Chapter IV – The Six Faces of Power

 The little prince’s interplanetary journey is actually more of an exploration of the types of power in the present and past, rather than a tour of the universe. Each planet represents a different manifestation of authority — its moral foundation, its illusion of legitimacy, and the way it inevitably decays. The king, the vain man, the drunkard, the businessman, the lamplighter, and the geographer are all faces of the same humanity, each wearing a different mask of rule and submission. 

This chapter examines the three faces of power embodied by these six characters — from capitalism to communism, from the desire to rule to the passion for possession, from the burden of duty to the abstraction of knowledge.

👑 The King – Authority and Legitimacy

“To rule over someone, you must first ensure they can obey.” – The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The King represents the legitimacy of power. Although he appears to simply give orders, his true desire is to establish a system that operates on unquestioning loyalty. Through this figure, Exupéry ironically reflects the concept of “legitimate power” found in absolute monarchies: the King possesses absolute authority, yet there is no one left to command. This paradox exposes the emptiness and meaninglessness inherent in authority itself.

Even though our world today seems to be governed by democratic republics, the nature of power has not changed—only its form. Exupéry’s King serves as an allegorical precursor to modern dictators. Today’s “kings” may no longer wear crowns, but they continue to rule with the same obsession for absolute control. In this sense, the authoritarian regime in Russia or the theocratic system in Iran are contemporary reflections of the illusion of legitimacy that Exupéry portrayed on the King’s planet.

🪞 The Vain Man – Propaganda and Narcissistic Power

“Do you really admire me that much?” – The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The vain man represents the narcissism of politics. Populist leaders do not exist through the results of their actions but through admiration, applause, and visibility. The moment they stop being praised, they cease to exist. For such leaders, power is no longer a means of justice or service, but a stage for self-validation. Their legitimacy depends not on truth, but on image, propaganda, and the constant echo of public approval. Exupéry’s vain man exposes the fragile ego beneath authoritarian charisma.

In literary terms, he reminds me of Dorian Gray — a figure enamored with his own image, denying the decay within. Historically, the comparison to Napoléon Bonaparte seems fitting, especially considering Exupéry’s French background. Today, although such figures may not always hold direct political power, they persist as social media influencers and pseudo-modest intellectual bourgeoisie — modern vain men who cannot live without applause and who feed on validation.

🍷The Drunkard – Social Decay and Cyclical Dependency

“Why do you drink?” – asked the little prince.

“To forget,” replied the drunkard.

The Drunkard is the symbol of a society that locks itself away. This tragic figure drinks to forget his shame, yet he is ashamed of drinking. This paradox traps him in an endless cycle — the more he escapes, the more he depends; the more he forgets, the blinder he becomes.What Exupéry criticizes through this character is not merely an individual weakness, but a collective reflex. Such societies grow addicted to their own dysfunction. They choose amnesia over awareness, comfort over confrontation. And in doing so, they imprison themselves.

On a political level, this is the portrait of a society that refuses to resist. It neither rebels nor questions; it simply watches decay in passive silence. This quiet degradation is made up of individuals who would rather forget tyranny than face it.But one does not heal by forgetting — forgetting only renders the chains invisible.

The Drunkard’s cycle — guilt, escape, guilt again — mirrors a psychological loop familiar to modern life. People often learn to live with pain instead of solving it, mistaking endurance for peace. Yet this “learning” is not strength; it is surrender. It is the slow acceptance of stagnation.

Perhaps the Drunkard’s true tragedy lies here: the answer comes not when we forget, but when we face what we fear.

Sometimes, the problems we magnify — like the Drunkard’s bottle — already carry their answers inside.

That artificial calm born of collective denial — that fleeting euphoria — is nothing but another name for paralysis.

(This image was generated using the Al tool and is inspried by the aesthetic of The Little Prince)