Backwards Blog
Core Values in Western Capitalist Discourse Part 2/5
Control – as both an aspiration, obligation and contributor to loneliness
In this post, we’re unpacking more core values embedded in Western capitalism, as part of the wider project of exposing what lies behind our loneliness. To remind you, these values don’t hang in isolation. They make up a full-spectrum system of meaning. They reinforce and reshape each other, coalescing into what we recognize as good, beneficial, and healthy. And by extension, they also define what is bad, harmful, or undesirable.
If you have not, please go back and check out the posts on individualism and the hero narrative – serious cornerstones of Western culture, in terms of what we value. Understanding these as vital parts of the framework of our values is crucial, not just for critiquing economic and political systems, but for recognizing how deeply these values structure the way we think about success, well-being, personal relationships and connection – or the lack thereof.
We will be taking a look at 3 aspects of control:
1. What it is
2. Why it has appeal or some kind of payoff, and finally,
3. The shadow side of those values – particularly in relation to loneliness and connection.
What Is Control?
Put simply, having control is about having the power to elicit certain outcomes, and acting to elicit those outcomes. Western capitalist culture places a heavy emphasis on the idea that we can – and should – control our environment, our emotions, our appearance, our relationships, and our life as a whole.
Our hunger for control over all aspects of our lives is reflected in the explosion of self-help books, productivity tools, and wellness trends. We are told we can alter our reality and master our own happiness, illness or success, either through sheer will and/or specific styles of thinking. It’s all about taking control of your life, sometimes via taking control of your mind, as in the cult of positive thinking, which we get to next week, and other times, control via doing the right set of actions and behaviours to ensure a specific outcome – or avoiding specific actions and behaviours.
So let’s look a bit deeper at what’s behind this lust for control, and why the idea holds such power over us.
Why We Love The Idea of Control
As you likely guessed, thinking we are in control really helps allay our fears. The idea that we can prevent bad things from happening, via knowing how to act, appeals to our basic survival instinct. None of us wants to be eaten by a lion that someone has let loose in a mall. None of us wants to end up with a deadly disease we could potentially avoid by not doing certain things. Thinking we can control things appeals to our vanity too – god knows I am enamoured with the idea of doing all the “right” things so that I do NOT have menopause hair. The diet, so-called “health,” and so-called “beauty” industries make billions by appealing to our desire to control our weight, our wrinkles, our muscle mass, and even aging itself.
By now, the idea of control goes well beyond eliminating life-threatening things, or even controlling the things we have been taught to dislike (like aging or menopause hair). We also want to enjoy our lives. We want to be happy. We want to believe that happiness is possible, and that we can get there by controlling our thoughts, which will, in turn, enable only the specific emotions we like. The Stoics – think Marcus Aurelius or Epictetus – went along similar lines in that they saw inner control as freedom. Freedom from unwanted emotions, from disturbance, dependence, and suffering caused by external things. Somewhere along the way though, this got mutated into a mandate: if you're unhappy, it's because you're thinking wrong (yes, this is linked to the idea of cognitive primacy, which is coming up).
We imagine that in controlling our own actions, thoughts and behaviours, we can shape our lives into some optimal form of being. That control extends to our environments too, and, if you see people as mere objects in your environment, you may even try and control them too. This is particularly apparent where I live. If you are a dog owner and you live in Germany, you know this first hand – those people who scream at you, from a great distance “put your dog on their lead!” It is a command, and they feel a god-given right to make you do what they want, in the name of controlling THEIR environment.
Now, I remind you of last week’s Hero Narrative episode, in which we are encouraged to think that we are the centre of the universe, and all other characters are either there to facilitate our mission, or are getting in the way of it. Where people go as far as trying to control complete strangers, this is the attitude behind it. You are being instrumentalised here. You are being seen only as an object in the way of them achieving their desire. That’s the thing with thinking in terms of me, myself, I, and the idea that I can and should control the way my life is. If I have internalised a lot of the other values we hold so dear, the end result can be a horrible mess of everyone trying to exert their control over everybody else.
Granted, I don’t know the extent to which this is happening in other Western cultures, so please write in the comments if this is a regular occurrence. In Germany, at least, we have gone that one step further with control, imagining that we have the right to exert our personal control on those around us too. Again, the episodes on narcissism are a way off, but that hero narrative, combined with instrumentalising others, and seeking to control them is a phenomenon that goes hand in hand with the rise in narcissism.
Let’s go for another lens here though, in terms of how we might experience payoffs for being in control. This time, we are looking to Psychology, and believing that we are in control has measurable psychological benefits – according to Albert Bandura. In 1997, Bandura’s research concluded that people who feel they have a high level of self-efficacy – that is, the power to affect the outcomes that they want – have higher levels of mental health, along with job and life satisfaction.
Just don’t forget, please, that believing in a thing does not render it true, even if doing that believing results in feeling better. Stankovic, for example, showed that belief alone, even when the thing one was believing in had no factual basis, is also linked to better health outcomes. What this actually translates to is, believing and internalising this particular value helps us function better within the system that values it. If that sounds tautological, it’s because it kind of is.
To put this all together, the idea that we are in control does promise a lot of things: good health, living longer, being standardly desirable to the maximum number of people, being happy, successful, and free from unpleasant surprises… including, in some countries, the unpleasant surprise of other people actually living their lives in ways you do not like.
How Control Fits In With Other Western Capitalist Values
As mentioned, the desire for control can be rooted in fear – if I am scared of dying of heart disease, I will watch my diet and exercise. But, as is already probably clear, it is also interwoven with values like individualism, which we covered in the previous episode. Individualism impacts where we put the locus of control – in the individual, of course. Not institutions, not society, not your neighbour’s dog. I am in control, the mythology goes, and despite the very real fact that said institutions, societies and neighbour’s dogs can seriously fuck up any plans you might have, we opt for the idea that we are in control all the same. After all, if I have control, then I can happily go about believing that whatever I want to do, I will find a way, regardless of the state of the world, the institutions that shape it, or the fact that my dog might render me homeless by constantly yowling at night and making the neighbours complain.
When “Can” Becomes “Should”
The list of things we are now told we can control is growing. Advertisers, the health industry, practitioners of CBT – they all make sure of that. But control is increasingly a should as well. We should be in control of our health, our mindset, our weight, our time, our boundaries, our emotions, our life. If you CAN’T be arsed controlling all those things, well then, you only have yourself to blame when everything goes tits up. If it already went tits up, and you are still failing to control it, well, no one has much sympathy. Or much energy to listen to your woes, to be honest, because we are all far too busy trying to control everything in OUR lives. God, it’s exhausting. Isn’t it exhausting? Can someone tell me why we bother?
Yes. Michel Foucault is about to remind us. Foucault suggests that control over oneself is, at the end of the day, NOT about personal preferences. This amazing French philosopher informs us that control is not just about me deciding what emotions I think it is ok to show others, or me deciding how I want to look, or what I want to weigh. Rather, Foucault suggests that our valuing of so-called personal control is a wonderful way to ensure we adhere to societal norms – whilst thinking we chose those norms for ourselves. How? Well, think about the ideals we strive towards using control. These ideals are, themselves, socially constructed, internalised, and regulated by institutions. Think of the concept of BMI. The medical institution ensures that our control over our weight means that our aim is for it to fall within these (actually debunked) “norms.” In this sense, control – even though we believe it resides in us and us alone – becomes a form of social obedience. Žižek might also say it aligns with self-exploitation, where people police themselves instead of demanding real change.
“Self”-Control, or the Internalisation of the Guard?
Here I want to talk about the Panopticon. While Jeremy Bentham came up with the original architectural concept as a way to make institutions like prisons more efficient, Foucault turned it into a metaphor for modern power.
The Panopticon is a circular prison building. Around the periphery are the cells where the inmates reside, and in the very middle is the watchtower. The guard in that tower can see into any of the rooms at any time. The twist? The prisoners cannot see whether the guard is actually there. He might be watching, or he might be off on a coffee break.
The inmates know the rules. If they are caught breaking them, things will get worse. So, just in case someone is watching, they regulate themselves. The mere possibility of being watched becomes enough.
In Foucault’s words, it’s not just about being watched—it’s about the possibility of being watched. Over time, that potential becomes sufficient. We start to regulate ourselves, behave "properly," and conform—not because someone is watching, but because someone might be.
The Panopticon becomes a model for how institutions (schools, hospitals, workplaces, and now, social media) shape behavior without needing to exert overt force. In Discipline and Punish, Foucault argues that power in contemporary society functions through precisely this mechanism—not so much through violence or visible coercion, but through constant surveillance and the internalization of that surveillance.
We internalize the watcher, and eventually, we mistake what the watcher wants for what we want. The “gaze” becomes part of our psyche. It is so deeply embedded that many people truly believe that their desires—say, for someone who fits the current beauty ideal—are personal preferences. These "preferences" have been conditioned by years of advertising and gender propaganda, but they are experienced as authentic. They have been that deeply colonized.
It’s haunting stuff. And of course, we wouldn't keep doing it if there weren’t a payoff.
Behaving “Right” Comes with a Payoff
Social obedience is rewarded. Adhering to the beauty ideal, for instance, gets you applause and attention. The idea of "personal control" seems empowering—like we’re the masters of our own fate.
But in reality, this narrative benefits the very institutions and ideologies that constructed the values we are told to pursue.
To put this in a nutshell: the control ideal tells us we can control most things in our lives, and also that we should. The hidden part? The things we aspire to are shaped by institutions—like health and education—and the capitalist ideology that underpins them.
We think we personally want to maintain a BMI between X and Y. But the very concept of BMI is institutionally constructed and cannot be scientifically defended in the way people assume. We end up self-policing to comply with standards we did not set—and without even consciously realizing it.
And as if that weren’t bad enough, something even worse happens when we opt out—or simply fail—in our attempts to control ourselves.
When Control Fails: Blame-Shifting
The list of things we’re expected to control is exhausting: our health, emotions, careers, time, finances, bodies, and relationships.
If it feels mandatory, that’s because it is—at least, Foucault would likely say so. The pressure is intensified by how shameful it has become to display any lack of control.
This creates a subtle blame-shifting mechanism. When things go wrong, we don’t point to systems—we blame ourselves.
We cry at work because we get a text saying our cat died, and people look at us like we caught a disease. We don’t even explain ourselves, because "work is not the place."
In a capitalist world, any failure to control something becomes our fault. The locus of blame remains entirely within the individual.
The Convenient Nature of Blaming Others
The control obligation isn’t just something we apply to ourselves. We expect it of others too. If others are failing or suffering, we don’t have to concern ourselves—because it must be their own fault.
It’s a convenient way to avoid guilt. If I just won €20 on a scratch card and a homeless person asks for help, I can silence that tug of conscience by thinking, “Nah, he’s probably homeless because he messed up. That’s on him.”
Control becomes not only a marker of success—but also of moral worth.
The Moralisation of Control
Here’s a horrible, offensive example. One that really gets to me.
Studies show that when people perceive someone as “fat,” they also assume that person is not in control of their eating. But it doesn’t stop there. People are more likely to label them as “lazy” or “self-indulgent.”
There are many other reasons someone might fall into the category we've labeled “too fat.” They might be mentally free of body-propaganda. They might have PCOS or hypothyroidism. They might simply be sensuous and indifferent to our self-denying beauty standards.
But those words—“lazy,” “self-indulgent”—are not just assessments of cause. They are moral judgments.
And I want you to notice your reaction to this example. Are you searching for justifications for why “fat” is bad? If so, you are the victim here—you’ve internalized the narrative. You're repeating everything you’ve ever heard about health and aesthetics.
Try flipping it. Maybe those people have nerves of steel. Maybe they stand for sensual joy and resistance.
But our culture has turned adherence to standards into a moral imperative. And when someone doesn’t adhere, we become the unpaid panopticon guard—doing the work ourselves.
Pointing the Finger at Everyone But the System
This confusion leads to a massive bonus for those in power.When we blame individuals, we ignore structural violence. That person who isn’t “bodily acceptable” might also be broke, with fast food as their only affordable option. But we don’t care.
Everyone is expected to control all aspects of their life. We assume a level playing field. That means issues like racism, sexism, and wealth inequality go unquestioned.
Judith Butler comments poignantly on this. She reminds us that what we call “personal failure” is often the system working exactly as designed—to invisibilize structural violence.
The Undermining Factor in Our Desire for Control
Now we get to the burning issue.
The idea that we can control everything has one fatal flaw. That flaw is life itself.
Life is messy, unpredictable, and unfair. Institutions where control shouldn’t matter—like schools or hospitals—still exclude and discriminate.
You’re less likely to get help, hired, or even noticed if you’re Black, disabled, female, queer, or aging. It’s deeply unfair—and it’s real. Until we dismantle the system (and maybe dance naked to bad techno music), this is what we’re up against.
Life is not orderly. It’s full of dog shit, car crashes, racism, viruses, and dresses that only come in colors you hate. The control narrative doesn’t account for that.
It fails to address systems, privilege, and plain old chance.
Why This Causes Loneliness: Control and Hiding Who You Are
This is one of the more insidious shadow sides of our desire for control. We can feel that readiness in others to blame us for any so-called failure in our lives. Hell, a lot of us already blame ourselves — because we’ve internalised this whole idea, or — shout out to the family scapegoats — we’ve been trained to scan every situation for how it might somehow be our fault.
So, what do we do? We pretend. We act like we’re in control. Like we’ve got it all handled. We play the role of someone who’s in charge of their thoughts, their choices, their life — even when we’re dying inside. Or even actually dying, in ways that can’t be fixed by measuring, logging, starving, or criminalising our struggles.
Philosopher Charles Taylor would call this the “buffered self” — sealed off, self-sufficient, totally responsible.
But that is deeply isolating.
We end up believing we’re the only ones failing. The only ones not making our lives “work.”
And that must mean something is wrong with us at the core, right?
Wearing these masks of being-in-control, we lose the opportunity to connect around our shared, messy humanness. Around the truth that we’re not doing all that well. That we’re confused, hurting, scared. Alone behind those masks, we carry shame and guilt about our “failure” to conquer something, to fix something, to force something into being.
And so, we hide. We don’t want others to see us — because they might see that we’re flawed. So we wait. Wait until we’ve cleaned ourselves up to some mythical standard of acceptability. Until we look like we’re in control. Until we’re no longer scared to be seen.
Is it any wonder we feel so alone?
Summary of Control as a Value in Western Capitalism
We’ve talked about what control means: the power to make a specific outcome happen by taking the “right” actions.
We’ve looked at the upside of believing in control — it helps us feel less helpless. It gives us a sense of agency, autonomy, even importance.
But we’ve also explored the shadow side.
The fact that what we think is personal volition is often just a carefully sculpted menu of choices we’re meant to want — all in neatly acceptable forms.
That the myth of control is, in reality, a tool for enforcing external control — and for justifying the judgement of others.
And it is a myth.
A myth that lets us shift blame onto the suffering. That lets us ignore systemic injustices by pretending it’s all about personal failure. A myth that leaves us pretending we’re someone we’re not — someone who can do the impossible: control everything and make life flawless.
That pretending cuts us off from each other.
It creates isolation, not community.
Because if we’re all supposedly in control of our fates, then we don’t owe each other anything — not care, not solidarity, not compassion.
Just a tidy, brutal narrative:
Suffering is deserved.
Success is earned.
Neat. Clean. False.
Because here’s the truth:
Life is just hard, a lot of the time.
Sometimes, systems crush people.
Sometimes, no amount of mindset or discipline will make things okay.
That truth is messier. It’s scarier. It’s not something most people want to face.
But it’s also more human.
And maybe — just maybe — if we let go of this desperate grip on control, we might remember how to show up for each other. For real.
That’s what I want for you, dear listener.
That we show up for one another.
That we stop walking on by when someone’s going through it.
That we remember we belong to each other.