Most of what we see in life comes from the way we organise life. As humans are social animals, the way they organise society can determine their fate. Organisation is bound by ideals of the future, and it is values shared between different members of society that determine the character of organisations.

The only question is whether it is a society based on atomistic ideals – each individual for themselves – or collective ideals.

The general tendency in human aspirations is towards more autonomy; for some, this may mean banding together, while for others it may mean gaining autonomy by excluding others. Nonetheless, the irony of democratic discourse is that it does not always tame the excesses of authoritarian personalities outside the spheres of democratic accountability.

Which form of organisation is best suited for a flourishing society has led to different takes on human nature.

Philosopher Thomas Hobbes, for instance, did not seem to have much faith in humanity without the presence of a Leviathan (a State that has a monopoly over violence) to ensure that we do not stoop to the lowest levels of our humanity, where life, according to him, is a snarl and existence is brutish and recurrently infested with violence.

Jean Jacques Rousseau was more generous and thundering with hope, arguing in his well-known essay, ‘The Social Contract’, that we have an inherent tendency towards a common humanism. It is only the advent of civilisation that introduced hierarchy and the use of power to hold a large plurality of different “tribes” under one banner – or form of Statehood – unified by a common anthem, flag and sense of inevitable predestination towards greatness. In Rousseau’s view, it was at this point that we entered the folly of mimesis and rivalry and displaced our native innocence.

For Rousseau, civilisation brought corruption and the depletion of the purity and innocence that nativism held. In nature we are free, and in civilisation we are bound and chained by institutional structures and various forms of power acting on the liberties of individuals.

Be that as it may, this idea of human nature contained in the reflections of Hobbes and Rousseau sustains a continuous debate between suspicious views of human nature and more enlightened views of human nature as a force for good.

This is what we see now playing out in the way political conflicts and ideas of how to organise society are being fought as culture wars and real wars. How our households, firms and nation States organise their politics, economy and social provisions tells us a lot about the nature of organisation.

In some places, including my own country, there is organisation in name but no organisation in reality. The entire purpose of organisation is reduced to giving the semblance of legitimacy for what, to all intents and purposes, is the raiding of collective coffers for personal gain.

The very nature of how we organise is a political task – a process of mobilising society and then ceding a certain degree of political authority to those who have, so to speak, put up their hands to uphold the values and promises they claim they will undertake on behalf of those who voted them into office.

Hierarchies, it is argued, are necessary in mass society. But hierarchical leadership is often opaque, filled with emissaries cutting secret deals in the corridors of power, which are places of political intrigue. It would seem that some places in the political arena are rife with political contests, discontent and backstabbing.

This may suggest human nature is doomed to the inelegance of perpetual dissatisfaction – something that neither socialism nor capitalism can evade. This may give weight to the Hobbesian suspicion that human beings are flawed and therefore need a mighty Leviathan to oversee their affairs.

Countries that know only a history of conflict, foreign invasions and instability may well lean towards the strong Leviathan.

The subtlety of it, or the natural default position that emerges, is no different from the Platonic idea that philosopher-kings must hold sway over public affairs – in this case, a revolutionary elite must rule because they believe they know best.

We sit here now observing the contestation as to which way to go – even though Rousseau left us without much detail – between the idea of direct citizen governance on the one hand, and on the other rule through representation: meaning rule by an elite skilled at persuasion and obfuscation once in power.

The latter way of dealing with our public affairs is now normalised. We have normalised political figures as substitutes for direct governance – and in so doing perhaps lent a hand to democracy being constantly rigged. Then, at the toss of a coin, our democracy may deliver a bad call – leaving us with an iconic figure we did not choose and do not want.