My country is rich with paradox, for instance, the patriarchs and the privileged loath dynasts. Anyone who was ever ‘heard’, or has a column, is privileged, right? They have the resources to be heard, they were born into castes that had access to higher education when the majority did not have those resources. They had the means to succeed and then feel sorry for themselves, where others did not. The loathing of dynasts seems somehow convenient, when the loathers are themselves dynasts. Perhaps they hate themselves, or are guilty of how they got what they have? But no, it’s not that either. They believe their own sob stories and speak proudly of how difficult it was for them, papering over their relative luck or the cunning of their ascent in comparison to the truly downtrodden. It is a transference of guilt, a passing of blame, of the buck. Relativity is everywhere in my country. Take a look at anyone that has succeeded, their stories brim with self pity and sentiment. Is this hatred of the dynast then rooted in sentiment?
An idea was sown several years ago about the undeserving privilege of dynasts, and their seeming lack of competence relative to everything democratic around them that was deemed proficient. And anyone with an acute consciousness of their own intellect clamoured to claim this notion, to wear the gilded raiment of this idea proudly in public. This time, however, the undress of the emperor was not so obvious, because it assumed the form of a vacuum, which filled rapidly with what is now known as post-truth or alternative facts. The very people who now decry the rise of obscurantism of all kinds were the ones that sowed this vacuum. Once the swamp denizens or political dynasts were knocked down from their pedestals, who did clamber up onto those high pilasters? We replaced classical dynasts with liberal dynasts, populist dynasts, oligarchic dynasts, religious dynasts, dogma dynasts, tribal dynasts—this is because we define a dynast as someone that undeservedly inherits or usurps privilege either from a family, an organisation or institution—the scrappy dynasts determined to succeed by any means.
Reasonably then, since we hate dynasts, we should ideally hate ourselves. The ones that write or declaim from pulpits are all dynasts of one kind or another. But we are clever that way. We cloak our own entitlement with sentimental sob stories. Of course, we all have our stories, but who has time for the sad stories of the entitled? Everyone else is entitled besides us right? We like to recite these stories, while resenting the slightest success of others. We like to recite these stories, while disdaining the stories of others. The digital age of democracy has been a pyrrhic triumph for human nature. As it turned out, this loathing of the dynast was really rooted in privilege envy. This is the age of the crab in a box. Remember that old story of a box of caged crabs, each one pulling down the one with the temerity to try and climb out of the box.