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The Psychology and Philosophy of Wonder

The architecture of wonder
The architecture of wonder

By Dr Neel Burton — Psychiatrist, philosopher, and wine writer; Fellow of Green Templeton College, University of Oxford; author of over twenty books.

Essay substantially revised on 24 July 2026.

In Plato’s Theætetus, written some 2,400 years ago, Socrates presents the sixteen-year-old Theætetus with a series of difficult contradictions. This is the exchange that follows:

Socrates: I believe that you follow me, Theætetus; for I suspect that you have thought of these questions before now.

Theætetus: Yes, Socrates, and I am amazed when I think of them; by the Gods I am! And I want to know what on earth they mean; and there are times when my head quite swims with the contemplation of them.

Socrates: I see, dear Theætetus, that Theodorus had a true insight into your nature when he said that you were a philosopher, for wonder is the feeling of a philosopher, and philosophy begins in wonder. He was not a bad genealogist who said that Iris [the messenger of heaven] is the child of Thaumas [Wonder].

In the Metaphysics, Aristotle surmises that it must have been wonder that led the first philosophers to philosophy, since puzzled people think of themselves as ignorant and turn to philosophy to escape from their ignorance. St Thomas Aquinas concurred, adding in his commentary on the Metaphysics that, ‘Because philosophy arises from awe, a philosopher is bound in his way to be a lover of myths and poetic fables. Poets and philosophers are alike in being big with wonder.’

If Plato, Aristotle, and Aquinas are right in tracing philosophy—and, by extension, science, religion, art, and all else that transcends the mundane—to wonder, then it behoves us to ask: What exactly is wonder?

What is Wonder?

Wonder is a complex emotion involving surprise, curiosity, contemplation, and joy. It can be thought of as a heightened state of consciousness and emotion brought about by something unusually beautiful, rare, or unexpected—that is, by a marvel. ‘Marvel’ derives from the Latin mirus [wonder] via mirabilia [‘wonderful things’]. ‘Admire’ shares the same root and originally meant ‘to wonder at’, although, since the sixteenth century, this sense has been steadily eroded—along, some might say, with wonder itself. Aquinas spoke of philosophers and poets in the same breath because both are moved by marvels, with the purpose of poetry being, broadly, to record and, in some sense, recreate marvels, to inspire wonder.

Wonder is most similar to awe. But compared to wonder, awe is more explicitly directed at something that is much greater or stronger than ourselves. As such, it is more closely associated with fear, reverence, or veneration than with joy. Without this element of respect and reverence, all that remains of awe is fear, that is, no longer awe but terror or horror. Awe is also less detached than wonder, which allows for much greater and freer contemplation of its object.

Wonder may be stirred by grand landscapes, natural phenomena, extraordinary achievements, or astonishing facts. It is expressed by a bright-eyed stare, sometimes accompanied by an opening of the mouth and a suspension of the breath. By drawing us out of ourselves, wonder reconnects us with something greater than our everyday. It is the ultimate homecoming, returning us to the world that we came from and were in danger of losing to our narrow selves.

But notice how this kind of wonder is not the same as the more abstract wonder that moved Theætetus to philosophy.

Socratic Wonder

The wonder of the philosopher, also known as Socratic wonder, is not so much wonder in the sense of awe as wonder in the sense of puzzlement or perplexity. Rather than grand vistas and the like, Socratic wonder arises from contradictions in thought and language, and impels us to investigate these contradictions in the hope of resolving them into some higher truth.

Theætetus: Yes, Socrates, and I am amazed when I think of them; by the Gods I am! And I want to know what on earth they mean; and there are times when my head quite swims with the contemplation of them.

Socrates himself came to philosophy—and to his revolutionary method of doing philosophy—after being bewildered by the Delphic oracle, which, despite his professed ignorance, pronounced him the wisest of all men. To get to the bottom of this apparent contradiction, he questioned several supposedly wise men—first the politicians, then the poets, and finally the artisans—and in each case concluded: ‘I am likely to be wiser than he to this small extent, that I do not think I know what I do not know.’

Wonder in the sense approaching awe is a universal experience found also in little children (picture a child at the circus or zoo) and even in higher-order primates and some other animals. Socratic wonder, by contrast, is much more rarefied, and, as Socrates implies by calling it ‘the feeling of a philosopher’, not given to all and sundry.

In his Advancement of Learning (1605), Francis Bacon called this kind of Socratic wonder ‘broken knowledge’, and there is a sense in which wonder, which may be cognate to the German Wunde [wound], breaches us and draws us out of ourselves. That breach yearns to be filled, not only by philosophy but also by science, religion, and art, giving rise to a third kind of wonder: the wonder of insight and creation.

Like Plato and Aristotle before him, the philosopher AN Whitehead (d. 1947) observed that ‘philosophy begins in wonder’, adding that, ‘at the end, when the philosophic thought has done its best, the wonder remains.’ More than remain, the wonder grows. Scientific breakthroughs such as Kepler’s laws of planetary motion, Newton’s theory of gravitation, Darwin’s theory of evolution, the periodic table of the elements, and Einstein’s theory of relativity are often more wondrous than the mysteries they were intended to solve. Wonder begets culture, which begets yet more wonder, and the end of wonder is wisdom—not the extinction of wonder, but its perfection.

The Loss of Wonder

Unfortunately, many people do not open themselves up to wonder for fear that it may distract or derail them. After all, wonder is wounding, and thauma is only one letter removed from ‘trauma’. To wonder is also to wander, to stray from society and its norms and constructs, to stand alone, to be free—which is, of course, deeply subversive, and why even organised religions need to tread a fine line with wonder.

To rationalise the fear of it, wonder is dismissed as a childish emotion that ought to be outgrown rather than invited and cultivated. So much is true, that children brim with wonder, before it is leached out of them by need and neurosis.

Today, many young people who go to university do so not for the sake of marvelling or even learning, but of obtaining a piece of paper by which to advance careers that they have scarcely had the freedom to question—entirely bypassing the wonder and wisdom that might have saved them from needing a career in the first place. For the child is not merely innocent but a natural philosopher, still open to wonder before the world.

Jesus said:

Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.

And again:

Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven… whosoever shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.

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Self-Esteem vs Self-Confidence: Why Confidence Isn’t Enough

Woman looking into a mirror

By Dr Neel Burton — Psychiatrist, philosopher, and wine writer; Fellow of Green Templeton College, University of Oxford; author of over twenty books.

Essay substantially revised on 25 July 2026.

Many people spend their lives trying to become more confident. They collect qualifications, promotions, possessions, and achievements, hoping that one more success will finally make them feel good about themselves.

But self-confidence and self-esteem are not the same thing.

Self-Esteem vs Self-Confidence

Confidence derives from the Latin fidere, ‘to trust’. To be self-confident is to trust in oneself and in one’s ability to engage successfully with the world. A self-confident person is able to act on opportunities, rise to challenges, engage with constructive criticism, and shoulder responsibility whenever things go wrong.

If the foundation of successful experience is self-confidence, the foundation of self-confidence is successful experience. However, it is possible to be highly confident in one area, such as dancing or horse riding, while being highly insecure in another, such as public speaking or dating.

In the absence of confidence, courage takes over. If confidence operates in the realm of the known, courage operates in that of the unknown, the uncertain, and the fearsome. I could not have become a confident swimmer had I not once had the courage to lose my footing in deep water.

Courage is more noble than confidence, because it requires greater strength and effort, and because a courageous person is one with limitless possibilities.

Self-confidence and self-esteem often go hand in hand, but are not one and the same thing. Confidence answers the question, ‘Can I do this?’ Self-esteem answers a different question: ‘What sort of person am I?’

It is perfectly possible to be highly self-confident and yet to have low self-esteem, as is the case with many performers and celebrities who are able to play to the gallery but then struggle behind the scenes.

Self-Esteem

Esteem derives from the Latin aestimare, ‘to appraise, value, or weigh’. Self-esteem is our cognitive and, above all, emotional appraisal of our own worth. More than that, it is the matrix through which we think, feel, and act, and reflects and determines our relation to ourself, to others, and to the world—enabling us, for example, to feel guilt over shame, or emulation over envy.

People with healthy self-esteem do not need to prop themselves up with externals such as income, status, or notoriety, or lean on crutches such as alcohol, drugs, or sex (when these things are a crutch). On the contrary, they treat themselves with respect and look after their health, community, and environment. They are able to invest themselves completely in projects and people because they have no irrational fear of failure or rejection. Of course, they suffer hurt and disappointment, but their setbacks neither damage nor diminish them. Owing to their resilience, they are open to people and possibilities, tolerant of risk, quick to joy and delight, and accepting and forgiving of others and themselves.

My own view is that we are all born with a healthy self-esteem, which is then either reinforced or undermined by our life experiences. No animal is born fundamentally doubting or disliking itself. Low self-esteem is often rooted in childhood traumas such as prolonged separation from parental figures, neglect, or abuse. In later life, self-esteem can be compromised by ill health, negative life events such as divorce or unemployment, dysfunctional relationships, social isolation or discrimination, and a sense of lack of control.

The relationship between low self-esteem and mental disorder is complex. Low self-esteem predisposes to mental disorder, which in turn knocks self-esteem. At the same time, low self-esteem can also be a symptom of mental disorder—giving rise to a chicken-and-egg situation.

The Secret to Self-Esteem

If self-esteem can be compromised, it can also be rebuilt. But many people go about it the wrong way. They conflate self-esteem with self-confidence and end up with a long list of talents and achievements. Rather than facing up to the real issues, they hide, often their whole life long, behind their certificates and prizes. But that is no substitute for a healthy self-esteem. While they work on their list in the hope that it might one day be long enough, they seek to fill the emptiness inside them with externals such as status, income, and notoriety.

Similarly, it is no use trying to pump up children with empty, undeserved praise. The kids are unlikely to be fooled, but may instead be held back from the sort of endeavour by which real self-esteem can grow.

Whenever we live up to our dreams and promises, we can feel ourselves growing. Whenever we fail but know that we have given it our best, we can feel ourselves growing. Whenever we stand up for our values and face the consequences, we can feel ourselves growing.

This is what growth depends on. Growth depends on living up to our ideals, not our parents’ aspirations, nor our employer’s values or targets, nor anything else that is not truly our own but, instead, a betrayal of ourselves.

The foundation of self-esteem is not success, but self-respect. In the end, each of us must become someone we can live with, someone whose own opinion matters most.

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The Psychology and Philosophy of Humiliation

Teddybear hanging out of a trouser pocket

By Dr Neel Burton — Psychiatrist, philosopher, and wine writer; Fellow of Green Templeton College, University of Oxford; author of over twenty books.

Essay substantially revised on 31 August 2026.

Nemo congressu, nemo aditu, nemo suffragio, nemo civitate, nemo luce dignum putet.

Let no one deem him worthy of company, of admittance, of support, of citizenship, of the light of day.

— Cicero, In Vatinium

Embarrassment, shame, guilt, and humiliation all imply the existence of value systems. Shame and guilt arise primarily from self-appraisal, whereas embarrassment and humiliation arise from the perceived appraisal of others, even if those others exist only in imagination. The distinction between embarrassment and humiliation is that embarrassment often results from our own social missteps, whereas humiliation is imposed upon us through the degrading actions of others.

Jamie tells his teacher that he forgot to do his homework. He feels embarrassment. The teacher reveals this to the whole class. Now he feels even greater embarrassment. The teacher makes him sit in a corner facing the wall, and the whole class laughs at him. This time, he feels humiliation. Had the teacher discreetly given Jamie a failing grade, he would have felt not humiliated but offended. Offence arises primarily from the perception that we have been wronged, insulted, or treated contrary to our values or expectations. Humiliation, on the other hand, arises from the perception that we have been debased, degraded, or stripped of dignity in the eyes of others. Compared to embarrassment, humiliation tends to be more socially exposing and more threatening to one’s sense of status or self-worth.

The mediaeval motif of Aristotle and Phyllis depicts the great philosopher on all fours, bridled and ridden like a horse. Yet, according to the story, Aristotle consented to the arrangement out of lust for Phyllis. Consent can transform the meaning of an otherwise degrading act—which is why the philosopher Gilles Deleuze argued that a true masochist could never fulfil the fantasies of a true sadist.

The Latin root of ‘humiliation’ is humus, which means ‘earth’ or ‘dirt’. Humiliation involves abasement of honour and dignity and, with that, loss of status and standing. We all make certain status claims, however modest they may be, for example, ‘I am a competent doctor’, ‘I am a happily married mother’, or even, ‘I am a human being’. When we are merely embarrassed, our status claims are not seriously undermined—or if they are, they are easily recovered. But when we are humiliated, our status claims cannot so readily be recovered because, in this case, it is our very authority to make status claims that has been called into question. Usually, a person in the run of being humiliated is left stunned and speechless, and, more than that, voiceless. When criticising people, especially people with poor self-esteem, we must find the line between disputing their claims and denying their standing to make those claims.

In short, humiliation is the public failure (or severe undermining) of one’s status claims. It is the experience of having one’s dignity, status, or standing publicly diminished, especially in a way that invites contempt, ridicule, or loss of respect. Private failures may lead to shame, grief, or painful self-realisation, but they are humiliating only insofar as one sees them through the eyes of others.

Notice that humiliation need not be accompanied by shame. Jesus may have been crucified and humiliated, but he surely did not feel any shame. Secure people with the courage of their convictions rarely feel shame at their humiliation—which is, in essence, an attempt to discredit them and their claims.

The Uses of Humiliation

Still today, humiliation is a common form of punishment, abuse, and oppression. Conversely, the fear of humiliation is ordinarily thought to deter crime, and history has devised many forms of humiliating mob punishments. Pillories and stocks restrained victims in a degrading position while people gathered to taunt and torment them. The last recorded use in England of the pillory dates back to 1830, and of the stocks to 1872. Tarring and feathering, which emerged in feudal Europe, involved covering victims with scalding pine tar and feathers before parading them on a cart or wooden rail. In Game of Thrones, Cersei Lannister is stripped and sheared and forced to walk through the streets of King’s Landing to jeers and cries of ‘Shame!’ The ordeal is aimed not merely at punishing her, but at destroying her status claims as a queen and, ultimately, as a person.

In traditional societies and American universities, ritual humiliation can serve to enforce a particular social order, or to reinforce that the group takes precedence over its individual members. Many tribal societies feature complex initiation rites designed to defuse the threat posed by fit, fertile, and often arrogant young men to the male gerontocracy. These rites sometimes include a painful circumcision, which is symbolic of castration.

In more complex, hierarchical societies, the elites go to great lengths to display and defend their social standing, while the lower orders submit to prescribed degrees of abasement. As a society becomes more egalitarian, such rituals are increasingly resented and resisted, which can give rise to violent outbursts and outright revolution. Thus Meghan Markle, who came from a more egalitarian society, famously mocked the practice of curtseying to Queen Elizabeth II, while her husband the duke squirmed by her side.

Because elites live by their pride, and because they embody their people and culture, their humiliation can be especially poignant and emblematic. In 260 CE, the Roman emperor Valerian, after losing the Battle of Edessa, arranged a meeting with Shapur I, the Shahanshah (King of Kings) of the Sassanid Empire. Shapur betrayed the truce and seized Valerian, holding him captive for the rest of his life. According to some accounts, Shapur used Valerian as a footstool when mounting his horse. After Valerian offered Shapur a huge ransom for his release, he was flayed alive or, by another account, made to swallow molten gold. His skin was then stuffed with straw and displayed as a trophy. Even if these accounts of humiliation are invented, or grossly exaggerated, they were invented for a reason.

Humiliation and Human Dignity

Humiliation need not involve aggression or coercion. People can readily be humiliated through more passive means such as being ignored or overlooked, taken for granted, or denied a right or privilege. They can also be humiliated by being rejected, abandoned, abused, betrayed, or used as a means to an end.

Immanuel Kant (d. 1804) argued that, by virtue of their reason and free will, human beings are not means to an end but ends in themselves, with a moral dimension that invests them with dignity and the right to ethical treatment. Therefore, to humiliate people, that is, to treat them as something less than ends-in-themselves, is to deny them their very humanity. Kant sought to ground human dignity in metaphysics; but even if this project must fail, civilisation requires us to behave as if it were a brute fact of nature.

Humiliation can befall anyone at any time—and this is all the more true in the age of social media. As British Secretary of State for Energy and Climate Change, Chris Huhne was a credible contender for the leadership of the Liberal Democrat Party. But in February 2012, he was charged with perverting the course of justice over a 2003 speeding ticket. His ex-wife claimed that he had coerced her into accepting the penalty points on his behalf. Huhne resigned from the Cabinet while denying the charge. When the trial opened in February 2013, he changed his plea to ‘guilty’, resigned as a Member of Parliament, and left the Privy Council. By the end of this sorry saga, he had traded a seat in Cabinet for a mattress in a prison cell. Every twist and turn of his downfall had been chronicled in the media, which went so far as to publish highly personal text messages between him and his then 18-year-old son that laid bare their fractious relationship. In a video statement for the 2007 Liberal Democrat Party leadership election campaign, Huhne had stated: ‘Relationships, including particularly family relationships, are actually the most important things in making people happy and fulfilled.’ Although his misdemeanours had been mundane—Huhne was hardly Jack the Ripper—his humiliation could not have been more complete.

Why Humiliation Is Worse Than Death

When we are humiliated, we can almost feel our heart shrivelling. For many months, sometimes years, we may be preoccupied or obsessed by our humiliation and its real or imagined perpetrators. We may respond with anger, fantasies of revenge, sadism, delinquency, or terrorism, among others. We may also internalise the trauma, leading to emotional disturbances such as fear and anxiety, flashbacks, nightmares, sleeplessness, paranoia, social isolation, apathy, depression, and suicidal ideation.

Severe humiliation is, arguably, a fate worse than death itself, insofar as death merely destroys our life, whereas humiliation destroys our standing as well as our life—and leaves us standing, ghostlike, to survey the ruins. For this reason, prison inmates who have suffered severe humiliation are routinely placed on suicide watch.

It is in the nature of humiliation that it undermines the ability of victims to defend themselves against their aggressors. In any case, anger, violence, and revenge are ineffectual responses to humiliation because they do little to reverse or repair the damage done. Victims of humiliation have to find the strength and self-esteem to come to terms with their humiliation—or, if that proves too difficult, abandon the lives that they had made in the hope of starting in another.

I notice that, throughout this essay, I have subconsciously chosen to refer to the subjects of humiliation as ‘victims’, and to the perpetrators as ‘aggressors’. This suggests, along with Kant, that humiliation is rarely if ever a measured or justified response.

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