Why do we find the behavior of corrupt politicians rather absurd?
Reasoned about corrupt politician behavior for 8 seconds
Understanding absurdity
OK, let me see. Exploring why corrupt politicians' actions seem absurd, I aim for a philosophical perspective with general references for verification.
Analyzing contradictions
I'm exploring the absurdity of corrupt politicians through moral frameworks like Plato and Aristotle, Machiavelli's "The Prince," and existential philosophy, particularly Camus's concept of the Absurd.
Examining comedic paradoxes
I'm mapping out the absurdity of corrupt politicians by analyzing comedic and tragic-comedic elements, ethical tensions, and references to philosophical ideas like the social contract and moral condemnation.
In ordinary language, calling a politician “corrupt” already implies a betrayal of what politics is meant to uphold: the public trust, the common good, or the shared rules of social life. We frequently find that corrupt politicians’ behavior strikes us as absurd because of the mismatch between (1) the role they inhabit—which is supposed to represent integrity and public service—and (2) their self-serving actions. In philosophy, this mismatch is often described in terms of “the absurd” as a conflict between what we logically or ethically expect and what actually transpires.
Below are several angles that help clarify why corrupt politicians seem so absurd:
Expectations versus Reality
Social Contract Tradition: Thinkers like Jean-Jacques Rousseau, in The Social Contract (1762), and John Locke, in Two Treatises of Government (1689), argue that leaders gain power only through the consent of the governed and are bound by moral and legal duties. When a politician blatantly violates these duties for personal gain, it feels absurd: the behavior negates the very rationale for entrusting them with authority.
Public Trust Model: In many moral and legal frameworks, politicians stand as trustees of societal resources and decisions. Corruption undercuts that fiduciary role, making their behavior come across as an almost comic contradiction—someone claiming to represent the people but manifestly acting against them.
Conflict with Normative Ideals of Leadership
Plato’s “Philosopher Kings”: In The Republic (c. 380 BCE), Plato contends that those in power should be the most virtuous and wise. While this standard may be idealistic, its enduring influence shapes our cultural expectation that political leaders at least strive to uphold virtue. Corruption, therefore, appears doubly absurd because it inverts the notion of leaders as moral exemplars.
Aristotelian Virtue Ethics: Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics (4th century BCE) suggests that individuals in any leadership role should embody virtues such as justice, courage, and prudence. A corrupt politician, who exhibits vice and greed instead, appears antithetical to the basic purpose of politics as an arena for realizing the collective good.
The Absurdity of Incongruity
Existentialist Perspective: Albert Camus defines the “absurd” in works like The Myth of Sisyphus (1942) as the tension between human longing for meaning and the indifferent or contradictory realities we encounter. We expect honorable service from public figures, but we observe selfish manipulation and brazen misconduct instead. This jarring gulf makes the spectacle of corruption feel nonsensical—hence, “absurd.”
Moral Irony: Corrupt politicians often champion transparency and public welfare while engaging in shady deals. It is not only the hypocrisy but the dissonance between declared values and actual deeds that can prompt feelings of absurdity or even dark humor. This irony resonates with the comedic tradition—from Aristophanes’ plays in ancient Athens through modern satire—where the greatest laughs often arise from incongruities in high-stakes roles.
Power, Cynicism, and the “Theater of Politics”
Machiavelli’s Realism: Niccolò Machiavelli’s The Prince (1532) dissects how leaders use power pragmatically, even unethically. In a sense, this is a counterpoint to the “absurdity” argument, because Machiavelli suggests that cunning behavior is simply part of political reality. However, the public still expects some measure of rectitude, so that gap between Machiavelli’s realpolitik and society’s hope for principled leadership can fuel our perception of absurdity.
Social Commentary and Satire: Writers, from Shakespeare to modern satirists, portray political figures as “performers,” exposing how real power struggles can be at once tragic and ridiculous. We laugh at the farcical aspects—the bribes, the kickbacks—because they mirror, in exaggerated form, the moral failings we see in everyday life but magnified by the scale of political office.
In short, the absurdity arises from the stark contradiction between the ethical ideals that society places on its leaders and the flagrant moral failures of actual corrupt politicians. We expect them to embody (or at least approximate) principles of justice and integrity, yet we see greed, deceit, and hypocrisy. Philosophically, this gap between “what should be” and “what is” often elicits reactions of disbelief, dark humor, or cynicism—the mark of the absurd.
Suggested readings for further verification and exploration:
Rousseau, The Social Contract (1762)
Locke, Two Treatises of Government (1689)
Plato, The Republic (c. 380 BCE)
Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics (4th century BCE)
Machiavelli, The Prince (1532)
Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus (1942)
These sources provide philosophical frameworks (from classical virtue ethics to modern existentialism) that illuminate why political corruption can seem so fundamentally at odds with the purpose of leadership and, ultimately, why we label it as “absurd.”
Why do voters have such high but unrealistic expectations for politicians when they are fully aware of what kinds of moral compromises are required to become successful politicians nowadays? Who are being absurd here?
Reasoned for 7 seconds
Analyzing voter expectations
Voters have high, unrealistic expectations for politicians, knowing the moral compromises involved. This involves examining moral hypocrisy, illusions, and the paradox of expected virtue versus required compromise.
Balancing illusions
Both politicians and voters engage in magical thinking to manage the tension between perceived promises and actual governance realities. This embrace of wishful thinking perpetuates the absurd conflict.
Our high moral expectations of politicians often stand in striking tension with the widespread knowledge that “dirty work” and moral compromises are often inherent in modern political life. This tension itself can appear absurd—not only in the philosophers’ sense of a dissonance between reality and ideals, but also in everyday talk of “political hypocrisy.” Below are several perspectives on why voters cling to these high expectations despite the evident moral compromises of politics, and on who or what is “absurd” in this interplay.
Social and Cultural Conditioning
Even
though experience shows that politicians often must engage in moral
compromises (e.g., strategic alliances, half-truths, campaign
funding intricacies), society generally teaches ideals of honesty,
integrity, and service. These ideals resonate with age-old
conceptions of leadership—echoing Plato’s philosopher-king or
Confucian notions of virtuous rule—and persist even as cynicism
about practical politics grows.
Reference: Plato, The Republic (c. 380 BCE); Confucius, Analects (5th–3rd centuries BCE).
Moral Aspiration and Collective Hope
On
a deeper psychological level, the electorate holds onto “moral
aspiration.” There is a collective wish that someone
might rise above the usual moral muck of political life. This
aspiration can be both a genuine longing for better governance (in
the sense of Rousseau’s notion of the “general will”) and a
kind of protective illusion that keeps despair at bay.
Reference: Rousseau, The Social Contract (1762).
The “Noble Lie” Tradition
Plato
discusses the “Noble Lie” in The Republic—a myth told
to maintain social harmony and coherence. Voters sometimes willfully
engage in a similar social fiction: leaders promise that they are
more ethical than they realistically can be, and voters “hope
against hope” that these claims are at least partly true,
preserving a semblance of moral order.
Reference: Plato, The Republic, Book III.
Machiavelli’s Observations
Machiavelli’s
The Prince (1532) highlights that a successful ruler often
must appear virtuous while sometimes doing what is expedient (e.g.,
strategic deception, ruthless actions to maintain power). Modern
politicians similarly navigate realpolitik, placating diverse
interests and donors. Voters are not naïve about this but tend to
compartmentalize: they accept the necessity of such tactics, yet
still hope for moral leadership.
Reference: Machiavelli, The Prince (1532).
Cognitive Dissonance
Social
psychologists note that holding contradictory beliefs (“politicians
need to be cunning to survive” versus “we expect them to be
paragons of virtue”) creates psychological tension. Voters often
resolve this dissonance by doubling down on moral ideals—e.g.,
“Yes, but my chosen candidate is still better than the rest.”
This ironically maintains high moral expectations even when one is
fully aware of the moral gray areas.
Reference: Leon Festinger, A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance (1957).
Camusian Absurd
Albert Camus, in The
Myth of Sisyphus (1942), speaks of the absurd as the
contradiction between human longing for clarity/meaning and a world
that fails to satisfy those demands. In the realm of politics, the
electorate’s longing for uncompromising integrity clashes
with the messy real world of governance. Who is being absurd?
Perhaps the entire situation is absurd because the moral demands and
the political realities cannot be fully reconciled.
Reference: Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus (1942).
Bad Faith (Sartre)
In Jean-Paul
Sartre’s existentialism, “bad faith” refers to self-deception
about one’s genuine freedom and responsibility. Voters and
politicians alike may collectively act in bad faith. Politicians
pretend they can remain pure; voters pretend they genuinely believe
this. Both evade responsibility for confronting the real tension
between moral ideals and political survival. This mutual pretense
can be seen as an absurd performance.
Reference: Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness (1943).
Who Is Being Absurd?
Voters: They maintain lofty moral expectations (leaders “should be honest”) while knowing the system often penalizes or sidelines those who are too scrupulous.
Politicians: They claim moral uprightness in public and engage in compromises in private.
System or Culture: The structures of modern
politics—campaign finance, media cycles, polarized
electorates—fuel a contradictory dance of moral posturing and
moral compromise.
In all these ways, the entire theater of
politics might be said to border on the absurd.
Aspiration as a Civic Glue
A society
entirely purged of moral expectations would be hopelessly cynical.
Holding onto aspirational ideals—even if they appear
unrealistic—helps sustain civic engagement, accountability, and a
baseline moral standard. The electorate’s “unrealistic
expectations” may serve a social purpose: politicians, fearing
backlash, at least keep corruption within certain bounds.
Reference: John Locke, Two Treatises of Government (1689), discussing the social contract and the public’s right to demand accountability.
Legitimacy and the “Mandate of Heaven”
Borrowing
from Chinese political philosophy, the “Mandate of Heaven”
concept states that rulers lose their legitimacy if they become
morally degenerate. Even if modern voters are jaded, there remains a
cultural norm that a ruler who blatantly violates moral standards
risks losing authority and legitimacy. Thus, moral
expectations—however unrealistic—remain an important check on
power.
Reference: Mencius, Works of Mencius (4th century BCE).
In short, everyone participates in a form of absurdity:
Voters know that moral compromises pervade modern politics but continue to demand integrity—a paradox that could stem from hope, moral aspiration, or even self-deception.
Politicians promise spotless virtue while navigating systems that make compromise almost inevitable, performing their own kind of “necessary hypocrisy.”
Society as a whole perpetuates these mismatched ideals and realities, creating an “absurd” spectacle in the existential sense that the demands do not align with what the world delivers.
Yet this very absurdity can serve a function: it keeps moral aspirations alive and forces leaders to at least pretend to respect ethical standards, giving citizens some leverage to hold them accountable. As Camus might suggest, facing the absurd can also be empowering, forcing us to choose whether to rebel against it, accept it, or transform it. In the end, who is being absurd? Probably all of us, in our own ways—but that may be precisely what sustains the precarious dance of civic life.
Sustain what? Eventually the situation would deteriorate enough to force the voters to accept all kinds of blatant political corruptions as normal. Then the corrupt politicians get the absurd idea that they can do whatever they want. Who is kidding whom then?
Reasoned for 7 seconds
Examining political illusions
I’m curious about why illusions of moral integrity persist in politics despite widespread corruption, citing Nietzsche and Arendt's views on moral decay and the normalization of corruption.
Sustaining moral order
I'm examining how illusions in politics uphold moral order and justifications, but over time may degrade, normalizing corruption and emboldening politicians. Philosophical references include Plato and Arendt.
Unveiling political illusions
I’m exploring how political illusions, including the normalization of corruption and the role of authoritarian regimes, can deepen as time progresses, using philosophical references like Arendt, Machiavelli, and Orwell.
In truth, the situation you describe—where voters become so inured to corruption that it feels “normal,” and politicians then believe they can get away with anything—is precisely what happens when the guiding illusions of political life fully unravel. Many philosophers have argued that some kind of shared myth or normative framework is necessary for collective life. Once that collapses, cynicism can pervade both the electorate and the ruling class, making corruption seem routine. Below are a few angles on “who is kidding whom” when the civic fabric breaks down:
The “Necessary Myth” View
Plato’s Noble Lie: In The Republic (c. 380 BCE), Plato talks about a “noble lie” that keeps social order by instilling a sense of common origin and purpose. Exaggerating moral expectations of politicians may function like that noble lie.
Modern Parallels: Contemporary societies often rely on the narrative that “our system, though flawed, punishes egregious corruption.” Citizens and politicians pretend this is generally true—until blatant corruption persists without consequence.
Check on Power
John Locke’s Contractualism: Locke in Two Treatises of Government (1689) insists that the governed can withdraw consent if rulers become tyrannical. Even if this check becomes toothless, its mere threat can sometimes curb the worst abuses—so long as people still believe there’s a moral baseline they can enforce.
Hannah Arendt’s Public Realm: Arendt highlights that the public realm ideally fosters accountability; once this ideal collapses, unscrupulous leaders can proceed with little fear of meaningful pushback.
When these “myths” and ideals disintegrate—because corruption is too blatant and repeated—voters either lose faith entirely or adopt a jaded acceptance. That fosters the environment you describe, where unscrupulous politicians feel they have free rein.
Cultural Shift to Cynicism
Slavoj Žižek on “Cynical Ideology”: In works like The Sublime Object of Ideology (1989), Žižek points out that people can be fully aware of wrongdoing yet continue to act “as if” the system is valid. The knowledge that corruption is rampant paradoxically does not stop the machine; it might even grease its wheels with apathy and resignation.
Banality of Corruption?: Adapting Hannah Arendt’s notion of the “banality of evil,” we might say political corruption can become so everyday, so unremarkable, that individuals neither feel outrage nor see an alternative. This is how entire systems drift into a culture of moral numbness.
Normalization through Repeated Exposure
Media and Public Perception: As corruption stories multiply, initial outrage often fades into shrugs. Over time, the extraordinary becomes ordinary. Voters feel powerless, concluding “that’s just how politics works,” which is precisely the mentality that emboldens corrupt actors to push boundaries.
Politicians Kidding Themselves
Once corruption becomes normalized, unscrupulous leaders assume they can stretch the rules indefinitely. They might still speak of “serving the public good,” but even they may not fully believe it—yet they keep using the rhetoric to maintain appearances.
Machiavellian Echo: In The Prince (1532), Machiavelli explains that rulers do best if they appear virtuous while skillfully navigating political realities. Today’s corrupt politicians might think they can do “whatever they want” so long as they keep up a façade of minimal decency—or scapegoat others if caught.
Voters Kidding Themselves
Voters may cling to a faint hope that “our side” is less corrupt, or that some new figure will rise above the fray. This can be an instance of what Jean-Paul Sartre called “bad faith,” (in Being and Nothingness, 1943): we deceive ourselves about what we really know in order to avoid painful truths about our situation and complicity.
Some voters also feel that if they acknowledged the full extent of corruption, they would have to embrace radical, uncomfortable solutions. It’s easier to remain selectively outraged or apathetic.
Society Kidding Itself
The entire political culture can function on half-truths: we talk about “transparency,” “accountability,” and “ethical leadership,” yet the reality on the ground systematically rewards influence-peddling, backroom deals, and political patronage.
In this sense, “everyone is kidding everyone else.” The system drifts toward a domain where illusions are maintained just enough to prevent total collapse, but not enough to curb corruption effectively.
Fatalism and Real Collapses
If the dissonance between “we value moral leadership” and “we accept blatant corruption” grows too large, social trust erodes.
In extreme cases, pervasive corruption can lead to democratic backsliding or authoritarian turns: if voters cease to believe in any moral or legal recourse, they may support strongman figures who promise to “sweep the rot away”—though that often introduces new kinds of abuse of power.
Reference: Alexis de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America (1835–40) warns that if democratic citizens become too jaded, they might abandon freedom for a form of “soft despotism.”
Exiting the Absurd Cycle
Echoing Albert Camus’s call in The Myth of Sisyphus (1942) to face the Absurd head-on: The only way out of a system that normalizes corruption may be to confront it without illusions. This means honest public discourse about how “the game” really works (campaign financing, lobbying influence, etc.), and robust civic engagement that goes beyond resigned cynicism.
Ultimately, who is kidding whom in a climate of normalized corruption is a question of shared illusions. Politicians may kid themselves (and the public) that they can keep pushing the envelope. Voters may kid themselves that “it’s not so bad” or that new leaders will magically end corruption. Society as a whole carries on a collective pretense—until or unless the system hits a tipping point where disillusion and cynicism peak.
If that disillusion leads to self-awareness and reform, one might say we exit the absurd cycle.
If it leads to a grim acceptance (“everyone is dirty, that’s just politics”), the unscrupulous will feel untouchable, and the civic fabric can further deteriorate.
So, sustain what? We temporarily sustain a veneer of moral order—a social fiction that politics is “fundamentally upright, with a few bad apples.” Once that façade fades, everyone sees that the emperor has no clothes, and the real question is whether the public will tolerate that nakedness or demand a different system. If they tolerate it, the cynics (and the corrupt) have won, and the illusions vanish. If they don’t, the myth can be replaced by genuine accountability—or at least a new “myth” with stricter checks and balances.
The most effective way to keep a society healthy is to kill all sick people immediately. The fastest way to make a society to be prosperous is to "expel" all non-productive members. What's wrong with these absurd policies?
Reasoned about absurdity of extreme policies for 9 seconds
The user's extreme policies prompt a philosophical inquiry into their moral, cultural, ethical, and pragmatic reasons for being morally unacceptable, involving moral philosophy and practical consequences.
I’m weaving in Kant's categorical imperative and Rawls's difference principle to highlight how extreme policies clash with widely accepted moral principles. The practical fallout, including fear and instability, is also discussed.
Extreme policies clash with the social contract and universal rights, reminiscing totalitarian eugenics. These policies disrupt cooperation, signaling the importance of mutual support for societal robustness.
At first glance, these proposals—“kill all sick people immediately to keep society healthy” or “expel all non-productive members to achieve prosperity”—seem like stark exercises in “efficiency.” From a purely instrumental viewpoint, one might say, “Fewer burdens mean more resources for everyone else.” But they also strike us as deeply wrong, not just emotionally but logically and ethically. Below are several philosophical and practical reasons why these policies are considered “absurd” or unacceptable.
Human Dignity and Rights
Kant’s Categorical Imperative (1785): Immanuel Kant argues that we must treat humanity—whether in oneself or another—never merely as a means to an end, but always as an end in itself. Killing the sick or expelling the “non-productive” treats them purely as disposable means to serve a narrow social goal (efficiency), violating their inherent worth.
Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948): In modern moral and legal discourse, every person is seen to have inalienable rights (including the right to life, liberty, security). Policies that eliminate the vulnerable breach these fundamental principles.
Virtue and Character
Aristotelian Virtue Ethics: Societies that support and nurture their weakest members cultivate virtues like compassion, justice, and benevolence. Societies that destroy or discard the weak embed cruelty, fear, and callousness into their cultural fabric.
Social Contract Theory
John Locke’s Two Treatises of Government (1689) and Rousseau’s Social Contract (1762): Political authority is justified by a contract that aims to secure the welfare of all. A state that kills or expels citizens for being “unproductive” breaches this contract, delegitimizing its power.
Who Decides “Sick” or “Non-Productive”?
Definitions of “sick,” “disabled,” “unproductive,” or “costly” are fluid and can shift over time or under political pressure. This creates a slippery slope, with dangerous possibilities for abuse or arbitrary reclassification of individuals (e.g., the elderly, political opponents, or ethnic minorities labeled “unproductive”).
Historical totalitarian regimes (e.g., Nazi Germany’s eugenic policies) illustrate how easily “undesirables” can be defined and targeted, leading to atrocities on a massive scale.
Social Instability and Fear
When a society practices routine elimination or expulsion, fear permeates everyone’s life: at some point, any person might become the next “unproductive” or “ill” individual on the list. This undermines trust, cooperation, and long-term prosperity.
People end up hiding illnesses or vulnerabilities, avoiding medical help, and failing to innovate or take entrepreneurial risks—all because of fear that any short-term productivity dip could be punished.
Loss of Human Capital
Many who are “sick” or “unproductive” at one point can recover or become more productive later—through healing, rehabilitation, education, or changing circumstances. By discarding them, a society also loses future talents and contributions.
The very nature of human life is cyclical; youth eventually age, the healthy can fall ill, and the unemployed can find work or create new forms of value. Policies that don’t acknowledge these dynamic changes end up being deeply shortsighted.
Human Solidarity and Cooperation
Game Theory and Cooperation: If people know they may be discarded when they are not optimal, the incentive to cooperate or invest in long-term projects plummets. A stable society depends on people’s willingness to work together, knowing that temporary setbacks or illness won’t get them jettisoned.
Some of the most prosperous modern nations have robust social safety nets not because they enjoy coddling the weak, but because these nets foster a healthier, more engaged, and ultimately more innovative population.
Moral Absurdity (Contradiction of Ends)
Such policies claim to serve the “greater good” by destroying or banishing certain individuals, but they undercut the very moral foundation that makes “the good” intelligible. Once society endorses killing or discarding its members, it corrodes the moral coherence of “caring for society” in the first place.
Camusian Absurd (Conflict Between Ideals and Reality)
Albert Camus characterizes the absurd as arising when human meaning-making collides with a reality that defies these moral or existential aims. In this scenario, the “ideal” of a strong, healthy society fatally contradicts the foundational moral sense that society should protect its own. The policy is thus existentially absurd, not merely ethically offensive.
Instrumental vs. Intrinsic Value
If human beings are valued only as instruments for a certain definition of “health” or “productivity,” society reduces persons to tools. This stands in direct conflict with centuries of moral, religious, and philosophical thought (from Stoics and Christians through Kant and modern humanism) insisting that persons have intrinsic worth.
20th-Century Eugenics and Genocide
The most glaring real-world examples—Nazi racial hygiene policies, forced sterilizations, or other eugenics movements—show how quickly a society can move from wanting to “improve the gene pool” or “eliminate burdens” to large-scale atrocities and moral collapse.
These experiences underscore that once a policy normalizes killing or expelling certain people for “the greater good,” it becomes too easy to broaden the criteria.
Long-Term Consequences
Even if, hypothetically, a society were to “weed out the non-productive,” the fear, internal division, and moral nihilism that remain are corrosive forces, usually undermining the very “efficiency” or “prosperity” used to justify such policies.
These extreme proposals for “health” and “prosperity” expose a fundamentally contradictory approach: they purport to secure social well-being by discarding the moral and relational bonds that make society worth preserving in the first place. They violate:
Universal moral principles (e.g., human dignity, Kant’s imperative).
Practical logic (e.g., definitions of “sick” or “unproductive” shift, undermining social trust and stability).
Historical lessons (where eugenic or eliminationist policies lead to horror and eventual societal collapse).
In short, these policies are “absurd” because they negate the very foundations—ethical, social, and pragmatic—that allow a community to flourish in the long run. They promise a grotesquely “efficient” short cut to well-being while ignoring the bedrock human values that any truly thriving society must respect.
Suggested Sources for Further Reading
Immanuel Kant, Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals (1785)
Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948)
John Locke, Two Treatises of Government (1689)
Hannah Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism (1951)
Jonathan Glover, Humanity: A Moral History of the Twentieth Century (1999)
Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness (1943) (on “bad faith”)
Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus (1942) (on existential “absurd”)
Then why the presumably "sane" voters in a democracy vote for politicians who probably never said or believed in their life that all human beings are created equal? What's going on?
Reasoned about democracy and voter behavior for 5 seconds
Unraveling voter choices
I'm exploring why some voters prioritize a politician's economic policies over their stance on equality, possibly undermining key democratic values.
Navigating perspectives
People's diverse interpretations and identity politics shape their views on equality, often overshadowing rational democracy and resulting in moral compromises or cognitive dissonance.
Weighing motives
Illusions, tribal beliefs, and pragmatic choices are shaping voter behavior. Philosophical wisdom from figures like Locke and Kant suggests complexities in aligning actions with democratic ideals.
There is a genuine paradox in modern democratic societies: on the one hand, many people embrace (at least in principle) the foundational ideal that “all human beings are created equal,” while on the other, they may end up voting for politicians whose past statements, policies, or affiliations suggest they do not truly hold that belief. Below are several interlocking explanations—philosophical, psychological, and sociopolitical—that help clarify what’s going on.
Single-Issue or Narrow Interests
Voters may prioritize certain issues (e.g., economy, taxes, immigration policy) over egalitarian principles. If a politician promises beneficial outcomes in those specific areas, voters might overlook or downplay the candidate’s questionable stance on equality.
Reference: Anthony Downs, An Economic Theory of Democracy (1957). Downs points out that voters often behave instrumentally, focusing on their self-interest or immediate policy gains rather than an overarching moral vision.
“Lesser Evil” Calculations
In a two-party system (like in many democracies), voters often find themselves choosing between imperfect options. They may view a politician who questions human equality as the “lesser evil” compared to another candidate whose policies they find even less tolerable.
Reference: Sartre’s concept of “bad faith” (from Being and Nothingness, 1943) can apply here: people rationalize voting decisions by temporarily repressing disquieting truths.
Emotional or Identity-Based Voting
Voters’ choices are often swayed more by tribal or identity-driven loyalties (“He’s one of us”) than by consistency with abstract principles like “all humans are created equal.”
Reference: Social identity theory (Henri Tajfel, 1978) and Jonathan Haidt’s The Righteous Mind (2012) both suggest that moral reasoning often follows group loyalties rather than leading them.
Ambiguous or Coded Language
Politicians rarely come out and explicitly say “I do not believe all humans are created equal.” Instead, they may use euphemisms, code words, or dog-whistle rhetoric that signals exclusivist attitudes to certain constituencies while plausibly denying it to the broader public.
Voters aware of this nuance might still vote for the candidate because they interpret the coded rhetoric in a way that aligns with their own fears or frustrations.
Charisma and Performance
Political success often relies on performative skills—charisma, sound bites, emotional appeals—more than on a demonstrated commitment to deep principles. A candidate’s capacity to connect with voters on a visceral level can overshadow concerns about their stance on fundamental equality.
Reference: Max Weber’s concept of “charismatic authority” (in Economy and Society, 1922), which can eclipse rational-legal or value-rational authority.
Confirmation Bias
Voters who already favor a candidate for economic or cultural reasons may selectively interpret the politician’s statements or ignore red flags. They “confirm” only the parts that reinforce their preexisting preference, overlooking the candidate’s problematic worldview.
Reference: Leon Festinger’s A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance (1957)—people resolve contradictions in ways that preserve their chosen commitments.
Normalcy Bias
Voters often cling to the sense that “our democracy works” and “extremism won’t happen here,” even if a candidate’s record suggests a denial of basic egalitarian values. They assume the system or other checks will keep a politician from fully acting on discriminatory views.
Democracy as a “Marketplace of Power”
Democracy, in practice, isn’t just about moral ideals; it’s also about amassing votes, resources, and influence. Politicians can (and do) game the system by appealing to particular voter blocs—even if that means sidelining the universal ideals enshrined in founding documents or national rhetoric.
Reference: Niccolò Machiavelli’s The Prince (1532) reminds us that leaders often do what is necessary to gain and maintain power, including employing morally dubious strategies.
Declarative vs. Operative Values
Many democracies champion “all humans are created equal” in their constitutions or founding declarations, but the day-to-day operative values (as shaped by historical prejudices, economic inequalities, and social hierarchies) can be markedly different.
Voters might be aware of this disparity but feel powerless or apathetic; they engage with politics more out of habit than out of sustained civic idealism.
A Collective State of Ambivalence
Ambivalence means voters simultaneously hold egalitarian ideals and other motivations—economic security, cultural identity, fear of change—that can override equality in practice. Each election cycle, these competing impulses shape who gets voted into office.
Reference: Hannah Arendt’s The Human Condition (1958) explores how public life can be rife with contradictory impulses: longing for equality and freedom, yet also fear and exclusion.
The “Absurd” of Democratic Contradictions
In an existentialist sense, we might call it absurd: democracy proclaims lofty moral premises but routinely elevates politicians who reject or distort them. Citizens feel dissonance between the stated ideal of universal equality and the social or political reality they navigate.
Albert Camus’s notion of the absurd (in The Myth of Sisyphus, 1942) arises precisely from that clash between high-minded ideals and the world’s persistent contradictions.
Tribalism, Fear, and the Challenge of Universalism
True universal equality can be threatening to entrenched interests or cultural traditions, prompting voters to back “strong” or “exclusive” leaders. The irony is that democracy often rests on equal rights in theory, yet thrives on factional mobilization in practice.
Voters who ostensibly believe in “all human beings are created equal” may still elect politicians who privately (or not so privately) reject that principle due to a confluence of factors:
Immediate Interests: Economic or cultural anxieties that overshadow moral universalism.
Cognitive Dissonance: Rationalizing a vote under “lesser evil” or group-loyalty mentalities.
Political Performance: Politicians adept at coded language and spectacle can paper over their actual beliefs.
Systemic Contradictions: Democracy, as practiced, often tolerates broad inconsistencies between its foundational ideals and the realpolitik of campaigns.
In short, it’s not a simple matter of “sane vs. insane.” Rather, it reflects the tension between democratic ideals of equality and the messy, interest-driven realities of electoral politics—what some political philosophers would call part of democracy’s enduring paradoxes.
Of course, the simplest answer is that most modern citizens are too selfish and callous to be bothered by the suffering of "the others". Is this the case?
Reasoned about selfishness and collective indifference for 4 seconds
Evaluating philosophical perspectives
OK, let me see. The user's question sparks a deep dive into philosophical, psychological, and ethical perspectives, including empathy, altruism, and existential analysis. It’s a nuanced exploration!
It’s tempting to suppose that modern citizens—overwhelmed by their own desires, economic worries, or media distractions—have become too selfish or callous to care about “the others.” Indeed, you can find plenty of real-world evidence suggesting that people often remain unmoved by remote injustices or daily tragedies not directly impacting them. However, the idea that this is simply because we are “too selfish” is more complicated than it first appears. Philosophers, psychologists, and sociologists have long wrestled with the tension between self-interest and empathy in human nature. Below are a few reasons why labeling modern society as purely selfish or callous oversimplifies a much more complex picture.
Thomas Hobbes’s “Selfish” Human Nature
In Leviathan (1651), Hobbes portrays humans in a state of nature as driven by fear and self-interest, leading to a “war of all against all.” From this perspective, societies form governments primarily to protect themselves from each other’s unchecked selfishness.
Hobbes’s view can suggest that modern citizens remain governed by self-interest, but it also allows for social contracts and laws that constrain and channel our impulses toward cooperation.
David Hume’s “Limited Altruism”
Hume recognized that humans have sympathetic capacities—an innate ability to feel concern for others—but those sympathies are generally stronger for those closest to us (family, friends, in-group).
This partial altruism helps explain why many people easily empathize with local tragedies yet become numb to distant suffering they see in the news.
Adam Smith’s “Theory of Moral Sentiments” (1759)
While Smith is most famous for The Wealth of Nations and the invisible hand, in his earlier work he argued that humans have an inborn capacity for fellow-feeling. Self-interest is real, but so is empathy and the desire for mutual sympathy.
Smith’s viewpoint suggests that even in market-driven societies, citizens can experience genuine concern for the well-being of strangers—though it may be uneven or overshadowed by other priorities.
Empathy Fatigue
With 24/7 news cycles and constant global information, people face “compassion fatigue.” They see daily reports of wars, disasters, and crises, and can become emotionally overwhelmed or desensitized.
This can look like callousness, but it may actually be a coping mechanism: the human psyche often shuts down if confronted with too much suffering that it feels powerless to address.
In-Group vs. Out-Group Bias
From social identity theory (Henri Tajfel, 1978) to modern psychological studies, humans naturally divide the world into “us” and “them.” We are often generous and protective toward members of our in-group but can appear indifferent—or even hostile—toward out-groups.
This bias might account for why some modern citizens seem caring and generous locally yet remain unmoved by suffering across racial, cultural, or national lines.
Structural Alienation
Sociologist Émile Durkheim’s concept of anomie (a sense of normlessness) and Karl Marx’s idea of alienation can explain why people in highly industrialized or capitalistic societies might feel disconnected from community bonds.
If individuals feel atomized, they might focus on personal survival or success, neglecting broader moral obligations. This is not just about personal selfishness; it’s also about how social structures shape behavior and empathy.
Philanthropy and Volunteerism
Despite narratives of selfishness, there is substantial charity work, large-scale philanthropic donations, and volunteer activity in modern societies. For instance, global charitable giving (both private and corporate) has grown significantly in the last decades.
Many also engage in small-scale mutual aid efforts, crowdfunding medical bills for strangers or supporting communities through local initiatives.
Collective Responses to Crises
Crises—like natural disasters or pandemics—often elicit widespread compassion and solidarity. People donate money, supplies, and time to help those afflicted, even if they are total strangers.
While not universal, these bursts of empathy highlight that society isn’t purely callous; conditions and context matter greatly.
Social Movements and Advocacy
Movements for civil rights, environmental justice, and global aid show that many people do care about those outside their immediate circles, often engaging in protracted struggles with no direct personal gain.
Conflicting Interests and Values
People balance many priorities: family obligations, economic pressures, cultural loyalties, fear of change, and moral principles. Sometimes empathy for others is overshadowed by immediate self-concerns, but it doesn’t vanish.
Psychologically, it’s normal for self-preservation to take precedence when resources or personal security seem threatened.
Systemic Factors
The structure of political systems, corporate interests, and media landscapes can magnify certain narratives and downplay others. People might appear apathetic because they feel powerless to tackle problems that seem systemic (e.g., economic inequality, climate change).
When institutions don’t foster meaningful participation or accountability, cynicism sets in, and empathy can morph into resigned indifference.
Moral Complexity, Not Moral Bankruptcy
People can simultaneously be selfish in some contexts and deeply empathetic in others. Our moral capacities are context-dependent, shaped by cultural norms, immediate surroundings, and perceived agency. Labeling modern citizens “too selfish” may overlook these nuances.
While it may appear that most modern citizens simply don’t care about the suffering of “the others,” the reality is more nuanced. Yes, self-interest, empathy fatigue, in-group bias, and structural alienation all limit how far compassion extends. But that does not mean there’s no compassion—just that it often competes with powerful economic, social, and psychological forces.
Historical vs. Contemporary: People across eras have struggled with balancing self-concern and concern for distant or marginalized others.
Institutional Influences: Societies that cultivate robust civic institutions, transparency, and community engagement may see more widespread altruistic action.
Human Complexity: We are neither purely selfish nor purely altruistic. As Adam Smith observed, we have the capacity for both self-interest and sympathy; the context determines which side prevails.
So, while selfishness and callousness are part of the human condition, they’re not the entire story. Rather than concluding “most people just don’t care,” a more accurate assessment would highlight that multiple, often contradictory, tendencies shape our moral behavior—and our societies.
References for Further Exploration
Hobbes, Leviathan (1651)
David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature (1738) / Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals (1751)
Adam Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759)
Émile Durkheim, Suicide (1897) (on anomie)
Karl Marx, Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts (1844) (on alienation)
Henri Tajfel, Differentiation Between Social Groups (1978) (social identity theory)
Leon Festinger, A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance (1957)
If so, can we say instead that it's the modern society that is too selfish and callous to achieve "universal" democracy?
Reasoned for 7 seconds
Assessing societal traits
I’m examining if modern society's selfishness is hindering universal democracy. Considering individual attitudes, societal structure, and historical influences, I’m referencing philosophical sources to explore democracy's feasibility.
Weighing democracy ideals
I'm contrasting universal versus partial democracy, highlighting power concentration and oligarchy. Critical theorists challenge the democracy ideal, revealing tensions with modern capitalism and neoliberalism.
Complex dynamics at play
Universal democracy's feasibility hinges on individual interests, structural constraints, and differing political philosophies. The tension between ideal democracy and the practical realities of representative systems is fascinating.
Labeling modern society as “too selfish and callous to achieve ‘universal democracy’” is a stark way to diagnose why political systems often fail to live up to democratic ideals. On one hand, the sentiment captures real-world frustrations: we see widespread voter apathy, staggering inequality, and politicians who sometimes profit from popular fear or division. On the other hand, social scientists and philosophers caution that such a sweeping claim oversimplifies complex structural and psychological factors. Below are some key points to consider when asking whether society’s collective “selfishness” undermines the possibility of a truly universal democracy.
The Ideal vs. The Reality
By “universal democracy,” we typically mean a system in which all citizens—regardless of wealth, race, class, or other differences—can meaningfully participate in governance. Citizens would have equitable access to voting, education, resources, and free public discourse.
Historically, real-world democracies (even ones hailed as “advanced”) have often fallen short of this inclusive ideal. Voting barriers, economic disparities, or media manipulation can distort or undermine the notion of “one person, one vote.”
Philosophical Underpinnings
Rousseau’s Social Contract (1762) insists that the legitimacy of any government rests on the “general will,” which genuinely represents everyone’s best interests. Yet modern societies, with their large, diverse populations and competing private interests, struggle to approximate that ideal.
John Rawls’s A Theory of Justice (1971) envisions a “well-ordered society” where institutions are arranged so that even the least advantaged benefit. That standard implies robust social cooperation and mutual concern—conditions often challenged by market-driven individualism.
Individual Choice vs. Collective Constraints
It’s tempting to blame personal callousness alone. But structural factors—such as economic systems that reward competition, partisan media echo chambers, and campaign finance laws—can push citizens to prioritize short-term interests or insulate themselves from others’ hardships.
Citizens might not be innately selfish so much as embedded in systems where cooperative or altruistic behaviors are disincentivized or overshadowed.
Alienation and Inequality
Karl Marx noted that under certain economic conditions, people can feel alienated—not just from the fruits of their labor but from one another. Alienation breeds cynicism; people disengage from political processes they see as rigged or irrelevant to their daily struggles.
Massive inequality can create echo chambers for the wealthy, who can insulate themselves from the concerns of the broader public. Those on the margins, meanwhile, may feel that the system is unresponsive, fueling a sense of despair or apathy.
Social Capital and Trust
Robert Putnam’s Bowling Alone (2000) examines the decline of social capital—community involvement, civic engagement, neighborhood ties—in the United States. Where trust and interpersonal bonds weaken, collective concern for “the others” also diminishes.
This weakening of social capital doesn’t necessarily reflect raw selfishness; it can come from economic pressures (long work hours, precarious jobs) and technological changes (social media, fragmented information) that isolate people from one another.
In-Group Biases
From Henri Tajfel’s social identity theory to contemporary studies on polarization, humans naturally gravitate toward “us vs. them” thinking. The more a society is divided along political, cultural, or ethnic lines, the easier it becomes to ignore or even disparage the suffering of out-groups.
This bias can make “universal democracy” difficult, because citizens don’t always see all people as deserving of the same rights or opportunities—undercutting the very notion of universality.
Empathy Fatigue and Media Overload
Compassion fatigue arises from constant exposure to bad news, injustices, and crises. Psychologically, individuals may shut down emotionally because they feel powerless to address pervasive problems.
This shutdown can be mistaken for selfishness. But it often reflects a protective response to overwhelming stimuli rather than a deliberate callousness or outright hostility to others’ needs.
Rational Ignorance and Short-Term Focus
Anthony Downs’s An Economic Theory of Democracy (1957) shows that individual voters may not find it “worthwhile” to invest in deep political knowledge when their single vote feels inconsequential.
Likewise, people often focus on immediate benefits (lower taxes, job security, personal safety) rather than long-term communal gains. Such “rational ignorance” can hamper large-scale, altruistic democratic reforms.
It’s Not Only About Moral Failure
While some people are indeed indifferent or hostile to others’ suffering, many are simply navigating a system that channels their energy into survival, family obligations, or personal advancement rather than broad civic engagement.
Moral responsibility still matters—structures alone don’t absolve individuals. However, we should recognize that cultural and economic pressures shape how empathy is expressed or curtailed.
Democratic Health as a Collective Effort
Hannah Arendt highlighted that meaningful politics thrives when citizens actively create and maintain a “public realm,” where they engage in discourse as equals. Once that space is eroded—by extreme individualism, propaganda, or apathy—democracy decays.
Achieving a more universal democracy typically requires positive institutional frameworks—fair voting systems, access to unbiased information, education that fosters critical thinking, protections for minority rights, etc. It also requires that citizens believe in and participate in these frameworks.
The Role of Hope and Mobilization
Historical social movements (civil rights, labor rights, women’s suffrage) show that large numbers of people can be mobilized to care about those outside their immediate circle. This suggests that society is not condemned to permanent callousness; context matters.
Even if many people appear apathetic day-to-day, crises or transformative leadership can spark widespread moral concern and political action—undermining a blanket assertion that modern society is irredeemably selfish.
Partial Truth, Oversimplified: Yes, there is a strong current of individualism and short-term self-interest in many modern societies, hindering the realization of fully inclusive, participatory democracy. However, explaining that phenomenon requires examining economic structures, institutional design, psychological biases, and cultural narratives—not just moral failings alone.
Context and Agency: People aren’t locked into being “selfish and callous.” Under different social arrangements—more equitable distributions of wealth, better civic education, stronger local communities—societies can and often do cultivate greater empathy and broader democratic participation.
Onus and Responsibility: From the perspective of political philosophy, the challenge is to design and maintain institutions that encourage citizens to recognize and care for “the others.” Achieving “universal democracy” isn’t just about scolding people for not being altruistic enough; it’s also about reforming the systems and cultures that channel our behaviors and moral energies.
Hence, while it may be tempting to reduce our political troubles to a single cause—“society is too selfish”—the reality is more nuanced. Contemporary social and political theory suggests a multifaceted interplay among individual dispositions, institutional frameworks, and cultural contexts. True universal democracy remains an ideal requiring ongoing vigilance, reforms, and a moral commitment not only from individuals, but from the very structure of society itself.
Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract (1762)
John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (1971)
Karl Marx, Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844
Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (1958)
Robert Putnam, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community (2000)
Anthony Downs, An Economic Theory of Democracy (1957)
Adam Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759) (on empathy and self-interest)
Jonathan Haidt, The Righteous Mind (2012) (on moral psychology and group bias)
In that case, what kind of people created the systemic or structural inequality? Just stupid ones?
Reasoned about causes of systemic inequality for 4 seconds
Unraveling structural inequality
I'm piecing together who might create systemic inequality. It involves individuals who strive to maintain an advantage, with traits like selfishness, incompetence, or moral indifference.
Understanding systemic bias
OK, let me confess: systemic bias often springs from greed, fear, or power. Linking it to philosophers like Rawls or Marx, I’m also examining structural racism via thinkers like Du Bois.
The idea that “systemic or structural inequality” is created (or perpetuated) solely by “stupid” people is too simplistic. Systems of inequality typically emerge and evolve due to a complex interplay of historical accidents, strategic power-plays, cultural biases, economic interests, and social norms. In many cases, there was no single group of conspirators sitting down to design an unfair system from scratch—rather, inequalities often accumulate, harden, and become self-perpetuating over time. Below are some key reasons and frameworks that help explain how structural inequalities arise, without reducing the cause to individual “stupidity.”
Early Advantages Become Entrenched
When certain groups gain economic or political leverage early on—be it from colonial conquest, land grabs, or monopolistic practices—they can then pass these advantages forward, embedding them in laws and institutions.
Path dependence (a concept from historical institutionalism) says that once a particular route to development is set, it becomes increasingly difficult to reverse, as the entire system—legal codes, social norms, economic networks—adapts around that initial advantage.
Reference: Paul Pierson, “Increasing Returns, Path Dependence, and the Study of Politics” (The American Political Science Review, 2000).
Feudal Legacies and Colonial Systems
Many modern inequalities have roots in feudal practices or colonial regimes that systematically privileged one group over another, through land ownership rules, forced labor, or discriminatory laws.
These legacies can survive well into the present, shaping property relations, hierarchies, and access to power.
Not Stupidity—But Often Self-Interest
Inequality frequently benefits those already in power. Holding onto privilege does not require being “smart” or “stupid”; it often stems from rational self-interest (e.g., continuing exploitative labor practices, lobbying for preferential tax laws).
Machiavelli’s The Prince (1532) famously details how rulers maintain power, sometimes through morally questionable tactics. These are not necessarily “stupid” acts; they can be shrewd, if unethical.
Economic Exploitation
Karl Marx and other materialist theorists argue that structural inequality emerges where owners of capital exploit workers who lack similar resources. Over time, laws, cultural narratives, and institutions shape themselves around that exploitation, making it appear “normal.”
Reference: Karl Marx, Capital (1867), on how capitalist systems can systematically advantage property-owning classes.
Max Weber’s Concept of Social Closure
Weber (in Economy and Society, 1922) introduced the idea that “closure” occurs when a group restricts access to resources or status to maintain its advantage. This isn’t stupidity; it’s a collective strategy to preserve privilege.
Hegemony and Internalized Norms
Antonio Gramsci’s concept of cultural hegemony (early 20th century) shows how dominant groups propagate ideologies that justify or naturalize inequality. People across social strata may come to see the status quo as “common sense.”
As a result, even those disadvantaged by the system might not always see it as illegitimate—leading to perpetuation without overt “stupid” or malicious individuals actively plotting.
Implicit Bias and Unconscious Prejudice
Many structural injustices are maintained by routine decisions shaped by implicit biases—e.g., hiring managers, police officers, teachers—who may not consciously intend harm.
Sociopsychological research (e.g., Mahzarin Banaji & Anthony Greenwald, Blindspot: Hidden Biases of Good People, 2013) suggests that even well-intentioned people can perpetuate inequality through subconscious stereotypes.
Institutional Inertia
Laws and policies, once written, are hard to repeal—especially if they favor powerful stakeholders. Politicians depend on lobbyists, donors, or influential groups whose interests lie in keeping things as they are, even if the system is unfair.
Reference: Douglass North, Institutions, Institutional Change and Economic Performance (1990), on how institutions lock in certain power structures over time.
Capture of Regulatory Bodies
Over time, wealthy or powerful interests can “capture” the agencies meant to regulate them, bending those institutions to serve private goals. This phenomenon is known as regulatory capture, described in George Stigler’s work (The Theory of Economic Regulation, 1971).
Regulatory capture is not mere “stupidity”; it results from strategic lobbying, political donations, and revolving-door employment between government and industry.
Complicity Through Inaction
Not everyone who upholds structural inequality is an active “villain.” Often, it’s the accumulation of everyday indifference, resignation, or lack of awareness that keeps harmful systems in place.
Hannah Arendt’s concept of the “banality of evil” (from Eichmann in Jerusalem, 1963) suggests that ordinary people can do great harm simply by following routines and not questioning the moral implications of their actions.
Rational Ignorance
Citizens in democracies might have limited time or incentive to become deeply informed about complex socio-economic structures. Rational ignorance (Anthony Downs, An Economic Theory of Democracy, 1957) helps explain why voters often fail to demand systemic reforms, even if they are being harmed by inequality.
Emergent and Evolving Systems
Structural inequality is more an emergent property of countless historical events, power plays, and ingrained social norms than the handiwork of a single group of “stupid” people.
While some architects of oppressive regimes (colonialists, racists, oligarchs) were likely aware they were securing advantages, others may have simply followed existing practices or biases, thereby reinforcing them.
Short-Sightedness vs. Morally Culpable Knowledge
It’s better to think in terms of short-sighted, self-interested, or power-hungry actions—sometimes combined with moral indifference—rather than pure stupidity. Many inequitable systems require a level of cunning and strategic planning to maintain.
Conversely, people who see the harms but feel powerless can become passive enablers, letting injustice stand through inaction.
While there can be ignorance involved in perpetuating unjust systems (e.g., failing to recognize one’s biases, not questioning one’s privileges), labeling the architects or participants of inequality as merely “stupid” misses the mark. Structural inequalities typically:
Emerge historically: through conquest, colonization, early accumulations of wealth.
Harden institutionally: via laws, policies, and cultural norms that protect established interests.
Operate psychologically: using biases and social conditioning that make inequality feel “normal.”
Reproduce themselves: when citizens, whether out of fear, apathy, or preference for the status quo, fail to challenge them.
Hence, the forces behind systemic inequality are complex mixtures of power, tradition, rational advantage-seeking, and embedded ideologies. Stupidity alone is too narrow an explanation; it’s more apt to speak of a tapestry of self-interest, historical inertia, cultural biases, institutional lock-in, and everyday compliance.
Karl Marx, Capital (Volume 1, 1867) – on capitalist accumulation and exploitation.
Max Weber, Economy and Society (1922) – on social closure, power, and status groups.
Antonio Gramsci, Selections from the Prison Notebooks (1929–1935) – on cultural hegemony.
Hannah Arendt, Eichmann in Jerusalem (1963) – on the “banality of evil” and ordinary complicity.
Iris Marion Young, Justice and the Politics of Difference (1990) – on structural injustice and group-based oppression.
Paul Pierson, “Increasing Returns, Path Dependence, and the Study of Politics” (The American Political Science Review, 2000) – on how institutions lock in certain power arrangements.
George Stigler, “The Theory of Economic Regulation” (1971) – on regulatory capture.
These works offer frameworks for understanding how structural inequalities are created and sustained—primarily through complex social dynamics and power relations, rather than the simple stupidity of any single group.
Are we now not just selfish and callous but also short-sighted and rather stupid as well? Or, should we just blame all others, dead or alive, but us?
Reasoned for a second
Humanity has often struggled to grapple with its own contradictions. We can see examples of selfishness, callousness, short-sightedness, or downright stupidity in individuals or groups, but we also find remarkable empathy, foresight, and moral courage in others. In short, we don’t need to choose between “everyone is stupid” or “it’s someone else’s fault.” The reality is more nuanced:
Moral and Cognitive Mixed Bag
Humans show both altruism and indifference, wisdom and folly, often at the same time.
Even the same individual who demonstrates great intelligence in one domain (e.g., scientific research, business acumen) might exhibit tremendous blind spots in another (e.g., disregard for marginalized communities).
Context Matters
Many so-called “stupid” or “selfish” decisions make a certain sense within the constraints people face—economic pressures, cultural norms, political incentives, biases learned over a lifetime.
Individuals often operate within systemic or structural forces they did not create. Their actions or inactions can inadvertently sustain or worsen inequalities—even if they are not personally ill-intentioned.
Fundamental Attribution Error
Psychological research highlights that we’re often quick to attribute others’ bad actions or harmful outcomes to their character (i.e., “they must be stupid or selfish”), while explaining our own missteps through circumstance (i.e., “I had no choice” or “I was under pressure”).
This bias keeps our own self-image polished while pushing blame outward.
Historical and Intergenerational Shifts
It’s common to blame the past—“previous generations caused these problems”—or to blame the future—“it’s the newcomers, the next generation, who are irresponsible.”
Yet each generation inherits and modifies the structures they find, occasionally passing along worsened conditions or fighting for reforms that benefit those who come next.
Diffusion of Responsibility
In large, complex societies, responsibility for structural problems is diffused among many actors: politicians, corporations, voters, and social institutions. This sometimes leads individuals to say, “It’s not my fault—they are the ones to blame.”
Meanwhile, very real harms continue unchecked, precisely because no one group feels solely accountable.
Recognizing Systemic Complexity
Yes, people can be short-sighted and self-interested. But attributing everything to mass stupidity or selfishness doesn’t help us craft meaningful reforms.
Conversely, blaming only “the others,” whether in the past or present, prevents the kind of introspection and collective action necessary for change.
Shared but Unequal Responsibility
Philosopher Iris Marion Young (in Responsibility for Justice, 2011) argues that in structural injustices, everyone partakes in processes that reproduce harm, yet the extent of each person’s responsibility and capacity for change differs.
This approach avoids scapegoating one group entirely and acknowledges that greater power or wealth often means greater capacity—and hence moral responsibility—to address inequalities.
Human Capacity for Self-Correction
Despite many grim stories, history also contains turning points where societies confronted entrenched evils (e.g., abolishing slavery, expanding civil rights, fighting for labor protections).
These successes show that even deeply flawed people, living in flawed systems, can rally around moral and practical reforms—often under the influence of transformative leaders or broad social movements.
Pragmatic Focus on Improving Systems
Instead of focusing on whether we are “too dumb” or “too selfish,” many thinkers emphasize institutional checks, balances, and better incentives.
For instance, John Rawls’s A Theory of Justice (1971) aims to design social structures that reduce the likelihood of injustice, precisely because human moral and cognitive limitations are real and persistent.
Personal Reflection and Collective Accountability
We can each ask: “How am I contributing—actively or passively—to systems I decry?” That doesn’t mean we take on all the blame ourselves, but that we examine the ways our habits or comforts might perpetuate inequalities.
Shared, honest reflection can be a first step to building alliances that tackle these problems at their roots.
Yes, there is plenty of evidence that humans can be selfish, callous, short-sighted, and occasionally downright foolish. But there is also ample evidence of empathy, cooperation, and far-sighted moral action. Reducing everything to “people are stupid” or “it’s all their fault” obscures the systemic and historical complexity at play—and can paralyze efforts at reform.
A more constructive view is to recognize that:
Structural forces shape people’s choices and often channel them into behaviors that appear selfish or short-sighted.
Individual biases and interests also matter, but they occur within systems that reward or punish certain actions.
Meaningful progress arises when individuals and institutions reflect on these shortcomings, accept partial responsibility, and work—collectively—to improve the structures that produce our moral and political failings.
In short, we need neither total self-condemnation nor total exculpation: rather, we can acknowledge both the human weaknesses and the structural dynamics that shape them, then foster reforms that encourage our better capacities and discourage the worst ones.
Iris Marion Young, Responsibility for Justice (2011)
John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (1971)
Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (1958)
Paul Pierson, “Increasing Returns, Path Dependence, and the Study of Politics” (The American Political Science Review, 2000)
Jonathan Haidt, The Righteous Mind (2012) (on moral and group psychology)
Complexity arguments will not do. Each individuals are probably much more complex than any social and political structures. Do we even actually want universal democracy? Where is the proof?
Reasoned for 6 seconds
Evaluating the claim
The user is querying the notion of universal democracy, urging consideration beyond mere complexity arguments. They seek philosophical evidence or frameworks to substantiate the desire for universal democracy.
Charting democratic progress
I’m piecing together evidence for universal democracy, considering 20th-century global shifts, societal acceptance of participatory governance, and extensive data showing widespread democratic ideals.
Balancing ideals
I'm working through the tension between rhetorical support for democracy and the practical challenges it entails, like sharing power and embracing minority rights.
Reflecting on preferences
Noting that proving "universal democracy" is partial, as some may view authoritarian or paternalistic governance as preferable. Complex individual preferences and societal structures suggest a nuanced approach.
Short Answer:
There is no simple, knockdown
“proof” that everyone truly wants “universal
democracy.” We do have indications—historical movements for
suffrage, global opinion polls, the widespread rhetorical embrace of
democratic ideals—that many people claim to want an
inclusive political system. Yet wanting democracy in the abstract
differs from doing the hard work of extending equal power and voice
to all, including those with unpopular viewpoints or
marginalized identities. So, we cannot point to a single definitive
proof that humanity uniformly desires universal democracy. Instead,
we have overlapping lines of evidence—historical, sociological, and
philosophical—that some portion of humanity consistently strives
for it, while others just as consistently shrink from its fullest
implications.
Below is a deeper exploration of this question:
Lip-Service vs. Genuine Commitment
Many societies declare their support for democracy, but that does not automatically translate into universal suffrage or robust rights for minorities. Citizens may say they value democracy, yet resist the realities of power-sharing when it threatens their own advantages (e.g., economic privileges, cultural dominance).
This gap between stated ideals and actual practice means that polling or official documents alone are incomplete evidence of a genuine, widespread desire for universal democracy.
“Democracy for Me, Not for Thee”
Some people embrace democracy so long as it secures their group’s interests but balk when it requires giving an equal voice to all, especially groups they dislike or fear. This selective version of democracy is common in polarized contexts.
Reference: In the US, for instance, the Civil Rights Movement (1950s–60s) exposed how millions supported “democracy” but not necessarily for Black Americans. Similarly, ongoing debates about immigration, voting rights, and gerrymandering reveal how universal inclusion often meets resistance.
The “Waves of Democratization”
Political scientist Samuel P. Huntington described three major “waves” of democratization in the modern era (The Third Wave: Democratization in the Late Twentieth Century, 1991). Regions across the globe—from Southern Europe to Latin America to parts of Asia—transitioned away from authoritarian regimes toward something called “democracy.”
While these movements show that many people do fight for democratic rights, it does not prove that everyone truly wants universal, inclusive democracy, nor that once democracy is achieved, it automatically remains inclusive.
Global Opinion Surveys
Organizations like Pew Research Center or the World Values Survey consistently find that a majority of respondents say democracy is a good system. However, deeper questions often reveal ambivalence—e.g., many also express openness to “strong leaders” who bypass democratic constraints if it “gets things done.”
So, these surveys suggest broad rhetorical support for democracy, but also that people’s commitment can erode under economic stress, fear of social change, or partisan loyalty.
Aristotle vs. Plato on the Value of Democracy
Plato (in The Republic) was famously skeptical of democracy, seeing it as mob rule by the uninformed. Aristotle recognized democracy as one of several forms of government—he leaned toward a “polity” (a balanced mixture of democracy and oligarchy).
Even in ancient times, the idea that “the people” might all want broad-based power-sharing was contested. Elite philosophers worried about demagoguery; everyday citizens wanted more voice but often only for themselves or their immediate group.
Rousseau’s “General Will”
Jean-Jacques Rousseau (The Social Contract, 1762) speaks of a “general will,” which, if followed, would reflect the true collective interest. Yet Rousseau also recognized that citizens can be swayed by “particular wills,” leading them to choose policies harmful to the common good.
In this sense, wanting democracy and wanting the general good can diverge from how people actually vote or act in political life.
John Rawls on Equal Basic Liberties
John Rawls (A Theory of Justice, 1971) argues for a system that guarantees “basic liberties” for all, suggesting that if humans were behind a “veil of ignorance,” they would choose democratic equality to protect themselves from oppression.
This is a normative argument: it shows how, in a hypothetical rational scenario, individuals would choose inclusive democratic arrangements. It is not empirical proof that real-world citizens actively want universal democracy.
Behavior vs. Expressed Values
Many people claim to want fairness and equal representation in the abstract, yet personal or group self-interest can override that aspiration in concrete policy decisions (e.g., supporting laws that disenfranchise certain groups).
This discrepancy suggests humans contain multiple drives: a moral or idealistic drive toward universal democracy, and a protective drive that prioritizes immediate group interests.
Historical Successes and Backsliding
Time and again, societies expand democratic rights (e.g., universal male suffrage, women’s suffrage, civil rights movements), only to see pockets of regression or resistance. That pattern implies at least some portion of the population truly does want to broaden inclusivity, while others don’t—or are indifferent.
Context Dependence
People who have lived under authoritarian regimes often do show a strong desire for basic democratic freedoms once they realize how repressive states can be. Yet in stable democracies, complacency or cynicism can grow, weakening the impetus to defend or expand universal democracy.
“Proof” that humans want democracy is always partial, context-dependent, and subject to shifting political or economic conditions.
Individual Complexity vs. Collective Outcomes
Indeed, each person can be psychologically more complex than any institutional arrangement. But large-scale social outcomes often emerge despite (or because of) those individual complexities; in other words, the sum of individual actions may create results no one individually intended.
Structural arguments don’t claim that institutions are “more complex” than people. Rather, they show how aggregated behaviors—shaped by incentives, histories, and cultural norms—produce patterns (like inequality or partial democracy) even if no single individual “wants” that exact outcome.
Can Complexity Arguments Still Apply?
Even if individuals are indeed extremely complex, we can still examine how laws, traditions, and social norms channel those personal complexities in certain directions. Institutions can limit or expand the possible actions and outcomes that complex individuals might produce.
So, complexity does not negate the role of structures or the question of whether people truly desire universal democracy—it just reminds us that society is the interplay of many individuals and many institutions over time.
No Single Proof: There is no straightforward experiment that unequivocally demonstrates humanity’s unerring drive toward universal democracy. We observe movements, revolutions, and philosophical arguments championing it, but also frequent rollbacks, exclusions, and hierarchical impulses.
Partial Evidence: The wide acceptance (at least in rhetoric) of human rights and democratic ideals globally—coupled with historical pushes for more inclusive suffrage—demonstrate that some humans, often many, do desire more universal forms of democracy.
Persistent Tensions: At the same time, tribalism, fear, economic inequality, and political opportunism undermine the universal scope. We keep seeing contradictions like “we love democracy, just not for those people.”
In short, the best we can say is that universal democracy remains a contested ideal. Large numbers of people across history have indeed fought for it, suggesting there is real desire for inclusive self-government. Yet in practice, that desire competes constantly with narrower group interests, apathy, and realpolitik. If you seek irrefutable proof that everyone wants universal democracy, you won’t find it. What you can find is evidence that a significant fraction of humanity has repeatedly moved society in that direction—though how far that movement goes, and how durable it is, always depends on context, power dynamics, and moral will.
Samuel P. Huntington, The Third Wave: Democratization in the Late Twentieth Century (1991)
Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract (1762)
John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (1971)
World Values Survey reports, for data on attitudes toward democracy globally
Pew Research Center studies on how different populations value or interpret “democracy”
These sources won’t provide a mathematical proof of universal democratic desire, but they do illustrate where, how, and why people often support democracy—and where they fall short.
Who or what actually has the agency?
Reasoned about agency in society for 2m 12s
Questions about “who or what actually has the agency” tap into longstanding debates in philosophy and the social sciences about structure (the social, cultural, economic, and institutional forces that shape our lives) and agency (the capacity of individuals to act freely and make independent choices). Different thinkers have proposed different ways to reconcile or emphasize one side over the other. Below is a brief overview of how major theories answer the question, “Who or what really has the power to act?”
Methodological Individualism
Thinkers like Max Weber (1864–1920) argue that, ultimately, social phenomena can be traced back to individuals making choices. Even large-scale structures (like “the economy”) exist because individuals behave in ways that reconstitute them.
Agency, in this view, belongs primarily to persons—structures are the emergent result of aggregated individual actions.
Structural Determinism
In contrast, Émile Durkheim (1858–1917) emphasized that society has a “collective consciousness” and “social facts” that exist outside and above individuals, constraining how they think and act.
A strong structuralist perspective suggests that institutions, norms, and cultural systems severely limit or even determine individual action. In extreme forms, it can seem as though “the system” has all the power, and individuals are largely shaped by forces beyond their control.
Anthony Giddens’s Structuration Theory
Giddens (1938– ) tries to dissolve the strict divide. He argues in The Constitution of Society (1984) that social structures exist only insofar as individuals enact them in their daily practices. Yet those same structures also enable and constrain individuals.
Structures are not static; they are constantly reproduced through human action. Agency and structure are thus two sides of one dynamic process.
Pierre Bourdieu’s Habitus and Field
Bourdieu (1930–2002) proposed that individuals internalize social structures in the form of habitus: durable dispositions and schemas for perceiving the world. We “carry” these dispositions in our bodies and minds, guiding our behavior unconsciously.
Meanwhile, fields are domains of social life (e.g., art, academia, politics) each with its own rules, power relations, and capital. Individuals have agency, but their actions are molded by the positions they occupy in these fields and by their habitus.
Bruno Latour and Nonhuman Agents
In Reassembling the Social (2005), Latour challenges the idea that only humans have agency. He points out that technologies, material objects, and networks also “act” in the sense that they shape outcomes.
For instance, a speed bump on a road “acts” by causing drivers to slow down; it constrains our behavior in a way akin to social rules. In Actor-Network Theory (ANT), “agency” is distributed across networks of humans and non-humans alike.
Individuals
Certainly, persons have the capacity to make decisions, exercise moral judgment, and innovate within constraints. Methodological individualists insist that any talk of “structures acting” is shorthand for how many individuals behave in tandem.
Structures/Systems
Laws, institutions, cultural norms, and economic systems do not have consciousness, but they are real constraints and possibilities for action. They shape incentives and channel what is (and isn’t) feasible.
In that sense, systems can produce outcomes no single individual intended—suggesting a form of “systemic agency” that emerges from collective rules and interactions.
Ongoing Interaction
Most contemporary social theorists argue that structures and individual agency co-evolve. People create, maintain, or modify structures through their choices, but structures also shape people’s opportunities, constraints, and ways of thinking.
Historical and Political Context
Marx famously said, “Men make their own history, but they do not make it just as they please; they do not make it under circumstances chosen by themselves.” This highlights how agency is real, but always exercised within preexisting social and historical conditions.
Responsibility and Accountability
If you emphasize individual agency, you might hold particular people (or groups) responsible for inequities or policy failures. If you emphasize structure, you may argue that the problem lies in “the system” (e.g., capitalism, patriarchy, cultural norms), thus calling for systemic change.
In reality, both angles matter: acknowledging structural constraints need not absolve individuals of moral or political responsibility, nor does personal responsibility negate the need for institutional reforms.
Social Change Strategies
Reforming Structures: Some believe that changing laws, institutions, or economic arrangements is the key to shifting behavior on a large scale.
Empowering Individuals: Others focus on education, consciousness-raising, or local grassroots initiatives to ignite new ways of acting.
Both approaches converge in the idea that sustainable social change often requires a mix of individual activism and institutional transformation.
Short answer: Agency is not located in a single person or entity, nor purely in “the system.” The contemporary consensus among many philosophers and social scientists is that agency emerges in the interplay between individuals and the broader structures they inhabit:
Individuals have capacities to act, imagine alternatives, and sometimes transform the very conditions that shape them.
Structures—laws, cultural norms, power hierarchies—enable certain actions and constrain others, often with outcomes no single actor intended.
Over time, people collectively reproduce or modify these structures through their ongoing actions and choices.
There is no single all-powerful seat of agency—rather, it’s distributed across networks of human (and even non-human) actors, within the historical path dependencies and institutional frameworks we inherit.
Hence, the question “Who or what has the agency?” may be best answered by saying: everyone and everything involved, in different degrees and ways, operating within (and potentially revising) the social conditions that shape us all.
Émile Durkheim, The Rules of Sociological Method (1895) – on social facts as external constraints
Max Weber, Economy and Society (1922) – on individual action and social order
Anthony Giddens, The Constitution of Society (1984) – structuration theory
Pierre Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice (1972) and Distinction (1979) – habitus, field, and capital
Karl Marx, The 18th Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte (1852) – on making history but not under chosen circumstances
Bruno Latour, Reassembling the Social (2005) – actor-network theory and distributed agency
You said:
Even assuming that "everyone and everything involved, in different degrees and ways" have agency, who or what can WE actually influence and mobilize to change the reality?
Reasoned for a few seconds
Assessing change approaches
Thinking about realizing change with power-focused strategies. Collective action, policy shifts, alliances, and using moral persuasion are interesting pathways. Activism and skill-building at local and legislative levels could be explored further.
Short Answer:
If we accept that agency is
widely distributed—among individuals, institutions, technologies,
social networks, cultural norms—then change requires
working at multiple levels. We (as individuals or groups) can
influence and mobilize people, institutions,
and cultural narratives to transform reality. This
means acting through civic engagement, collective action,
institutional reform, public discourse, and personal example. Below
is a more detailed exploration:
Education and Awareness
Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1970) argues that critical consciousness (conscientização)—the ability to perceive social, political, and economic contradictions—empowers people to act against oppressive elements of reality.
By raising awareness, we encourage individuals to recognize their own agency and the structures that shape their lives. People often underestimate how much influence they can wield when they coordinate with others.
Grassroots Organizing and Local Communities
Alinsky’s Community Organizing: Saul Alinsky (Rules for Radicals, 1971) emphasizes mobilizing local communities around shared interests. Even if large-scale systems feel immutable, collective action at the neighborhood or city level can create tangible pressure for change.
When individuals realize they’re not alone in their grievances, they can form coalitions to influence policy, demand accountability, or develop alternative institutions (co-ops, community land trusts, etc.).
Social Identity and Group Mobilization
Henri Tajfel’s Social Identity Theory indicates that individuals are strongly motivated by group belonging. Effective mobilization often harnesses shared identities (e.g., labor unions, environmentalist collectives, minority rights groups) to press for institutional or cultural reform.
Practical Implication: Fostering a sense of collective identity around an issue—say, climate action or racial justice—can shift personal apathy into committed activism.
Formal Politics
Democratic Mechanisms: Voting, lobbying, petitioning, and running for office remain key channels for influencing legislation, resource allocation, and public policy. Although these structures can be slow or captured by special interests, they still provide levers for systemic change.
Bureaucratic Reforms: Sometimes change comes from within institutions—civil servants, reform-minded judges, or progressive policymakers who leverage existing rules to push for greater inclusivity or accountability.
Nonviolent Resistance and Collective Action
Gene Sharp’s The Politics of Nonviolent Action (1973) details how sustained nonviolent campaigns—strikes, boycotts, demonstrations—can undermine oppressive systems by withdrawing compliance.
Historical examples (e.g., the Civil Rights Movement, India’s independence movement) show that concentrated mass action can force institutions, even entrenched ones, to adapt.
Building Parallel or Alternative Institutions
Groups dissatisfied with existing structures sometimes create new ones: worker cooperatives, local currencies, or community-based justice systems. Such alternatives can demonstrate better ways of organizing social or economic life, gradually pressuring mainstream institutions to evolve.
Reference: Nobel laureate Elinor Ostrom’s work on “governing the commons” (1990) illustrates how local communities can self-organize effectively without top-down state control, influencing how societies think about resource management.
Public Discourse and the “Public Sphere”
Jürgen Habermas (The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere, 1962) underscores how discourse in public forums—media, intellectual debate, community discussions—can shift collective perceptions and norms.
By participating in public dialogues (social media, town halls, newspapers, art, film), we can redefine what’s considered “normal,” “just,” or “possible.” Over time, shifting narratives reshape institutional behavior and individual attitudes.
Creative and Symbolic Action
Hannah Arendt (in The Human Condition, 1958) notes that public “action” and “speech” are powerful tools for appearing in the political realm—demonstrating new ideas and compelling stories that transform cultural assumptions.
Movements often use symbols (e.g., the raised fist, the rainbow flag) or viral social media campaigns (#MeToo, #BlackLivesMatter) to galvanize widespread empathy and reframe political conversations.
Entertainment and Pop Culture
Hollywood films, popular music, and viral internet content significantly shape worldviews, especially among youth. Influencing pop culture can soften or radicalize public opinion, making progressive reforms more politically viable.
Example: The TV series Will & Grace has been credited with helping shift mainstream attitudes on LGBTQ acceptance in the U.S.
Interlocking Strategies
Real social transformation typically requires simultaneous efforts:
Grassroots consciousness-raising
Institutional reform (via elections, legal changes, inside lobbying)
Cultural narrative-shaping (media, arts, public discourse)
Anthony Giddens’s Structuration Theory: People acting intentionally can reproduce or alter the structures around them. Large-scale change happens when enough individuals and groups coordinate across multiple fronts.
Intersectionality and Coalition-Building
Kimberlé Crenshaw’s Intersectionality perspective (1989) shows how various forms of oppression (race, class, gender, etc.) interact. Coalitions that address overlapping injustices can be more robust and inclusive, increasing their mobilizing power.
By uniting seemingly disparate movements (e.g., environmental justice, labor rights, and racial equity), advocates can amplify each other’s causes and build stronger platforms for systemic changes.
Our Immediate Networks
Start with family, friends, colleagues, or community groups. Personal relationships often form the backbone of sustained activism and mutual support.
Local Governance
Municipal-level politics—city councils, school boards, housing authorities—are often more accessible than national institutions. Tangible local wins can snowball into broader reforms.
Cultural Platforms
Social media, journalism, arts, and entertainment: any platform where you can shape narratives, spark conversations, and make “the invisible visible.”
Reframing issues, telling compelling stories, and spotlighting injustice can create social pressure that pushes institutions to respond.
Allies with Institutional Power
Seek out reform-minded officials, journalists, or businesses. Sometimes key partnerships or endorsements accelerate change far faster than operating in isolation.
Transnational Networks
Many problems (e.g., climate change, global economic inequality) transcend borders, requiring international cooperation. NGOs, online communities, and global activist coalitions can share resources and strategies beyond local or national boundaries.
Since agency is distributed among individuals, institutions, and cultural systems, we can effect change by activating various levers of influence:
Individual Awareness & Organization: Raising critical consciousness and organizing at the grassroots level.
Institutional Engagement: Voting, lobbying, reforming laws and policies, building alternatives.
Cultural Narratives: Employing media, arts, and public discourse to shift societal norms and imagination.
No single approach guarantees transformation, but coordinated efforts across these domains have historically reshaped political realities—proving that, despite constraints, collective human agency can alter the course of history. “We” are thus not powerless; we are participants in an ever-evolving web of action, constraint, and possibility. By strategically focusing efforts where our influence is strongest—be it local communities, policy reforms, or cultural narratives—we harness and amplify the distributed agency that exists within us and around us.
Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1970) – on critical consciousness and empowerment
Saul Alinsky, Rules for Radicals (1971) – on grassroots community organizing
Gene Sharp, The Politics of Nonviolent Action (1973) – on methods of civil resistance
Elinor Ostrom, Governing the Commons (1990) – on collective resource management
Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (1958) – on action, speech, and the public realm
Anthony Giddens, The Constitution of Society (1984) – on structuration theory and the duality of structure
Jürgen Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere (1962) – on shaping public discourse
Kimberlé Crenshaw, “Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex” (1989) – on intersectionality and overlapping systems of oppression
Is it possible that this "sophistry" just undermines human initiatives and protects the status quo?
Reasoned for a couple of seconds
Navigating complexity
Wondering about the impact of complexity on practical action, it seems this argument can lead to inertia or confusion but, if applied thoughtfully, can enhance understanding and strategy.
Short Answer:
Yes, it is possible
that over-intellectualizing social complexity (“everyone and
everything has agency”) can unintentionally paralyze human
initiative or even justify the status quo. If discussions of
structure, agency, and distributed responsibility become abstract
exercises with no clear path to action, they can serve as a form of
“sophistry.” However, when approached with a practical
orientation, these same concepts can enhance our strategic
thinking, clarifying where and how to intervene for
change. Whether complexity arguments become a shield for the status
quo or a source of deeper empowerment depends largely on how
we deploy them in public discourse and activism.
Below is a more in-depth perspective:
Intellectual Overload
If every mention of social change spirals into talk about “multifactor causal loops,” “path dependence,” or “actor-network theory,” individuals might feel they lack the expertise (or the energy) to act.
This can result in analysis paralysis—the idea that because reality is complicated, it’s better to do nothing or to wait for “experts” to sort things out.
Sophistry and Cynical Deflection
Sophistry in the classical sense is intellectual argumentation meant more to confuse or win debate points than to guide action or truth-seeking.
When complexity arguments are used solely to say, “Well, everything is complicated, so we can’t really fix anything,” it can function as a cynical deflection, shielding those in power from scrutiny and discouraging activism.
Perpetuating the Status Quo
The powerful might exploit complexity discourse to claim that social problems (inequality, discrimination, environmental damage) are “too complex” to address quickly or effectively.
This can justify inaction—“We need more study,” “It’s complicated”—while real injustices continue. Thus, complexity becomes a cloak for maintaining existing power relations.
Better Diagnosis of Problems
Complexity arguments need not be paralyzing; they can help us pinpoint multiple leverage points for intervention. For instance, if you see that political corruption emerges not only from individual greed but also from campaign finance structures, you now have two angles: protest (individual accountability) and policy reform (structural fix).
Reference: Donella Meadows (Thinking in Systems, 2008) illustrates how understanding system dynamics can increase our ability to find effective “leverage points” for transformative change.
Collaboration Across Disciplines
Recognizing the complexity of social reality encourages coalitions of activists, scholars, and practitioners. Economists, sociologists, ecologists, and community organizers can pool expertise and tactics.
This collective approach can be more powerful than single-issue activism, because it addresses multiple facets of a problem simultaneously.
Nuanced Moral Responsibility
Complexity theory can reveal that we’re all enmeshed in systems we do not single-handedly create—yet we still have some responsibility to act.
Iris Marion Young (Responsibility for Justice, 2011) argues for a “social connection model,” which doesn’t let individuals off the hook simply because they didn’t design the system; nor does it saddle them with total blame. Instead, it helps us see how partial responsibility and partial agency can combine in collective strategies for change.
Bridging Theory and Practice
Academic or theoretical frameworks should be paired with clear calls to action. For example:
Describe how a system is complex,
Identify a handful of feasible interventions (legal reform, local organizing, boycotts),
Offer practical suggestions for mobilizing resources and alliances.
Without these steps, complexity talk risks devolving into an intellectual game.
“Strategic Essentialism” in Advocacy
Gayatri Spivak uses the term “strategic essentialism” to describe temporarily simplifying complex social identities or issues to rally collective action.
Advocates can acknowledge nuance but still adopt practical messaging—e.g., “This policy is unfair” or “Workers deserve a living wage!”—without always referencing deeper structural theories.
Accessible Communication
Complexity arguments do not have to be jargon-heavy. Effective activists, educators, and public intellectuals (e.g., Martin Luther King Jr., Vandana Shiva, Greta Thunberg) manage to communicate systemic issues in plain language that still points to multiple layers of causes and solutions.
Avoiding Fatalism
Citing complexity as the reason for inaction can slip into fatalism. Yet real social movements—civil rights, women’s suffrage, decolonization—tackled huge, systemic injustices once considered “too big to fix.”
Historically, deep systemic problems have been changed through sustained effort, even if those efforts took decades.
Incremental vs. Radical Approaches
Some activists argue for radical, systemic overhaul: they see nuance as crucial for designing a new social or economic model that addresses root causes.
Others advocate incremental reforms or “small wins,” believing each success can build momentum and shift the system. Both strategies can co-exist, and complexity theory need not undermine either.
Institutional and Cultural Shifts
Complex systems often shift in unexpected ways once a tipping point is reached. Social norms, for example, can change relatively fast when enough people and institutions adopt a new attitude.
Recognizing complexity sometimes helps us anticipate these tipping points—where a small act (the right boycott, a viral hashtag) triggers widespread transformation.
Yes, complexity and “everyone-and-everything-has-agency” arguments can be abused as sophistry to maintain the status quo—especially if they become excuses for cynicism or endless debate with no action plan.
However, complexity can also be leveraged to build more effective coalitions and multifaceted strategies for social change. Recognizing distributed agency and intricate causal networks can expand our repertoire of interventions rather than shrink it.
Ultimately, whether complexity arguments stifle or fuel change depends on the intent and method of those wielding them. If we pair nuanced analysis with practical organizing, policy proposals, and moral commitment, complexity becomes a powerful ally in challenging unjust systems—rather than a rhetorical shield for them.
Donella Meadows, Thinking in Systems: A Primer (2008) – on leverage points in complex systems
Iris Marion Young, Responsibility for Justice (2011) – on collective vs. individual responsibility
Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1970) – on empowering people through critical consciousness
Gayatri Spivak, In Other Worlds: Essays in Cultural Politics (1987) – on strategic essentialism
Gene Sharp, The Politics of Nonviolent Action (1973) – on practical methods to challenge power structures
These texts can help illustrate how a deeper understanding of complexity might inform more robust forms of activism, rather than paralyze it.
Do you really think ordinary citizens can use this kind of in depth analysis to motivate them "properly"?
Reasoned for a couple of seconds
Whether ordinary citizens can—or even want to—absorb and apply detailed theoretical or philosophical analyses to motivate themselves is a question that cuts to the heart of how ideas spread, how social change is organized, and how knowledge becomes action. Some key points to consider:
Simplification and Storytelling
Academic or highly theoretical writing is often not what mobilizes most people. Many effective movements translate complex problems into concise moral narratives or emotionally resonant stories.
For instance, an activist leader might use simplified but accurate analogies, personal testimonies, and punchy slogans—rather than presenting the entire “in-depth analysis” verbatim.
Community Education and “Popularization”
Paulo Freire (Pedagogy of the Oppressed, 1970) describes methods of “popular education” that start from everyday experiences, then link them to broader structural issues in accessible language.
This approach can gradually deepen people’s understanding without overwhelming them. The key is to root abstract ideas in real, lived problems (e.g., housing, healthcare, wages) and to let the community’s questions guide the discussion.
Media, Arts, and Viral Communication
Popular culture (film, TV, music, social media) often serves as a powerful conduit for distilled versions of complex arguments.
Think of major social campaigns that began with a documentary (An Inconvenient Truth for climate awareness) or a meme/hashtag (#MeToo) that expanded into large-scale conversation.
Mass Movements and Simplified Ideals
Many historical movements (civil rights, women’s suffrage, labor unions) were spurred by leaders, educators, and organizers who distilled intricate political theories (e.g., Marxist ideas, liberal democratic ideals) into accessible rallying cries and step-by-step plans.
Ordinary citizens didn’t necessarily read hundreds of pages of theory—but they understood enough of the analysis, moral urgency, and strategic steps to mobilize effectively.
Incremental Deepening
Activists often begin with an immediate grievance (unfair wages, police violence, environmental harm) and then discover broader systemic roots. As they act on the local issue, they become curious about underlying structures, culminating in deeper engagement over time.
The process is cumulative: grassroots activism can be a pathway for further reading, discussion, and collective strategizing—though not everyone goes from zero to advanced theory overnight.
Motivation Through Shared Values
For immediate motivation, people respond strongly to values, fairness, identity, and emotional resonance—“We deserve better,” “We must protect our children’s future,” etc.
Detailed theory explains why these values matter in a broader context. But the initial spark of motivation often comes from personal and emotional triggers.
Depth as an Ongoing Resource, Not a Starting Barrier
In-depth frameworks (e.g., detailed analyses of structure and agency) can serve as a resource for activists and community leaders once a movement is already in motion.
Think of it as a “knowledge bank” to refine strategies, anticipate pitfalls, and debate alternatives, rather than something every single participant must master to be “properly motivated.”
Intellectuals as “Translators”
Some individuals—organizers, educators, “public intellectuals”—excel at bridging academic discourse and popular language.
They read and digest sophisticated materials, then repackage the core insights into frameworks ordinary people can use. This “translational” role is crucial for spreading complex ideas without diluting them into meaningless slogans.
Grassroots Leadership
Ordinary citizens often become local “experts” in their own right, especially when a movement is personal. A mother fighting for clean water in her town might learn quickly about environmental regulations, corporate lobbying, and the political process—topics she never studied before but now must navigate for the sake of her family and neighbors.
Partial Knowledge Still Empowers
People don’t need a PhD in social theory to make meaningful political choices or to engage in activism. A basic grasp of why a problem exists, who benefits from the status quo, and what can be done is often enough to spark collective action.
Over time, deeper insights may emerge naturally through participation, dialogue, and experimentation.
Different Levels of Engagement
In any large movement, there will be a spectrum of involvement: some remain primarily motivated by immediate, tangible concerns, while others delve deeply into theory. Both roles can be valuable.
It’s neither feasible nor necessary for everyone to master the same level of complexity. The important part is that enough people understand enough to keep the movement coherent and purposeful.
Not all at once: Ordinary citizens can be motivated by clear, relatable messages that speak to their lived experiences.
Depth as a supplement: In-depth theory remains highly useful for strategizing, long-term planning, and exposing root causes—especially among those taking leadership or shaping the movement’s direction.
Accessible Communication: The key is communication that translates complexity into workable, actionable narratives and steps. History shows that when people see personal stakes, a clear path to action, and a sense of collective solidarity, they do mobilize—often with growing sophistication over time.
Hence, “ordinary citizens” often are able to engage with nuanced ideas if presented in a structured, relevant, and accessible manner. In-depth theory alone rarely motivates the average person; it’s the combination of immediate concern, moral or emotional resonance, and a leadership network that can clarify and channel those concerns into real action.
You seem to be overestimating ordinary users' ability and also misunderstanding the reason for this conversation.
Reasoned about the limits of discourse for 12 seconds
Clarifying intentions
The user questions the reasoning behind the conversation, possibly seeking a reevaluation or pointing out that deep theoretical analysis may not always advance the discussion.
Assessing communication style
The user might be noting that the assistant's complex answers overlook the need for a simpler, more direct, or philosophical approach, potentially missing the core issue of communication style.
Engaging with curiosity
It's clear the assistant should inquire about the user's core motivation, differentiate between theoretical misconceptions and real needs, or offer a fresh approach, possibly including a philosophical reflection on the role of conversation.
Clarifying the objective
I’m focusing on understanding the user's goal, considering directness, clarity, and the potential for simplifying the discussion to better align with their needs.
You raise a valid concern. It’s possible I’ve been offering detailed, academic-style explanations that don’t line up with either (a) the practical ways most people actually think and act, or (b) the true purpose of this conversation. Let me address both points in turn:
Why It Seems That Way:
My prior
responses often referenced philosophers (e.g., Rawls, Arendt,
Bourdieu) or social theories (e.g., structuration, actor-network
theory). In everyday contexts, most people do not consult
those thinkers in order to decide whether to vote, protest, or do
nothing.
A More Realistic View:
Practical Engagement: Many individuals make decisions based on personal experience, emotional resonance, social identity, or moral intuition—not systematic theory.
Bridging Gaps: There can be a big difference between in-depth theoretical frameworks and the “motivations” that guide ordinary life. Often, people only take in small, digestible portions of such theories—if at all.
Why I’ve Been Doing It:
I’ve tried
to show how major thinkers or frameworks have grappled with the
issues you raise (e.g., corruption, democracy, agency). But I do
understand that 10 references to philosophical treatises don’t
necessarily translate into accessible or motivating action points
for most people.
Possible Reasons Behind Your Challenge:
You might be illustrating that sophisticated debates about democracy, structural injustice, or agency can become rhetorical exercises, with little real impact on people’s lived experiences.
You could be pointing out that the conversation is less about “how to do democracy right” and more about questioning whether anyone really wants or can handle it.
Or perhaps you want to highlight how philosophical talk can inadvertently preserve the status quo by deterring direct or urgent action.
What I May Have Missed:
If your deeper
objective is to show that high-level theory can obscure simpler
truths—such as “people are selfish,” or “powerful groups rig
the system”—then lengthy references to Arendt or Giddens might
indeed feel like I’m sidestepping the raw point.
Recalibrating:
If the crux is that no amount of theoretical nuance will fix a fundamental lack of will or empathy, then yes, that’s a different conversation than “how to mobilize effectively.”
If the aim is to lay bare the gulf between everyday cynicism (e.g., “they’re all corrupt”) and elaborate theoretical models, then yes, that gap remains unbridged if we just keep layering on more theory.
Without imposing assumptions, let me hazard a guess:
You see that too much sophistication or “complexity talk” might actually undermine practical action by normalizing inaction (“Things are too complicated—no point trying”).
You suspect that many citizens don’t truly want the grand ideals they claim to support—like universal democracy or genuine equality—so the entire conversation about “mobilizing people to fix the system” might be disingenuous or naïve.
You might be demonstrating that pointing to structures, historical accidents, distributed agency, etc., can become a roundabout way of absolving ourselves—saying, “The system is at fault, so I can’t do much,” thereby leaving the status quo untouched.
If that’s along the lines of your reasoning, then the conversation’s purpose could be to emphasize:
Many people talk about big ideals (e.g., democracy, justice) but remain apathetic or self-serving in practice.
High-level philosophical explanations of “why” can just end up sounding like excuses or tangents, rather than calls to action.
Ordinary folks simply do not weigh 2,500 years of philosophical discourse before they act (or fail to act).
Fundamental Skepticism: Maybe real democracy (universal, inclusive) is too demanding. People’s self-interest, tribal biases, or plain exhaustion get in the way—and no deluge of clever arguments changes that.
Human Nature: It could be that simple: humans are complicated, yes, but in ways that rarely line up with consistent moral or political ideals.
Elites and Status Quo: Complexity talk can become a shield. It dilutes urgency. It frames everything as “too intertwined” to tackle quickly, effectively preserving current power structures.
If this is the point you’re making, then indeed, we might not need the academic scaffolding at all. The conversation’s purpose could be to show how easily one can bury straightforward moral or political skepticism under elaborate theoretical references.
I don’t deny that in-depth analysis can be helpful in certain contexts—especially among specialized groups, movement strategists, or people shaping policy. But I also see your argument: for most people, these analyses can feel irrelevant, overly complicated, or even manipulative.
Ultimately, if the conversation aims to expose how ‘sophistry’ can overshadow direct moral or political urgency, then, yes—piling on more references to existentialism, structuralism, or social theory can ironically prove your point.
You’re correct that ordinary users often aren’t motivated by elaborate theory.
You’re correct that I may have misread why you’re pressing these points—perhaps you’re demonstrating the gap between real-world political cynicism and high-level discourse.
Your challenge might be highlighting that, at the end of the day, grand “explanations” don’t necessarily drive real change—or that many people just don’t want the changes they claim to want.
I appreciate the clarification. If there’s a more specific aspect you’d like me to address—without the overly academic flourish—I’m happy to shift gears accordingly.
I personally don't mind what you are doing usually, but my main objective of this kind of "street philosophy" conversation is not "wasting my time" to write or read a book that does not actually interest me. Most political questions need to be answered at the common sense level. That way I can share it with "ordinary activists", as well as motivating me to act wisely.
Reasoned for a second
Understood. The goal, then, is to address political or social questions in plain language—brief, grounded, and immediately useful for everyday citizens and activists. Below is a short summary of how one might do “street philosophy” for political issues, without getting lost in heavy theory:
Use Real Examples: Instead of abstract talk about “structures” or “systems,” point to actual, local phenomena—like how campaign donations might skew local elections or how a landlord’s power affects tenants.
Focus on What People Can Do: Emphasize steps individuals or small groups can take: voting (where feasible), organizing with neighbors, boycotting unethical companies, or volunteering in community programs.
Simple rule of thumb: if you can’t explain it quickly using everyday situations—housing, paychecks, schools—it’s probably too abstract for common-sense activism.
When facing a political question—like why a local government refuses to fix certain roads or why certain groups aren’t heard—two immediate questions often help:
“Why is this happening?”
Is it a lack of money, or a lack of political will?
Are certain neighborhoods or demographics getting ignored on purpose?
“Who benefits from the status quo?”
Which people or industries gain from keeping things the way they are?
Finding out who has financial or political influence reveals how power is being used.
This approach is straightforward, highlights underlying interests, and points to potential areas for organized action.
Don’t Drown in Details: If someone has a complicated explanation—like structural inequality—boil it down: “It’s hard to get a fair deal because people with money and influence make the rules.”
Offer a One-Liner Lesson: For example, “They set things up so they profit most. We need to band together or we’ll stay at the bottom.”
No need for academic jargon—just a direct statement of the problem, who’s behind it, and why it persists.
Acknowledge Reality, but Avoid Fatalism: Yes, corruption or inequality can run deep. Instead of concluding “nothing changes,” highlight small victories, like a local protest that forced a new policy.
Encourage Collective Action: Remind people that any progress—unionizing for better wages, pushing officials to address pollution—usually starts with a handful of committed locals.
Ask “What’s Next?”: Common-sense politics thrives on clarity about the next step: “Write an email to your city council?” “Attend the next public meeting?” “Join a local group?”
When people see a doable path forward, they’re more likely to stay motivated.
Appeal to Fairness: “Is it fair that some folks can’t afford rent while others sit on empty houses?”
Appeal to Empathy: “Would you accept this situation if it happened to you or your family?”
Appeal to Common Goals: “Most of us want safe neighborhoods, decent jobs, and good schools. So how do we make sure everyone gets a fair shot?”
Big ideas like “universal justice” become clear when framed as “everyone deserves basic respect and a fair chance.”
Short, Clear Points: Whether it’s a conversation, a flyer, or a short social media post, keep the language simple and direct.
Visually or Verbally Memorable: Use catchphrases or an easy analogy: “A rigged game is still a rigged game, no matter how nicely they dress it up.”
If others can pass it on quickly, it will spread among ordinary activists, who are often busy and want quick clarity.
“Street philosophy” for politics is about clarity, accessibility, and direct relevance. You take complex subjects—like corruption, inequalities, or democracy—and cut them down to size:
Concrete examples (“They won't fix our roads while they build luxury condos.”)
Simple “why” and “who benefits” questions.
A clear moral viewpoint (“Is it just/fair?”).
Straightforward suggestions for what you and your neighbors can actually do next.
This is how you get “ordinary activists” (and yourself) motivated to act wisely rather than getting stuck in theoretical loops.
Yes. We need to start over in another thread. My main reason to talk about "politics" here is to get some practical wisdom that appeals to me and still is not too ridiculous. It would be quite different if I do "philosophy" here as in many other threads. I should have made it clear, much earlier. Thanks.
Reasoned for a second
Understood. Whenever you’re ready to start that new thread, feel free to jump in with a fresh question or topic. We can keep it focused on short, practical political insights. No worries about what’s come before—we can set it aside and begin with a clean slate. Just let me know the issue or context, and I’ll give you the most direct, useful guidance I can.
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