someone is too successful, it becomes harder to root for them. What started as admiration slowly turns into, "Why not me?"
We expect morality to match success. If someone achieves extraordinary things, we want them to be good people too. When they inevitably turn out to be flawed, it feels like a betrayal.
We like seeing proof that success is fragile. If even the richest, most powerful people can fail, maybe our own struggles aren’t so bad.
We just love a good story. The rise-fall-redemption arc is one of the most compelling narratives in human history. If reality doesn’t provide it, we’ll create it.
The real question is: knowing all this, will we ever stop doing it? Probably not. Pedestals will keep being built, and sooner or later, someone new will get pushed off.
The only thing left to ask is: who’s next?
Where do you see this cycle playing out today?
Which public figures have you personally watched rise and fall?
And, more importantly, have you ever caught yourself shifting from admiration to criticism without quite knowing why? Let’s hear what you think in the comments.
The metaphor, originates from King Tarquin the Proud who, rather than implicitly telling his unfortunately named son, Sextus, to kill local leaders simply cut the heads off the tallest poppies in a field, illustrating how he wanted to remove threats to his rule. And presumably gave him plausible deniability. "No, I did not tell my son to kill anyone, I was just gardening."
I think a big part of it is that we root for the underdog because we see ourselves in them. If they can do it, there’s hope for the rest of us. But once they become too successful, they start feeling out of reach. Suddenly, it’s not “I can do that too,” it’s “Wait… I can’t do that.” And that’s when the tearing down starts—bringing them back to our level so we don’t feel inadequate.
I think the same thing happens with redemption stories. They remind us that we’re all flawed, we all have our struggles, but if they can come back from it, then maybe we can too.
I really enjoyed reading this. Thank you 🙏