When Power Becomes Flexible: Why Elite Narratives Are Losing Credibility
The Weakening of Meritocratic Narratives: When Authority Loses Its Power to Persuade, and Institutional Communication Reaches Its Limits (Part I)
At some point — hard to say exactly when — it became more difficult to be genuinely impressed by someone’s success. Not impossible. But something had shifted in the gap between hearing about an achievement and actually feeling moved by it. Someone gets into a prestigious institution, closes a significant deal, lands a position that would once have produced uncomplicated admiration. And now there is a half-beat before the response forms. Not envy, exactly. Not cynicism. Something quieter than both: a question, held just beneath the surface — how much of this was the path, and how much was the person?
The shift is not in who succeeds, or how often. It is in what success is taken to mean.
For a long time, the meaning was stable enough. Success could be narrated through a legible formula: talent, effort, discipline, and opportunity. The system, whatever its imperfections, was broadly coherent. Rules had edges. Not everyone succeeded, but success itself could be examined and, largely, understood. It pointed to something about the person. That pointing — that interpretability — was the whole moral architecture of the meritocratic story.
What is fracturing now is not success but that interpretability. The conditions surrounding success have become harder to trust. What appears fixed at the level of principle feels increasingly negotiable in practice. Power, in other words, is experienced as flexible.
This flexibility rarely announces itself. It surfaces through exceptions — cases where procedures are quietly adjusted, where ambiguity is extended just long enough, where outcomes align a little too smoothly with the interests of those already positioned to benefit. Each instance can be explained individually: context, complexity, competing considerations. But patterns accumulate differently than events. Over time what becomes visible is not a single violation but a recurring selective elasticity. And it is this elasticity — not injustice in any strict sense — that does the real corrosive work.
Elite narratives do not require perfection to hold. They require coherence. Not identical outcomes, but a working belief that the same logic applies across cases. Once that belief weakens, success stops reading as purely earned and becomes entangled with proximity — to institutions, to influence, to systems capable of adjusting their own terms. This does not mean those who succeed are undeserving. It changes how their success is received. Recognition becomes conditional. Admiration becomes careful. The distance between achievement and legitimacy begins to widen, slowly, without declaration.
This is not localized to one country or sector. Across business, media, sport, and diplomacy, the same underlying tension surfaces: a gap between what is stated as principle and what is perceived to operate in practice. The traditional logic of institutional communication assumed that legitimacy flows outward from established authority — that alignment with institutions signals credibility. As perceptions of power become more contingent, that flow reverses. What once read as authority now reads as distance. Organizations whose language centers on people can appear increasingly removed from them — not in intention, but in reception, which is where it matters.
Those who have spent years inside large institutions will recognize the mechanism from the inside. Authority is not only exercised; it is absorbed. Proximity to institutional structures shapes how reality gets read. Alignment starts to feel like validation. What is internally experienced as coherence registers externally as insularity. This tension becomes especially sharp around the concept of merit itself: within institutional narratives, success is presented as the outcome of a structured, principled process. From the outside, what appears as merit within a system can read as proximity to power — to networks, to access, to forms of recognition not equally distributed.
The distinction matters because merit is what stabilizes the moral claim of success. As Michael Sandel argues in The Tyranny of Merit, meritocratic narratives shape not only who is rewarded but how both success and failure are morally interpreted. When outcomes are attributed primarily to individual merit, structural conditions recede from view. When those conditions are systematically uneven, the narrative strains under its own assumptions.
What follows is not collapse but a gradual reconfiguration of trust. Admiration becomes provisional. Authority becomes contingent. Narratives that once relied on symbolic clarity — progress, merit, leadership — lose some of their persuasive force, not because they are false, but because they no longer feel complete. And in that incompleteness, a different quality of value begins to matter: success that appears less mediated, less adjusted, less dependent on institutional proximity and selective exception. Success that can be looked at directly, without needing to account for what surrounds it.
The question was never whether power exists. It always has. The question is whether its operations still appear consistent — or whether they have become elastic enough that even those who benefit from them struggle to read them with confidence. When power becomes too flexible, it does not necessarily weaken. But it becomes very difficult to trust. And that difficulty — quiet, accumulating, unresolved — is where something in the relationship between success and legitimacy has already changed.
That shift is where the deeper tension begins.


