Elitism and Cronyism in a Disfigured Political Culture

Power is not inherently evil, but its pursuit often corrupts. In a world where political legitimacy is frequently confused with dominance, and where access is mistaken for authority, the quest for power has devolved into a machinery of exclusion. Elitism and cronyism are not accidental distortions of political systems; they are symptoms of a deeper decay in how we understand community, merit, and legitimacy.

Modern political landscapes—especially in transitional, post-colonial, or conflict-ridden states—often suffer from the inherited scars of centralized rule. These are places where the state has long functioned not as a servant of the people, but as an apparatus of control. In such settings, power does not flow from collective deliberation, but from proximity to decision-making hubs. This centralization breeds a distorted culture: one where networks override principles, loyalty trumps capability, and influence is recycled among the well-positioned.

Elitism emerges as a justification. It cloaks itself in meritocratic language—education, experience, vision—but its function is to protect the few from the demands of the many. It turns leadership into pedigree and governance into inheritance. Elites often present themselves as “essential” to stability, progress, or statenhood. They claim to be the necessary brains behind the body politic. But this is a strategic narrative, not a truth. These identities of political necessity are constructed, maintained, and reinforced through institutions, media, and historical revisions.

A post-essentialist view sees through this: there is no natural class of leaders. No one is born more legitimate to rule than others. Governance is not a fixed trait. it is a skill, a responsibility, and most importantly, a relationship of trust. When leadership becomes a self-affirming identity rather than a collective trust-based process, society shifts from representation to manipulation.

Cronyism is the practical expression of elitism’s ideology. It is where strategy overtakes integrity. In systems where trust is low and institutions are weak, loyalty becomes currency. Cronyism is not always emotional favoritism. It is often a calculated method of risk management in uncertain power games. But this risk-averse behavior strangles moral imagination. The circle of influence tightens. Innovation is stifled. Participation is narrowed.

And the people? They are asked to believe that the system is too complex for them, that they must wait their turn, that their dissent is naïve. Cronyism and elitism together form a political machine where access is gatekept, dissent is punished, and public service is rebranded as elite privilege.

But strategic essentialism teaches us that identity—be it of leadership, class, or “expertise”—can be wielded for resistance as well. Marginalized communities, under-represented groups, or sidelined political actors can temporarily claim collective identities (like ethnic, regional, or class-based leadership) not because they believe in fixed essences, but because these identities offer footholds in asymmetric terrains of power. This is not surrender to essentialism, but a strategic navigation of its dominance.

Yet the trap lies in forgetting the strategy. Many who rise by mobilizing collective identity fall prey to the same elitist games once they ascend. They imitate the power structures they once opposed, now justified as “our turn.” The oppressed become the new gatekeepers. The cycles of exclusion replicate under new names.

The deeper issue, then, is not just who holds power, but how we understand it. A society that confuses control with legitimacy will keep reproducing elitism and cronyism, even with new faces. What we need is not just redistribution of power, but a redefinition of it: power as facilitation, not dominance; leadership as responsibility, not entitlement.

To confront elitism and cronyism, we must decentralize not only institutions but also imaginations. We must redesign political cultures where access is not a privilege, but a shared right. This means rethinking education, public participation, and political narrative-building. It means embedding transparency, rotational leadership, and accountability into the DNA of our institutions.

Above all, it means rooting political legitimacy not in prestige, but in relational trust. In political friendship, not proximity to the throne. A society grounded in mutual recognition and layered deliberation cannot be captured so easily by cliques and circles.

The quest for power does not need to be abandoned—but it must be reframed. Not as a race for dominance, but as a shared project of governance. Not as control over others, but as co-creation of the terms of life together. We must be skeptical against entrenched power. Let us not imagine to get perfect permanent solutions. We need to think of perpetual responsibilities.

Elitism and cronyism may seem inevitable, especially in societies with deep inequalities. But they are not eternal. They are human constructions. What is constructed can be dismantled. The challenge is not simply political. It is moral, cultural, and epistemic. It is about what kind of society we believe is possible—and what kind of people we must become to build it.