Performative Authority

Published on 28 October 2024 at 22:02

This essay was written in April 2023 and was originally titled "Authority as Performance in Survivor." 

In his third lecture on performativity, J.L. Austin examines (a) the requirements to create a successful performative and (b) how various kinds of infelicities may arise depending on which requirement is not satisfied. Almost as an aside, he provides an example for an infelicity that occurs when a person does not have the proper authority to generate a performative: 

On a desert island you may say to me ‘Go and pick up wood’; and I may say ‘I don’t take orders from you’ or ‘you’re not entitled to give me orders’—I do not take orders from you when you try to ‘assert your authority’ (which I might fall in with but may not) on a desert island, as opposed to the case when you are the captain on a ship and therefore genuinely have authority. (31)

     Although this constitutes a small portion of the lecture (and indeed, Austin’s discussion of performativity as a whole), I found myself continually returning to the idea of authority within the context of the performative. What is it that creates the authority of this imagined “captain on a ship” or any other position of leadership? There is nothing which changes physically about a person when they become a captain. Indeed, it appears to me as though most positions of authority are created through performatives—a captain is made a captain because someone above them says so. Similar to when a clergyman marries two people, it is the invocation of a general set of words—“you’re a captain now” or “I grant you the rank/title of captain”—which now gives a person authority to “genuinely” command a ship, in Austin’s terms. 

      Authority, then, derives from performativity.

     Or rather, it can derive from performativity. From general observation, I believe there are two ways this occurs: (1) when an external authority declares new authority upon a participating body, as when a new ship’s captain is granted a rank and (2) when an internal authority, or a person who is part of a native group, declares or otherwise asserts their authority through their words or actions. Even if we chose to examine more fully the first type of performative authority, I believe we would find that eventually it becomes the second. For if we follow the chain of ship captains who gave each other authority all the way to the very beginning (a so-called “line of authority”) we would eventually run into someone who asserted their authority without a previous authority present to ratify their declaration.

     An important note, here. While a performative of external authority might be determined felicitous or infelicitous by the actions of the new leader and how well they fulfill the responsibilities of their new position, the felicity of an internal authority performative rests more upon the shoulders of the group which the asserting figure is attempting to lead or control. To use Austin’s example, authority depends on whether or not the wood is gathered.

     This is the kind of performative authority which I’m interested in examining today: how the person on the desert island is able to felicitously (or infelicitously) perform authority. Determining the felicity of leadership (as with marriage) is a difficult task, owing to the fact that there are no definite standards for successful authority within a typical real-world scenario. As such, for the purposes of this essay I will be examining authority within a limited context, one which provides a clear metric of success or felicity and which is observable. And I can think of no better text to examine than that which takes place on a desert island, in which leadership roles are constantly negotiated and felicity is easily measured.

      I am speaking, of course, about Survivor.

     For those who are unfamiliar with the long-running television series, Survivor is a CBS reality TV show hosted by Jeff Probst and described by IMDb as: “A reality show where a group of contestants are stranded in a remote location with little more than the clothes on their back. The lone survivor of this contest takes home a million dollars.” While the show initially began as an experiment in survival and game play in early seasons was based on fire-starting and foraging ability, the focus of Survivor rapidly shifted during its sophomore seasons to a self-proclaimed “social experiment” where the main tension of the episodes is derived from evolving group dynamics and social pressures. The conceit of each season is largely the same: roughly eighteen castaways are stranded on a tropical island for thirty-nine days, castaways are divided into separate tribes for the first part of their experience, and every three days the tribes compete for immunity. The tribe that does not win immunity is forced to vote someone out of their tribe; this pattern continues throughout the season until only one player remains and is awarded the title of Sole Survivor (and a cool million dollars). So, while there is competition between tribes, the majority of the social dynamics are explored within a tribe—who is in the in-group, who is on the outs, who determines the vote unofficially, who has power.

     Or, who can successfully generate authority.

     In this essay, I will apply this theory of performative authority to an episode of Survivor in an effort to explore how well this theory functions. To do so, I will first enumerate the felicity requirements for leadership (how to determine whether or not a performance of authority is successful on the show Survivor) before examining three different aspects of the performative speech act (locution, illocution, perlocution) in conjunction with three different aspects of authority (knowledge, distinction, ability) and the three core tenets of Survivor gameplay (outwit/outlast/outplay). True to Austinian analysis, I will also examine the weaknesses of this argument and where the requirements might fall short. In the end, my hope is to show how authority can be performed in situations lacking an external authority and why this is an important facet for exploring the potential of performativity.

 

The Performative Requirements for Felicity

     To understand whether something can be performed successfully, we must first lay out the conditions for success. In Lecture II, Austin provides us with a list of “some at least of the things which are necessary for the smooth or ‘happy’ functioning of a performative” (19), which provide a useful guide for defining a performative. I begin this analysis by including his list followed by my proposed requirements for a Survivor-specific performative.

 

Austin’s General Performative

(A.1) There must exist an accepted conventional procedure having a certain conventional effect, that procedure to include the uttering of certain words by certain persons in certain circumstances, and further.

(A.2) The particular persons and circumstances in a given case must be appropriate for the invocation of the particular procedure invoked.

(B.1) The procedure must be executed by all participants correctly.

(B.2) The procedure must be executed by all participants completely.

(G.1) Where, as often, the procedure is designed for use by persons having certain thoughts or feelings, or for the inauguration of certain consequential conduct on the part of any participant, then a person participating in and so invoking the procedure must in fact have those thoughts or feelings, and the participants must intend so to conduct themselves, and further (G.2) must actually so conduct themselves consequently.

 

Survivor Performative Authority

(A.1) There must be an accepted conventional procedure for leadership within the game of Survivor. In Lecture III, Austin writes: “The person to be the object of the verb ‘I order to…’ must, by some previous procedure, tacit or verbal, have first constituted the person who is to do the ordering an authority, e.g. by saying ‘I promise to do what you order me to do’” (32). In this sense, the convention for performing authority rests in a verbal or nonverbal agreement to follow or obey the commands of another person. In Survivor, there are several areas where a person might demonstrate their authority by asking for obedience: (1) a successful leader will be able to convince or control other tribe members to “vote” with them, meaning they determine who stays or leaves the tribe at the end of each three-day period (2) a successful leader will be able to direct camp life, including the gathering of wood, hunting and fishing, cooking, and sleeping patterns (3) a successful leader will frequently take control during weekly challenges. These requirements outline the necessity for knowledgeable locution to outwit.

(A.2) The particular persons must be appropriate for the given procedure. In the case of Survivor, the performance must be done within the context of the game for the possibility of winning. Performative authority in the context of Survivor cannot be performed outside of the game and be considered valid. The power of performative authority does not have power outside the context in which the leadership might be useful to maintain or utilize power or influence. This is a general principle which can be applied to authority—if there is no opportunity to use the power or no group to hold power over, then this performative cannot be felicitous. Action is required.

(B.1) In order for the performative to be felicitous, it must be executed correctly by both the person trying to gain the leadership position (successfully persuading people to side with them) and the people who the player is trying to gain power over (they must begin to treat that person as a leader with power). Here lies an interesting facet of performative authority—its felicity largely rests in the hands of those who are being performed upon, or the followers of the leader. If a leader “performs” the right conventional procedures but the followers then decide to do something else, then the performative is infelicitous because the leader does not actually assume authority. This requirement ensures that a large part of performative authority rests upon amenable perlocution to outplay.

(B.2) The performative must be done completely, or the power and sway must be held over the players until votes have been cast either at the end of an episode (temporary authority) or the end of the season (enduring authority). The felicity of such cannot be determined until the final actions have been taken. For the purposes of this essay, we will examine the felicity of performative authority in just a single episode.

(G.1) Insofar as leadership requires feelings of loyalty or devotion to the person seeking to gain influence, the tribemates in Survivor must have genuine feelings or intentions of following the self-established leader rather than merely promising their loyalty or a vote. This requirement begins to blend us into the messiness of real-world performative authority, for it can be difficult to determine whether or not feelings of loyalty are there even if the follower obeys the leader. The followers’ willingness to have these feelings for the presumed leader are largely dependent on how well the leader has carried out the A and B requirements for felicity, making distinctive illocution essential to outlast.

(G.2) The players must conduct themselves subsequently in a way which reflects those feelings, by continuing to vote with and remain loyal to the person who has attempted performative authority in order for it to be felicitous. Any instances of breaking with the leader’s plans will be an indication of an infelicitous result.

 

     With these requirements established for a felicitous instance of performative authority, we can now examine specific examples from Survivor to determine their (in)felicity. The episode I have selected for this analysis is the first episode of Season 22: Redemption Island, which is aptly titled “You’re Looking at the New Leader of Your Tribe.” In this episode, sixteen new players and two returning players are introduced to a tropical island and split into two tribes of nine players each, with eight new players and one of the returning players on each tribe. The two returning players are Rob Mariano[1] on the Ometepe Tribe and Russell Hantz on Zapatera Tribe. By Season 22, both have competed several times on Survivor, and both have made it to the “Final Two” without winning their seasons. In short, these are experienced yet flawed leaders who are determined to finally win. In the following sections, I will focus on Rob’s performance in this first episode—how his locution, illocution, and perlocution create successful instances of performative authority and fulfill the requirements for a felicitous Survivor experience by outwitting, outlasting, and outplaying his competitors. 

 

OUTWIT: Knowledgeable Locution

     The first key to performing authority is knowing what to say. This is particularly true in the first episode of any given Survivor season, where players are keenly aware of power plays and attempts to establish authority early on. Try and establish authority too forcefully and you will be rejected by the group. Wait too long, and you’ll find yourself without power in a moment where you might need it in order to stay in the game.

     Throughout this first episode, we see Rob’s skill at assuming authority with his language—his words imply authority to speak, while his laid-back tone sets people at ease. In a scene just before the first tribal council[2], Rob gathers those he expects to vote with him. “Don’t let anybody try to bamboozle you,” he says. “That’s it. This is us. That’s it. It’s done” (34:38). This statement—this is us—acts as a performative, as Rob is proposing a possible future that is not yet true or false (“this group is going to vote together and remain loyal to each other”). Neither he nor the audience know the results of the vote yet, and there remains the possibility for infelicity if someone in the group decides to work against Rob and vote him out. And yet he has created a performative situation that involves each person present in a way that forces them to decide whether or not they will accept his leadership. And by the end of the episode, we see that this performance has been felicitous. Rob said, “it’s done,” and it was done.

     During tribal council later in this episode, Rob once again demonstrates his ability to use appropriate locution in order to create power within a situation. At one point, tribemate Kristina alludes to the fact that she’s found a hidden immunity idol and can use it to get rid of Rob if she wants. Rob asks, “Do you have the immunity idol?” before saying, “Let me see it” (41:47). His tone here is casual, more of a request than a demand. And yet Kristina complies, even though most players choose to keep their idols hidden so that they can use the threat of power without ever actually having to wield it. Once Kristina hands the idol to Rob, he takes another locutionary step to assert his power as he holds up the necklace: “Give me the immunity idol and you’ll stay” (41:57). Rob has no actual authority to hold the idol—game rules explicitly state that idols cannot be stolen from the player who fairly finds them. If push comes to shove and Rob refused to give the idol back to Kristina, Jeff Probst could step in and say that Rob must hand the idol back or else forfeit any possibility of winning. But see how he phrases his question: “Give me the immunity idol and you’ll stay.” He is not threatening to keep the idol (something not within his power) but rather threatening to send Kristina home. He is using locution to create a performative that feels threatening to Kristina, saying “I can send you home.” Again, by the rules of the game Rob doesn’t have this power. His is one vote in a tribe of nine people, but he is assuming the power of the tribe, speaking as if he were its official leader.

     In the end, Kristina declines Rob’s offer and he hands the idol back to her. The felicity of this performative is not immediately apparent as Kristina is not the one sent home during the first episode, but four episodes later Kristina is the third Ometepe tribe member voted out. Rob knows what promises he can and cannot make—mastery of locution to outwit[3].

 

OUTLAST: Distinguished Illocution

     If locution is the knowledge of what words to say to create leadership, then the illocution or intention of the proto-leader must be to set themselves apart from others in their group. In other words, the process of being the “sole survivor” begins at the start of the show, where the players set themselves apart from the followers even within their own in-group. 

     The establishment of Rob’s distinguishing authority comes before he even appears on the beach with the other players. In the first five minutes of the episode, the new players are dropped on the beach via helicopter and organized into groups by Jeff Probst. After Jeff has said his customary “Welcome to Survivor,” he announces that there are still two more players to introduce. A second helicopter comes into view, settles onto the beach, and reveals its cargo: Rob Mariano and Russell Hantz. This entrance—in separate helicopters and in separate timing from the new players—immediately distinguishes the two returning players as something other and makes them visible to the other sixteen people. Jeff forgoes introductions for the new players, but introduces Rob and Russell by name, creating distinct identities that separate them out from the general mass of tank-top wearing people on the beach. In this instance, Rob gets somewhat of a leg-up from the show production (and here, perhaps we see a flaw in Survivor’s ability to be a pure social experiment, as there are unseen hands fiddling with not just the editing of the show but also in-the-moment displays and perceptions). But the show’s meddling doesn’t ensure success or authority; that much becomes obvious as the episode progresses and we see how the tribes treat their respective “veterans” differently.

     Take these two cutaways for example:

     When Russell Hantz appears, we get an interview with Stephanie: “I don’t even know whose team he’s going to be on, but I’m going to stare down Russell, and I know when I stare down Russell he’ll know ‘oh, she’s got a little evil[4] inside of her.’ Because if I’m not the one person he picks to keep to the end, then no matter what I’m going to be out. I’m going to be out” (4:10, emphasis added). The illocutionary force of performative distinction has clearly worked on Stephanie—she no longer considers any of the other players a viable option for alliances. There is a single track towards her victory, “no matter what” other options might have seemed appealing during the initial helicopter flight over with the rest of the new players. Russell takes advantage of this successful illocution by taking Stephanie aside and talking with her once they reach their tribe’s campsite; he lets her know that he’ll take her to the end, and that with her help he can control the game. In another cutaway, he says, “This is gonna be the new me—I’m gonna be the leader to my tribe. When I sit ‘em all down and I take control of the camp, I become the leader of the camp” (9:00). He first establishes himself as outside the group, and then tries to configure himself as its leader with Stephanie at his side.

     The result? The tribe notices that Russell is chummy with Stephanie and recognize that they aren’t in his inner circle.

     Two episodes later, he is voted out.

    In contrast, Rob recognizes that his tribe will be watching him closely during the days following his introduction. He takes a gentler approach than Russell, focusing on forming individual bonds with each member of the tribe while still in a group setting, never separating for one-on-one conversations unless it occurs naturally during the process of building the shelter or gathering wood. The result is that he reinforces his distinction with each individual member of the tribe, while not becoming an apparent target for being voted out. In a cutaway interview, tribemate Matt Elrod says, “Things are going really well right now. It’s just such a blessing to have Rob here with his history in construction and his experience being here. And his laid-back approach is really bringing a lot of harmony to this tribe” (11:32). Rob doesn’t sit his tribe down to establish the dominance that Russell attempts—instead, he allows his actions to continue to set him apart as he pretends to be a part of the in-group. He allows his skills in construction and survival to distinguish him, giving weight to the illocutionary force of being a notch above the other players. Rob doesn’t just know what words to say. He knows when to say them, when not to, and the force they can carry—mastery of illocution to outlast.

 

OUTPLAY: Amenable Perlocution

     The final piece of performative authority is perhaps the most important—the perlocutionary effect that the proto-leader’s words have on the people around them. Returning to Lecture III, Austin tells us that in order for a command-performative (“I order to…”) to be felicitous, the person being ordered must “by some previous procedure, tacit or verbal, have first constituted the person who is to do the ordering an authority, e.g. by saying ‘I promise to do what you order me to do’” (32). Thus, authority is not performed until it has been accepted by someone who has granted or constituted that authority to the commanding body.

     Nowhere is there a better example of this “constitution” than when the Ometepe tribe is setting up their camp. As Natalie Tenerelli helps build the shelter, she tells Rob, “honestly, just stop us and tell us what you need, you know. You’re the pro here” (11:33), clearly constituting Rob by telling him that she and the implied rest of the tribe intend to do whatever he asks of them. Authority is handed to him, is constituted by Natalie’s admission of submission and obedience. Though the editors don’t show us any cutaways that explain the tribe’s decision to accept Rob as a leader (despite his refusal to proclaim himself leader, as Russell did), the players’ actions continue to demonstrate throughout the episode their willingness to accept his authority, not just in building but in more social matters. Towards the end of tribal council, Rob proclaims that “I’m gonna do what said I was gonna do, with the people I said I was gonna do it with, and that’s it” (42:24). Following this signature “that’s it,” the players proceed to vote with Rob to eliminate Francesca from their tribe. Their obedience to this statement—to not let anything that happened at tribal council change their plans—is another example of the successful perlocutionary effect that Rob has had on the tribe. They have fulfilled his performative both completely and correctly, per the B.1 and B.2 requirements for Survivor felicity.

     Going beyond obedience and constitution, the players begin to refer to Rob as their leader. After a failed challenge, Ashley Underwood expresses: “I feel like we let Rob down. It’s weird, but you want to please your leader” (31:00). This is something rarely seen in Survivor, as the title is typically seen as a target for elimination. It speaks to Rob’s ability to instill the perfect perlocutionary effect that his fellow players are not just willing to follow him, but to recognize they are following and still not vote him out.

     Master of perlocution, he outplays all of them.

 

Conclusion: Austinian Deconstructions[5] of Argument

     Together, these elements of a total speech act form Rob’s successful instances of performative authority. Though his path isn’t without hiccups, his felicity is clearly defined as he is able to maintain loyalty until the final episode of the season, which he wins.

     There are a few counterarguments to this concept of performative authority. The first is that Austin’s A.1 requirement specifically mentions the need for “an accepted conventional procedure” that is employed. While there are numerous books on how to establish leadership, I don’t think there’s any “conventional” or “accepted” procedure for performatively creating new authority. I think this dilemma might be answered by Austin’s own admission that performatives are often governed by social rules that are “in (general) use” rather than strictly or formally “accepted” by society (30). A second counterargument could be made that Austin’s B.2 requirement states that the procedure must be carried out “by all participants completely” in order to prompt a felicitous outcome. Survivor rarely features a total consensus vote—in fact, total consensus is impossible because players cannot vote for themselves. At the end of this episode, two players vote against Rob’s cohort—meaning that not all players who he tried to establish his leadership over remained loyal to him “completely” during the performative. Here, I take a note from Austin’s lectures and fiddle with the meaning of this requirement; those that do follow Rob are able to carry out their plan completely by voting out someone who is in the out-group, thereby completely following through with Rob’s desires even if he didn’t manage to establish authority over all members. In Survivor, a simple majority is felicity.

     Ultimately, just like Austin’s attempts to define performativity, performative authority continues to be an elusive concept. This is particularly so when we move out of Survivor’s realm of more clearly defined felicity terms and social expectations. In the real world, how do we determine the origin or success of a person’s authority? What happens when a person who is given authority through a performative (a professor, a parent, a boss) is less effective than another person in a group at performing their own authority? Who has the true authority in that situation, the person who was told they have authority or the one who has cultivated the appropriate perlocutionary effect within the members of their in-group?

     Performative authority is an imperfect theory, and yet it may yield some interesting insights into the structures of power that we encounter day to day. As we recognize our own authority as something that often comes more from within our own ability to act rather than an external force that is placed upon us, we can become more active agents in life.   


Works Cited

Austin, John Langshaw. “Lecture II.” How To Do Things With Words, E-book ed., Barakaldo Books, pp. 18–19.

Austin, John Langshaw. “Lecture III.” How To Do Things With Words, E-book ed., Barakaldo Books, pp. 30–32.

“Survivor.” IMDb, IMDb.com, 31 May 2000, https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0239195/.

“You’re Looking at the New Leader of Your Tribe.” Survivor, Season 22: Redemption Island, Episode 1, CBS Productions, 2011.

 

 

[1] More frequently referred to as “Boston Rob” both on the show and by the Survivor fanbase.

[2] This refers to the meeting where a tribe discusses and then votes out one of their members.

[3] A clear example of unknowledgeable locution is illustrated by the following cut-away quote from tribemate Matt Elrod, speaking of another player who tried to assert authority: “If you’re doing something that is counterproductive, Phil will call you out on it. And it’s not well-received on the very first day” (38:10). Phil’s locution has a negative perlocutionary effect because he does not know the right balance to strike.

[4] Russell is known for playing a cutthroat game of backstabbing, lying, blackmailing, threatening, and betraying in order to get to the end. He also tends to keep one or two younger women with him as faithful allies who have social skills to get into conversations where his tactics won’t work. This has led to him being labeled as “evil” in other seasons, such as when he was put on the “villains” team in Season 20: Heroes vs. Villains.

[5] This is as close as I dare get to mentioning Derrida.