Why Society Operates Without a Goal
First off, German sociologist Niklas Luhmann would say that asking why the societal system exists is like asking why gravity pulls things downward. It is the wrong question. Asking "why" is a category error.
The system does not exist for a purpose, it exists because it is operationally closed and continues to function.
But if we ignore Luhmann’s warning and still demand an answer, we find something unsettling:
The system does not serve humans.
The system does not have a moral or ethical foundation.
The system is not designed, but emergent—like a biological process, it self-replicates as long as conditions allow.
What does that even mean? It means there is no grand justification for society. There is no guiding hand ensuring that the economy, law, politics, or bureaucracy work toward a common good. They exist simply because they continue to function.
1. The System Exists Because It Communicates
Luhmann argues that society is not made of people, but of communication. Systems emerge from structured communication loops that reproduce themselves:
The legal system communicates in terms of legal vs. illegal—it only understands reality through that code.
The economic system communicates in terms of profit vs. loss—it does not process ethics, only transactions.
The political system communicates in terms of power vs. non-power—it does not seek truth, only survival.
Each system is autopoietic—meaning it reproduces itself. It does not rely on external legitimacy. It does not care about why it exists, only that it continues to operate.
In short:
The law exists to produce legality, not justice.
The economy exists to generate transactions, not fairness.
The government exists to govern, not to serve people.
If one of these systems collapses, another will take its place—not because it is needed, but because function demands continuation.
Let us make a little excursion here:
Luhmann’s theory of social systems owes much to polymath Gregory Bateson, particularly his work on cybernetics and double binds.
Bateson argued that systems do not function through direct control but through self-reinforcing patterns of communication.
Luhmann expands this idea: the system does not impose power explicitly—it creates distinctions that regulate behavior automatically. A bureaucracy does not need to actively oppress; it simply structures communication in a way that ensures compliance.
A job interview does not need to declare its purpose—it filters candidates through unspoken social expectations. These mechanisms are not designed by a central authority but emerge autopoietically, meaning they sustain themselves without needing external justification.
The brilliance—and the trap—of this system is that it does not force people into submission. Instead, it presents a structured reality where deviation is simply unprocessable.
Like Bateson’s double bind, where a person is given contradictory commands that make resistance impossible, Luhmann’s system ensures that individuals are not directly coerced but conditioned into participation.
2. The System Does Not Care About Individuals
This is where the coldness of Luhmann really hits. The system does not see individuals—it sees functions, roles, and operations.
In a job interview, the interviewer is not a person engaging with another person. They are an interface through which the system selects acceptable candidates.
In a bureaucracy, the welfare caseworker is not there to really "help"—they are there to process cases within a structured communication system.
In politics, leaders do not seek truth—they navigate the power structure to maintain influence.
If an individual does not fit the system’s code, they are excluded, ignored, or discarded. The system does not suffer from this loss. It simply adapts by reinforcing its own rules.
This is why change is difficult. The system does not respond to individual morality, reason, or suffering—it only responds to structural shifts that force a reorganization of communication patterns.
3. What Does This Mean for Us? Is it Time to Get Depressed?
Luhmann’s theory could lead to total cynicism:
If the system is self-sustaining and indifferent, then all activism, morality, and resistance are meaningless.
If individuals are invisible to the system, then human dignity is just an illusion.
If institutions are not built for fairness, then fighting for justice is like arguing with the wind.
But here’s the upshot—Luhmann never says humans are powerless. He only says that individual actions do not directly change systems. Instead, systems change when their communication structures evolve.
Translation:
You cannot argue the system into caring about you.
You cannot force it to adopt morality.
But you can disrupt its function in a way that forces adaptation.
History shows this:
The printing press didn’t come from political will—it changed political systems because it disrupted communication.
The internet didn’t come from activism—it changed power structures because it altered the flow of information.
Financial crises don’t happen because people protest—they happen because economic structures become unstable and must reorganize.
4. The Luhmann Strategy: Work With the System’s Blindness
Instead of begging the system to change, the only effective strategy is understanding its limitations and exploiting them.
If you want to change something, don’t appeal to ethics—appeal to function.
If a corporation doesn’t care about workers, disrupt its ability to profit.
If a political system ignores fairness, force a shift in power dynamics.
If the media spreads misinformation, change the way people access communication.
In short: You don’t fight the system. You redirect its operations.
This isn’t about utopia or idealism. It’s about hacking the way society functions.
Conclusion: The System Will Continue. The Only Question is How.
The system exists because it works. It will not collapse on its own, and it does not need to justify itself.
But it is not invincible.
It is blind to anything outside its structure.
And that blindness is its greatest weakness.
Luhmann’s theory isn’t about despair. It’s about seeing how things actually work—so that if you want to change something, you stop fighting the illusion and start playing the real game.