The elite have toppled. They have shifted from a vertical anchoring in tradition and responsibility to horizontal networks of self-affirmation. What does this psychological, social and existential shift mean? What path remains now that all the obvious ways out seem to be closed? A system-psychological analysis.
Introduction
Few words evoke as much emotion today as “elite”. Once a neutral term for the upper echelons of society, it now symbolises a class seen as arrogant and out of touch with reality. Populist movements everywhere, from The Hague to Harwich to Houston, use it as a battle cry — against Washington insiders, against the Westminster bubble, against technocrats, and against a self-satisfied establishment.
Historically, this is nothing new. From the French Revolution to 1968, the masses turned against the elites they saw as out of touch and selfish. There have already been warnings that a society that selects its elites based on talent and education can just as easily become mired in new, meritocratic inequality. Recent studies point to a growing gap between the highly educated and everyone else, fueled by economic uncertainty and cultural polarisation.
Has the elite indeed become ‘disconnected’, lost touch and turned its back on society? Or should we be scrutinising not the elite, but the people? After all, the people seem stubbornly attached to outdated achievements, entitlements, and old-fashioned ideas.
Zeitgeist: the water we swim in
What is the zeitgeist? It sounds like something outside of ourselves, a vague cultural trend that we can analyse from a distance. But the truth is more uncomfortable: the spirit of the times is us. It is the air we breathe and the water we swim in. This is precisely why we find it so difficult to notice.
By its very nature, the zeitgeist cannot perceive itself. While we are immersed in it and identify with it, it seems self-evident and invisible. It is only in retrospect, once the spirit of the times has shifted, that we recognise its hold on us. This makes the question of how we can ever observe it while we are immersed in it all the more pressing.
Philosophers have also recognised this dynamic. Hegel argued that it is not individuals and elites who create the spirit of the times, but rather they embody and actualise it — often without realising it themselves. According to him, significant historical figures such as Napoleon were not architects of their time, but instruments of the Weltgeist — the spirit that expressed itself through them.
The spirit of modernity adds an extra dimension to this. After all, if there is one defining feature of our time, it is our unshakeable belief in our own rightness. We live in a culture that likes to see itself as rational and progressive. Analysis, science, and technology are the principles on which our society is founded. They carry with them the pretence that we know and can explain everything. Autonomy, self-development and social engineering have become sacred values. We celebrate the belief that we can control everything: our bodies, our institutions, and even nature itself. However, beneath this shiny surface lies a paradox.
The rise of individualism has caused the collective to fade away. Rationality is suspicious of emotions, pushing them into the background. Freedom has turned into loneliness; those who fail do so alone. The belief in progress, once a source of hope, can sometimes leave us feeling uprooted. Those who cannot keep up seek refuge in therapy, consumption or addiction. Thus, the promise of social malleability becomes a burden, an illusion even.
Can we still wake up to these self-evident truths? Or must we wait for the spirit of the times to change so that we can see where we were trapped? Even more seriously, are existential crises looming on the horizon that we cannot see?
The ambivalent ego
What does the zeitgeist mean for the psyche of the individual? An authentic, euphoric modernity characterised the 1960s and 1970s, evident in the explosion of colours and shapes in fashion, art, and music. Individualisation was seen as a sign of emancipation. People would free themselves from group pressure and form new partnerships based on rationality and mutual respect. Coalitions would become fluid and identities flexible. The world seemed to be moving towards greater justice and continuous progress.
Today, however, the individual is thrown back on themselves. Yet, the triumph of autonomy and self-determination has a dark side: the individualised ego is ambivalent because it only feels good when it receives external validation. In a world where gods have disappeared, and where fixed anchors such as origin, community and conviction have been abandoned, the ego’s self-confidence becomes a facade. It is torn between the urge to be free and the need for security. Individuals now seek moral guidance through lifestyle choices, ideological purity, and the approval of their peers.
The mood of celebration about the free individual has thus passed. The idea that ‘anything goes’ is no longer dominant. As this euphoria disappears, our feelings of discontent return. Along with these, guilt, shame and moralism are creeping back in — precisely the emotions that we so triumphantly got rid of in the 1960s. They are reappearing in subtly altered forms.
According to Wilfried Nelles, this ambivalent ego closely resembles the adolescent phase as described in the seven levels of his Life Integration Process: it is proud and lonely, convinced of its own free will, yet essentially insecure and dependent on appearances and experiences in order to feel that it exists. It prefers thinking to feeling, clings to ideas and ideologies, and vehemently rejects its origins — not because it is free, but precisely because it has not yet truly achieved that freedom. As Nelles says, it is “on its way, but not yet home”. However self-aware the ambivalent ego may sometimes appear, it is still immature.
Malte Nelles speaks of a similar dynamic in his book “Gottes Umzug ins Ich” (God’s Move into the Self). He describes how the sacred, which was once placed outside the individual in divine or institutional structures, has now moved into the self. The ego has become the new seat of meaning, but this new role is a heavy burden. Whereas external authority once provided guidance, the self now stands face to face with the emptiness of its own projections. The glorification of the self – ‘my truth, my life, my choices’ – is, at the same time, an escape from the realisation that this freedom is largely illusory.
The ambivalent ego resembles a perpetual motion machine that only functions thanks to external stimuli. It lacks an intrinsic source of energy, only moving when touched from the outside and showing little resilience in the face of resistance or adversity. It is always ready to rebel, but rarely to truly incarnate itself in reality. Therefore, it is important to consider the implications: despite all its fear of missing out, the ambivalent ego’s default response to life is an implicit ‘no’. This is because a ‘yes’ that depends on conditions is essentially a ‘no’ in disguise.
Is this a tipping point?
This psychological state is not a private matter. It is a collective experience and an expression of the zeitgeist. It is precisely this collective of individualised, detached, confirmation-hungry egos that is searching for a new home. Where will this psychological ambivalence lead?
Regrouping: from segmented vertical structure to horizontal identity group.
Once upon a time, our naturally vertical and firmly anchored structures provided people with direction and security. These segmented vertical structures were often oppressive and hierarchical, but they also fostered loyalty and a shared sense of purpose that elevated the individual.
Then, in the mid-1960s, modernity arrived. The idea that all these free and developing individuals would create a perfect world turned out to be a naïve dream. The ambivalent ego, having to adapt to the void left by the vertically segmented structures, was found to be ill-equipped for the fragmentation of matter and spirit. It is uprooted, lonely and trapped in its own self-image. And the world is still not perfect.
The rise of identity groups
The ambivalent ego seeks stability, but cannot find it in old vertical structures, which are considered ‘uncool’ and authoritarian. Instead, it seeks stability in new, horizontal structures: identity groups. These groups are not rooted in location, religion, or origin, but rather in shared worldviews and external characteristics.
Despite their progressive self-image, it is striking that these horizontal groups are surprisingly uniform and dogmatic. They present themselves as advocates of diversity and inclusion, but a closer look reveals strong group pressure and little room for deviation. Uncertain of their own worth, individuals cling to these groups to avoid falling into an existential void.
Horizontal structures serve as a refuge.
Identity groups offer a temporary home for the ambivalent ego in a world full of alienation. They offer the illusion of community, but are not rooted in geography or spiritual meaning. They are organised around fleeting ideas and fashionable appearances and are therefore, by definition, fragile and ambivalent. Identity groups are reminiscent of football club supporters who remain loyal despite twenty consecutive defeats. It is no longer about results, but about belonging.
As Wilfried Nelles explains in his description of the adolescent ego, these groups cling to their own small truths while fiercely fighting the small truths of others. Their own righteousness is glorified and made absolute. This leads not only to greater internal conformity and peer pressure, but also to stronger external enemy images.
The dynamics of such groups can be observed in a variety of contexts, ranging from progressive media editorial offices to conservative student societies. DWDD’s working environment[1], which resulted in a riot in 2020, demonstrates how even a seemingly hip and progressive culture operates according to this pattern — ultimately, everything revolves around belonging. For the ambivalent ego, the fear of being excluded from the group is unbearable. Consequently, transgressive behaviour is tacitly accepted as long as it secures one’s place within the group.
Robert Bly’s The Sibling Society confirms and complements this analysis. He describes a society in which traditional vertical relationships, such as parent-child, teacher-student and citizen-state, have been replaced by horizontal relationships between ‘like-minded people’. The result is a society of siblings without parental figures to provide direction or boundaries. In such a context, the ego is constantly seeking confirmation from its peers but finds no deeper foundation. Bly sketches a world of permanent adolescence: a culture in which we mirror each other’s superficial values and lack the courage to delve deeper.
Polarisation
What remains is a society filled with horizontal networks that primarily revolve around self-affirmation. The moral guidance once provided by the vertical structures of society has been replaced by a diffuse moralism within the identity groups themselves.
Yet this clustering does not help. It is a neurotic symptom of a frustrated ego that projects its discontent rather than processing it internally. While the regrouping seems to offer stability, beneath the surface, polarisation is growing.
In this multitude of identity groups, free-floating egos automatically form two large camps: winners and losers. Winners find confirmation and feel secure in their group, while losers experience rejection and are blamed for their failure according to the meritocratic logic of modernity. After all, success is a personal achievement and failure a personal shortcoming. Becoming or remaining a winner is an existential aspiration, while becoming a loser is an existential risk.
The result is massive societal polarisation: city versus countryside, highly educated versus low-skilled, woke versus reactionary, Eastern versus Western Europe, red versus blue states. These contrasts are intensifying as the centrifugal force of polarisation increases.
The regrouping of the elite
This regrouping of the ambivalent ego has left its mark on society. This movement was not limited to the masses — the elite also found their way into this horizontal ordering of identity groups.
Once upon a time, the elite was anchored in vertical structures too. Its status derived not only from power and wealth, but also from its place in a broader community. There was a certain reciprocity: privileges went hand in hand with duties and loyalty to a structure that towered above the individual. Their identity was shaped by ancestry, location, and institutions that supported society.
Today, however, that anchoring has dissolved. The elite, like the ambivalent ego, has become detached from solid ground. As a globalist entity, the elite has thus become the embodiment of a broader zeitgeist: a shift from vertical structures, which are rooted in history and transcendence, to horizontal networks that primarily reflect themselves. There is no longer any connection to something higher or any responsibility outside the group.
The elite image is familiar: they used to step out of their Jaguars wearing Scottish pleated skirts and corduroy trousers. Now, they step out of their Tesla Model Ys wearing Patagonia jackets and KUYICHI jeans. However, the transient nature of modern consciousness is evident; even the Tesla has already fallen foul of the coercive moralism of the new group identity. What remains is an elite primarily concerned with belonging and excluding those who do not conform to the group’s codes.
Yet there is ambivalence; the opulence gnaws away. In fact, the idea is that ‘there is no responsibility outside the group’. However, the latent dissatisfaction of the ambivalent ego does manifest as idealistic projections onto the outside world. Grand, illusory technocratic visions expressed in percentages of more or less, in tens and hundreds of billions, are like castles in the air. This looks like taking responsibility but lacks concrete form or feasibility testing. It lacks grounding. The facile hyperbole suffices.
In reality, this is not about responsibility, but a psychological defence mechanism whereby discomfort is projected into identitarian and megalomaniacal plans whose consequences are not experienced within one’s own immediate context. They try to exorcise latent feelings of guilt in this way, shifting them outside themselves without really descending into the complex reality. The administrative impotence of the elite only results in higher doses of the same ineffective medication.
The World Economic Forum is a striking example of this, being a globalist network where elites share views and engage in rituals of mutual recognition. Their identity is not anchored in the real world, but is instead an unfounded idea, a mirror palace of self-affirmation.
Thus, the globalist elite embodies the spirit of the times: a shift from vertical structures, which were rooted in history and transcendence, to horizontal networks that cherish their own reflection above all else.
Vertical and horizontal: two dimensions of consciousness.
The vertical dimension: the connection between heaven and earth.
When the elite were at the top of a pyramid, they were embedded in a vertical hierarchy that symbolised the connection between heaven and earth. In the archetypal king, the crown with its radiant points symbolised the sun, which gave warmth and light to the people. The solid, rooted throne represented the connection with the earth. This imagery had profound meaning: power was not autonomous, but a function within a larger order extending from the transcendent to the rooted. Responsibility was not optional but embedded in a network of duties and meanings.
The horizontal dimension: the illusion of freedom.
Modernity has largely replaced this vertical orientation with a horizontal one. This is the dimension of the ego and of identity as a construct. Those who exist in this dimension see themselves as freer, more rational and detached from dogma. However, this freedom is illusory. This is because horizontal consciousness is grounded in nothing outside itself: no origin, no transcendence, only the mental projections of the ego about who it thinks it is and how it thinks the world should be.
A simple structural reshuffling?
The toppling of the elite is more than a simple reordering in a structural sense; it is a sociological phenomenon. It touches on a deeper movement: the shift from a vertical to a horizontal orientation, both socially and psychologically. This distinction is not merely geometric; it signifies fundamentally different ways of being in the world with different spiritual meanings that subsequently lead to concrete social effects.
Eckhart Tolle: presence as a vertical dimension
Tolle distinguishes between these two dimensions in a way that resonates with the spirit of our times. The horizontal dimension encompasses thoughts, emotions and ego-driven actions – the relentless pursuit of the self for more, better and different. It is the world of doing, planning and performing.
The vertical dimension, on the other hand, refers to connection with the deeper self and the space of silence and presence that transcends the busyness of the mind. For Tolle, this is not an escape from everyday life, but rather a state of consciousness in which one is firmly anchored in the timelessness of the present moment, yet still engaged in horizontal activity.
Balance only arises when the inevitable horizontal movement of human society is permeated by the quality of vertical presence. Without this embedding, the horizontal dimension remains restless and detached.
Krishnamurti: the radical nature of the vertical leap.
Krishnamurti goes even further. He sees the horizontal line as the linear succession of thoughts, knowledge, and time: the realm of the familiar, of accumulation, and of projection. Our thinking is constantly moving between the past and the future without ever touching the reality of the present moment.
For Krishnamurti, the vertical dimension is a break with this pattern: a leap towards direct perception and insight. This leap is not sequential or measurable; it is a radical shift in consciousness. Here, time falls away and, with it, the illusion that we can liberate ourselves through knowledge, plans or ideals.
Socio-political effects: the horizontal elite and its shadow
The shift of the elite from vertical structures to horizontal networks has far-reaching consequences for society. What initially manifested as a psychological movement of the ambivalent ego has now translated into institutional dynamics and political relations. The effects are far-reaching.
Countervailing forces are disappearing.
One of the most radical changes is the evaporation of classic political oppositions. The decades-long struggle between labour and capital, which shaped the political arena, has given way to a diffuse consensus around the idea of social engineering and the malleability of life. For some, social engineering is represented by the state; for others, it is represented by the market. But left-, centre- and right-wing parties are now united by this zeitgeist and the belief that reality can be controlled, managed and governed.
The old vertical opposition between the elite and the people has given way to horizontal divisions, with identity groups affirming or fighting each other but no longer engaging in dialogue with anything outside themselves. This eliminates what was once called countervailing power. Rather than becoming opponents of each other or other powers, the entire elite becomes a horizontal network that primarily reproduces itself.
The political system follows this dynamic. Elections lose their meaning as the outcome changes little in terms of the course of events. Representativeness used to be a vertical function, whereby the people’s mandate extended to the highest echelons.
Now, forming a government and coalition has been reduced to a cold calculation of ‘half plus one’. The vertical counter-movement — populism, of course, being nothing more or less — is excluded. This gives the horizontal order a virtually infinite and boundless mandate.
Technocracy and scaling up
The horizontal elite has a strong tendency towards scaling up, resulting in technocracy. They prefer theories, models and harmonised scientific insights and have little affinity for unruly reality. Major issues are approached through scaling up, such as global climate agreements, uniform policies and economic packages worth hundreds of billions. This approach may sound grand and ambitious, but it often lacks the local anchoring and depth required to address complex problems effectively.
From vertical to horizontal discrimination
Even the mechanisms of exclusion have been turned on their head. Whereas vertical discrimination used to take place geographically — and was therefore often determined by ethnicity and religion — we now see horizontal discrimination under the banner of diversity, equality and inclusion. We still discriminate, but now against others. New forms of belief and ideology are emerging in which dissenting views are not tolerated. The horizontality that presents itself as inclusive is, in reality, just as exclusive, but with a 90-degree shift.
The loss of transcendence and meaning
Underlying all these phenomena is a deeper loss: the absence of a vertical orientation has severed our connection with transcendence and meaning. The elite, who were once the bearers of values that transcended self-interest, now operate in a mirror palace of self-affirmation. Without an anchor in something higher or outside themselves, power becomes a circular process — a continuous cycle of building networks, creating policies and affirming each other within them.
Moralism
This loss of transcendence is experienced as a latent existential emptiness. Despite (or perhaps because of) constant activity and technocratic plans, an indefinable growing unease is spreading. Moralistic hyperactivity, grandstanding, and visionary projects are often attempts to fill this void. Ideology is no longer about a higher goal, but about the righteousness of the ambivalent ego. This has given it a narcissistic character; it is no longer inspired, but possessed.
Testing the hypothesis: Bruno Amable and the toppling elite
This toppling of the elite, which was described in earlier chapters as a psychological and cultural dynamic, is surprisingly confirmed by the work of Bruno Amable and Stefano Palombarini. From an economic perspective, they explain how the elite lost its vertical orientation and reorganised itself horizontally — an analysis that strongly supports the arguments in this essay. In their work, Amable and Palombarini express this movement with such sharpness that they not only confirm the hypothesis outlined here, but also provide it with new contours.
They demonstrate how Western societies have been transformed in recent decades by neoliberal reforms, globalisation, and technocratisation. They describe how the traditional elite, once anchored in national structures and responsibilities, has lost its connection to vertical ties. What has replaced it is a cosmopolitan elite organised in horizontal networks primarily focused on itself.
This new elite no longer mediates between social strata, but functions as a self-referential system. National interests and local communities fade into the background while technocratic plans and global rhetoric prevail. The focus is on harmonisation, models and billion-pound packages – ambitious, but often detached from stubborn reality. Amable calls this the ‘bloc bourgeoisie’.
Amable and Palombarini argue that this horizontal elite is undermining democracy and representation. Political processes are becoming meaningless rituals; citizens’ trust is eroding. Rather than an elite that takes responsibility for the whole, a network is emerging that merely mirrors and confirms itself.
Their analysis thus confirms the hypothesis of this article. While the focus here is on the psychological and cultural aspects of the shift, Amable and Palombarini reach the same fundamental conclusion from an economic and institutional standpoint: an elite regrouping horizontally and consequently losing its vertical anchorage.
Where now?
We see an elite that has retreated to the refuge of horizontal networks of self-affirmation. But they do not provide a solution for the modernist feelings of emptiness; the ambivalence and discomfort remain. The ambivalent ego is still desperately seeking direction, but has manoeuvred itself into an impasse with all its beliefs. And all emergency exits have been skilfully sealed off – except one.
The way up?
Moving up, back to heaven, seems obvious. But, since Nietzsche, no one has been located there anymore. Is there any room at all for something higher in the self-image of the overturned elite? Modern consciousness, in all its rationality, considers itself to be the ultimate form of consciousness ever to exist, embodied by external beauty and health, material prosperity, and the unquestionable progress of science and technology. The meritocratic mind knows that we owe all these achievements to ourselves. The idea that there could be something more meaningful than settled science is unthinkable. Moreover, don’t we assume that everyone is completely equal? What could going-up mean practically for the most advanced, i.e. the highest form of society in which everybody is equal? There is, after all, no higher or better.
Sideways?
Those who fear heights often opt for breadth: sideways movement. But this is suspect. It is aggressive and toxic, and fundamentally masculine – after all, who dares to approach another’s subjective boundaries? In a collective sense, this sideways expansion is now called colonisation, and the smell that clings to it is not exactly fresh. Even the slightest movement towards another person — a micro-aggression — is out of the question. The sideways path is closed.
The way down?
Then there is the descent: back to earth. This may sound romantic, but it is problematic from an ecological perspective as it causes pollution. Finally, we could take root in the ground, both literally and figuratively, but only farmers do that. As we know, farmers belong to a reviled identity group. Therefore, this option is also morally undesirable.
Only one path left: the destructive path inward.
This leaves only one option: the most destructive of the four paths – the path inward. Here, the ego withdraws from the world, turns around, and directs its arrows at itself. However, it does not attack the self itself — that would be unbearable — but rather an aspect of self that the philosophy of social malleability dictates is susceptible to change: my skin colour, my gender, my country, my culture, my history, and of course, my ancestors.
Collectively, this is the essence of the woke movement: an adolescent introjection that cultivates guilt and shame as moral currency. While it may appear to be a quest for healing, it is actually a neurotic cycle in which the elite constantly accuses itself while simultaneously praising itself for its moral superiority. In its most extreme form, this introjection can become suicidal, acting as a desperate escape route for self-centred guilt neurosis. Sad as it may be, the parallels with youth are clear, and pop music has often provided the soundtrack.
The viable path
There is only one viable path left. This too is internal, but it only unfolds when the ego abandons its adolescent illusions. Introspective analysis and the obsessive urge to control the self have no place here. What remains is not an ‘I’ that redeems itself, but a consciousness that recognises itself as part of a larger whole, free from the compulsion to be malleable and the moralism that has held it captive for so long.
This path begins with recognising the vertical dimension. That all life originates from the earth when it is illuminated by the sun, regardless of how you interpret this phenomenon in metaphysical, physical or religious terms. Only then does horizontality arise: the plane on which the ‘I’ learns to know itself by mirroring itself in others. Those who have learned to embrace their own uniqueness realise that others are also unique — different yet connected to them.
At that moment, the vertical and horizontal dimensions converge. We realise that the ‘I’ and the ‘all’ are not mutually exclusive, but inextricably linked. Then comes the realisation that everything is one and that the one is reflected in everything.
It is not an easy path. The elite, as representatives of a culture entrenched in adolescence, will resist. This is because the comfortable narrative that everything revolves around the self dies here. However, it is only in this way that it can truly transform: from a hall of mirrors to a window; from guilt and shame to responsibility; and from adolescent self-analysis to a mature presence in the world.
[1] [1] DWDD stands for ‘De Wereld Draait Door,’ a very well-known Dutch television programme that aired on the public broadcaster NPO 1 from 2005 to 2020. It was a daily evening talk show that covered current topics in politics, society, culture and media – with a fast pace, prominent guests, lots of music and a very strong editorial influence. The programme was hosted by Matthijs van Nieuwkerk and was long considered style-defining: modern, opinionated and culturally influential. DWDD was also a kind of stage for the Dutch opinion elite. In 2020, however, the programme was overshadowed by scandal: former employees reported a toxic editorial climate, a culture of fear and abuse of power behind the scenes. This made DWDD a symbol of the dark side of horizontally organised, morally self-confident elites.