THE recent award of a Nobel Prize to a Filipina brought out some hidden envy from those aspiring for that prestigious recognition for so long. Anyway, not winning something like the gold medal of a sports competition can still be soothing if one is in the finals, or the short list — the first Filipino to be accepted as a competitor in some hitherto unscaled international meet.
It’s not always necessary to be a winner to draw some consolation in an award not given. Being in a list as a contender can be enough. Sometimes just having been considered for a big prize is a way one insists on being introduced — she was on the list of nominees of an award which went to some other country. Even when there was really no nomination process in this field.
Oscar nominees are promoted and speculated on before the actual awards ceremony itself where the eventual winners are announced. Losers believe that “they almost made it,” even mentioning the number of times they were nominated in the past. The finalists who didn’t get called to the stage can be accorded some tribute in the gracious winner’s speech as part of a tough field of contenders. (Well, I’m still glad I’m up here and not down there.)
Beauty pageants have mastered the art of handing out consolation prizes to non-winners. Before coronation night, titles are handed out for talent, friendliness, and photogenic appeal. Sponsors jump into the show with minor prizes (Ms. Pedicure Nail Polish goes to…) allowing this “winner” to serve as brand ambassadress for beautiful toenails. On the big night itself, the short list of finalists is designated as a “court of honor.” (Small crowns are even provided.) The second placer (or loser by three points) is called the first runner-up. Should the winner be disqualified on morality issues for appearing in a video with only a face mask on and nothing else, the first runner-up gets to wear the crown.
Still, in life, just being stuck in a short list of finalists offers little consolation.
The student used to a soft grading system that attempts to nurture fragile egos (most colorful Halloween costume) eventually discovers the binary nature of winning and losing in the real world. When applying for a job after graduation, he either gets hired or receives a rejection e-mail saying: “Your enthusiasm is as catching as Omicron. You were the third in our list but we’re only hiring two. Should another opening come up, your name is at the top of the list. But don’t hold your breath.”
Political contests, like the one coming up in four months, will declare only a set number of winners for the available positions. There is little joy in losing as a close second. And protests of being cheated don’t even make the headlines as they are too predictable as a response to defeat. They happen too many times. Have you ever heard a concession speech in these parts?
A list of candidates, even in the shortened one found in the printed ballot as approved by the electoral regulators, doesn’t mean much except for the souvenir hoarder who will keep a sample ballot with his name on it as well as records of unwatched debates when he next speaks at a commencement exercise, via Zoom.
We all understand consolation prizes for what they are: a declaration that somebody better got the big prize one was aspiring for. As a Roman Senator of old puts it — it is a consolation for the wretched to have companions in misery. This is the original and longer version of the succinct nurturer of bruised egos: “misery loves company.”
When we miss out winning a longed-for prize, we end up having to offer the consolation award to ourselves. A coping mechanism allows us to get on with life after even a publicly humiliating defeat. We can move on and rationalize — Who needs all that fame anyway. I prefer a quiet life.
We need to depend on ourselves for the prizes of thankfulness and hope and moving on to other contests. No one else can hand the prize of equanimity to ourselves… and that’s a consolation.
Tony Samson is chairman and CEO of TOUCH xda
