Jealousy: Is It Always Pathological?

The other day I saw Verdi’s Othello at the Royal Opera House in London, based on the play by Shakespeare. Only a week earlier, I had seen Cavalleria Rusticana by Mascagni and Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci, single-act operas normally presented as a double bill and colloquially known as Cav and Pag. Three consecutive operas depicting the tragic consequences of romantic jealousy (this is enough operatic jealousy for now; I am not planning to add Bizet’s Carmen to the list anytime soon) made me reflect on the psychological aspects of this very problematic passion.

Why do we feel jealous? Like everything else in our nature, emotions such as jealousy have an evolutionary basis. We feel them because they favor survival and reproduction. We could not stay alive for very long without our mixed and sometimes messy emotions, and this is why we are unable to experience sustained periods of unmitigated happiness. This mandatory emotional package includes negative feelings like anxiety, which help us avoid dangers, as well as the positive feelings associated with the satisfaction of needs, such as contentment. The function of romantic jealousy in a heterosexual couple is also related to these primordial parameters, in this case specifically linked to reproduction. A man will want to ensure that he continues to have access to his chosen sexual partner, but crucially he will also want to be certain that he is the genetic father if his partner gets pregnant. He may therefore feel the need to guard against a possible opportunistic cuckoo planting his own seed and then taking off unnoticed.

Still from an evolutionary perspective, a woman will be primarily concerned about making sure that her child will have all the necessary resources to survive. If her partner distributes his affections amongst more than one woman, then these resources will be spread out and diminished.

In either gender, low self-esteem is frequently the trigger for the feelings of jealousy, but focusing exclusively on the jealous person oversimplifies matters. This is because jealousy, for the reasons explained above, is not always—or perhaps even frequently—pathological or abnormal. If a partner is ambivalent or uncommitted, then he or she may give out signals that will make the other party feel insecure and potentially jealous. In other words, just as feeling afraid and vulnerable is sometimes perfectly fitting in circumstances that validate these emotions, feeling jealous will be quite appropriate when the threat is a real one. It follows therefore that in this type of situation, the jealous person would not require a cure or a treatment. Instead, the relationship itself may need a cure, or otherwise its constituents may perhaps need to break up and move on. Being accused of infidelity (explicitly or implicitly) has a suffocating effect that often hastens the end of the relationship.

Jealousy can in rare instances become pathological and even delusional, necessitating psychiatric treatment. When this happens, it is important to ensure the safety of the person being accused of cheating, as Othello’s story tragically illustrates. One striking feature in morbid jealousy (also known as Othello’s Syndrome, by the way) is the need the jealous person feels to prove their partner’s infidelity. Instead of being afraid of finding such proof, they actively seek it. The pain of not having the proof is even bigger than the pain of finding it.

The next time I book an opera ticket, I’ll try to see something less painful and tragic. I don’t fancy yet another tale of romantic distrust, but pleasant operas are rare. And even then, the risk of infidelity still remains a frequent theme even in the light-hearted operas, like Mozart’s Cosi Fan Tutte.

Opera likes jealousy because it is such a lonely and dramatic experience. As the novelist Elizabeth Bowen said, “Jealousy is no more than feeling alone against smiling enemies."