Predisposed To The Hierarchy

Who leads.
Who follows.
Who decides.

Hierarchy is our first language—
but it should not be our last.

As babies, we can do almost nothing for ourselves. We rely entirely on those who came before us—older, stronger, more experienced. From the very beginning, we exist at the lowest rung of a natural hierarchy.

We learn quickly.

To sit. To stand. To speak.
Some of it is instinct—but most is learned, shaped by those bigger than we are. Parents. Elders. Even siblings. As little sponges, we absorb not only skills, but dynamics—what’s allowed, what isn’t, and where we fit.

We come to understand, very early, that someone else has more power.
More voice. More authority.

And we carry that understanding into adulthood.

In the workplace, hierarchy organizes decision-making.
In the military, it becomes rigid—orders flow from the top down.
In religion, authority can become absolute.

But here is where it becomes dangerous.

In times of uncertainty, we often crave safety. We look upward—for guidance, for control, for someone to take the reins. But when authority depends not on strength or wisdom, but on the manufacturing of enemies, something’s gone wrong.

Divide and conquer is not leadership. It’s manipulation.

We do not need an enemy to thrive.
We need stability. Clean air. Safe water. Affordable housing. Healthcare. Food.

So yes—we need government.

We need a hierarchy that works for us. One shaped by the representatives we elect, and the laws that bind them. Hierarchy may be our first language—but cooperation is the choice that gives meaning.

But if an authority figure must invent a bogeyman to hold power…
how strong are they, really?

But as we grow, something shifts.

We begin to step outside the structure. We learn to think independently. To move without constant instruction. To see from multiple perspectives—not just from the top down, but from within and around.

This is where growth happens.

And this is where hierarchy begins to lose its absolute hold.

Because here is the truth:

There are no guarantees.

Not in authority.
Not in fairness.
Not in reward.

You can be a good person and still be punished.
You can be a terrible person and still be rewarded—with money, with power, with fame.

So what, then, actually matters?

Not the hierarchy.
Not the approval.

But the integrity of your own character.
The long arc of your own soul.

Which brings us to the central question:

The United States Constitution is a remarkable document.
But its authority depends on those willing to uphold it.

What happens when those in power refuse to follow its rules?
What happens when the head of the hierarchy is corrupt?

Because unlike the economy, power truly does trickle down.

And yet—

This past weekend, millions of people marched peacefully together.

That did not happen by accident.

It was organized. Coordinated. Built by people working together behind the scenes. A living example of cooperation at scale.

So why don’t we do more of that?

We may need someone to show us how to tie our shoes.

But no one needs to teach us how to walk.
And we need to think about, where to go.

At some point, we must trust our own movement. Our own direction. Our own will.

And here is the irony:

Everyone has an opinion—
but no one wants to be told what to do.