How Story Can Shape Everything

What if the greatest weapon in human history isn't violence, but a story told at the right time?

I want to talk about something that's often on my mind. The complex, inspiring, often unsettling, but undeniably persistent ways that power works in the world.

By the way, when I say power, I mean it in the broadest sense — not just political or military might, but the everyday dynamics of influence, control, and persuasion that shape everything from global events to private moments. And one of the most potent tools in this pursuit, perhaps the most potent, isn’t that hulkingly obvious beast brute force at all, but the easy ability to tell a good story at just the right moment; whether you’re caught in a microscopic squabble or a global power play.

It strikes me that for all our grand designs, our advanced cultures, and intricate social structures, human behaviour, when distilled to its essence, can be surprisingly straightforward in its pursuit of influence. It’s a drive that operates everywhere, across all levels of existence, from the smallest skirmishes to the largest societal shifts.

But, before I start, let me say that this is meant to be an accessible introduction to critical thinking about power and narrative, building on established foundations and known models, and taking a curatorial and synthesising approach to the subject. Readers should approach it as a starting point for deeper inquiry rather than a definitive or academic analysis.

The Universal Drive for Control

At its heart, it often boils down to a desire for control. We see it in individuals jockeying for position in a workplace, navigating complex family dynamics where one person tries to steer the ship, and certainly in the cut-throat world of national leadership where figures aim to guide – or dominate – their societies. This isn’t exclusively a human trait either; observe almost any animal group, and you'll spot the constant push and pull for dominance, for resources, for a better spot on the branch. From a lone wolf asserting its position in a pack to the elaborate displays of birds seeking prime nesting sites, the relentless pursuit of influence is a fundamental part of life.

Chaos as a Path to Power

One particular tactic, though often morally grim and ethically bankrupt, has a long and pretty infamous history: the deliberate creation or exacerbation of chaos to achieve control. It's not about loving destruction for its own sake, but seeing disorder as a strategic opening.

Imagine, if you will, that you want to completely overhaul a very old, established institution. Direct reform might be too slow, too difficult, or too politically charged. But if a crisis erupts – perhaps an internal scandal or an external threat – the resulting confusion and panic can provide the perfect pretext for a swift, radical restructuring, pushing through changes that were previously impossible.

This kind of "destabilise to re-establish" strategy has appeared time and again throughout history, across myriad cultures.

Remember, remember the small, illegitimate group deeply committed to a radical ideology, like the conspirators behind the Gunpowder Plot in 17th-century England. Their aim was not merely destruction, but to create utter devastation at the heart of the government, decapitating the Protestant establishment and thereby creating a power vacuum they hoped would allow for the restoration of a Catholic monarchy. The chaos was a means to a perceived glorious end.

Or cast your mind back to the Fall of the Roman Republic. Figures like Julius Caesar masterfully leveraged periods of instability and populist narratives to consolidate unprecedented personal power, eventually leading to the collapse of the republican system and the rise of the Empire. The chaos of civil conflict wasn't just endured; it was strategically fanned to open the door for a new, autocratic order, alongside various military and economic considerations. Similarly, after the utter upheaval of the French Revolution, Napoleon Bonaparte stepped into the void, offering a compelling story of national pride, glory, and much-needed order. He transformed revolutionary chaos into an empire under his singular autocratic control, proving that narratives of stability can be as powerful in seizing control as those of revolution.

On the larger stage of international relations, we've historically seen accusations of powerful entities engaging in similar tactics. This might involve covertly funding dissident groups, deliberately misrepresenting information, or exploiting existing internal conflicts within other nations, allowing a situation to boil over into civil unrest or proxy wars. The aim is often to weaken an existing power structure, destabilise the region, and then step in – perhaps under the guise of restoring peace, promoting democracy, or protecting perceived national interests – ultimately asserting a new form of influence and establishing a more compliant order.

The Essential Power of Story

But how do these manoeuvres actually work? How do individuals, small radical groups, or even large states convince others to participate in, or at least accept, such disruptive schemes and the new order that follows? This is where the magic, or perhaps the mischief, of narrative comes in.

You see, a simple list of facts rarely inspires profound change or extreme action. To rally people behind a radical vision, to get them to overturn the established order, or to accept a period of intense upheaval, you need a story. Not just any story, but a compelling, often highly emotive one. This narrative provides the 'why' – the grand justification for the disruption – and paints a vivid picture of the glorious 'what if' that awaits on the other side. It creates a shared understanding, a common enemy, and a collective aspiration, however distorted it might be.

The vision may not be true yet — it might never be — but its utility lies in its ability to unify, inspire, and legitimise power. And while leading people toward something only you can imagine could be considered delusional. Often, it’s a strategy.

Consider the founding myths of nations around the globe. Almost every modern country has a carefully curated origin story – tales of noble revolutions, heroic founders, and struggles against tyranny. These narratives often simplify complex histories, omit inconvenient truths, and mythologise events in ways that galvanise national unity and justify current power structures. They aren't always outright lies, but they are certainly curated, shaping generations of citizens' understanding of their collective identity and purpose.

A critical point here is whether this 'fantastical' element of the narrative – that is, a vision not yet grounded in current reality – indicates that the person promoting it is delusional. Not necessarily. Often, such a 'fantasy' is a strategic necessity. It's the fuel that ignites conviction, the justification for breaking deeply held social norms or committing difficult acts. It's the invisible scaffolding upon which grand plans for control are built.

The individuals or states crafting these narratives might even come to genuinely believe in their ultimate truth, or they might simply recognise their powerful utility in manipulating others. The human mind is wonderfully, or terrifyingly, capable of both, blurring the lines between what is believed and what is merely useful. Even Emperor Ashoka of the Maurya dynasty in ancient India, after a brutal conquest, strategically rebranded his rule through a powerful narrative of peace, compassion, and moral order (Buddhism). This narrative served as a stabilising force after a period of intense chaos and became a tool for extending his empire's influence through soft power, demonstrating narrative's ability to replace brute force.

Believing Your Own Story

This brings us to the complex interplay between a leader’s genuine conviction and their strategic deployment of narratives. Does one truly believe every word of their often-exaggerated rhetoric, or is it a calculated performance?

The reality is often a murky blend, a fluid dance between sincere belief and cynical calculation. Individuals who strive for significant power often possess an intense belief in their own capability and the righteousness of their cause. This deep conviction, even if it borders on self-deception, allows them to project unwavering confidence, which in turn inspires fervent loyalty in others. They become expert at constructing compelling narratives, not just for their followers, but perhaps also for themselves, blurring the lines between their sincere ideals and their strategic manoeuvres.

It's a delicate and often unsettling interplay between belief and expediency, a testament to the persuasive power of self-assuredness. Many influential figures across history, from ancient prophets to cult leaders and modern politicians, have demonstrated this uncanny ability to craft and embody stories that resonate deeply, shaping the very reality their followers inhabit.

When Control Turns Corrosive

However, there’s a stark line where the pursuit of control becomes profoundly corrosive and abhorrent. While the methods of manipulation – using narrative, creating division, fostering unquestioning loyalty – might appear in various forms of leadership, the degree and nature of their application can differentiate a functional (if imperfect) system from a destructive one.

Legitimate leadership, even robust and firm leadership, typically operates within established ethical boundaries, respecting individual autonomy and allowing for peaceful dissent or departure. Power is distributed, constrained by laws, and accountable to some form of oversight. Persuasion seeks to inform and influence, even if it uses rhetorical flourishes.

But when control becomes totalistic, permeating every aspect of an individual's life, thought, and relationships, and when it is brutally enforced through psychological manipulation, abuse, or overt violence, we move beyond even ruthless leadership into the realm of profound harm. The parallels between a family dynamic and a totalitarian state might involve similar mechanisms of manipulation, but the scale of suffering and the ethical reprehensibility are, of course, vastly different and must not be morally flattened.

What about the Spanish Inquisition in early modern Europe. While framed as a defence of religious faith, its powerful narrative of rooting out heresy became a chilling mechanism for political power. It enforced conformity and crushed dissent through widespread fear, public spectacles, and brutal repression. Similarly, after a long period of feudal warfare in Japan, the Tokugawa shogunate ushered in over 250 years of relative peace. But this stability was achieved by embedding a rigid narrative structure into society – one of hierarchy, duty, and unquestioning loyalty. The chaos of war became the ultimate justification for extreme social control, with the samurai mythos serving as a powerful tool to maintain psychological and political order.

And think about the chilling examples of witch trials in Early Modern Europe and Salem. These accusations didn't arise from nowhere; they emerged during times of intense community anxiety, uncertainty, or social transition. The 'witch' became a readily available scapegoat, a narrative focal point for anxieties around gender, control, and religious conformity. The story of rooting out evil provided a false sense of restored order, even as it destroyed countless lives and enforced patriarchal or religious dominance.

Here, 'propaganda' replaces persuasion, and 'tyranny' supplants leadership. It highlights that the most dangerous aspect isn't necessarily the idea of seeking power, but the unfettered, violent, and all-encompassing way in which that power is exerted over others. It's a sharp reminder that the capacity for extreme cruelty lies within human nature, regardless of context, and that understanding the ethical threshold for the exercise of power is a constant, vital concern for any healthy society.

Navigating Our Shared Discourse

So, what are we to take from all this for our daily interactions and the broader discussions shaping our world, especially in the fast-paced, narrative-driven landscape of modern communication? We need to equip ourselves to be discerning participants in the ongoing dialogue of humanity.

It means cultivating a healthy dose of scepticism, without becoming cynical, combined with humility and an eagerness to understand nuance through a robust intellectual curiosity and a commitment to clarity. Awareness of these patterns is profoundly helpful, but it's important to acknowledge that it is not, on its own, sufficient protection against deeply entrenched power or sophisticated manipulation. It's a starting point for further action and collective vigilance.

Question Simple Stories: When we encounter narratives that offer overly simple villains or explain complex problems with easy solutions, especially those that trigger strong emotional responses, we should pause. Are these genuine insights, or are they carefully crafted 'fantasies' designed to nudge us towards a particular viewpoint, perhaps to consolidate power or distract from uncomfortable truths? Critical media literacy becomes an essential civic duty here.

Look Beneath the Surface: Actions that seem outlandish or incomprehensible might, upon closer inspection, reveal an unsettlingly familiar pattern of power dynamics. Understanding how influence is exerted, at every scale – from the interpersonal squabble to the grand geopolitical game – helps us see the threads connecting seemingly disparate events and avoid superficial judgments.

Insist on Clarity in Language: Words carry immense power and can be used to build or dismantle, to clarify or obscure. Labels like 'delusional' or 'fringe', or even seemingly benign words like “inappropriate” can be wielded to dismiss, demonise, and shut down legitimacy. Demanding precision in language, asking "what exactly do you mean by that?" over and over again, until we land comfortably at the ground floor of clarity helps us avoid falling into traps of simplification and prejudice, creating a more honest and consistent conversation.

Recognise the Manipulator's Hand: Whether it’s an individual weaving a captivating tale to control a small group, or a powerful institution shaping public perception, the tools of manipulation remain surprisingly consistent. Our task, as active participants in society, is to identify these tools, understand their purpose, and critically assess the motives of those employing them. This also involves understanding the ethical gradations of influence, distinguishing between honest persuasion (even forceful) and outright propaganda or coercion.

Embrace Counter-Narratives and Checks on Power: It's vital to remember that power doesn't just flow one way. Throughout history, resistance, civil society movements, independent journalism, robust education, and democratic processes have acted as crucial counterbalances. Storytelling itself can be a powerful force for good, inspiring movements for justice, empathy, and positive change. A healthy discourse isn't just about spotting manipulation; it's about amplifying diverse voices, supporting institutions that hold power accountable, and developing environments where truth can thrive amidst conflicting narratives.

Ultimately, the rich tapestry of human interaction is woven with intricate threads of power and influence. By sharpening our critical faculties and maintaining an open, inquisitive mind, we can become more discerning navigators of our shared world, better able to discern authentic patterns from manufactured narratives. This enables us to engage more thoughtfully, challenge injustice, and contribute to a discourse that is genuinely more informed, inclusive, and perhaps, a touch more wise.

Deepening Our Understanding

To truly grapple with these dynamics, we need to consider how narratives play out in various, often subtle, ways across history and cultures. Beyond the obvious political dramas, think about:

Foundational Myths and National Identity: Almost every modern nation has a carefully curated founding story — the noble revolution, the wise founders, and the struggle against tyranny. These stories simplify, omit, and mythologise in ways that galvanise unity and justify current power structures. They're not lies — but they are curated narratives, shaping generations. The Qin Dynasty’s unification of China in the 3rd century BCE is a prime example; after ending centuries of warring states through sheer military might, Qin Shi Huang cemented his power by standardising currency, writing, law, and crucially, imperial myth. He famously purged intellectual dissent by burning books, ensuring that the only story allowed was one that legitimised central, autocratic control.

Social Movements and Indigenous Storytelling: How have disempowered groups historically used their own narratives, often rooted in ancestral wisdom or shared suffering, not to destabilise violently, but to mobilise resistance and demand justice? Across colonised societies, from the Māori in Aotearoa to the Navajo in the Americas, oral storytelling has long served as a quiet but profoundly powerful form of resistance. These weren't grand political upheavals, but everyday acts of cultural survival: elders telling children the stories colonial powers tried to erase, preserving identity and historical memory under immense coercion. Here, story acts as a cultural shield and a subtle, yet potent, form of resistance to assimilation.

Legacy and Myth-Making in Leadership: The stories told about leaders can shape power for centuries. Take Queen Amina of Zazzau in 16th-century Nigeria. While she was a formidable military leader, what truly solidified her power and ensured its lasting impact was the narrative legacy she left behind. Stories about her strategic brilliance and assertive leadership became part of the enduring Hausa oral tradition, shaping perceptions of female power and providing a form of soft propaganda for her dynasty long after her death. Her myth endures as both legend and a tool of influence.

Micro-Level Narrative Control – Family Dynamics: This isn't just about states, politicians, empires and kings and queens, or cult leaders and CEOs. Even within the most intimate settings, like families, narratives can exert powerful control. Like the timeless and universal pattern of "the scapegoat child” or parental alienation. In some dysfunctional families, often unconsciously, one child is cast as 'the problem.' This narrative allows other family members to avoid facing their own flaws or dysfunction, maintaining an illusion of harmony or control within the unit. Or one parent is the disorganised one, the unpredictable one, the control freak. The 'troublemaker' label becomes a form of soft control, subtly trapping someone in a story that preserves a false order and prevents accountability elsewhere.

Organisational Storytelling and Corporate Culture: In the modern corporate world, the creation of a powerful 'founder myth' or a strong company culture often serves as an internal control mechanism. Think of companies where the mythos around a charismatic founder became deeply embedded in the company's DNA. Employees aren't just doing their jobs, they're aligning with a story of genius, disruption, or perfection. This narrative provides cohesion, inspires loyalty, and guides behaviour, but it can also, when wielded carelessly, mask internal dysfunction or justify problematic practices. The story of the visionary leader becomes a subtle tool of influence over behaviour and belief.

Power Through Narrative Absorption – Cultural Syncretism: Sometimes, narratives are controlled not through outright destruction, but through absorption. Like when the Romans co-opted pagan beliefs into Christian dogma. Or, during the colonial era, for example, when missionaries in Latin America often blended Indigenous beliefs with Christian symbols to facilitate conversion. Virgin Mary figures might absorb traits of Indigenous goddesses, easing acceptance of a new religion. Worshiping and living with nature became the Christmas Tree. This wasn't a purely benign fusion; it was a calculated strategic narrative move designed to control and reshape existing belief systems under an invading agenda, demonstrating power achieved through diplomacy but through mythological manipulation.

Tech-Driven Propaganda and Digital Disinformation: In our modern age, the tools for crafting and disseminating narratives are more sophisticated than ever. We've seen tech giants and social media platforms, initially heralded as tools for connection, become unwitting (or sometimes witting) conduits for vast disinformation campaigns. State-sponsored groups or even individuals can now rapidly deploy 'fake news,' deepfakes, and emotionally charged content to sow discord, influence elections, or undermine public trust. Think about how coordinated social media campaigns can amplify fear, resentment, or outrage, creating 'digital chaos' that destabilises shared understanding and opens doors for particular political agendas to take hold. This isn't just about simple lies; it's about algorithmic amplification of emotionally potent (often false) narratives that fracture societies.

Tools for the Discerning Mind

So, what can we, as ordinary folks navigating this complex landscape, actually do? It's all well and good to talk about "sharpening critical faculties," but how does that look in practice?

Cultivate Media Literacy: This means actively questioning the source, intent, and funding behind the information we consume. Look for independent journalism, fact-checking organisations, and diverse perspectives. Think about who benefits from a particular story being told in a specific way.

Engage with Verification Tools: Tools for reverse image searching, verifying video origins, and cross-referencing information across multiple, reputable sources are more accessible than ever. Take that extra minute before you share something that sparks a strong emotional reaction. A couple of quick tips: always check the date of an article, and use a tool like TinEye or Google Reverse Image Search to see where an image originally came from. For news, cross-reference headlines across at least three different, reputable news outlets to get a balanced view.

Understand Emotional Hooks: Be aware of how narratives play on our emotions. Stories that make us instantly angry, fearful, or excessively proud should trigger a moment of pause. Manipulators often bypass rational thought by directly targeting our primal feelings, creating a sense of urgency or belonging that clouds judgment. Ask yourself: "Why is this making me feel so strongly? What is it trying to make me do?" Are they trying to tap into your hope for a better future, your fear of losing what you have, your resentment towards an 'other,' or your deep-seated need for belonging and identity? Narratives that play on these emotions can be incredibly powerful in forging allegiance and driving behaviour, sometimes for good, sometimes for evil.

Develop Diverse Information Diets: Actively seek out perspectives that challenge your own. Deliberately exposing yourself to different viewpoints helps inoculate against echo chambers and the totalising narratives that manipulators thrive on. Try following news sources from different political leanings, or reading opinions from cultures distinct from your own.

Support Independent Watchdogs: Invest time, attention, or even resources into organisations dedicated to investigative journalism, human rights, and exposing propaganda. These institutions act as vital democratic counterbalances to unchecked power. Consider supporting organisations like The Guardian, Amnesty International, or Full Fact.

Ultimately, understanding the pervasive nature of power dynamics and the strategic role of narratives isn't about becoming cynical. It's about becoming empowered. It's about being able to see the world not just as it's presented to us, but as it truly operates, with all its messy, complex, and sometimes reprehensible undercurrents. By doing so, we contribute to a more informed, resilient, and perhaps, just a little bit fairer, public discourse.

Because in the end, we’re not just characters in someone else’s story — we’re co-authors. And the narratives we choose to tell and believe will determine the kind of world we build next.