The Designated Rebel

A while ago, during a sprint retrospective, I suggested significant changes to our “Definition of Done.” When I finished, the room went quiet. What did that silence mean?

The silence lasted nearly a minute. Why was no one saying anything? Finally, the PM broke the tension by prompting the team:

His comment further irritated me. I wondered: Are we really going to operate like this, where I suggest a top-down change and everyone silently accepts the new rules? So, I protested.

After the meeting, I couldn’t stop reflecting on it. A quote from Žižek began racing through my mind: “Those in power often prefer even a critical participation to silence.” I told myself I spoke up to allow people to be active participants in decisions affecting their day-to-day lives. But then I had to ask: Did I say what I said because I was in a position of power?

At the moment, I thought the PM was interpreting the silence as agreement and that his comment was calcifying the team’s passivity. Later, I realized the opposite was true. He was the one trying to break their stagnation; his joke was the perfect bait. It was an invitation for the team to engage.

This led me to a sad realization: my objection achieved the exact opposite of what I intended. It only made everyone more comfortable in their passivity. By jumping in to “defend” their right to speak, I became the Designated Rebel. I allowed them to stay passive while feeling good about having a champion. Now they know someone will always speak up “for” them. I had become part of the very power structure I was trying to resist.

So, did I speak up because I was in a position of power? Was I trying to keep the team busy with “pseudo-activities” so that nothing changes while a lot is happening?

Modern politics often functions this way. There is an ever-present urge to be active and to participate. We tweet, we condemn, and we protest—all within the coordinates of the system. We do a lot so that, ultimately, nothing really changes. Our critical participation is exactly what allows the system to function.The best example of this is Žižek’s neurotic, who endlessly talks on the divan because a moment of silence might result in the analyst asking a crucial question.

While the passivity of subjects might give them breathing space to see the underlying mechanism behind politics, in a space where decisions are made from the bottom up, it simply locks everything down. If people refuse to participate in a democratic space, there is no moving forward.

Contemporary democracy is often an illusion to obscure the fact that a minority rules over an enormous majority. In that context, whatever keeps us busy enough—discourse, work, pleasures—to avoid revolting is “good” for the system. However, in a team that runs on democratic principles, decisions require participation. Without the critical engagement of my teammates, whatever I suggest is impossible to truly implement. My “power” over them is only the influence I’ve earned—or perhaps I am in power and completely blinded by the fact that my “rebellion” is just the grease on the wheels of their silence.