Recognition within ethics requires discretion, reflection and relationship. It demands that staff not only apply rules, but remain present to those affected. It requires that systems include space for testimony, override and repair. It insists that ethics be practiced, not just cited.
The author closes with a civic truth: ethics without recognition is procedure, ethics with recognition is presence. It is what allows care to be held, not just declared.
Recognition and Power One proposes that recognition is not distributed equally. It is shaped by power, who designs the system, who sets the criteria and who is authorised to speak. In automated institutions, recognition often follows hierarchy: systems recognise those who fit and silence those who don’t.
Power determines visibility. A professional title may grant instant legitimacy, a postcode may trigger suspicion, a diagnosis may unlock support—or deny it. The author notes that recognition is not just about being seen, it is about being seen as valid.
This power is structural and it is embedded in forms, thresholds and protocols. A citizen may speak clearly, but if their words don’t match the system’s categories, they are not recognised. A staff member may exercise judgement, but if the override is undocumented, it does not exist. The author calls this procedural erasure, when presence is made invisible by design.
Recognition also reflects cultural power. Certain ways of speaking, dressing, or presenting are read as credible, others are dismissed. The author observes that neurodivergent, disabled, racialised and working-class citizens are often misrecognised, not because they are unclear, but because the system is not built to hear them.
To challenge this, institutions must redesign recognition. This means revising criteria, expanding categories and restoring discretion. It means training staff to recognise difference; from the top down, not as deviation, but as civic presence. It means documenting testimony, not just data.
One proposes a civic principle: recognition must be answerable. If a system fails to recognise someone, it must be possible to contest that failure. This requires dialogic records, override pathways and public accountability. Recognition must not be a gate, it must be a relationship.
The author closes this section with a civic truth: power shapes recognition, but recognition can also reshape power—when someone speaks, when someone listens and when the record begins to hold what was once refused. Recognition is not a gesture it is a structure, it determines who is seen, who is heard and who is allowed to matter, by describing how systems misrecognise those who do not fit and how staff and citizens reclaim visibility through testimony, discretion and repair. These are not isolated acts. They are civic thresholds.
