Some Animals Are More Equal: Favouritism in Our Society

All Animals Are Equal, But Some Are More Equal: The Farm We Live In

A reflection with pen, paper, and open eyes

A wooden barn wall painted with the commandment about equality and the line added beneath it, with two pigs standing on the grass

The last commandment on the barn wall, repainted when nobody was looking.

I picked up my pen to write about a book written in 1945, and halfway through the first paragraph I realised I wasn't writing about the past at all.

In George Orwell's Animal Farm, the animals drive out their cruel human farmer and promise each other a fair life. They paint seven commandments on the barn wall. The last one reads: "All animals are equal." Over time, the pigs, who are cleverer and now in charge, start taking the milk and the apples "for the good of everyone." They sleep in beds, walk on two legs, and drink alcohol. One morning the animals look at the wall and find that the final commandment has grown a tail:

"All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others."

Nobody voted on it. It just appeared, and everyone slowly accepted it.

Now put the book down and look around. Doesn't that barn wall look familiar?

The Quiet Rule Nobody Writes Down

No law in any country says, "Treat the well-connected better." Yet in practice, favouritism works like an unwritten law that everyone obeys. It has its own vocabulary too: sifarish, source, reference, "he's our man," "don't worry, I know someone there."

Let me walk through a few places where this plays out. These are not made-up scenes. If you are honest, you will have seen at least one of them yourself.

1. The Job That Was Never Really Open

Four anxious job candidates waiting in line while a man with a connection takes a shortcut to the interview door

A hundred CVs, one closed door, and a shortcut that skipped the line.

A young man graduates with honours. He has the degree, the skills, and the dreams. He applies to a hundred places, sits in waiting rooms in his one good shirt, and answers every interview question perfectly.

Then he hears the result: "We selected someone else."

Months later he finds out that the selected candidate was the manager's nephew. The advertisement, the shortlisting, and the interview panel were all a performance for the record. The post had been decided before the paper was printed.

The pain here is not just losing the job. It is the quiet message the young man receives: your hard work was never the currency here.

2. The Queue That Only Some Have to Stand In

A line of tired people waiting at an enquiry counter while a VIP stands at the front with a cup of tea

Same office, same counter, two very different waits.

Go to a government office, a hospital, or a bank on any busy day. There is a line of tired people holding files and tokens, waiting their turn for hours.

Then someone walks in, nods to the staff, is offered tea, and walks out with the work done in twenty minutes. Nobody in the queue says a word. Some look away, and some quietly wish they were that person.

It is a small scene, but it teaches everyone watching a big lesson: rules are for those who have no phone number to call.

3. The Classroom Where Marks Are Not Always About Marks

A classroom where the teacher's favourite student gets an A+ and a star, while a quiet student at the back gets a C

Same classroom, same effort, different marks.

In schools and universities, favouritism usually comes dressed as kindness. The teacher's pet gets extra attention and easy leniency, while the quiet student who submitted better work gets a lower grade. In higher education, some students get the best research supervisors, scholarships, or recommendation letters because of family names, not effort.

A student who learns early that pleasing the right person pays more than learning the lesson will carry that habit into every workplace later. We are training the next generation in the same unfairness we complain about.

4. The Workplace Favourite

A split office scene: a promoted employee by a sunny window and an exhausted colleague working late at night

Same company, same hours, two very different careers.

Every office has one. The boss's favourite doesn't always work harder, but is always the one who gets noticed. They get the best projects, the benefit of the doubt, the early promotion, and the seat next to the window.

Meanwhile, the employee who stays late, solves problems quietly, and never plays office politics watches opportunities pass by. After a few years that person either leaves or stops trying. Both are a loss for the organisation, though the organisation rarely notices why.

5. When Justice Looks at Faces

Scales of justice tipped toward a bag of money while a loaf of bread sits on the lighter side

Justice is supposed to be blind, but the scale doesn't always balance.

Justice is meant to be blind. In reality, we all know how the same wrongdoing can lead to completely different outcomes. A poor man who steals bread spends years in a cell, while someone who steals millions gets bail, a press statement, and a comfortable life.

When ordinary people see this, they don't just lose faith in one court or one case. They lose faith in the very idea that law protects everybody.

6. Politics: The Biggest Farm of All

Two pigs in ties feasting on apples in front of a government building while hungry citizens watch from the edges

The apples always go to the same table.

Public offices and development funds are meant to serve the public. Too often, jobs, contracts, and permissions are handed out to relatives, party loyalists, and friends. Loyalty gets rewarded more than ability.

Just like the pigs in Orwell's story, those in power always have a reason ready: "It's for stability," "It's for the greater good," "It's how things are done." The explanation changes, but the apples always go to the same tables.

7. Even in Our Own Homes

Two children at a dinner table, one with a heaped plate and a smile, the other with a single pea and a sad face

The first lesson in who is "more equal" is often learned at the dinner table.

If we are honest, this habit begins very close to us. One child is called the "responsible one" and the other is the "problem." The son gets the better education and the daughter gets the adjustment. One relative's opinion matters, another's is brushed off.

Children notice everything. The first lesson in who is "more equal" is often learned at the dinner table, long before they ever see an office or a court.

Why Do We Let It Continue?

This is the uncomfortable part. Favouritism survives not just because of the powerful, but because of the rest of us.

• We complain when it hurts us, but use it when it helps us.

• We say "that's just how the system works," and then keep feeding the system.

• We stay silent because speaking up feels risky, and the silence slowly becomes tradition.

In Animal Farm, the other animals actually remember that things were different. But their memories are fuzzy, the pigs are confident, and challenging them feels dangerous. So they tell themselves they must have been mistaken. That is exactly how injustice gets comfortable: slowly, politely, and with everyone's partial cooperation.

The Real Price We Pay

When merit stops mattering, the damage goes far beyond individual stories:

• Talent leaves. The brightest people look for opportunities abroad because they can't see a fair chance at home.

• Competence declines. Positions filled by connections rather than skill make every institution a little weaker.

• Trust disappears. People stop believing that honesty and hard work lead anywhere.

• Anger builds. A society split between "those with access" and "those without" cannot stay peaceful forever.

So, What Can We Actually Do?

Orwell doesn't hand us a solution, but his story shows us what to watch for. A few starting points:

1. Demand transparency. Public merit lists, clear hiring criteria, and open results make favouritism much harder to hide.

2. Make rules apply to the powerful first. A rule that only binds the weak isn't a rule, it's a leash.

3. Check ourselves. Before blaming "the system," we should ask: when did I last use a shortcut, and who paid for it?

4. Support merit when we see it. Back the honest candidate, the fair teacher, and the person who refuses to bend the rules.

5. Speak, even quietly. One voice at a time, unfairness loses its comfort.

Final Thoughts

A fountain pen resting on handwritten notes beside an apple and a cup of tea

Pen, paper, and a question worth asking.

I put down my pen thinking about that last commandment on the barn wall. The most frightening thing about it is not that it was written, but that it was accepted.

Equality rarely disappears with a loud announcement. It fades through small exceptions, polite excuses, and one more favour done "just this once." By the time we notice, the wall has already been repainted.

So here is the question I'll leave on the page for you:

Are we the animals who read the wall, or the ones who stopped reading?

Written with pen, paper, and a little frustration. If this reminded you of a story from your own life, share it in the comments. Sometimes the first step to fixing the wall is simply admitting we've seen it change.

Pen and Paper

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