By Mónica Roa, Puentes
One way to understand our time is as a battleground of intense narrative disputes. On one side, the climate emergency, the impact of artificial intelligence on employment, the COVID-19 pandemic, and the growing loneliness crisis all reveal our interdependence. What happens in one country affects many others, the decisions of a few corporations shape the fate of millions, and no individual can truly thrive without the social and environmental fabric that sustains them. However, the dominant narrative continues to promote the illusion of individualism, boundless competition, and the idea that success or failure is solely the result of personal merit, measured by one’s ability to produce and consume.
The narrative of individualism is built on the glorification of absolute autonomy, the myth of the self-sufficient hero, and the belief that well-being is achieved through competition. This narrative erases the value of the collective and the commons. Within this framework, competition is positioned as the engine of progress but it is also a force that fractures social bonds, turning others into rivals rather than allies.
In contrast, the narrative of interconnection reminds us that well-being is relational, that progress stems from cooperation, and that mutual care is a survival strategy, not just a moral concession. This has long been the perspective of Indigenous peoples with the concept of Buen Vivir and African cultures with the philosophy of Ubuntu. This narrative shows that true individual strength comes from the connections that sustain us. In doing so, it reclaims solidarity and an awareness of our interdependence as essential values for building cohesive communities where collective well-being is not sidelined by the dominance of individual interests imposed by those in power.
Reflecting on interconnection is not just a philosophical exercise—it is a political and practical urgency. How do we narrate freedom in a way that includes social protection rather than dismantling it? How do we tell stories of success that highlight the structures that make it possible rather than reducing it to personal merit? How do we reclaim interdependence without it being perceived as a threat to autonomy? At a time when narratives of isolation are being used to instill fear—justifying power concentration and the erosion of rights—we need stories that restore our awareness that, far from being a burden, our connection to others is the key to greater well-being and a stronger democracy.
The Destruction of Community Bonds
The narrative of individualism—both told and lived—has paved the way for the rise of authoritarianism by fragmenting our societies and eroding the communal ties that sustain us. In the past, shared public spaces were natural settings for social interaction. Going to the movies was a collective ritual: the anticipation in line, the post-film discussions, the shared laughter or silence in a dark theater. Eating out was not just about food but about spending time with others, exchanging glances with strangers, and feeling curious about dishes at nearby tables. Playing in the park taught negotiation, cooperation, and the improvisation of common rules. Walking through the countryside connected us with nature and allowed us to see where our food came from, as well as the effort and dedication of those who cultivate it. Visiting a small neighborhood store and struggling to describe the screw, hinge, or part we needed taught us patience and strengthened trust among neighbors. Public transportation, with its overlapping conversations and unpredictable chaos, forced us to hear different voices and recognize that, like us, others also laugh, cry, face problems, share, and get frustrated.
Today, many of these experiences have been replaced by individualized consumption of entertainment and services. The cinema has become an algorithm suggesting what to watch from our couch; meals arrive at our doorstep without requiring a single word exchanged; parks have been replaced by watching others play on a screen; and casual spaces for interaction, like public transport, have been completely transformed by personal headphones. Even local commerce has given way to online shopping, eliminating the spontaneous conversations that connected us with those who knew our neighborhoods and their needs.
This transformation runs deep. It is in these everyday spaces that democracy is woven—not because we explicitly talk about it, but because we learn to coexist with difference, to negotiate spaces, to share the public sphere, and, just as importantly, to have fun together. Democracy is not just a system of government; it is a daily practice of engaging with others. However, technological platforms have imposed an individualism that now governs our daily lives, maximizing their economic gains at the expense of monopolizing our attention and eroding our spaces for collective living.
Within the extreme individualist narrative, “the other” ceases to be part of “us” and becomes a potential threat to one’s well-being. This destroys the fabric of our societies, fostering the idea that each person must fend for themselves, disconnected from the community bonds that support us, leaving us more vulnerable to narratives that promote fear and exclusion.
This isolation is not only emotional, social, or political—it is existential. When we stop sharing experiences with those who are different from us, we lose the ability to imagine a common future. In this void, authoritarianism thrives, offering rigid identities and clear enemies to fill the space once occupied by interconnection and solidarity.
The rise of authoritarianism and the unchecked power of the broligarchs (the hyper-masculinized tech oligarchs) have been fueled by a narrative of individualism, as it justifies and reinforces their power.
The dominant narrative has led us to believe that success is always the result of personal effort, while failure is merely a lack of willpower or discipline. This idea is embedded in phrases like “where there’s a will, there’s a way” or “early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise”—ignoring the economic, social, and political structures that shape our opportunities. Growing up in a neighborhood with limited access to quality healthcare and education, reliable public transportation, or professional networks means facing significantly greater barriers than someone who has had those resources since childhood. Yet, this prevailing narrative ensures that when people don’t succeed, they blame themselves rather than a system that never gave them a fair shot.
This narrative also normalizes the unchecked accumulation of wealth and power. We are told that those at the top “earned” their success, when in reality, the game has always been rigged in favor of a few. From billionaires who exploit tax loopholes while their employees struggle to get by, to tech giants that profit from our data and attention with no accountability, this story justifies inequality by framing it as the natural outcome of talent and perseverance. If someone amasses limitless power, we’re told it’s because they deserve it; if someone can barely survive, it’s because they didn’t try hard enough.
At the same time, this hyper-competitive, entrepreneurial ideal reinforces toxic masculinity. The archetype of the strong, relentless, self-sufficient man is upheld as the ultimate leader, punishing vulnerability, empathy, and care. In the workplace, this translates into glorifying personal sacrifice: working to the point of exhaustion is seen as dedication, while asking for help or prioritizing well-being is considered weak. In politics, this mindset creates the perfect breeding ground for authoritarianism: leaders who shout, impose their will, and refuse compromise are perceived as strong and decisive, while those who listen and build consensus are dismissed as weak.
The consequences of this narrative are not just ideological—they are material. It is tearing down collective safety nets with the ferocity of a chainsaw, all in the name of efficiency and meritocracy. Instead of securing strong labor rights, we are told that each person should “negotiate their worth” in the market. Instead of creating a fair tax system where everyone contributes according to their means to fund essential public services, we are told that taxes are an unfair burden that restricts freedom. Instead of implementing bold climate action, responsibility is pushed onto individuals—encouraging small personal choices like recycling and reducing our carbon footprint—while corporations continue polluting at an industrial scale with no repercussions. We have been sold the idea that true well-being comes from everyone doing as they please, when in reality, this leaves us more isolated, precarious, and at the mercy of those who hold the most power.
Challenging the narrative of individualism is not about dividing the world into heroes and villains—it’s about recognizing that alternatives exist and that even within powerful structures, many people are questioning the current model. We can be tough on problems and compassionate toward people, separating individuals from the systems, behaviors, and ideologies that cause harm. There are billionaires who understand that their wealth is not solely the product of their talent but of a web of social conditions that allowed them to thrive, and they feel a responsibility to contribute by paying their fair share of taxes. There are business leaders who have realized that offering dignified working conditions and embracing diversity is not only ethical but also a strategic advantage for attracting and retaining talent. There are also policymakers who have shown that cooperation, not ruthless competition, is key to addressing the world’s greatest challenges. Transforming the narrative is not just about pointing out what’s wrong—it’s about amplifying and strengthening the stories that show another path is possible.
Interconnection as an Antidote to Authoritarianism
To counter this trend and elevate the narrative of interconnection, we need to strengthen the story of what true well-being means. Fulfillment is not achieved in isolation but through strong relationships and systems that sustain us. A mother is not better served raising a child alone but when she has a supportive community. A worker is not better off accepting any wage but when dignified conditions exist for all. A country is not more sovereign when it shuts itself off from the world but when it cooperates with others to tackle global challenges.
We must also challenge the myth of competition as the sole driver of progress. Innovation does not come only from brilliant individuals locked in fierce rivalry but from collaboration. We see this in science, where COVID-19 vaccines were developed at record speed thanks to international cooperation. We see it in the social economy, where cooperatives demonstrate that more equitable and sustainable models are possible. And we see it in the history of social movements, where deep change has never been the work of isolated heroic acts but of organized communities moving forward together.
Moreover, we must reclaim care as a central force in our societies. Instead of seeing interdependence as a burden, we must recognize it for what it truly is: the foundation of our collective strength. The pandemic taught us a clear lesson—no one survives alone. Without healthcare workers, support networks, and robust public systems, society cannot function. Yet instead of internalizing this truth, the narrative of every man for himself continues to gain ground. We cannot let that happen.
The narrative work proposed by Puentes goes beyond simply telling stories about the world we want to see; it is about rehearsing it in our daily lives. Narrative work is not just about words or stories that give meaning to the world—it is about the experiences we create and the sense of possibility we cultivate together.
Our response to authoritarianism and individualism cannot be limited to resistance. We must activate our collective power—the one that manifests in how we live, create, and narrate—to imagine and build a new horizon where interconnection is the key to freedom, security, and well-being. The goal is not just to defend what we had, but to dare to imagine something better: a society where well-being is not a privilege for a few, but the certainty that each person’s well-being depends on the well-being of all. Because the real question is not whether we can do it alone, but whether we ever truly did.
Conclusion: Weaving Instead of Breaking
From Puentes, we invite you to collectively create the narrative antidote to fascism: bringing stories of interconnection to life.
Let’s make visible the environmental and social interdependence that sustains us. Let’s tell stories of collective well-being. Let’s build community. Let’s speak of the State and its institutions as an organized system of mutual care. Let’s practice solidarity, cooperation, and reciprocity. Let’s bring these narratives to life and use our narrative power to create an ever-expanding “us.”
Throughout the year, through our fellowships, platforms, and communities, we will be promoting and amplifying this narrative. Despair tries to convince us that the future is inevitably bleak and that change is beyond our reach. However, the future is not written, and history shows us that transformation is possible when we work collectively to achieve it.
In the face of authoritarianism, true emancipation comes from recognizing that we are nodes in a network of life. As feminist theologian Ivone Gebara wrote: “Nothing is saved alone; everything is saved in community.” Building radical interconnections—in the streets, in our bodies, on the land—is the antidote.
Now is the time to weave!
Originally posted on LinkedIn where it is available in Spanish and Portuguese.