# Why We Don’t See It – The Mechanisms of Unawareness

If elite rule is the constant, underlying reality, and if ideologies function as a sophisticated disguise, the question remains: why do the masses remain largely “unaware”? It is not simply a matter of a lack of intelligence, but a confluence of deeper, systemic mechanisms that obscure this fundamental truth.

One reason is the omnipresent focus on practical, day-to-day concerns. For the vast majority, life is a constant engagement with immediate necessities: securing jobs, providing food and shelter, managing personal finances, and navigating the complexities of daily existence. These practical demands consume attention and energy, leaving little bandwidth for abstract political analysis or a critical examination of deeper power structures. The “unaware” are not always lazy; they are simply occupied by the essential, grinding realities of survival and comfort. When a family is worried about the next meal or the rent, questions of oligarchy become distant, intellectual luxuries.

But it is not only hardship that breeds unawareness, comfort does as well. The masses are not merely burdened by struggle; they are also lulled by indulgence. As long as entertainment is constant, desires are met, and novelty is supplied, many will trade awareness for distraction. The ancient Roman formula endures: panem et circenses—bread and circuses. Today, it is not grain and gladiators, but streaming services, smartphones, fast fashion, and dopamine-rich consumerism. The next mobile device, the latest video game skin, the endless scroll. These things do not enslave the body, they anaesthetise the mind.

This is not simply manipulation from above. It is complicity from below. A significant portion of the population would rather be comfortable than conscious. Awareness comes with responsibility, and responsibility is heavy. It is easier to laugh at memes than question legitimacy. Easier to binge than rebel. The system does not just tolerate this, it cultivates it.

Furthermore, the complexity of modern society itself acts as a veil. Contemporary systems, economic, legal, technological, are incredibly intricate. They require specialised knowledge and expertise to manage. This naturally creates a significant gap between the knowledge of specialists (elites) and the public. While the masses may vote on broad policies, the technical implementation, the regulatory details, and the intricate financial mechanisms are handled by a relatively small group of experts. This complexity inherently limits the capacity of the average person to grasp the full scope of how power operates, let alone who truly wields it behind the technical jargon and labyrinthine processes.

Finally, and perhaps most subtly, even those who create and disseminate ideologies, the intellectuals, the media, the educators, may themselves be unaware of serving a specific class interest. They may genuinely believe in the universal validity of the ideas they promote. They may see themselves as champions of truth, progress, or justice, rather than as unwitting instruments in the maintenance of a particular elite’s power. This sincerity makes the ideological cloak even more effective, as it is worn by those who genuinely embody its principles, reinforcing its perceived authenticity. The unawareness is thus compounded: not only do the masses not see the elite, but many of the elite’s most effective propagandists do not even see themselves as such.

These mechanisms, the press of daily life, the obfuscation of complexity, and the self-deception of intellectual enforcers, work in concert to maintain a pervasive state of unawareness. It is a system designed to keep the underlying mechanisms of power invisible, allowing the elite to rule without constantly confronting the full, unvarnished truth of their dominion.

## The Pandemic Blueprint

The pandemic did not create a new system, it revealed the one already in place.

Overnight, the rituals of democracy vanished. Parliaments sidelined. Protests banned. Businesses shuttered by decree. The language of crisis, “emergency powers,” “flatten the curve,” “the science is clear”, became a spell book for soft totalitarianism. The state reasserted itself not through tanks, but through compliance by consensus.

And consensus was manufactured.

Media outlets repeated the same script, in the same tone, with the same experts. Social media platforms became arms of state narrative enforcement. Dissent was labelled disinformation. Nuance became danger. Citizens became informants. Fear did what ideology never could: it created unity of purpose under elite control.

The formulas were flawless:

- “We’re all in this together” (as the ruling class quietly exempted themselves.)
- “The science has spoken” (science, here, meaning institutional decree)
- “Protect the NHS” (a moral shield to cover political cowardice)

The mechanisms of unawareness, daily struggle, information overload, faith in credentialed authority, were intensified by design. Lives became narrow. The outside world became abstract. People obeyed because obedience was framed as care.

But behind it all, decisions were made by a handful.

Lockdowns became a tool for market consolidation. Small businesses died while asset-holding giants grew fatter. “Build back better” became a euphemism for technocratic centralisation. Digital identity systems, vaccine passports, and cashless payment regimes advanced under the cover of safety.

This was not just a health crisis. It was a managerial coup.

And the true test was not the disease, but how easily the public accepted a new normal without even realising what had changed.