In the study of complex societies, the question of "who governs?" seldom yields a simple answer. The conventional view in political science suggests that in many modern states, power is not the property of a monolithic entity but is instead distributed, often uneasily, among multiple, competing groups. This understanding has given rise to sophisticated models of power-sharing and managed competition. Frameworks such as prestige-group pluralism, where various interest groups from business to labor vie for influence, offer a dynamic picture of governance as a perpetual negotiation. Robert Dahl's concept of polyarchy provides a name for the real-world approximation of democracy that emerges from this contest, a system defined not by perfect equality but by the institutionalization of competition and the inclusion of diverse voices. These models provide an essential blueprint of the political machinery.
Yet, this blueprint is incomplete. It describes the formal architecture of power-sharing but reveals little about the inhabitants of this structure. It explains the how of competition among prestige groups but not the who. To grasp the true nature of a polyarchic or plural prestige‑group system, one must look beyond the mechanics of political economy and toward the domains of sociology and anthropology. The most meaningful distinctions between exemplary groups are often not found in their balance sheets or their paths to wealth, but in their deeply ingrained cultural systems—their unique customs, their shared values, and, most revealingly, their aesthetic sensibilities. An exemplary group is not merely a collection of individuals with similar economic interests; it is a subculture, bound by a common grammar of taste.
This chapter argues that a comprehensive understanding of plural prestige‑group systems requires this cultural turn. It will trace a path from the political frameworks that make group plurality possible to the cultural codes that give it meaning. We will explore how taste and aesthetics function not as trivial matters of decoration, but as fundamental tools of social distinction and boundary maintenance. We will then examine a central tension within prestige aesthetics itself—a persistent duality between the extravagant and the utilitarian—and consider how these opposing philosophies shape different forms of exemplary‑group identity. Finally, we will argue that these distinct aesthetic worlds are not abstract; they demand and create their own territories, from exclusive urban districts to gated enclaves, inscribing the cultural logic of power onto the physical landscape. The journey will reveal that a system of plural exemplary groups is not merely a political arrangement but a mosaic of distinct cultural worlds, each with its own vision of the good, the true, and the beautiful.
These political structures—the competitive space of polyarchy and the protected autonomy of consociationalism—set the stage for what is known as prestige‑group pluralism. This theory stands in contrast to the classical single-power theory, most famously articulated by C. Wright Mills, which posits that power is concentrated in the hands of a small, unified "power" drawn from the highest echelons of business, the military, and politics. According to this view, this single group's interests shape public policy, often at the expense of the general population.
Pluralist theory, advanced by thinkers like Dahl, rejects this monolithic view. It argues that while prestigious members of society exist, they do not form a single, cohesive ruling class. Instead, political power is distributed among a variety of organized and competing interest groups. These groups, which can include everything from business associations and labor unions to environmental advocates, lobby legislators and mobilize support to influence policy in their favor. In this model, government policy is not dictated from the top down but emerges from the bottom up, as a result of compromise and bargaining among these competing factions. The political systems of polyarchy and consociationalism, by their very design, create the conditions for this pluralist reality, ensuring that society is governed not by a single prestige group, but by a shifting coalition of many.
For multiple, distinct prestige groups to exist and compete within a single state, a specific political architecture is required—one that prevents any single group from achieving total dominance. This architecture provides the institutional framework that makes plural competition possible, establishing the rules of engagement and protecting the autonomy necessary for diverse cultural groups to flourish.
The political scientist Robert Dahl offered a foundational concept for understanding these systems with his theory of polyarchy. He conceived of polyarchy not as an unreachable democratic ideal, but as a practical, observable form of government that approximates democracy in the real world. Dahl characterized regimes along two primary dimensions: contestation and inclusiveness. Contestation refers to the degree of permissible opposition and political competition, while inclusiveness, or participation, measures the proportion of the population entitled to engage in the political process.[1] A polyarchy is a regime that scores high on both scales.
To achieve this, Dahl argued that eight institutional guarantees are necessary. These include freedoms of expression and organization, the right to vote and be eligible for public office, access to alternative sources of information, free and fair elections, and government institutions that depend on votes for their authority. The cumulative effect of these guarantees is to "increase the size, number, and variety of minorities whose preferences must be taken into account by leaders in making policy choices".
In essence, Dahl's polyarchy creates a political marketplace. By guaranteeing the right to organize and compete, it establishes the institutional conditions not just for multiple political parties, but for a plurality of prestige subcultures to form, assert their interests, and vie for influence. This competitive environment ensures that no single group can easily impose its will or its culture by force. Polyarchy is thus the structural foundation that makes prestige‑group pluralism institutionally possible.
While polyarchy establishes the competitive framework, consociational democracy provides a more explicit institutional blueprint for coexistence among prestige groups, particularly in societies fractured by deep ethnic, religious, or linguistic divides. Consociationalism is a power-sharing model designed to ensure stability by giving each significant segment of society a formal stake in governance. Its structure is defined by four key institutional characteristics: a grand coalition government that includes representatives from all major groups; proportionality in civil service appointments and the allocation of public funds; a mutual veto that allows minority groups to block legislation threatening their vital interests; and, most critically for our purposes, segmental autonomy.
Segmental autonomy grants each distinct community formal control over its own affairs, particularly in cultural domains like education. In their heyday, consociational systems saw the emergence of tightly organized social pillars, complete with their own schools, hospitals, and newspapers. This principle is more than a mere power-sharing tactic; it is the formal institutional mechanism that legitimizes and enables the cultural, and ultimately spatial, separation of different groups. It provides the legal and institutional scaffolding upon which distinct prestige cultures can build and maintain their own worlds. Where polyarchy allows for the de facto emergence of varied groups, the segmental autonomy of consociationalism creates a de jure reality of protected cultural spheres—the institutional precedent for the cultural enclaves that characterize prestige plurality.
These political architectures—polyarchy and consociationalism—provide the structural conditions for prestige‑group pluralism, but they tell us nothing about the substance of the groups that emerge within them. The institutional guarantees of competitive politics and protected cultural autonomy create space for multiple prestigious factions, but what actually differentiates these factions from one another? Economic interests alone provide an incomplete answer. A tech entrepreneur and an oil executive may have vastly different economic stakes, yet they might share remarkably similar lifestyles, educational backgrounds, and aesthetic sensibilities. Conversely, two individuals with comparable wealth might inhabit entirely different social worlds, signaling their belonging to distinct exemplary subcultures through seemingly subtle differences in taste and behavior.
To understand the true nature of plurality among prestige groups, we must look beyond the formal political arrangements that make it possible and examine the cultural mechanisms that give it meaning. This requires shifting our analytical lens from institutional political science to cultural sociology—from the rules of the game to the players themselves and the invisible codes that bind them into distinct groups.
To understand the groups that compete within this political architecture, it is insufficient to define them by their economic or political roles alone. A prestige group is not just a group that possesses wealth; it is a group that possesses a particular culture. Sociological inquiry reveals that prestige groups are those with disproportionate control over a range of social resources, which include not only economic and political capital but also social capital (networks and connections) and, crucially, cultural capital.[2] It is this cultural dimension that provides the deep grammar of prestige‑group identity, creating the boundaries that separate one group from another and all of them from the rest of society.