Who Is "Number 1"?

There was an item in the news recently that the government of Thailand, currently under martial law, banned a screening of Nineteen Eighty-Four, the film version of George Orwell’s classic dystopian novel about totalitarianism.  That book has become very popular in Thailand recently, after the military seized power from Thailand’s democratically-elected government last month.

Democracy has actually become unfashionable in recent years, as its shortcomings seemed to have been highlighted by the failure of the “Arab Spring” revolutions, by the apparent incapacity of the United States Congress to effectively work together in addressing any of the most serious problems that the country is facing, and, in contrast, by the continued success of China to raise the standard of living of its citizens and continue on a path toward becoming the world’s largest economy, in spite of the fact that it is a very undemocratic country.

Is democracy passé?  Is it a quaint, archaic concept that has not stood the test of time in facing the challenges and rigors of modern civilization?  And, if so, then what should take the place of democracy?  Was Plato correct, when he argued in The Republic that an ideal society would be governed by those who were best endowed to exert authority over others, rather than by the arbitrary whims of a voting populace?

I, for one, am very much in agreement with Winston Churchill, who declared, “It has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all those other forms that have been tried.”  Of course, Churchill was also quoted as saying, “The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter.”  There is wisdom in both of these remarks, and, with respect to the second, it is frustrating to see how easily the voting public can be distracted by crafty politicians from addressing themselves to the most important issues at hand, if, indeed, they are willing to spend the time to familiarize themselves with these issues at all.  But even if Plato had been right – that that government is governed best which is governed by the best – then how does one insure that the best actually gain the reins of power?  And, having somehow succeeded at this, how can we the governed be assured that this ruling elite does not become intoxicated by the power that they enjoy, and direct the machinery of the economy and the state exclusively to maintaining themselves in power, and maximizing their enjoyment of it, regardless of the consequences to the rest of us?  These, I think, are ultimately intractable problems, and comprise the reasons why democracy, for all of its limitations, is still the system that comes closest to adequately providing for the welfare of all of the persons who comprise a society.

Democracy is a very fragile institution, however, and depends upon both the capacity and the willingness of most or all of its citizens to defend the institutions and customs that support it.  It is a tribute to the institution that it can survive and endure in the wake of widespread voter apathy, but the ultimate test of its survival is the extent to which its citizens will put themselves at risk to defend it when it is under attack, either from subversion within its borders, or from invasion without.

When the institutions of democracy begin to fail, it rests upon the citizenry to arrest the damage, and to repair it.  But in order to do so, it must 1) realize that the damage has occurred and/or is occurring and 2) have the willpower to address it.  The first is a problem of perception, the second a problem of will.  But there is an important third element, which is just as essential to preserving the trappings of democracy:  in the face of injustice, where resistance is required, it must be known against whom or what the force of resistance must be applied.

In totalitarian states, and other repressive regimes, particularly ones with a relatively short history, the face of oppression is generally a very prominent one, because the locus of power is very transparent.  Topple the dictator, and there is a very good chance (but far from a certainty) that the institutions of oppression will fall away with him.  On the other hand, long established institutions of power are harder to contend with, because they often are more nebulous.  Who, or what, is it that must be toppled, or pushed back, or constrained?

            I remember a poster that a boss of mine had in his office, back in the early 1980s.  It was a picture of Leonardo da Vinci, and underneath it was the caption, “We are in control.”  I always wondered what that caption meant.  Who was in control?  Did it mean that it was the inventors and artists of our society who truly ran things?  That seemed rather unlikely to me.  Perhaps, I speculated, it was a reference to the individuals who manned the engines of our civilization: the capitalist entrepreneurs and industry barons who were lionized in the novels of Ayn Rand.  The question, “Who is in control?” has often taken on a special urgency when the “controllers” have been perceived as being responsible for the oppression of various segments of humanity.  The idea of a collegial elite, meeting in secrecy to make critical decisions about the fate of civilization, has been a recurring popular one, and there have been various suspect groups and institutions.  In the 1960s, in America, the power elite were referred to as the “Establishment”, although it was unclear who the denizens of this particular group were.  (The injunction popular at that time – “Don’t trust anybody over the age of thirty” – fell out of fashion when the revolutionaries and social reformers of that era moved well past that age.)  In the 1970s and 1980s, other associations were held under suspicion, including the Trilateral Commission and the Bilderberg Group.  Wilder conspiracy theories have focused on historical fraternities, such as the Freemasons, Rosicrucians, or Illuminati.  The image of a shadowy conspiracy of elderly and middle-aged Caucasian men, sitting around a table in a darkened, paneled room, making decisions on all matters of importance, including the outcomes of certain sporting events, even made its way into popular television, in such programs as The X-Files.

In the 1960s, a British television program, The Prisoner, starring Patrick McGoohan, painted a particularly compelling portrait of the evils of institutionalized oppression.  The title character, played by McGoohan, was an ex-operative of his government who wakes up one day to find himself living in an Alice-in-Wonderland society – called simply “The Village” – peopled by citizens who have numbers rather than names, and who content themselves by wiling away their time in completely inane activities.  Privacy is non-existent in this little “village”, because surveillance cameras are literally everywhere.  Ostensibly, the title character is being held here simply as part of an elaborate form of interrogation, with his keepers wanting to know what had prompted him to resign from his occupation as a government secret agent.  But as the series progressed, a much more insidious goal became apparent – both to him and to us the viewers: that of inducing him to accept and even embrace his new role as a citizen of this dystopian community.

In each episode, the Prisoner is confronted by a new nominal head of the Village, known simply as “Number 2”, and each of these brings a fresh technique for trying to get the Prisoner to crack.  “Who is Number 1?” the Prisoner logically asks, suspecting that there is a single, unchanging locus of power hiding behind the scenes, pulling the strings of this parade of puppet rulers.  The question is asked at the beginning of every episode, and no answer is given.

In one of my favorite episodes of the series, the Prisoner makes a keen observation about the inhabitants of the Village that he believes will allow him to upend the entire structure of power there.  He realizes that there are two types of inhabitants in this society: jailers and inmates.  Although everyone has a number, and everyone dresses alike, there are clear differences in the behaviors of these two classes of people.  The inmates are fearful, submissive, and eager to avoid creating disturbances which might bring negative attention upon themselves.  The jailers, on the other hand, are haughty and overbearing, and take it upon themselves to ensure that the rules and customs of the Village are being observed by everyone around them.  The Prisoner discovers that by mimicking the behavior of the jailers, he is treated like a peer by the other, genuine, jailers, and treated with deference by the inmates.  He reasons that he can use his newly won social prestige to orchestrate a general social revolution, by counting on the loyalty of the obsequious inmates.  His plan backfires, however, as he discovers that the inmates do not trust him – or his intentions – because they have come to genuinely believe that he is one of the jailers, trying to deceive them into revealing themselves as potentially disloyal.

In the penultimate episode of the series, the reigning Number 2 resorts to one final, seemingly fool-proof, tactic to break the Prisoner’s will: he submits him to a sort of psychoanalysis, in order to “cure” him of his anti-social, non-conformist behaviors.  The intense analysis turns into a personal battle of wills between the two men, and when it is actually Number 2 who breaks down, the Prisoner is allowed to ask for anything that he wants.  He requests to be taken to Number 1: to find out who or what the real power is that has been manipulating this macabre society.

If the ending of this series was ultimately an unsatisfying one, it is because there really is not a nice, neat answer to the question: “Who is Number 1?”.  Who is it that actually holds the reins of power?  Who is making the really important decisions that affect all of our lives, and our collective destiny?

In my life experiences working in the corporate world, and for other organizations, I have found that those who are in control – who are making the important decisions – are not necessarily those at the top of the organizational chart.  In one particularly extreme case, several years ago, I worked for a company that brought on a president who was completely oblivious to the machinations of power all around him, and remained so until his relatively brief tenure there ended.  I remember sitting in a meeting, ostensibly being run by this man, where the plans for a very important project were being crafted.  The meeting itself consisted of a series of rather inane slide presentations, discussing the project in very general terms.  And all during the meeting, two rival factions within the company, consisting of men and women at various levels in the organization, were hashing out the real features of the project, as they huddled together in small groups outside of the meeting room, particularly during breaks.  The president had no idea that a herculean power struggle – which actually became extremely contentious – was going on just outside of the perimeters of this meeting, and when the final slide presentation had ended, he lauded the group of attendees, saying how proud he was to be in charge of such a talented, harmonious team.  When the project eventually did take final form, he had nothing to do with its actual development, or even with deciding which of the various rival features were adopted.

In every organization that I have ever been a part of, I’ve noticed that there is a genuine architecture of power, and that one must look beyond job titles and reporting responsibilities to find it.  Like the “Village” with its jailers and inmates, there are persons who are actively making decisions, orchestrating changes, and behaving as if they have a personal stake in the outcome, while others are seemingly content to just show up for work, avoid bringing unpleasant attention upon themselves, and dutifully follow any assignments that are given to them.  Of course, complicating things is that the architecture of power is never a rigid one – it is fluid, ever-changing.  I have seen many “heirs-apparent” – executives who are seemingly next in line for the top leadership position in the organization – suddenly ousted from the organization entirely.  Even political tyrants with absolute or near-absolute power – as history has shown over and over again – can find themselves unexpectedly divested of all of their power – and in many cases their lives as well.

And, to complicate things even further, often power is wielded by persons who are not even part of the official power hierarchy.  In the Persian and Byzantine Empires, eunuchs could exercise a great deal of influence in the royal court.  In modern corporations, consultants often play a critical role in carrying out important projects or even determining the future course of the organization, in either a temporary or ongoing basis, and in fact there is often a “revolving door” relationship between the two, with successful consultants becoming executives at corporations they were once hired to serve, and retiring executives joining consulting firms.  A similar relationship often exists between lobbyists and political organizations.

Perhaps, at each of the apexes of the power hierarchies of our civilization, there isn’t a person, or a caste, or a cabal.  At times, it seems that we are all just pawns, being swept along by the tide of socio-historical forces, and that the most powerful among us have merely deluded themselves into believing that they are shaping destiny rather than merely acting as its most prominent agents.  Some post-modernist philosophers, as I described in my blog entry “Apocalypse Then” (April 2013), believe that we are – or are moving toward – a civilization in which no person will genuinely be in control of anything, because the desires, goals, and beliefs of all humanity will be completely shaped and conditioned by the impersonal machinery of civilization itself.

And yet, both the triumphs and tragedies of history – ancient as well as modern – provide ample evidence that human beings can and do exercise power in ways that go against the tide.  Despotic regimes are toppled within days, while other societies that seemed to have been following, for generations, a trajectory toward greater freedom and tolerance suddenly descend into nightmares of oppression and chaos.  Within every corporate organization, within every political and religious movement, and within every government, there are real people, exercising real power, for a variety of different ends, in ways that are not completely transparent or comprehensible.

The exercise of power is older than civilization itself, but the science of power – the understanding of its architecture and its sociology – is still a relatively young one, hardly past the phase of observation and rudimentary explanation.  There should be a renewed sense of urgency in advancing this science, because the technology of power has been growing at an alarming rate over this past century.  In the United States, we recently discovered just how little privacy we really do have.  The all-seeing eyes of Big Brother in Orwell’s 1984, and of the Village in The Prisoner, are no longer elements of science fiction.  But surveillance is just a part of the exercise of power.  There is also the imposition of control.  And the psychology of compliance is one feature of the technology of power that has been advancing at a particularly alarming rate.