Deeply Insecure People Tend To Make Catastrophically Selfish Decisions – Hinduism Insights - The Poison of Insecurity: How a Fractured Self Destroys Lives
Hindu philosophy identifies the ego — ahamkara,
literally "the I-maker" — as the faculty that gives us a sense of
individual identity. In its healthy form, ahamkara supports self-awareness and
purposeful action. But when the ego is wounded, anxious, and constantly
threatened, it collapses inward. The person no longer thinks beyond the
boundary of their own fear. This is not strength. It is a kind of psychological
poverty.
The Bhagavad Gita speaks directly to this state. In Chapter
16, Bhagavan Krishna describes the asuric or demoniac nature — not as
creatures of fantasy, but as patterns of human behaviour rooted in unchecked
ego and insecurity:
"Ahamkaram balam darpam kamam krodham cha samsritah,
mam atma-para-dehashu pradvisanto 'bhyasuyakah." (Bhagavad Gita,
16.18)
Those who are consumed by ego, false pride, desire, and anger, who are envious of others dwelling in their own and others' bodies, act with hatred and contempt. This verse is not describing mythical villains. It is describing the insecure office colleague, the resentful family member, the fearful leader who sabotages those around them.
The Narrow Lens of the Insecure Mind
Insecure individuals suffer from what may be called alpa-drishti
— narrow or small vision. They see only the immediate: a rival's promotion, a
perceived slight, a relationship threat, a loss of status. Their
decision-making is entirely reactive, driven by anxiety rather than wisdom.
The Mahabharata is filled with characters who embody this
tragic pattern. Duryodhana, for instance, was not simply wicked. He was
profoundly insecure. His inability to tolerate the prosperity of the Pandavas —
despite having a kingdom of his own — drove him to decisions that cost millions
of lives, destroyed his entire family, and ultimately erased him from history
as a cautionary figure. His insecurity was not private; it became
catastrophically public.
Shakuni, similarly, weaponized his own unresolved bitterness to manipulate events far beyond himself, pulling entire nations into a war that need never have happened. Insecurity does not stay contained. It leaks outward, infecting everything it touches.
Dharma Requires an Expanded Self
The antidote to insecure selfishness, in Hindu thought, is
not suppression of the self but expansion of it. The Upanishads
repeatedly teach that the true self — the Atman — is not the small,
frightened ego. It is infinite, connected to all beings, and identical in
essence with Brahman, the universal consciousness.
"Aham Brahmasmi" — I am Brahman — is not a
statement of arrogance. It is a declaration that the self, properly understood,
has no boundary to defend. There is nothing to clutch at, no rival to destroy,
no status to protect obsessively. When a person begins to realise this even
partially, their decisions naturally become more expansive, more generous, more
dharmic.
The Isha Upanishad puts it beautifully:
"Isavasyam idam sarvam yat kim cha jagatyam jagat,
tena tyaktena bhunjitha ma gridhah kasyasvid dhanam." (Isha
Upanishad, 1)
All of this — whatever moves in this moving world — is pervaded by the divine. Enjoy what is given to you, do not covet what belongs to others. This is the philosophical cure for the kind of grasping insecurity that destroys lives.
The Ripple Effect of Selfish Decisions
Hindu ethics emphasise karma — not merely as a cosmic
reward-punishment mechanism, but as the natural consequence of action radiating
outward through an interconnected world. A stone dropped in water does not ask
which ripple will harm whom. Neither does a selfish decision made from
insecurity.
When Kaikeyi, driven by her fear of losing relevance and
status, demanded the exile of Rama, she did not intend to shatter an entire
civilisation emotionally. But her small, insecure moment of grasping caused
grief that spread through kingdoms, through generations, and through her own
life. She is remembered not as a villain but as a tragic figure — someone whose
inner wound became an outer catastrophe.
This is the pattern. Insecurity makes a person kshudra — petty, small. And petty people, particularly those with any amount of power or influence, cause disproportionate harm.
Modern Day Relevance
In today's world, this plays out constantly. A manager
threatened by a talented subordinate passes over them for promotion, stunting
not just that individual but the organisation's potential. A spouse, insecure
about their partner's independence, controls and isolates — damaging a human
being in ways that take years to heal. A politician, desperate to hold power,
makes decisions that harm an entire nation rather than acknowledge a
competitor's merit.
Social media has amplified this phenomenon to a frightening
scale. Insecurity, once contained to households and communities, can now
broadcast selfish, dangerous decisions to millions. A person threatened by
another's success does not just whisper about it — they mobilise armies of
followers.
The Bhagavad Gita's counsel remains as sharp as ever. Bhagavan Krishna does not say: suppress your desires and suffer. He says: act from your deepest, truest nature — which is not the small frightened ego, but the Atman, steady, fearless, and connected to all.
Life Lessons from Hindu Wisdom
The deeply insecure person must first be recognised —
sometimes in others, sometimes uncomfortably in ourselves. Hindu practice
offers a path back from the edge: svadhyaya — self-study and honest
self-examination. Not self-flagellation, but clear seeing.
Vairagya — non-attachment — does not mean
indifference. It means releasing the death-grip on outcomes, status, and
comparisons that fuel insecurity in the first place.
And seva — selfless service — is perhaps the most
practical antidote. It is very difficult to remain consumed by petty
insecurities when one is genuinely engaged in the welfare of others. The self
expands through giving, and an expanded self has no need to make catastrophically
selfish decisions.
The lesson is ancient, and it is urgent. Small selves make
dangerous choices. The work of a dharmic life is to grow beyond smallness — not
in status, but in consciousness.