The Illusion of Choice: Why Power Never Changes No Matter Who Wins

Every few years, we are told that this election, this moment, this vote is the most important in history. We are bombarded with messages about democracy being on the brink, about how the wrong choice could send everything spiraling into chaos. And yet, when the dust settles, when the winners take office and the losers fade into the background, the same structures remain. The same corporations continue to dictate policy. The same financial institutions hold the global economy in a stranglehold. The same military-industrial complex keeps war as a permanent fixture of human existence. The cycle repeats, and people are left wondering why nothing really changes.

This is not a mistake. This is not incompetence. This is by design. The system we live in is not structured to be responsive to the will of the people—it is structured to manage them, to direct their frustrations, and to ensure that real power remains concentrated in the hands of a select few. And this isn’t a new development. W.E.B. Du Bois saw it when he refused to vote in 1956, arguing that both major political parties served the same elite interests. James Burnham recognized it in The Managerial Revolution, explaining how democracy was merely a façade behind which a new ruling class—the corporate and bureaucratic elite—held true control. And Machiavelli knew it centuries earlier when he wrote about how power is never truly given to the people, only taken by those cunning enough to seize it.

Democracy, as it is presented to us, is a performance. It functions not to empower the majority, but to pacify them. The illusion of choice is the most powerful tool of any ruling class because it convinces people that their voice matters, that their frustrations are being heard, and that the problems they face can be fixed within the system itself. Every few years, the public is given a new set of leaders, a fresh narrative about hope or fear, and an opportunity to “participate” in their own governance. And yet, the fundamental power structures—the deep-seated economic, corporate, and military institutions—remain untouched.

James Burnham argued that in the modern world, power no longer resides with monarchs or elected officials, but with a managerial elite—the class of corporate executives, government bureaucrats, and technocrats who actually run the system. Politicians may change, but the people behind the scenes—the ones writing the policies, controlling the flow of capital, and directing military decisions—do not. Presidents come and go, but the machinery of the state remains. Wall Street remains. Defense contractors remain. Intelligence agencies remain. The billionaire class remains.

W.E.B. Du Bois understood this too, which is why he refused to vote. He saw that Black Americans, the working class, and all marginalized people were being asked to participate in a system that was never designed for them in the first place. To him, voting was not an act of empowerment, but an act of legitimizing a structure that had no intention of serving the people it claimed to represent. He knew that true power did not come from ballots, but from economic control, organized resistance, and solidarity outside the framework of the state.

The ruling class has always understood this as well, which is why they work tirelessly to prevent the majority from ever forming a unified, national identity based on equity and solidarity. Every time the masses begin to recognize their collective power, the elite deploy their most effective strategy: division. Keep people fighting amongst themselves—over race, over culture, over gender, over ideology—so that they never unite against the actual source of their oppression. Make working-class whites believe their enemy is immigrants, make Black and brown communities believe their enemy is rural conservatives, make young people despise the old, and make the old fear the young. As long as these groups remain fragmented, they can be managed.

Machiavelli wrote that power is never simply given—it is taken, held, and defended by those who understand how to wield it. The elite understand this intimately, which is why they control the institutions that manufacture consent, shape narratives, and reinforce their own legitimacy. The media functions not to inform, but to direct attention. Elections serve not to change power, but to renew faith in the system. Political scandals, culture wars, and outrage cycles keep the public engaged just enough to feel like they are part of the process, while the real decisions are made behind closed doors, unaffected by the noise of public debate.

If power is never truly given, then what would it take for the majority to actually seize it? The answer lies not in the voting booth, but in a fundamental restructuring of how society functions. Real power does not come from electing different politicians—it comes from controlling the means by which decisions are made. It comes from economic leverage, from mass refusal to comply with exploitative systems, from the creation of alternative structures that the elite cannot control. The labor movements of the early 20th century understood this, which is why the ruling class worked so hard to dismantle unions and suppress worker power. The civil rights movement understood this, which is why its most radical elements were crushed or co-opted. Every genuine challenge to elite rule has been met with either brutal suppression or strategic absorption into the very system it sought to overthrow.

This is why so many modern movements fail to create lasting change—because they are not structured to seize power, only to petition for it. Protests, hashtags, and marches can generate awareness, but without economic disruption, strategic coordination, and an alternative system ready to replace the existing one, they are simply another form of managed dissent. The ruling class does not fear outrage—it fears organization.

The idea of withdrawing from the system, of refusing to legitimize it through participation, is often met with skepticism. If you don’t vote, they say, you are letting the worst people win. But the truth is, the worst people already own the game. Voting may determine who gets to manage the system, but it does not change who owns it. And as long as the ownership remains in the hands of the elite, the system itself will remain hostile to the interests of the majority.

Du Bois refused to vote not because he was apathetic, but because he understood the nature of power. Burnham recognized that no matter how democratic a society claims to be, a ruling class will always emerge to consolidate control. Machiavelli knew that power is not about moral right, but about force, strategy, and the ability to maintain dominance. If history teaches us anything, it is that real change does not come from within a system designed to prevent it. It comes when people decide that the game itself is no longer worth playing.