Part Ten: How Power and Authority Influence the Social Accreditation of Norms and Hierarchies
Hey, welcome back.
In the last post in the series, I went through the deep roots of our collective history. The goal was trying to understand how religious beliefs and values have crossed cultural boundaries, influencing the social norms and standards that form the bedrock of our society today. In that blog, we explored the fundamental aspects of religious belief and how western civilizations came to idolize morality, prosperity, and the meritocratic ideals of Protestantism, eventually establishing an individualist culture that celebrates personal achievement and experience.
Back in part five, we discussed the process of normalization—how certain behaviors, values, and beliefs become accepted as “standard”— which is probably the most important process of social accreditation because it necessitates the validation of social behaviors and norms through both implicit and explicit forms of accreditation. Since part five, these blogs have beenm building upon each other, and increasingly tackling the accreditation processes that shape our cultural development on a broader social level.
Recall I ended that blog saying, "before I began tackling the broader topics of hierarchies and power dynamics within societies, I feel like it's important to really understand the different aspects of culture and how they've evolved over the course of history, this will hopefully set the stage for us to fully appreciate how dominant groups, through economic, political, or cultural power, have shaped and codified standards and norms." (me, 2024)
Now, I want to shift our focus back to the dynamics of hierarchy and power in our societies, using SAT as a lens to explore how various forms of power, authority, and bureaucracy have evolved over time, shaping the standards and norms that govern our contemporary world.
The reason why I feel the need to go through all of this is to help us make sense of our current social atmosphere, particularly the rise of anti-authority, anti-intellectual populism. This trend, I think, stems from a deep sense of disillusionment with social norms and ethical values that no longer resonate with people in our rapidly changing world—values that profoundly shape people’s identities, their sense of purpose, and their place in society.
An often-quoted phrase in today's society, especially after the COVID-19 pandemic, is "returning to normal" or the concept of the "new normal." Normalization is a key process of social accreditation, but it's not the only one. There are several processes that contribute to how roles, norms and behaviors are accredited or validated within a social framework.
Reputation, for example, represents the judgments that distinguish our standing relative to others, via forms of implicit and explicit accreditation. It's through our reputation that we accumulate social capital, which is a person's value, as quantified through accreditation processes in social networks, relationships, and affiliations.
It’s important to recognize that not all processes of accreditation are neutral. Some are fueled by the dynamics of power that operates within society. This is because dominant leaders, groups, or institutions usually set the conventions and norms that are adopted and internalized by the masses, thus controlling what is accredited positively or negatively.
Power and authority are foundational concepts in sociology and they're central to understanding social accreditation. Power, as in, the ability to influence or control the behavior of others, manifests in various forms. Authority, on the other hand, is the recognized and institutionalized right to wield that power. Together, they dictate which norms are established, maintained, or challenged and who holds the ability to grant or withhold social accreditation in any given context.
As we’ve witnessed in previous examples, the concepts of power and authority play a critical role in forming the hierarchies that structure our societies, these hierarchies appear across public domains like labor, politics, religion, and other social institutions. We explicitly refer to this fundamental aspect of modern organizational life as bureaucracy, and it's usually characterized by hierarchical structures, formal rules, and impersonal relationships.
Recognition and legitimacy from educational degrees, professional certifications, and government-issued licenses are all examples of how bureaucratic accreditation works to confer credibility (power) and status (authority) within society.
Power and authority do more than just establish bureaucratic hierarchies; they also legitimize them by normalizing behaviors and values so that they uphold the status quo. Legitimacy, in this sense, relates to how well an organization (or individual) conforms to defined social standards.
Consider the legitmacy of schooling: you go to school to receive an education, and in recognition of your work, you earn a degree or certificate. The school you attend is accredited by an org like the Higher Learning Commission (HLC), which is, in turn, recognized by an institution like the U.S. Department of Education. This chain of accreditation works to validate the quality of schools and universities, typically through peer reviews. These reviews are conducted by educators and administrators from higher ed institutions who have themselves earned degrees from tertiary schools, thereby granting them the authority to make key decisions in the future of the accreditation process.
Because of this, it’s important to note that the educational system itself can sometimes act as a tool of indoctrination if it becomes too rigid or if it primarily serves the interests of those in power, stifling critical perspectives and maintaining the status quo. We'll talk more about education and indoctrination later on in this post.
This cycle shows that power, authority, and bureaucracy don’t just appear out of thin air—they're shaped and reinforced by social accreditation processes, driven by the interlocking forces of the three C's- credibility, conformity, and convention. Power takes root when credibility is earned and recognized. Authority arises when people conform to the legitimacy of those who make decisions. Meanwhile, bureaucracy solidifies through convention, as normalcy establishes the rules and structures that define how institutions operate.
These elements don’t exist in isolation; they feed off each other, creating a dynamic ecosystem where social capital is both the currency and the foundation. While legitimacy from powerful authority ensures an organization or person fits within acceptable societal norms, reputation is what distinguishes them as exemplary or distinctive within their peer group.
Through their reputation and authority, those in power become the gatekeepers of legitimacy, because their power allows only them to decide which norms are worthy of accreditation and which should be sanctioned.
But, as power dynamics shift, so too can the behaviors and values that are normalized within any society. This is important because power and authority aren’t absolute, and the groups or individuals who oppose dominant norms can create alternative forms of social accreditation that promote new values and behaviors. This is why I think it's important to understand social relations in terms of accreditation on both an implicit and explicit level.
But I'm getting ahead of myself... We'll learn more and go deeper down below.
Hierarchy Starts in the Home: The Emergence of the Patriarchy From Paternal Authority in Family and Kinship Groups
In part four we talked about attachment theory as a framework for understanding the way that different attachment styles in the home can shape a child’s future interactions in relationships, particularly with authority figures. These early experiences impact us as we form our identities and can influence how we perceive and respond to power and authority in broader social contexts.
In most societies, the family is the primary and foundational social unit. The power dynamics that we typically find in domestic family structures, like the hierarchical roles between parents and children or the gendered relationships between male and female members, are usually established within the family and then replicated or evolved into broader social institutions like tribes, communities, states and nations.
Paternalism, is a concept in social philosophy and ethics, that involves restricting the freedom and responsibilities of subordinates or dependents in their supposed interest. It reflects an idea that the paternal figure knows what's best for everyone they see as under their care and acts to guide, protect, and make decisions on their behalf.
Paternalism can be categorized into two types; Moral Paternalism, is aimed at guiding people towards morally good behavior. Where "morally good" here is defined by the paternal figure or society's standards. Recall our discussion in the last blog where I explained the Divine Command Theory. Through this theory, we can understand God as a morally paternalistic being, believing that God's commands determine what behavior is morally good.
And there is also Welfare Paternalism, which is more focused on improving the well-being of dependents, even if its against their will, based on the assumption that the paternal figure has a better understanding of what will serve their interests. We see examples of this in government-backed health interventions. We make rules like mandatory seatbelt laws or public smoking bans to protect people and promote public safety. In this way, the state enforces what it believes to be in the citizens’ best interest.
In the home, paternalism usually manifests through the authority of parents, particularly fathers, who set rules and expectations for behavior. An example of moral paternalism can be seen when a parent enforces curfews or monitors their kid's friends and social circle. In this case, the parent defines what's morally good and ensures their child adheres to those moral expectations. Likewise, examples of welfare paternalism can be seen by parents who insist their children eat vegetables or go to bed early, despite the kid's protests. These rules are designed to safeguard a child’s health and well-being, even when children resist them.
Since these rules are usually justified by the belief that they're in the best interest of the children and the family as a whole, any behaviors that align with them or other expectations set by the paternal figure are validated through reward and recognition, while behaving in ways that deviate from these expectations are sanctioned with punishments or exclusion.
Consequently, paternalism in the home also establishes and reinforces traditional gender roles, by standardizing specific expectations for boys and girls. These roles are also accredited through the family’s socialization process, further shaping how children frame their identities and perceive their future roles in society.
Patriarchy is what we call social systems where men primarily hold power and dominate in roles of political leadership, moral authority, social privilege, and control of property; resulting in the systematic subordination of women and other gender minorities.
This has significant implications socially, because any male paternal figure’s authority is constantly being reaffirmed through the adoption of accepted behaviors set by that figure, which reinforces the existing power structure, leading to the emergence and enforcement of social hierarchy based on these norms. In this setting, girls are consistently taught to be submissive to their mothers, who in turn are taught to be submissive to their husbands, while boys are alwasy brought up to inherit their fathers' dominance.
In traditional patriarchal societies, kinship and family structures were often patrilineal, with lineage and inheritance passing through the male line. Modern studies, such as those of the Sudanese Nuer, show that male-controlled lineage and inheritance systems correlate with patriarchal social structures across many different cultures and generations (Graeber 2021).
The norms we internalize from paternal authority and patriarchal hierarchy work together to reinforce social stratification. Social stratification refers to a society's categorization of its members into rankings based on factors like their wealth, income, education, family background, and power.
Patriarchal norms perpetuate social stratification by limiting the social authority and economic mobility of women. Historically, patriarchal systems have justified control over women by paternalistically framing them as needing protection or guidance. This framing reinforces gender hierarchies and maintains the subordinate status of women in society.
This feedback loop can be easily seen through the Biblical story of Adam and Eve in the book of Genesis. In the story, Adam is created first and given dominion over the Garden of Eden, establishing a paternalistic relationship with the environment and later, with Eve, who is created from his rib as his companion.
Their relationship sets a precedent for male authority and leadership, since Adam is portrayed as the primary decision-maker and protector. When Eve eats the forbidden fruit and shares it with Adam, leading to their expulsion from Eden, the consequences reinforce both the notions of male responsibility and female subordination. As an origin myth for humanity, this story (and others like it) has been interpreted and used throughout centuries of our history to justify male dominance and authority, and as a result, its also been responsible for embedding patriarchal norms within our religious and cultural traditions.
With industrialization and modernization, our domestic and kinship structures evolved further, particularly with the emergence of the nuclear family model replacing extended family systems. This shift during the 19th and 20th centuries, coupled with the increased participation of women in the workforce, social movements for gender equality and the scientific analysis of power dynamics, began to challenge traditional patriarchal norms
by providing the masses with new insights into how patriarchal systems maintained control and how these structures could be dismantled.
The term “nuclear family model” refers to a family structure that typically consists of two parents (a mother and a father) and their children, living together in a single household. This family model became especially prominent during the mid-20th century in industrialized nations, coinciding with urbanization and economic shifts that supported smaller household units. The nuclear family contrasts with extended family systems, where larger groups of relatives live together or maintain close ties, and with more diverse family arrangements that have become increasingly recognized today, such as single-parent families, same-sex parent families, and blended families.
In her groundbreaking 1949 book "The Second Sex," Simone de Beauvoir introduced the concept of women as the “Other” in a patriarchal society. She argued that men are positioned as the default, “Subject,” while women are only defined in relation to men, as the “Other.” De Beauvoir showed that gender is a social construct, with society imposing specific roles, behaviors, and expectations on women, thus shaping them into the “feminine” ideal.
Although it might seem like common sense today, this concept was revolutionary because it directly challenged the essentialist view that men and women possess inherently different natures. By highlighting how societal structures position women as the “Other,” De Beauvoir’s work revealed the power dynamics at play in gender relations, where men are seen as the norm and women as deviations from that norm. Her critique laid the groundwork for subsequent feminist analyses of how patriarchal power is perpetuated through everyday practices and societal institutions.
Judith Butler, an American philosopher and gender theorist, further expanded on the deconstruction of binary gender with their concept of gender performativity. Butler argues that gender isn't something one is but something one does—a series of acts and behaviors that are continually performed and re-enacted. These performances demonstrate how the repetition of gendered behaviors, such as dress, speech, and actions, creates and reinforces what society perceives as “male” or “female.” For Butler, these gender performances are regulated by societal norms but aren't tied to any biological essence.
The feedback loop again is here: societal norms dictate gender performances, which in turn reinforce and perpetuate those same norms. However, Butler's insight that these performances aren't inherently tied to biology means that they can be disrupted and redefined. This shows the possibility for challenging and transforming the norms that dictate gender behavior. This is a major reason why contemporary social norms advocate for greater fluidity and diversity in gender identities.
De Beauvoir’s analysis of women as the “Other” and Butler’s concept of gender performativity both exposed how patriarchal power dynamics are maintained through processes of social accreditation that validate certain behaviors and identities while marginalizing others. Their work beautifully illustrates how the feedback loops of social accreditation can either uphold or challenge patriarchal structures.
Today, family structures continue to diversify, with increasing recognition of non-traditional family units such as single-parent families, cohabiting couples, and LGBTQ+ families. These shifts actively challenge patriarchal norms of family and kinship, promoting more equitable and inclusive family dynamics.
There is also a growing emphasis on inclusive leadership models that reject traditional patriarchal structures. These new models promote a more egalitarian approach to leadership, encouraging shared decision-making, transparency, and the empowerment of all group members. This evolution in leadership represents a broader cultural shift toward dismantling long-standing hierarchies and embracing diverse forms of social accreditation that validate a wider range of identities and practices.
But there is also a growing resistance to this change. We know from our discussion in part seven, that mental models and frames can be manipulated by stereotypes, biases, and collective illusions. Some people and groups continue to cling to outdated patriarchal ideologies, outright resisting calls for diversity, inclusivity and equality. The mentality behind this kind of resistance underscores the ongoing struggle between conforming or deviating from traditionalist views and the evolving landscape of modern relationships and leadership. They also illustrate how power dynamics extend across larger groups.
The Master-Slave Dialectic: How Paternal Hierarchies Extend to Societies, Driving Group Conflict and Tribalism
"“Self-consciousness exists in itself and for itself, in that, and by the fact that it exists for another self-consciousness; that is, it is only by being acknowledged or ‘recognized.’” -Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel
As we already saw with patriarchal dynamics, social stratification by way of paternalism creates a system where resources (wealth, knowledge, opportunities) and authority are unequally distributed. This leads to a dominant class who control resources and decision-making power, and a subordinate class who are dependent on the dominant class for survival or validation. Just like a father's role in the home, the dominant class can claim that they are acting in the best interest of those below them, using the justification of care to control their social mobility and opportunities for accreditation.
In Georg W. F. Hegel’s "Phenomenology of Spirit", the Master-Slave dialectic that he introduces describes a relationship that begins with a struggle for recognition, where one consciousness becomes the Master and the other the Slave. The Master achieves dominance, but their position is precarious because it depends on the Slave’s recognition.
In the context of our discussion, paternalism exemplifies the way in which the “Master” justifies control and dominance over the “Slave” by assuming a protective or guiding role. This behavior is framed as benevolent, but it ultimately reinforces the hierarchy by denying the autonomy of the subordinate(s) and maintaining the Master’s superior status.
In hierarchical societies, social accreditation operates as a tool to validate and reinforce these same power structures. Those in dominant positions (Masters) receive accreditation through titles, wealth, or institutionalized forms of recognition, like positions of authority or awards, while the subordinate groups (Slaves) seek approval or validation through their compliance and service.
Philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche had a related critique in his work "On the Genealogy of Morality", where he differentiates between “Master Morality” and “Slave Morality.” He argued that dominant classes (Masters) create value systems that celebrate strength, power, and independence, while the oppressed (Slaves) form moral systems around values like humility and equality. Nietzsche's work contends that modern societies validate Slave Morality through norms that reward self-sacrifice and egalitarianism.
Nietzsche also highlights resistance within this system. Masters reject the morality of societal validation in favor of self-determined values, and similarly, people or groups within modern societies challenge established systems of accreditation by rejecting conformity and pursuing personal definitions of success. This creates tension between societal norms and individual autonomy, much like Hegel’s dynamic where the Slave begins to gain self-awareness.
Power in a stratified society isn't just about external control but also the internalization of societal values. Those at the bottom can internalize their lower status and seek validation by conforming to the standards set by the elite, perpetuating the hierarchy. This internalization is a form of implicit accreditation, where individuals measure their self-worth by the standards of the dominant group. But importantly, the opposite is also true.
While the Masters' dominance aims to maintain control, Hegel’s dialectic suggests that it ultimately fails to prevent the Slave from achieving a form of liberation. Through the process of self-consciousness and self preservation, the Slave can learn to recognize their own value and potential for autonomy. This emerged realization reflects the potential for resistance within paternalistic systems, where the subordinate class can reclaim their autonomy and then challenge the norms that validate their subordination.
Nietzsche’s Master-Slave Morality also touches on this by showing how the Slave can invert the values of the Master and create their own moral system based on their experiences of oppression. This inversion is a form of resistance against paternalistic validation, allowing the Slave to redefine what is valuable and accredited within their own moral framework.
In the context of the Master-Slave dynamic, we can view education as a mechanism through which the dominant class decides what the subordinate class should learn, under the pretense of “knowing what’s best” for them. This reflects the Master’s assumption of superiority and the Slave’s presumed need for guidance.
Paulo Freire’s "Pedagogy of the Oppressed" excellently explains paternalistic education systems and gives us a framework for differentiating between education and indoctrination. According to Freire, education can either liberate or oppress depending on whether it encourages critical thinking and dialogue or simply transmits the dominant ideology without question.
Indoctrination happens when education becomes a means of imposing the dominant class’s worldview onto the subordinate class, with little room for questioning or critical thinking. Indoctrination aims to reproduce the values and beliefs of the ruling class, ensuring the continuation of the social hierarchy.
In Freire’s view, indoctrination is closely aligned with his banking model of education, where students are passive recipients of knowledge that reinforces their subordination. This reflects a form of explicit accreditation where the dominant group defines what's considered valid knowledge and imposes it onto the subordinate group. It perpetuates the values of the dominant class and accredits only those who align with these values, much like how the Master accredits the behavior of the Slave in a paternalistic framework.
In contrast to indoctrination, Freire advocated for a problem-posing model of education, where students and teachers engage in dialogue, and learning becomes more of a collaborative process. This kind of model aims to develop critical consciousness and empower students to question the power structures that govern their lives and to recognize their own agency. Instead of reinforcing existing hierarchies, education here validates critical thinking, self-reflection, and collective problem-solving.
Education is a key battleground for either reinforcing or dismantling the paternalistic hierarchy of the Master-Slave dialectic. In a system where education serves as indoctrination, it perpetuates the existing power dynamic by accrediting compliance with the dominant ideology. But when it's used as a tool for liberation, education challenges this hierarchy by fostering critical consciousness and self-determination. Rather than the teacher accrediting the student's compliance, both parties can engage in mutual recognition of each other’s humanity and potential for growth.
In conflict resolution, this framework is also reflected in game theory, where any parties’ strategies are influenced by tangible outcomes and also by their desire for validation or fear of sanctions. Whether in zero-sum games, where one party’s gain is another’s loss, or non-zero-sum games, where mutual benefit is possible, the power dynamics within these interactions echo the Master-Slave dichotomy. The concept of a Nash Equilibrium, where no participant can gain by changing their strategy, can be seen as the point where both parties settle into their roles within the hierarchical system, usually leading to stalemate.
Game theory also helps explain how people or groups in conflict act in ways that seek social accreditation. Cooperation can occur when both parties recognize mutual validation, while competition happens when people believe aggressive behavior will be more validated by their peers or fear a loss of status.
We can see this clearly in the dynamics of gang rivalries, where competition and cooperation are constantly balanced to maximize each group’s power and survival. In the film "The Warriors" (1979), these dynamics are brought to life in the movie as various New York City gangs navigate alliances, truces, and inevitable conflicts.
In the movie, the truce called by Cyrus, the leader of the most powerful gang, is a prime example of how gangs can cooperate under certain conditions, mirroring strategies in game theory where mutual benefit is possible. By uniting all the gangs, Cyrus tries to create an alliance that would allow them to collectively control the city, avoiding violence between gangs to focus on external threats, i.e. police and law enforcement.
However, as game theory shows, cooperation is fragile when it hinges on trust and the expectation of mutual gain. In the film, Cyrus gets assassinated by another gang and the truce collapses, causing the gangs to revert back to violent competition. When the Warriors get falsely accused of his murder, they're forced into a situation where their potential for cooperation is gone, and the gang rivalries intensify into a battle for survival.
This shift demonstrates how game theory’s tit-for-tat model works: once trust is broken, competition escalates, and violence becomes the primary tool for dominance and survival. The film highlights how alliances are only sustainable as long as both sides benefit, and when cooperation breaks down, conflict and violence become inevitable tools in the struggle for power.
Tribalism—the tendency of people to align with and fiercely defend their in-group (whether ethnic, political, or cultural)—is deeply rooted in evolutionary psychology, but game theory helps explain the strategic reasoning behind group conflict and alliance-building. In essence, explaining why it's beneficial for us to work together and mutually enjoy the advantages instead of fighting over them.
When groups engage another group in conflict, in-group members are incentivized to cooperate with each other to maximize their collective resources and power, while competing with or excluding the out-group. There is a famous example called the prisoner’s dilemma in game theory, where the best outcome for people might come from cooperation within the group, but competition (or defection) when dealing with the out-group.
In this famous thought experiment, two prisoners are separated into individual cells and can't communicate with each other. The police offer each prisoner a deal. If one testifies against his partner, he will go free while the partner will remain in prison on the main charge. But if both prisoners testify against each other, both will be sentenced and stay in jail for a longer time. Each is told that the other prisoner is being offered the very same deal. If either prisoner chooses to remain silent, they'll have a lighter sentence, but they run the risk of the other betraying them, so the best strategy for each prisoner, from a self-interested standpoint, is to betray the other.
In ongoing interactions between groups, game theory’s concept of iterated games (repeated interactions) suggests that cooperation or conflict is shaped by past interactions. If trust is built between groups, cooperative behaviors can emerge.
Conversely, if betrayal or hostility dominates, the tit-for-tat strategy is the most likely outcome, with cycles of retaliation leading to entrenched conflict. In tribal conflicts, group identity and the need for validation from in-group members can create a self-reinforcing cycle where hostile actions are reciprocated by the out-group, and this escalation continues.
Recall Charles Horton Cooley’s Looking Glass Self and Leon Festinger’s Social Comparison Theory that we introduced all the way back in part two. These theories highlight how people develop their identities based on their roles and the feedback they receive from authority figures and peers. On an individual level, this identity formation influences their participation in social situations and their adherence to or deviation from established norms, but it also works in groups and subgroups.
Gregory Bateson’s concept of schismogenesis helps us better understand the formation of subgroups with contrasting behaviors or norms. Schismogenesis can manifest in two primary forms:
- Complementary Schismogenesis: Where groups develop behaviors that are complementary but unequal, such as dominance and submission.
- Symmetrical Schismogenesis: Where groups develop similar and competitive behaviors, such as rivalry.
Movies like "the Breakfast Club" work by imagining a typical high school setting where distinct cliques form, almost always as variations of the “jocks” and the “nerds.” These groups initially develop based on shared interests—likely athletics for the jocks and academics for the nerds. However, as these subgroups solidify, they begin to differentiate themselves not just by their interests but by the contrasting behaviors and norms they adopt.
In this process of schismogenesis, members of each group start to reflect on how they are perceived by the opposing group. So this means that jocks might view themselves as physically superior and more popular, while they perceive the nerds as obsessively intelligent but socially awkward. Conversely, nerds might see themselves as smarter and more focused on future success, viewing the jocks as egotistical meatheads. These contrasting perceptions influence the behaviors and norms within each group, reinforcing their identities.
In part two we explained how the Looking Glass Self is exemplified in the movie as each character grapples with how they believe they are viewed by others. Throughout the day, the characters confront the stereotypes and assumptions they have about each other, revealing how much their own self-concepts have been shaped by the perceptions of their peers and the broader school culture.
For example, Brian, the “brain,” defines his identity through his academic success, partly because he perceives that others, like the jock Andrew, see him as just a brainy kid with little social life. Andrew, in turn, feels pressure to conform to the expectations of his role as a jock, believing that others view him as nothing more than a dumb athlete, which fuels his struggle with his identity.
Remember that Social Comparison Theory explains how these characters continually assess themselves against the others. In symmetrical schismogenesis, the rivalry between these subgroups drives them to compete for recognition and status within the school. The jocks and popular kids strive to dominate social settings, while the nerds and rebels carve out their own forms of identity and validation in other areas like grades and academic clubs.
Andrew ended up in detention because he got caught taping Larry Lester's butt cheeks together. He confessed to the group that the pressure from his father, who was disappointed in him for not behaving as recklessly as he did in his high school days, led him to target Larry, whom he perceived as weak and vulnerable, through his father's perspective.
Andrew's treatment of Larry is a direct result of the tribal relationship between jocks and nerds. His realization that he only picked on Larry to impress his father shows how the competitive nature of jock culture perpetuates a master-slave dynamic at the expense of the nerds like Larry.
BRIAN (to Andrew) That was you? ANDREW (to Brian) Yeah, you know him? BRIAN Yeah, I know him... ANDREW Well then you know how hairy he is, right? Well, when they pulled the tape off, most of his hair came off and some, some skin too... CLAIRE Oh my God... ANDREW And the bizarre thing is, is that I did it for my old man...I tortured this poor kid, because I wanted him to think that I was cool. He's always going off about, you know, when he was in school...all the wild things he used to do.
Meanwhile, Brian reveals that his reason for being in detention was because he brought a flare gun to school. After failing a project in his shop class, he was going to attempt suicide with it. But instead, the flare gun went off in his locker and destroyed the same elephant lamp he got an F on.
Brian took shop class because he thought it would be an easy way to maintain his GPA, and he hoped it might even make him look cool. The failure of the light to turn on in his elephant lamp and the F he receives because of it, strikes at the heart of his identity. His downward comparisons to the jocks and rebels who take shop class cause him to assume it would be an easy A, and when he fails, it impacts his sense of self so much that he considers ending his own life.
BENDER Why'd you think it'd be easy? BRIAN Have you seen some of the dopes that take shop? BENDER I take shop...you must be a fuckin' idiot! BRIAN I'm a fuckin' idiot because I can't make a lamp? BENDER No, you're a genius because you can't make a lamp...
Both Andrew and Brian face pressure by their parents to be the best of their tribe, and because of this, they feel like anything below that means no self-worth. Andrew's expectations to be the typical All-American jock, and Brian's expectations to be the competent, straight-A student both represent the normative cultural standards for jocks and nerds in the 80's.
In the movie, the students begin to break down these barriers as they share their vulnerabilities, revealing that their differences are more perceived than real. Yet, they also recognize how their group identities have been shaped by the school’s social hierarchy and the dynamics of the world they live in.
Each student imagines how they appear to the others and forms judgments about their own group identity accordingly. These perceived judgments are internalized, contributing to their self-concept and reinforcing the norms and behaviors that define their subgroup. The contrasting behaviors that emerged through schismogenesis initially reinforce their group identities, but as they engage in deeper conversations, they start to see each other beyond these labels.
This ongoing process of schismogenesis drives the evolution of institutional structures, with groups adapting to the shifting social dynamics and establishing new power relationships. Over time, this evolution often leads to even further differentiation, where new subgroups can emerge, sometimes challenging and other times reinforcing the existing hierarchies.
The identity of being “military” or “law enforcement” is constructed through the accreditation of certain behaviors, which are viewed as beyond the scope of normal civilian life.
Military and police officers, for example, don't refer to themselves as civilians because this differentiation is a key part of maintaining the distinct social hierarchies that exist between their roles and the general public. By positioning themselves outside the category of “civilians,” they emphasize their specialized roles as protectors, enforcers, and defenders of societal order, but this separation also reinforces a hierarchy in which officers are positioned within the dominant class as occupying a higher or more specialized status, one that comes with unique powers and obligations.
When people who identify as military or police officers symbolically separate themselves from the “others” they serve or protect, they ultimately position civilians as the subordinate class, further entrenching the perceived gap between those who enforce order and those who benefit from it.
This distinction is a clear example of complimentary schismogenesis and it also plays into paternal narratives of the “Other,” where civilians, at the same time, might internalize always being viewed as needing protection or control, while officers are validated as the rightful enforcers of these roles, thus preserving the hierarchies that come with social order.
But like we saw with the example from "The Warriors," this othering can also mark military and police officers as external threats to civilian subgroups, and can inevitably create a dynamic of symmetrical schismogenesis as each group develops competing behaviors.
The dynamic of symmetrical schismogenesis is especially noticeable in sports rivalries, where fans create and maintain strong in-group identities by rallying around their shared interests and behaviors.
A classic example of this kind of rivalry is the long-standing feud between the Ohio State and Michigan football teams. Over time, what began as simple traditions—wearing team colors, attending games, and chanting slogans—has turned into a full-blown “us vs. them” mentality. It’s not just about supporting your team anymore; it’s about defining yourself by not being like the other side.
For OSU fans, their identity is all about being the opposite of Michigan fans, and Michigan fans feel the same way. This creates a sense of pride, loyalty, and superiority that only grows stronger in comparison to the rival team. It’s not just a fun competition—it becomes personal. As the rivalry intensifies, so do the behaviors. The fans don’t just celebrate their own team; they make sure to distinguish themselves from the other side, which only adds to the tension.
Whether it’s refusing to wear the other team’s colors or using specific nicknames (or insults) to describe the other side, these actions reinforce the divide and make the rivalry feel like more than just a game. It gets rooted in this constant back-and-forth between in-groups and out-groups as a social phenomenon.
As each side reacts to the other, things tend to escalate. Fans start creating deeper divisions by leaning more into stereotypes and hostility. We’ve talked about the dangers of this kind of polarized thinking before (back in part seven), but it’s worth repeating.
In times of conflict, behaviors that push people further apart—like aggressive nationalism or demonizing the other group—often get social approval, which just makes the divide harder to overcome. This cycle isn't just in sports teams or gang rivalries, but in other areas of life, like how nations justify war by painting the enemy as the “Other.”
In the context of schismogenesis, a phrase like “brother in arms” traditionally refers to soldiers united in combat, sharing a bond that's forged through their mutual struggles, loyalty, and common purpose in the face of conflict. When applied here, it also illustrates how accreditation within wartime settings constructs a dual narrative of unity and division.
On one hand, “brother in arms” emphasizes the solidarity and camaraderie among soldiers, where behaviors like bravery and sacrifice are accredited and celebrated. These actions serve to validate the members within the group and also reinforce a collective identity between everyone centered on shared goals and values. In a wartime context, this kind of solidarity is crucial for maintaining morale and justifying the conflict itself, as soldiers are paternalistically portrayed as protectors of their nation or cause.
On the other hand, the construction of "the enemy” — or those who oppose your comrades and brothers — becomes an essential element of the accreditation of war. Enemies are dehumanized, labeled as threats, and framed as outsiders who must be overcome. Through the paternal bond of brotherhood, you're not just fighting an enemy for the sake of yourself or home, but for the survival of your fellow soldiers and brothers.
This mental model fuels the schismogenesis process, where even minor tensions between groups can escalate into profound generational conflicts. By accrediting specific wartime behaviors and narratives, society legitimizes both the violence of war and the polarization between the warring factions.
SAT helps us understand how such hierarchical power structures are socially accredited. For centuries, slavery, for example, was socially accredited through laws, economic practices, and cultural beliefs that validated the ownership of humans as property. The legal and cultural systems that accredited slavery also reinforced the polarization of social roles.
These laws permitted and regulated the ownership, inhumane treatment, and trade of enslaved people, further reinforcing their status as property rather than as human beings. Moreover, cultural beliefs and values developed in tandem, sustaining the institution of slavery as deeply ingrained with racial prejudices and stereotypes that dehumanized enslaved people by socially portraying them as inferior and unworthy of freedom. These cultural narratives perpetuated the myth of racial superiority, and justified the system of oppression.
Challenging the historical authority of institutional systems that upheld slavery meant confronting centuries of socially ingrained beliefs and practices. It demanded a radical shift in our collective consciousness that encouraged a recognition of the inherent worth and equality of all, regardless of race or status.
Bureaucratic hierarchies like governments, schools, and religious organizations exist because they hold the authority to grant social accreditation, which impacts all social interactions by influencing people towards either reinforcing (conforming) or challenging norms (deviating). But keep in mind that ideas like crime, law, and justice all mean different things in different places, and not every badge carries the same weight in every community.
Private Ownership, Laws, and Rights: How Codification of Authority and Bureaucracy Impact Socially Accredited Norms
In the earlier human societies, ownership of resources like land, animals, and tools was communal. But through expanding patriarchal norms, the authority over these resources became concentrated in the hands of male leaders or elders. Societies grew to be organized around paternal figures controlling resources for the survival and benefit of the rest of the group. This model of governance relied on a system where social validation was implicitly tied to one’s ability to contribute to the group and maintain harmony within the family or clan.
Authority figures were expected to use their power for the protection and sustenance of the group, and their role was validated by their success in doing so. As societies shifted from smaller, nomadic groups to more settled agrarian communities, the concept of ownership began to individualize over time. With the advent of agriculture, land became even more of a crucial resource, and its control shifted from communal to more defined private ownership.
In this framework, those who owned more land or resources could accumulate more power, contributing to the rise of social hierarchies and governance systems that validated new norms around individual ownership. As disputes and challenges arouse, this process was formalized through legal systems, which reinforced the values of private ownership and enshrined them in our governance structures.
The role that laws and governance have in legitimizing our ideas of private ownership is a blatant form of explicit social accreditation—where people, families, or groups are formally recognized by legal systems or sovereign powers for their ownership rights above all else.
In modern societies, private ownership remains a key factor in determining social hierarchies and governance structures. As philosopher Karl Marx explored in his works for example, ownership of the economic means of production became a critical axis around which power dynamics and social institutions were formed in societies.
Social institutions, especially legal and governmental ones, hold considerable power in determining what gets deemed acceptable or deviant. When laws are codified, they reinforce the authority of the governing bodies and cement the power structures within society. But, laws don't just validate conventional behaviors—they also enforce social sanctions by punishing any deviations from these established norms.
The fear of sanctions, in many ways, is as powerful a motivator as the pursuit of validation, because people and institutions strive to gain approval and also to avoid penalties that could undermine their social standing. As we've discussed in other blogs, this dual mechanism of validation and sanction is necessary for maintaining social order because it ensures conformity and discourages dissent from socially accepted norms and behaviors.
Laws don't just explicitly codify certain behaviors, they also authorize institutions to enforce them, creating a powerful bureaucracy that oversees adherence to the same social norms it creates. As Weber argues, bureaucracy is the most efficient form of organization, but it comes at the cost of individual autonomy. In this sense, avoiding sanctions becomes a critical aspect of navigating social accreditation, as people balance the need for validation with the necessity of conforming to avoid social or legal punishment.
The creation of laws centralizes authority. With those who legislate them essentially defining what is acceptable and unacceptable, legal frameworks become the ultimate arbiters of societal behavior, accrediting people and institutions that align with these laws while punishing those who don't. This is why social accreditation is about more than just gaining approval but also about mitigating the risk of sanctions, which can damage reputations, limit opportunities, and sever social connections, among other things.
The Code of Hammurabi is a very early example of how social laws legitimized and centralized the authority of the ruling class. King Hammurabi positioned himself as the divine enforcer of justice, claiming that the gods had bestowed upon him the authority to create and enforce these laws. This gave the king tremendous power, as he was seen not only as a political leader but also as the guardian of divine justice. In this way, the laws codified under Hammurabi’s rule became a tool for reinforcing his authority and maintaining social order.
By inscribing the laws on public pillars, Hammurabi made the legal standards visible to the entire society, explicitly signaling which behaviors were sanctioned and which were rewarded. This type of codification reflects Max Weber’s theory of legitimate authority, where rulers gain social legitimacy through established rules and laws. One of the key principles of the Code was lex talionis, or the law of retaliation (“an eye for an eye”).
This legal framework standardized the consequences of actions and codified social hierarchies. For example, the severity of punishment depended on your social rank, with crimes against higher-ranking members resulting in harsher penalties. This shows how law can be used to preserve existing power structures, and how the authority of the legal system actively reinforces class divisions.
From the Code of Hammurabi to modern legal frameworks, laws have served as tools of both control and social accreditation. They validate certain behaviors while marginalizing others, drawing clear lines of conformity and deviance. But, in this system, the balance between personal freedom and following societal expectations for us is constantly in tension.
Hannah Arendt’s exploration of the “banality of evil,” particularly in her analysis of Nazi officer, Adolf Eichmann in "Eichmann in Jerusalem", starkly illuminates this tension.
When Adolf Eichmann was put on trial for his role in organizing the Holocaust, he appeared to the public in a glass booth, a setting that was supposed to display a villain for the ages—what many people expected to be evil incarnate, a demon encased in glass justifying his monstrous acts to the end. Yet what people saw was something far more unsettling: an ordinary man. Eichmann wasn't an evil genius, nor a mastermind of atrocities. His testimony revealed that he was just a bureaucrat, a man whose life was defined by compliance and group affiliation. He wasn’t driven by a desire to murder, but by a deeper urge to belong.
Eichmann’s personal history showed a pattern of conformity—someone who, throughout his life, attached himself to various groups in search of direction and purpose. He repeatedly joined movements, not out of deep conviction, but out of a need for someone else to tell him who he should be. In his own words at the trial, Eichmann admitted that he was simply following orders, a reflection of his desire to conform rather than to think critically or morally.
She says, “the trouble with Eichmann was precisely that so many were like him, and that the many were neither perverted nor sadistic, that they were, and still are, terribly and terrifyingly normal. From the viewpoint of our legal institutions and of our moral standards of judgment, this normality was much more terrifying than all the atrocities put together.” (Arendt)
Arendt’s chilling conclusion was that the banality of evil didn't come from Eichmann’s inherent malevolence but through his sheer thoughtlessness. He was just a cog in the machinery of a totalitarian regime that ascended to power not by force, but by the support of a population that felt alienated and disconnected from the political realm. These people found in the Nazi movement something to give them purpose. It wasn’t a violent coup, but an election that brought the Nazis to power, an election that was fueled by a population that had become what Arendt called worldless—disconnected from moral agency and eager to join something greater than themselves.
This is the true nature of the banality of evil: ordinary people, operating within legal and bureaucratic frameworks, conforming to societal expectations without ever pausing to reflect on the moral implications of their actions. Arendt’s analysis warns of just how easily people can become complicit in atrocities when societal and legal validation override their personal autonomy and critical thinking. Just like the religious justification for proselytization and the Crusades that we talked about in the last post, Eichmann’s trial reveals the terrifying potential for evil to manifest in the form of ordinary, obedient people simply doing their jobs.
Free will remains a questionable yet critical part of human agency, because it enables people to challenge existing norms and assert their autonomy. The tension between conforming to codified social laws and exercising our individual moral agency reflects a deeper conflict at play within the social accreditation process: people seek both societal approval and the freedom to define their own identities.
As legal frameworks shape and reinforce societal norms, they must also account for the inherent value of personal autonomy and moral reflection. Arendt’s portrayal of Eichmann serves as a sobering reminder that when societal validation is grounded solely in legal conformity, the ethical dimension of individual responsibility can be dangerously overlooked. This becomes particularly relevant in discussions of moral rights, which are framed as protections of individual freedom within a structured legal system—rights that safeguard autonomy even as that system seeks to regulate behavior.
Modern international law, with its foundation in treaties, conventions, and customary practices, tries to address complex global challenges surrounding human right; such as poverty, war, climate change, and economic relations. But, our current bureaucratic systems struggle in defining, enforcing, and upholding these rights on an international scale. In particular, the interaction between international law and state sovereignty has led to growing tensions around the effectiveness of international institutions like the United Nations (UN) or the International Criminal Court (ICC) in enforcing human rights and global norms.
One of the central problems in modern international law is the gap between the formal recognition of rights and their actual enforcement. While the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) and other subsequent treaties have codified essential human rights, the enforcement of these rights still remains inconsistent. This inconsistency reflects the limitations of international law in a world where state sovereignty still dominates. This gap between the recognition of rights and their enforcement is exacerbated by bureaucratic inefficiencies, political interests, and the overall complexity inherent in global governance.
20th century French philosopher and political activist, Simone Weil, in her seminal work, The Need for Roots, criticized the notion of rights that are detached from duties, arguing that rights shouldn't just be seen as abstract entitlements but as rooted in human needs. For Weil, the failure to meet essential human needs— basic things, like security, liberty, and community—renders the entire notion of rights as hollow.
Simone Weil’s critique resonates with the challenge of bureaucracies that recognize rights in principle but struggle to enforce them in practice. The UN’s struggle to prevent atrocities, like with the invasion of Ukraine or the ongoing Israeli-Palestinian conflict, reflects this disconnect between rights as formal principles and the failure to ensure those rights are respected in real-world scenarios.
Building on Simone Weil’s critique, rights function as a form of societal accreditation, conferring legitimacy and status to people or groups. But, when rights aren't actively upheld, they become hollow markers of validation, failing to provide the security, liberty, and community that Weil emphasizes as foundational to human dignity.
From a social accreditation perspective, the mere acknowledgment of rights without accompanying actions to protect or fulfill them undermines the credibility of the institutions responsible for enforcing these rights. This disconnect erodes the social trust and legitimacy necessary for cohesive governance, creating a void where rights exist as symbolic gestures rather than tangible protections.
On a broader level, the failure to actualize rights highlights the limitations of bureaucratic systems that prioritize procedural recognition over substantive enforcement. When rights are recognized but not enforced, marginalized groups or vulnerable populations are left unaccredited by the systems that are supposed to guarantee their protection, deepening societal divisions and reinforcing hierarchies of power. As Weil argues, rights must be tied to human needs; otherwise, failing to do so risks perpetuating social injustice and destabilizing the very structures that claim to uphold them.
Contemporary, Italian philosopher, Giorgio Agamben offers a more radical critique of through his concept of the state of exception. He argues that modern states increasingly operate by suspending the rule of law in moments of crisis, creating a “state of exception” where rights can be overridden in the name of security or emergency.
Agamben draws on the work of Carl Schmitt to show how legal norms can be suspended under the pretext of necessity, leading to the erosion of legal protections and the expansion of sovereign power. This is evident in global responses to terrorism, where post-9/11 anti-terrorism laws like, "the Patriot Act," have curtailed civil liberties in the U.S., or in refugee policies that leave stateless individuals outside the protection of legal systems.
In the international arena, the state of exception also manifests in how international law is set aside when it conflicts with national security interests or political objectives. For example, border lockdowns and mandatory quarantine during the COVID-19 pandemic challenged individual travel freedoms in the name of public safety.
The "state of exception" concept reveals the true fragility of human rights in the face of state power and bureaucracy’s tendency to prioritize control and order over individual choice, especially in moments of crisis.
The International Criminal Court (ICC) and similar institutions now face substantial challenges when enforcing rights due to the tension between state sovereignty and international governance. While the ICC aims to prosecute war crimes, genocide, and crimes against humanity, it's been unable to assert any kind of authority over powerful nations like the United States, Israel, Russia, and China.
This is the issue with forms of accreditation, like human rights, when they're only recognized on a broad or abstract level. They have to be enforced through actionable mechanisms that hold individuals, institutions, and governments accountable. The challenge with paternalistic structures is that the enforcement of these rights reinforces power dynamics and social hierarchies, leading to a transition towards a mix of power and coercion.
Revolutions of Authority: How Social Accreditation Fuels Revolutions of Power and Mass Ideologies
As our societies expanded, the division of labor became essential, leading to the differentiation of roles and responsibilities. Over time, these roles—leaders, managers, workers—became formalized within structured hierarchies, each with clearly defined duties and levels of authority. The institutionalization of work within these hierarchies reflected a broader societal shift where labor was no longer just a communal effort but a structured activity governed by social and moral expectations.
As hierarchical roles solidified, social stratification occurred, giving rise to an aristocracy—an elite class that inherited power and status through control over bureaucratic machinery. This aristocracy maintained its position by reinforcing hierarchical order and perpetuating a cycle of privilege.
In contrast, the emergence of the “working class” also occurred as societies became more industrialized and economic structures shifted. The working class—comprising laborers, peasants, and later industrial workers—came to represent the majority of the population, whose livelihood depended on selling their labor to the aristocracy. The aristocracy relied on the working class to sustain its wealth, but through social accreditation, the working class was also positioned as subordinate, leading to a clear delineation between those who labored and those who governed.
This dynamic fostered a sense of identity within both groups, but it also created a signficant social divide between them. The aristocracy was accredited with maintaining order and civilization, while the working class was stigmatized as the labor force required to support societal progress. As the working class grew, so did the tensions between the aristocracy and the laboring masses.
From a Marxist perspective, social accreditation can be seen as deeply rooted in and reflective of the economic and class structures of society. It's a mechanism through which the ruling class perpetuates its values and maintains control, and challenging these accreditation processes is a defining part of the broader struggle against capitalist exploitation and for societal transformation.
Just as paternalistic policies limit personal autonomy under the guise of knowing what’s best for individuals, aristocratic rulers justify their control by claiming that authority, not the individual, is the ultimate arbiter of what is right and necessary for the greater good. This convergence of power and enforced conformity paves the way for the emergence of authoritarianism, where the suppression of dissent and the enforcement of uniformity becomes central to maintaining control.
In authoritarian regimes, social accreditation is tightly controlled by the ruling elite, typically an aristocracy or a centralized authority, which uses its power to define what behaviors, beliefs, and affiliations are deemed acceptable or prestigious. Through a combination of rewards and sanctions, these regimes maintain control and reinforce their legitimacy. This structured process of validation perpetuates the social order, with loyalty to the regime as the guaranteed prerequisite for gaining or retaining status.
But as things change socially and economically, people can start feeling dissatisfied when large segments of the population are excluded by the systems that determine success and legitimacy. The inability to access political power or move up socially makes people upset, creating a growing gap between the ruling class and the broader population.
This discontent can trigger revolutionary movements, where the established accreditation processes are challenged, and new forms of legitimacy are sought. Revolutions against aristocratic or authoritarian rule attempt to dismantle the existing power structures by rejecting the validation mechanisms that favor a select few and pushing for new and broader, more inclusive systems of governance.
The American Revolution was driven by the colonists’ desire for self-governance and freedom from British imperial rule. The Declaration of Independence, authored by Thomas Jefferson, echoed Enlightenment principles, asserting that "all men are created equal" and "endowed with unalienable rights".
The French Revolution, also inspired by Enlightenment ideals and the success of the American Revolution, sought to overthrow the monarchy and aristocracy. The Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen proclaimed liberty, equality, and fraternity as fundamental rights, radically altering the French social and political landscape.
Revolutionary leaders and movements gain their legitimacy by appealing to popular support, the collective will, and the promise of a more equitable society. These movements usually try to realign societal values, emphasizing new markers of legitimacy. The feedback loop between the existing regime and the revolutionary forces becomes a battleground over whose vision of society holds more authority.
After an authoritarian regime falls, replacement governments usually establish a new social accreditation model through wider participation and representation. Legitimacy in democratic systems comes from civic engagment, and the elected rule of law, replacing the old regime's rigid paternal hierarchy with a more inclusive process. Power in these systems is distributed based on merit and public service, rather than inheritance or aristocratic privilege.
The development of this kind of collective governance was significant because it introduced a counterbalance to aristocratic control, so that the wider population could have a voice in key societal decisions. While aristocracies controlled resources and authority, collective governance offered a platform for more inclusive participation in the management of communal affairs, laying the groundwork for all future democratic principles.
The rise of democratic processes and collective governance fundamentally reshapes societal hierarchies by flattening the rigid structures that once upheld aristocratic and elite power. Michel Foucault’s concept of governmentality is useful here, as it helps explain how power shifts from being concentrated in the hands of a few to being diffused across society. In democratic systems, power is no longer about kings or aristocrats calling the shots—it’s spread out through mechanisms like voting, representation, and public participation.
But that doesn’t mean authority just disappears. Foucault shows us that power becomes more subtle, working through institutions and social norms to influence how we behave. In this sense, we’re not only governed by laws or rulers but by expectations and internalized control. As a result, the old markers of status and privilege lose some of their grip, while new ways of controlling behavior—more hidden, but just as powerful—take hold.
This brings us to where we are now, living in what South Korean philosopher Byung-Chul Han calls a transparent and achievement society. Han expands on Foucault’s idea of a disciplinary society, where people conform to norms because they know they’re being watched. But Han takes it a step further. In today’s world, we’re not just afraid of being surveilled; we actively participate in it. We willingly expose ourselves—through social media, work metrics, constant self-promotion—and this transparency becomes a form of control. Instead of just following rules out of fear, we strive for constant achievement, measuring our value by how visible our successes are to others. It’s a society where validation comes not just from compliance but from how well we perform under the gaze of everyone watching.
For both Han and Foucault, most human societies throughout history relied on what Han refers to as negative power—a form of control that operates through prohibition and constraints. This is the same kind of power we’ve seen when it came to religious accreditation, which I covered in part nine. For centuries, people were told exactly what kind of person they should be, and more importantly, what they couldn’t be. Leaders and religious institutions explicitly enforced limits, sending clear messages like “no, you can’t do that” or “you shouldn’t be that.”
But Han makes an interesting point when he says that “power as constraint and power as freedom aren’t fundamentally different—they just differ in how they’re mediated.” (Han) In other words, both forms of power come from the same source; they just show up in different ways. Han argues that in today’s Western capitalist societies, we’re not controlled by restrictions, but by what he calls positive power. Positive power isn’t about saying no—it’s about telling us that we can be anything we want, as long as we work hard, optimize ourselves, and become as valuable and efficient as possible.
In "The Burnout Society", Han explores how our current era, shaped by neoliberal values, isn’t defined by discipline and punishment anymore, but by an excess of positivity, performance, and achievement. Instead of being oppressed by external forces, we’re driven by internal pressures to constantly perform, improve, and achieve. The shift from a disciplinary society to an achievement society means that the push to succeed no longer comes from outside but from within ourselves.
Han connects this achievement-driven mindset to neoliberal economics, where market logic infiltrates every part of life. We become “entrepreneurs of the self,” constantly seeking to enhance our own value, whether in our careers, personal brands, or social status. But this relentless drive for self-optimization doesn’t come without consequences. According to Han, the very freedom and positivity that the achievement society promotes end up causing stress, exhaustion, and burnout. In trying to be everything, we end up feeling overwhelmed, and the pressures to perform take a serious toll on our mental health.
Only, this relentless drive for self-improvement doesn’t just impact our personal well-being; it also reshapes how we understand power and authority in society. As capitalist democracies spread throughout the 19th and 20th centuries, they brought with them a shift in how social dynamics and power relations functioned, fundamentally altering the way people engage with one another and with societal structures. A key aspect of this shift is the rise of perspectivism—the belief that all viewpoints hold equal value, regardless of the expertise or merit behind them.
In democratic systems, where equality and participation are central values, this idea that everyone’s voice should carry the same weight makes a lot of sense. On the surface, this democratization of voice encourages inclusivity and open participation. But as it becomes widespread, it also creates tensions in how society views legitimacy and expertise. The distinction between well-informed, expert opinions and uninformed perspectives can blur, leading to a landscape where inclusiveness sometimes overshadows competence. In this way, the pressure to prioritize equality risks undermining the structures that once ensured the elevation of skill, knowledge, and authority.
19th century Spanish philosopher, José Ortega y Gasset captures this concern in his book "The Revolt of the Masses", where he introduces the concept of the “mass man.” For Ortega, the mass man represents the rise of mediocrity, a figure content with conformity and average competence, yet emboldened by the belief that his voice and authority are equal to that of those who have spent years cultivating expertise or exceptional abilities. This shift, in Ortega’s view, marks a dangerous turning point for modern democracy. He warns that as the masses assert their influence without corresponding responsibility or excellence, society risks succumbing to a tyranny of mediocrity. The very democratic principles that promote participation and equality can, paradoxically, lead to the decline of intellectual and cultural standards.
In Ortega’s framework, the mass man is both a product and a driving force of capitalist democracy, where markets cater to the lowest common denominator. This creates a feedback loop of superficiality and conformity, where intellectual elites and exceptional individuals find themselves increasingly sidelined. Mass media and consumer culture, instead of elevating public discourse, contribute to the homogenization of tastes and the flattening of cultural depth. This echoes Han’s critique of the achievement society, where individuals are constantly driven to optimize themselves, not for higher ideals, but to fit into the shallow demands of a market that values quantity over quality.
Early 20th century French Marxist theorist, Guy Debord takes this analysis a step further in his seminal work The Society of the Spectacle. Debord builds on both Karl Marx’s idea of commodity fetishism and Émile Durkheim’s concept of the sacred to argue that modern life is dominated by symbolic representations that shape our perceptions of reality. Just as religious symbols once organized societies, Debord suggests that in contemporary culture, mass media and consumerism function as a kind of modern religion, where the spectacle of images and commodities dictates how we view ourselves and the world around us. The constant immersion in this spectacle not only distorts our relationship to reality but also deepens the alienation Marx warned about, as we become increasingly disconnected from genuine human experiences in favor of symbolic consumption.
Stephen West of the "Philosophize This" podcast gives a great explanation of what Debord means here, using transubstantiation in a Catholic Mass as a religious parallel. He says:
"to someone sufficiently imbedded into the religion, they literally believe that a Catholic priest wiggles his fingers over some wine and a cracker, and it actually becomes the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Just the appearance of the wine and cracker remain. But something important to consider is that not everybody in that room believes that it literally becomes the body and blood of Christ. People exist at all different levels of religious belief and immersion. A lot of people in the room realize it's still just some wine and a cracker, but it doesn't really even matter to them that much. That's not a hill they're going to die on, because it's what the cracker and wine symbolically represent that's important to them. Well, so too, apparently with us embedded into our economic religion” (West, 2022)
This is important, especially when considering the rise of influence and celebrity culture that we talked about in part eight. In contemporary society, we're essentially born into an economic religion where the symbolic representations or social appearances of the things we buy, matter much more to us than the actual substance, usefulness or value of the commodities. And even if we're self-aware of this, it doesn't really change how we live our lives because the "spectacle" itself maintains the status quo. We all have to participate in the economic means of production because keeping the market economy going is how we collectively and individually survive.
When we connect this with the meritocratic ethos from Protestantism we discussed in the last blog, we start to see how success in capitalist society is deeply tied to the idea that any problem can be overcome if you just work harder or engage more with the system. The message is clear: if you’re struggling, it’s because you’re not maximizing your potential within the structures already in place. But is that really the full picture?
For Debord, the spectacle serves to keep us alienated on multiple levels. First, it distances us from the reality of the world around us, obscuring our ability to see things as they are. Then, it separates us from the society we live in, making us passive consumers rather than active participants. This alienation continues until we are cut off not only from each other but also from our own sense of self. In a society dominated by the spectacle, the representation of reality—through media, images, and commodified experiences—becomes more important than reality itself. Objective truth fades into the background, replaced by the illusion that dominates our perceptions.
Contemporary philosopher, Slavoj Žižek picks up on this thread, critiquing how capitalist democracy perpetuates control under the illusion of freedom. Like Han and Debord, Žižek argues that the structures which appear to liberate us—consumerism, political participation, and media—are precisely what keep us trapped. He points out that capitalist democracy creates a false sense of autonomy. We believe that we’re making independent choices, but in reality, those choices are conditioned by the ideological forces shaping our desires, perceptions, and ultimately, our behaviors. This concept of false consciousness, borrowed from Marx, is crucial to understanding how power operates today—not through overt coercion, but by subtly influencing what we believe to be our own free will.
Our search for validation, belonging, and success is now deeply tied to systems that tell us we are free to define ourselves—so long as we do so within the parameters set by those very systems. Social media, career metrics, and consumer culture give us endless avenues to seek approval, but they also reinforce the idea that to be valued, we must constantly perform, conform, and optimize ourselves according to society’s standards. The pressure to participate in these cycles of validation creates a kind of self-imposed control, where we are continually seeking accreditation, not from the state or traditional authority figures, but from each other, our networks, and the platforms that shape our lives.
We often see Orwell’s "1984" referenced in headlines and political discussions as a symbol of authoritarian power, but the kind of self-regulation we see today, driven by our need for validation, is more in line with Aldous Huxley’s "Brave New World". In Huxley’s vision, control isn’t achieved through fear or force but through pleasure and distraction.
Neil Postman, in "Amusing Ourselves to Death", makes an insightful comparison between Orwell’s fear of control through pain in 1984 and Huxley’s fear of control through pleasure in Brave New World. While Orwell worried about a world where books would be banned and the truth hidden, Huxley feared a world where people wouldn’t care enough to read, overwhelmed by so much trivial content that meaningful information becomes lost in a flood of irrelevance.
This distinction is important because it shows how today’s society resembles Huxley’s dystopia more than Orwell’s. In our capitalist democracies, it’s not what we fear that controls us, as Orwell warned, but what we love, as Huxley predicted. Social media, endless entertainment, and consumerism keep us chasing superficial validation—likes, shares, status symbols—while more meaningful questions about identity, truth, and purpose get sidelined. Debord’s concept of the spectacle is even more dangerous here because it doesn’t just obscure reality—it replaces it with something so engaging and satisfying that we stop looking for anything deeper.
Žižek, like Huxley, critiques how this kind of control masquerades as freedom. We're told we can be anything, do anything, and say anything—but in reality, our desires are shaped by the very systems we think we are free from. This illusion of choice is reinforced by the constant need for social accreditation. Whether we're curating our online personas or optimizing ourselves in the workforce, the metrics of success are defined externally, even as we try to convince ourselves that we're in control.
Bruno Latour’s actor-network theory provides another layer to this discussion by showing how power in post-modern societies is distributed across networks of both human and non-human actors. Our interactions with technology, media platforms, and objects are as integral to the functioning of societal power as our interactions with other people. (talk more about this in the next one!)
Power is no longer top-down or even fully visible; it operates through the interconnected web of relationships that define our lives. And now it's manifest through social media algorithms that influence what content we see, shaping our opinions, our interactions, and our sense of what's worth pursuing. In this context, even our search for validation is mediated by systems we can’t fully understand or control.
Huxley’s fear that what we love will ruin us becomes ever more relevant as we navigate these complex networks of influence, accreditation, and identity. Everyday, we willingly submit to the spectacle because it offers comfort, distraction, and the promise of success—even as it alienates us from reality, from one another, and from ourselves.
Understanding these dynamics is going to be important moving forward. As we explore the evolution of science and technology in the next post, I’ll dive deeper into the differentiation of human and non-human actors in shaping our realities, especially as we begin to grapple with the rise of machine learning, AI, and the evolving relationship between culture and the scientific community. These new technologies will bring fresh challenges to our understanding of power, accreditation, and identity, forcing us to reconsider what it means to be human in an increasingly artificial world. The post-modern ideology of the masses thrives in this environment.
You can open the newsfeed or for you page of any content streaming app and see exactly what i'm saying. Capitalist democracy accelerates this transformation by embedding these networks into the fabric of daily life. Power becomes both decentralized and omnipresent as we willingly give up our privacy and justify our own commodification. Members of society are simultaneously empowered and manipulated, with the line between freedom and control becoming increasingly blurred as the fragmentation of social structures conflicts with the polarization of values and morality.
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References/Further Reading:
Beauvoir, S. de. (1949). The Second Sex. Vintage Books.
Blattman, C. (2022). Why we fight: The roots of war and the paths to peace. Viking.
Butler, J. (1990). Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. Routledge.
Creative Energy Options. (2023, October 10). Game theory and conflict: Unraveling the prisoner’s dilemma. https://ceoptions.com/2023/10/game-theory-and-conflict-unraveling-the-prisoners-dilemma/
Debord, G. (1967). The Society of the Spectacle. Zone Books. Dictionary.com. (2023). Brothers in arms. https://www.dictionary.com/e/slang/brothers-in-arms/
Durkheim, É. (1893). The Division of Labor in Society. Free Press.
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