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Power and Victimhood


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AI generated

I have been thinking about the next philosophical topic for discussion at the Lower Red Lion: What is Power? (7 pm on 11th August), and I have gone slightly off piste from the classical -Plato to Foucault-approach, as this article is about the politics of victimhood and how victimhood has become a form of power in society. I posit that in the public forums of Western democracies, a curious inversion has taken place. Where vulnerability was once seen as a position of weakness to be remedied, it has increasingly become a source of moral authority and social power. From political debates to social media, the claim to have been wronged has transformed from a plea for justice into a potent form of cultural and political influence.


As can easily be recognised, victimhood has shifted from a position of vulnerability into a tool frequently exploited for political reasons. This transformation raises a crucial question: how did suffering become a source of power, and what are the consequences for democratic societies? The rise of victimhood as a form of power is rooted in a fundamental psychological dynamic: the automatic association of victimhood with righteousness. As one analysis puts it, there is a "particular reciprocity of attributes", that is, that in modern culture the notion that victimhood automatically confers righteousness and virtue. This moral premium attached to suffering means that those who successfully claim victim status gain immediate moral credibility.


This dynamic has deep historical roots. The 20th century established the "victim" as a figure of moral significance through two phenomena: psychoanalysis and human rights. Both narratives consolidated the idea that personal suffering carries weight and demands recognition. In the 21st century, the digital age has amplified this tendency, creating a culture of publicised pain in which affective claims to suffering circulate rapidly and attract communities of recognition and solidarity.


What makes contemporary victimhood distinctive is its universality. While the 20th century placed victimhood at the centre of collective attention, the 21st century has radically expanded its reach. Claims to victimhood are no longer confined to marginalised groups seeking justice; they have become both ubiquitous and pervasive across all social groups.


This democratisation of victimhood has produced a culture of oppression with all the negative elements of polarisation and disunity. It has also created, paradoxically, an effect where those in positions of power claim victim status to protect their position: a good example is how President Trump operates - close to home for the BBC as he sues them for $10 billion: a victim of misrepresentation through an edited video. So not only are the "oppressed" but also the "oppressors" victims as they make their claims for the injustices they have suffered.


The phenomenon of self-victimisation represents, I believe, a real threat to liberal democracies as it fragments society into them and us. Of course, victimhood is not only pervasive at the political level, but it is found across social relations. It is particularly prevalent in the sphere of sexual engagement where corroboration is often necessarily difficult, as it is the word of one against another.


And sometimes the political and personal perception of victimhood merge. Take, for example, the infamous Kavanaugh hearings in the USA: Brett Kavanaugh, nominated by Donald Trump as an associate justice of the Supreme Court, was accused of sexual misconduct and assault, specifically involving Christine Blasey, Deborah Ramirez, and Julie Swetnick. The allegations emerged during his 2018 U.S. Supreme Court confirmation hearings. Kavanaugh strongly denied all accusations. Both the accuser and the accused claimed victimhood. Christine Blasey Ford appeared as a sexual assault survivor, but Brett Kavanaugh positioned himself as a victim of character assassination for political motives. It has been observed that this standoff exemplified a broader cultural condition where conflict over each party's claim to suffering mobilises distinct dynamics of solidarity.


The power of victimhood often operates through what philosophers call ressentiment: a deep-seated feeling of hatred, envy, and frustration, or a moral stance driven by moral superiority and competition for recognition. Some philosophers distinguish "ressentimentful victimhood" from "paradigmatic victimhood". The former manifests as"disruption of empathy, moral elitism, rumination, competition, collective narcissism and the inability to forgive, while the latter tends to foster inclusive identities, empathy towards others and democratic reintegration through restorative justice.


When victimhood becomes a vehicle for ressentiment, it erodes democratic solidarity rather than strengthening it. It creates what has been labelled "dysfunctional bonding". It generates distrust both within and outside groups, reinforcing division rather than healing it.


As I have suggested, the power of victimhood is not merely a passive cultural trend; you can see how it is actively deployed for political purposes. Powerful actors weaponise, appropriate, and hijack stories of suffering for political advantage. This is particularly evident in right-wing populism and left-wing movements of solidarity, where victimhood has become "integrated into foundational playbooks, intertwining fears over national self-understandings and historical traumas".


This weaponisation operates through what has been defined as strategic ontological narratives: that is, stories that shape how we interpret our experiences and perceive reality. These narratives often frame entire groups as perpetual victims, creating a siege mentality where external threats justify defensive and often exclusionary politics. Whether through narratives of patriarchy, white privilege, “me too” movements, allegations of genocide, threats from immigration, or appeals to "injured masculinity," victimhood is now serving all political colours.


The transformation of victimhood into a form of power comes at a high cost. When claims to suffering become a primary currency of moral and political influence, several distortions follow: competition over suffering emerges as groups vie for recognition, creating hierarchies of victimhood that deepen social divisions. It can be noted how polarisation can arise from competition over victim status.


Genuine victims may be marginalised as the category expands to include powerful claimants whose relationship to systemic oppression is tenuous. The distinction between tactical and systemic vulnerability is crucial for understanding who truly benefits from victimhood claims and who is set to lose.


Democratic deliberation suffers as politics becomes a competition of grievances rather than a process of collective decision-making. As one analysis puts it, victimhood politics represents a shift from "politics as dissensual decision-making and collective action to politics as crisis management and security operations".


Therefore, the challenge is not to dismiss genuine claims of victimhood, which remain essential for justice. Rather, it is to distinguish between victimhood that builds solidarity and victimhood that deepens division. It is argued that paradigmatic victimhood grounded in empathy and solidarity can foster inclusive identities and support democratic reintegration. By contrast, ressentimentful victimhood erodes the trust and mutual recognition on which democratic societies depend. This was well understood by Nelson Mandela, whose stance on the victimhood of black South Africans embraced a pragmatic approach to promote democratic reintegration - who could not have understood his intent by his gesture at the 1995 Rugby Union World Cup, when he went on the field wearing a Springbok rugby shirt and matching cap!


Understanding victimhood as a form of power means recognising that claims to suffering are never purely personal, as they shape who is heard, who is believed, and who has moral authority. In an era where pain has become a currency of influence, the task is to ensure that this currency serves justice rather than division. The power of victimhood is real, but it can be directed toward democratic solidarity or democratic erosion. The choice depends on whether we treat suffering as a basis for empathy and accountability, or as a weapon for advancing interests and claims in a competitive moral marketplace.

 

 
 
 

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