Why Needing Approval Signals Inner Fragility
If you need others to know that you are doing well, you're not doing well. — Nassim Nicholas Taleb
—What lingers after this line?
One-minute reflection
What feeling does this quote bring up for you?
The Hidden Test of Well-Being
Taleb’s line frames a deceptively simple diagnostic: genuine stability tends to be quiet, while insecurity often needs an audience. If “doing well” requires constant broadcasting—through status updates, humblebrags, or repeated reassurance—it may indicate that the achievement hasn’t translated into internal confidence. In that sense, the need to be seen doing well becomes evidence that well-being is still conditional. From this starting point, Taleb nudges the reader to separate outcomes from identity. A promotion, a new habit, or a financial win can be real, yet the emotional dependence on others’ recognition suggests the person is still negotiating their worth rather than inhabiting it.
Status, Signaling, and Social Currency
Moving from the personal to the social, the quote echoes the logic of signaling: people display traits not only to enjoy them, but to be perceived as having them. Thorstein Veblen’s idea of “conspicuous consumption” in The Theory of the Leisure Class (1899) describes how displays of wealth can function less as comfort and more as proof. Taleb’s point extends that logic to emotional and professional life—success becomes a badge to be validated. Consequently, the performance can displace the substance. When the audience’s reaction becomes the metric, choices drift toward what looks impressive rather than what actually improves life, turning well-being into a reputational project.
External Validation as a Form of Dependence
From there, the quote reads like a warning about psychological outsourcing. If self-assessment is delegated to other people’s applause, then well-being rises and falls with unpredictable feedback. Modern psychology often contrasts intrinsic motivation with extrinsic motivation; when goals depend heavily on external rewards, the drive can become brittle, easily disrupted by criticism or silence. This is why Taleb’s phrasing is so sharp: needing others to certify that you’re fine implies you don’t fully believe it yourself. The dependence may not look like misery on the surface, but it behaves like it—an anxious loop of checking, posting, and recalibrating self-worth.
Antifragility and the Quiet Strength of Nonperformance
Next, Taleb’s broader work on “antifragility” (Antifragile, 2012) offers a useful bridge. Antifragile systems gain from stressors and do not require constant protection; likewise, a person who is genuinely doing well can tolerate misunderstanding, lack of recognition, or temporary setbacks without collapsing. Their stability is not proven by constant affirmation but by resilience when affirmation is absent. In contrast, a life that must be continually displayed is often more fragile than it appears. The more one needs the narrative of success to be publicly maintained, the more threatening ordinary fluctuations become, and the less room there is for experimentation, learning, or quiet failure.
The Social Media Amplifier
Then comes the modern accelerant: platforms that reward visibility can transform private satisfaction into public content. Even harmless sharing can slide into a pattern where the dopamine of approval substitutes for the slower rewards of mastery, intimacy, or health. The problem isn’t communication; it’s the subtle shift from living to documenting, where the “proof” starts to matter more than the experience. Over time, this encourages comparative anxiety. If everyone is curating their best moments, the pressure to demonstrate “doing well” intensifies, and Taleb’s test becomes more relevant: the louder the need to assert thriving, the more likely it is compensating for internal doubt.
Practicing Well-Being Without an Audience
Finally, Taleb’s observation points toward a practical ethic: build a life that feels solid in private. That might look like setting goals no one applauds, keeping some achievements unannounced, or measuring progress through consistent habits rather than reactions. In everyday terms, someone who has truly regained health may not feel compelled to advertise it; the reward is waking up with more energy, not being told they look disciplined. This doesn’t demand secrecy or disdain for community—it suggests autonomy. When well-being is internally anchored, sharing becomes optional rather than necessary, and the person can engage with praise as a pleasant extra instead of a vital support beam.