Our country is built on the idea (at least according to the political advertisements) that people can make of the world what they want. We embrace success stories that highlight personal character, not personal privilege. We are uncomfortable admitting ways in which we are better off than others— and don't like privileged people. Mitt Romney's attempts to downplay his wealth (and the ridicule he receives when he fails at this) highlight this. We proudly lay claim to the idea that we are the 99%, compared to the top 1%, but are more hesitant to label ourselves as the top 99%, compared to the bottom 1%. We focus upward, on those who have more than us, rather than downward, on those who have less. We'd rather be disadvantaged rather than advantaged. This preference is readily apparent in the kinds of personal stories we embrace. The popular stories about our new Olympic heroes show this. If I didn't know better, I might think that all American athletes come from broken homes, have parents currently in bankruptcy, or otherwise faced some family tragedy. Of course, this isn't true. As Sarah Hughes, the Olympic ice skating medalist, pointed out, she came from a strong family and this family was the foundation for both hers, and her sister's, success. But, why is it that we gravitate towards these stories, and not the stories of athletes born with a silver spoon? Why do we like hardship stories?
There are a number of reasons for this. One is that when we accomplish more with less, we feel that the accomplishment is greater. Therefore, when our athletes and heroes overcome adversity on their way to success, their success becomes that much more golden. This idea was first articulated by the psychologist Hal Kelley in his theory of attribution. According to his theory, when people achieve in the face of a constraint or limit, they achievement is magnified—and the estimations of their ability are increased. Think of it like this, if someone can jump over a pole that is eight feet in the air, they are thought to have great ability. If someone can jump over a pole that is eight feet in the air, but they start from a hole that is one foot deep, then they are thought to have extraordinary ability. So, to magnify our achievements, people sometimes may highlight or exaggerate the size of the hole from which they are starting.
This is related to another reason that we prefer to be in the bottom 99% percent rather than the top 99%: making others feel threatened by our achievements makes us uncomfortable. In research looking at high-performing real estate agents, Stephanie Henagan at Northern Illinois University found that award winning agents felt discomfort and engaged in behaviors associated with modesty around their lower performing co-workers. In other work, Paul White at the University of Utah found that when students were asked to complete an anagram task in front of another student who had just done poorly, they "let up" on the task and did worse. While people want to do well and win, there is also a discomfort that comes with doing better than others, particularly when those others are similar to us and close.
Similarly, research by Brian Lowery at Stanford University has shown that when there is a disparity between ourselves and others, we are more likely to help when that difference is described as a advantage for ourselves than when it is described as an disadvantage for others. That is, imagine that Group A is paid $50 for an hour of work and Group B is paid $25 for the same hour of work. Members of Group A are more likely to act to reduce this disparity if Group A is described as advantaged. According to his work, being advantaged threatens our positive views of our groups— so much so that we are willing to harm own group to be rid of it.
We mark ourselves as exceptional not only because of our accomplishments, but also because of the obstacles to those accomplishments. So much so that the absence of obstacles can actually work against us.