“Don’t get high off your own supply”
It’s an old warning from the streets. But in an age where optics is so often mistaken for evidence, few lines ring truer.
When accolades aren’t earned for real accomplishments, the lines between self-awareness and delusion can become increasingly blurred by the intoxicating applause.
It’s easy to get entranced by our own illusion.
And it can be dangerously blinding.
That is the quiet scam of our times. We have become remarkably skilled at manufacturing the appearance of substance. We can make almost anything look visionary, humane, transformative, authentic, values-driven, citizen-centric, or purpose-led. We have become so fluent in the language of sincerity that many no longer notice when sincerity has been replaced by performance.
It is intoxicating, and like any addiction it becomes harder to quit. But such highs are fleeting, and the crash – inevitable.
The real danger is rarely bad intention. Bad intention is easier to spot. The more dangerous condition is good intention left untested by consequence. It feels noble, sounds convincing, and attracts the sort of validation that makes self-examination seem almost impolite. People stop asking whether the outcomes really mattered, because they’ve already fallen in love with the illusion of impact.
What begins as conviction can curdle very quickly into self-congratulation.
What began as an attempt to understand why so many initiatives celebrate underwhelming results as victories soon exposed something deeper than a flawed definition of success – an affliction far more troubling.
Oscar Wilde observed that “the truth is rarely pure and never simple”. In ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’, he mocked a society obsessed with appearing moral rather than being moral. Were he alive today, he would find no shortage of material. He would recognise the pattern instantly.
Wilde would see institutions mistaking ceremony for progress, brands mistaking campaigns for convictions, leaders mistaking internal excitement for public value, and whole industries mistaking visibility for influence.
He would realise, as many of us should, that a great deal of modern life has become theatre so well produced that even the cast believe the set is real. Yet, it’s a remake of the same old script, only with better lighting and a bigger budget.
We’ve taken satire and perfected it into an operating model.
Wilde would probably find irony in our obsession with appearance over substance; and in the way transformation, revitalisation, and reform efforts keep arriving cloaked in sincerity – yet remain myopic in design.
Satire aside, the question persists. Why do so many well-funded efforts settle for shallow optics over real impact? Is that why so many grand promises somehow leave so little changed?
At first glance, many seem half-baked; about as thoughtfully conceived as dumping sand into a sinkhole without first understanding the collapse.
They carry the enthusiasm of noble minds, but too often lack the foresight, discipline, humility, or will to do what the situation actually requires.
The result is usually the same. Self-satisfaction beautifully packaged with hollow gestures.
This is the creeping plague of the narcissistemic ‘Syok Sendiri Policy’; a brutally efficient description of what happens when self-indulgence masquerades as progress, and the infatuation with validation eclipses the need for meaningful outcomes.
The phrase may be Malaysian; the affliction is global.
On closer scrutiny, the stench of complacency and the short-sightedness of entrenched privilege become difficult to ignore. Beneath the polished façade there is often very little depth, which explains the weak follow-through and the absence of any lasting effect.
You see it in the start-up that has mastered fundraising language but not usefulness. You see it in the ministry that launches a grand initiative with slogans, ceremonies, and triumphant speeches, while the ordinary person still faces the same old friction at the counter. You see it in the company that unveils a beautifully worded purpose statement that employees can memorise, but customers cannot feel. You see it in the café built for the camera rather than the appetite; the walls are curated, the plating is elaborate, the foam art is flawless, and the lighting flatters every angle; yet the coffee arrives lukewarm, the food forgettable, the service hollow, and the memory thinner than the foam.
When aesthetic becomes the obsession, the bait gets mistaken for the catch… even by those who set it.
That distinction is everything.
One fabricated for optics.
The other engineered to matter.
In an age flooded with the fake and the curated, authenticity is often treated as the antidote. But is being true to oneself, in itself, a virtue?
Much of its appeal rests on a comforting belief; that the ‘truer self’ is inherently morally good, and that things will naturally fall into place when one aligns with core principles and values.
And that is the real crux.
Authenticity, for all its charm, can be a mask too. It ignores that a person’s ‘authentic’ state can be biased, self-serving, even destructive. It can flatter vanity, excuse prejudice, and seek validation more readily than accountability.
Too often, it becomes about saying the right thing, signalling the right thing, launching the right thing, embodying the right thing, and being seen around the right thing. For all the promise of societal shift, it increasingly ends up looking less like moral seriousness and more like reactionary sentiment portrayed as a lifestyle brand.
The problem is not insincerity. It is sincerity in the wrong direction.
And that’s the weight of earnestness.
Not some stuffy Victorian caricature of the word. But earnestness as a discipline.
The kind that doesn’t confuse performance for purpose.
The kind that insists on actions matching intent.
The kind that judges outcomes against what was promised.
Earnestness asks something less glamorous and far more inconvenient. It requires sincere effort and respect for the intent, the purpose and the consequences.
It demands introspection. It prioritises outcomes over gestures. It strips away illusion and asks whether purpose has actually been served.
If that stings… perhaps it should.
“Siapa makan cili dia rasa pedas”.
He who eats the chilli feels the heat.
The fact that this critique ruffles feathers across sectors — from hospitality to public policy, from branding to social initiatives — exposes how entrenched the fixation has become.
Too often motion is celebrated as movement. Self-gratification gets peddled as service. Too often, it is only the addiction to acknowledgement, applause and accolades that gets satisfied.
The real test is simpler than we pretend…
What is this meant to fix?
What will be better because of it?
How will we know it made a real difference?
If these cannot be answered plainly, then what is being sold as progress may be little more than performance.
It doesn’t matter whether the room applauded.
It doesn’t matter whether the optics were polished.
It doesn’t matter whether the craft was admired.
What matters is whether friction was reduced, trust built, usefulness improved, behaviour shifted, or life in some small but real way became better.
Are we truly serving an audience… or merely indulging ourselves? Are we chasing applause… or doing something that genuinely matters?
We’re never short of commentary and declarations. What we seem increasingly short of is answerability.
In a world where polish can now be produced faster than proof, the difference between looking sincere and being answerable matters more than ever.
That should not terrify us… but it should sober us.
Too much of modern life is built on being seen doing good, rather than doing it well enough to matter.
Wilde’s lesson still holds. Earnestness is not a catchphrase. It is a discipline. It is sincerity made answerable. It rejects illusory wins in favour of substance that can stand scrutiny.
Earnestness begins with clarity of purpose, humility about assumptions, and the courage to judge results against promises rather than applause. That is the difference between moments that fade and legacies that last. In a world obsessed with optics, earnestness may sound idealistic. In truth, it is practical.
So, before the next campaign, initiative, transformation, manifesto, speech, or staged declaration of intent, perhaps the first question should not be whether it looks impressive.
It should be whether anything that mattered was truly changed.
In an age increasingly addicted to optics, earnestness is not idealistic. It may be the last remaining proof that we still mean what we say.
Unless, of course, we are still content to get high on our own supply…
About Author:
Navin is a recognized strategist, innovator, and thought leader in brand transformation, marketing regulation, and policy. Known for bridging the voice of brands with the expectations of consumers, he works at the intersection of business ambition and public trust, advocating ethical marketing while fostering a thriving brand ecosystem.
He is widely credited with transforming BABA’S, a Malaysian SME, into a leading household brand across Malaysia, Singapore, and Brunei—successfully competing with multinational giants in the category. His work demonstrates how strategic clarity and conviction can influence both markets and consumer perceptions.
A strong advocate of “consumerising over marketing,” Navin is known for challenging conventional narratives, with many of his perspectives proving ahead of their time. His reputation as a gamechanger is grounded not only in ideas but also in measurable business impact.
Navin plays an active role in shaping marketing and content policy across the region. He is the longest-serving council member of the Malaysian Advertisers Association, serving over 22 consecutive years and currently holding the position of President. He also serves as Vice Chairman of the Content Forum and contributes to the Advertising Standards Advisory Malaysia.
Beyond policy work, Navin mentors entrepreneurs, supports SMEs, lectures at universities, and writes regularly on strategy, culture, and ethical marketing across media platforms.
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