As a tribal species, our personal survival has always depended on our being accepted into a supportive community. We've developed powerful emotions that compel us to connect with others: the joy of acceptance and agony of rejection.

In our lowest moments, we should remind ourselves of the truth of the dream: that life is not a story, but a game with no end. This means it isn't a final victory we should seek but simple, humble progress: the never-ending pleasure of moving in the right direction. Nobody wins the status game. They're not supposed to. The meaning of life is not to win, it's to play.

Doing your own thing takes imagination and courage, but as long as you're being useful, and not breaking sacred rules, you have the potential to rise. Originality also makes it more difficult for rivals to catch you. This should be a relief to those of us who obsess, damagingly, over our failure to be perfect. Often, a better strategy lies in trying to be different.

Asking whether immigration or neoliberalism or religion are 'good' or 'bad' is nonsensical. It's pure status play. Which moral class we assign them depends on which game we happen to be playing. The truth of such complex phenomena is usually that they're trade-offs: they have an array of positive and negative effects that impact different status games in different ways.

Researchers find, in individualist societies, 'evoking freedom' can have significant power to persuade. In one study, telling a stranger they were 'free to accept or refuse' a request for money for bus fare increased compliance from 16 to 40 per cent. I suspect this is largely down to status: if someone feels coerced into doing the 'right' thing, even if gently, they've only agreed out of dominance. This means the status isn't theirs to enjoy, it's with the player to whom they've deferred. But if they believe they've decided freely, they're not weak but virtuous and so able to rightfully enjoy their generosity's reward.