Last night I read one of the classics of war satire called The Adventurous Simplicissimus. In this book I found a wonderful metaphor for rankism as a tree.

The peasants and vagabonds on the lower branches suffer enormous hardship, though people on slightly higher branches try to boss around and rob the people below them.

Above the level of the commoners, there is a smooth, slippery part of the trunk that no one can climb. Above the smooth part are the various perches for the nobility. A bird flying overhead occasionally shakes out a pan of gold over the tree. Those sitting in the “highest and happiest” places catch all the gold, while little or nothing sifts down to the bottom where the commoners fight over scraps and die of hunger.