The interview mentions where the phrase, "identity politics," originated. It emanates from a queer, Black feminist collective termed the "Combahee River Collective." I like how he defines identity politics, as being about...
"Who you are, where you stand in society, affects what you know, it affects what you want, it affects what you can do. Those are things worth self-consciously taking into account."I refer you, as well, to an excellent Boston Review piece where Táíwò expresses his greatest concern about elites involving the (mis)use of identity politics:
"Identity politics is deployed by elites in the service of their own interests, rather than in the service of the vulnerable people they often claim to represent."
Both pieces ground their critique of identity politics in alignment with the intent behind the Combahee River Collective's use of the phrase. They viewed it as positive and desirable when marshaled in the context of coalitions to address common problems across difference. It was never about fostering group exclusivity where one identity group only works with others who look like, or identify with, them.
For Táíwò, elite capture is a kind of "system behavior," instead of a conspiracy. My only concern here is that any close reading of Nancy MacLean's Democracy in Chains, Jane Mayer's Dark Money: The Hidden History of the Billionaires Behind the Rise of the Radical Right, or, for that matter, Project 2025: Mandate for Leadership, the Conservative Promise—that crystalizes the decades-long, neoliberal agenda investigated by MacLean and Mayer—we must consider that atop system dynamics are nefarious plans to de-democratize, corporatize, and privatize our institutions and society.
The interview is confusing to me in places, but is overall helpful in thinking about things like tokenism and paternalism to avoid in politics.
On the Uses and Abuses of Identity Politics: The philosopher Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò on the Academy, the elite, and the future of politics.

By Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow | Chronicle of Higher Education
MAY 11, 2022
In the past few years, the Georgetown University philosopher Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò has gained notice for his lucid, subtle writing on such subjects as identity politics, climate change, reparations, and more. He first garnered broad attention with a 2020 essay for the British magazine The Philosopher that explored the limitations of “epistemic deference”: that is, calls “to ‘listen to the most affected’ or ‘centre the most marginalized.’”
In practice, Táíwò wrote, such calls often mean passing the mic to someone like him, because he is Black — even though he is also a tenure-track professor who grew up among the highly educated Nigerian diaspora. Amplifying certain voices on the basis of group membership, he argued, could serve as a merely cosmetic change, leaving structural problems unaddressed. What’s more, compulsory deference is no way to forge authentic relationships. “The same tactics of deference that insulate us from criticism,” he wrote, “also insulate us from connection and transformation.”
Now, building on that essay as well as a related piece in Boston Review, Táíwò has published a short book: Elite Capture: How the Powerful Took Over Identity Politics (and Everything Else). Elite capture, he explains, is a concept that emerged from the study of developing countries. It initially referred to the tendency of the upper class to gain control over foreign aid; in other words, the rich get richer. But the concept has also come to encompass the ways that elites appropriate political projects and monopolize attention.
Elite capture, Táíwò says, is “not a conspiracy” but rather “a kind of system behavior.” Systems are a major theme of the book, a theme Táíwò develops by drawing on the philosophy of games. Another motif is his impatience with the symbolic gestures and efforts to avoid “complicity” that have come to take precedence, in his view, over actual political outcomes.
Elite Capture incorporates sociology, history, and folklore; Táíwò finds pertinent lessons in sources ranging from “The Emperor’s New Clothes” to the Cape Verdean independence movement. For all his focus on the traps systems set for us, he holds out hope that we can recognize those traps and escape them. “Despite all our social programming, we can just do things,” he writes. “We can do the thing that will be punished; we can ignore the potential reward, choose the smaller prize.”
I spoke with Táíwò recently about deference politics, the gamification of contemporary life, and how he sees elite capture playing out in higher education.
Early in the book, you distinguish between the original intent of identity politics and the ways that it’s been distorted. You write that the term was popularized by the 1977 manifesto of the Combahee River Collective, a queer, Black, feminist, socialist organization, and “it was supposed to be about fostering solidarity and collaboration.”
So [the cofounder] Barbara Smith says that when the Combahee River Collective was theorizing around this idea of identity politics, what they were talking about was a kind of right to start somewhere. A right to take your own experiences seriously when you’re thinking about your agendas, your actions, your priorities. Also a sort of political origin, a starting point. You could start off by thinking about your priorities and still end up in coalition with other people, working in concert with other people, and collaborating. And they in fact did that.
But some people have takfen up identity politics in ways that are anti-coalitional in various ways. I don’t think the anti-coalitional impulse is very promising, politically speaking.

