Opinion: Why you need a nemesis

As a Christian, I firmly believe in loving one’s enemies. As a certified hater, I also firmly believe in the value of making enemies — or at least nemeses.

Our society is currently going through a drought of relationship types. Despite a constant barrage of digital communication that claims to bring us closer together than ever before, people tend to relate to one another in only one of the same four ways. Generally speaking, the people you know tend to be family members, partners, friends or acquaintances. 

Outside of childhood cartoons, you never hear anyone talking about having a rival, ally or even a sidekick anymore. The same way an ecologist might find a sudden loss of biodiversity concerning, I find the lack of these alternative relationships peculiar. Friends and family are great and all, but there is more to social life than concentric circles of intimacy emanating out from your soulmate to the person you sit next to in class. If one’s life is a story, what would this story be without side characters, competitors or antagonists? 

My close friends would tell you that I enjoy collecting different personalities and sorting them into my imaginary basket of the people that I know. In this op-ed, I’d like to explore the atypical dynamics I’ve had with people throughout my life and highlight why they might be right for you, too.

For starters, I’d like to take a look at a relationship that is familiar for many of us Grinnellians but hard to find outside a small liberal arts bubble like our own. This miscellaneous relationship is the mentor, often taking the form of an academic advisor here on campus. Mentors not only take on a guiding role in their mentee’s life, but are defined in their relationship by a buffer of formality — a gap that signifies an upwards-looking appreciation of the greater depth of the mentor’s lived experience, but that also keeps the mentee at a certain distance. For example, I deeply appreciate my advisor, but I’d never call him up after class one day asking if he wanted to grab a controller and jam a quick round of Wii bowling.

Conversely, the confidant is far more like a peer than the mentor in their similar role of dispensing advice. While a friend, the confidant can be likened to a cunning advisor in the kingly courts of old. Importantly, confidants cannot be romantic partners. It is, of course, an excellent sign of a healthy relationship to confide in your partner, but what truly makes someone a confidant is the outside perspective they can provide on your life. The best confidants are a sobering force that can cut through all the noise and bias of your own mind, reorienting your perspective when you need it the most. Moreover, being a confidant is not a one-way street. Oftentimes when I ask my confidants for advice, the conversation takes a fluid shape as they talk about themselves as much as I talk about myself.

Far less common than the confidant or the mentor, but just as important, is the rival. The rival is more than a competitor. They are someone who pushes you to be a better person out of spite. Perhaps you and your rival are always applying to the same jobs or trying to get accepted into the same publication. Regardless, an ironic current of respect underlies this relationship. You recognize that your rival is good at what they do, as well as good at what you do, and you simultaneously despise and respect them for it.

This paradox means that a rivalry is an inherently playful relationship, one where you want to see your rival lose but not be completely defeated, so that the rivalry may continue. I will always be the first person to call it out when my rival Regann Fishell `27 misspeaks or makes a typo, but this mental scoreboard aside, I want her to succeed in at least some capacity. Rivals may engage in an arms race of talent, but rather than being destructive, this arms race points towards a fraternalism where both individuals are committed to bettering themselves.

On the contrary, the final miscellaneous relationship we’ll be looking at doesn’t involve this camaraderie. This relationship is, of course, the fabled nemesis. As opposed to the rival, the nemesis is genuinely disliked. Where rivals compete, nemeses fight. For as much as you see yourself in your rival, you could never admit to yourself that your nemesis resembles you even in the slightest way. I would like to have a nemesis one day, just to see what it is like. 

However, we must question to what extent we need to be truly hostile with our nemeses. In the same way that rivals can motivate us to better certain skills, a nemesis can also be an opportunity to better yourself as a person. By opposing your values, your nemesis can prompt you to consider why you hold those values in the first place and how you can live them out more authentically.

True triumph over your nemesis, then, does not come in the form of their temporal defeat, but in refusing to sink to their level and overcoming their hate with the strength of your character. It is helpful to remember that because our society prioritizes digitized outrage over social biodiversity, many people are misguided because they lack positive forces in their lives like mentors, confidants or rivals. Too often do we as humans lash back out against our nemeses, rather than modeling a better way to live — myself included. 

Maybe we cannot change society overnight, but we can certainly take some time to ponder how we as Grinnellians can cultivate a culture that celebrates miscellaneous relationships. An easy first step could be maintaining the relationships you already have, like going out of your way to thank your academic advisor. Alternatively, you could go out of your way to make a rival in class or outside of it. Nemeses, rivals, confidants and mentors are uncommon relationship types — nevertheless, they can enrich your life and community beyond what is so often typical.