When Stories Start Questioning Authority

Storytelling plays a vital role in restoring balance when those in authority abuse their power.

I always had a problem with authority. Not the "troublemaker at the back of the classroom" kind of problem. Rather, I struggled to understand why I should follow someone’s order just because they were older than me. 

I would ask relentless questions, always wanting to understand the "why" behind the injunctions. That didn’t sit well with many adults, but it helped me develop a healthy, natural distrust of the authoritarian forms I would encounter at some point in my life. That distrust is what motivated me to become an investigative journalist in college.

Like many others on that path, I was drawn to uncover the truth and share it with the public. The fourth estate, acting as a countervailing power against greedy corporate and political interests, was the narrative that kept my dream alive through college and into my early professional experiences, with films like All the President’s Men (1976) and Good Night, and Good Luck (2005) serving as my lighthouse.

Both stories focus on individuals who decide to fight powerful figures, armed with their integrity and a relentless will to defend the truth and the public's right to know. In doing so, they must confront not only lies but also the formidable resources and authority wielded by the very people — Joseph McCarthy in Good Night and Richard Nixon in President’s Men — they chose to investigate. But in the end, just like any good story, truth and justice triumph over corruption and wrongdoing.

Holding powerful people accountable in the interest of the people was an appealing theme, one that motivates aspiring journalists to grab a sling and face Goliath. But to me, those stories carried something deeper than simply uncovering the truth.

They question authority.

One held by elected leaders. One held by corporations. Even the most important figure in the US government, and all the powers it carries, could be called into question.

But what stood out to me most was that they did it the same way I did as a kid: through rigorous, persistent questioning of those authorities’ power rather than shouting slogans or using weapons. 

The Human Needs Behind Authority 

Authority figures exert a powerful influence on our behavior. Parents shape their children's lives, teachers affect the education of entire classrooms, and political leaders guide entire nations. Through their actions and decisions, these figures shape our perceptions, beliefs, and choices. In doing so, they influence the values and assumptions of entire communities.

The reason authority figures are so powerful in stories is that they satisfy a very human desire: the desire for certainty. By providing guidance, imposing rules, and wielding power beyond simple commands, they create a sense of stability, comfort, and reassurance

Some of the films and TV shows I enjoyed most reflect those cravings, such as Independence Day (1996) and The West Wing (1999-2006). In both stories, the president and his team are dedicated, competent people, ready to put themselves on the front lines for the people they represent, and always prioritizing the greater good over political partisanship. 

Those storytelling tropes are deeply appealing to the stubborn child that I was. Who could blame me for seeking decency and morality when our elected officials keep piling up scandal after scandal, and when they aren’t bickering with each other in the media? 

Yet stories that reassure us about authority are only half of the picture. Other films remind us what can happen when authority is accepted without scrutiny. In A Few Good Men (1992), the courtroom confrontation between Tom Cruise's Daniel Kaffee and Jack Nicholson's Colonel Jessep is more than about the two Marines accused of murdering one of their colleagues; it's about how far blindly following orders can lead to, even within your ranks.

Torn between his loyalty to the Marine Corps and his role as a lawyer, Kaffee has become the quintessential Aaron Sorkin protagonist, caught between his principles and his sense of belonging. This internal conflict is what makes stories that challenge authority so appealing.

The Appeal of Challenging Power

I find those stories especially compelling when they follow the point of view of individuals who are way over their heads, yet, by sheer determination and goodwill, manage to vindicate the people against those authorities. And what better personification of an ordinary protagonist taking the bull by the horns than Erin Brockovich (2000)? 

By celebrating the fight of a single mother who takes on a powerful energy corporation after discovering that it is poisoning a town’s water supply, Steven Soderbergh and Julia Roberts not only exemplify the fight of an individual against corporate greed and indifference but also show that they can do so while balancing the hardships of their personal life and caring for their community.

Erin Brockovich’s story resonates because it taps into our inner need for justice and our will to support the little guy against a faceless Goliath. The threat could be a belief system, a corporation, or political powers. They are characterized by individuals or shadows that loom over the protagonists’ entire lives, exerting complete control over the system.

That fight over the system is especially evident in stories where the legal system's corruption is the antagonist and involves whistleblowers, investigations, threats, and ethical dilemmas. Think of The Insider (1999), in which a former tobacco executive becomes a whistleblower to expose nicotine's addictive properties. 

Michael Mann’s brilliant (and underrated) thriller offers a definitive look at the battle between individual conscience and corporate power, with the authoritarian figure not a government but a multibillion-dollar industry. Throughout the story, the protagonists uncover the layers of the issues until their entire way of thinking is called into question. By the time the end credits rolled, the film left me with a palpable sense of paranoia and an appreciation for the immense pressure whistleblowers face.

No wonder All the President’s Men became a reference film for me as I grew up. Woodward and Bernstein’s investigation into the Watergate scandal stands out for portraying dissent not as rebellion but as meticulous, professional diligence. Pakula and Goldman convey the immense, grinding effort required to hold power accountable through institutional checks and balances. Those elements make questioning authority an engaging pursuit. 

What Questioning Authority Can Teach Us

Questioning authority isn’t about rebellion. It’s about accountability and progress. It fosters critical thinking, prevents abuse, and drives positive change in society. When balanced with respect and evidence, it becomes a powerful tool for growth.

Of course, questioning authority is not the same as rejecting expertise. A healthy society requires both scrutiny and trust. The challenge is learning when to place confidence in authority and when to investigate it.

I mostly used films based on real-life events to illustrate my arguments, but many other fictional stories manage to create a keen sense of distrust toward authority with a broad appeal. Recently, Tony Gilroy brought his unparalleled skills in writing tense political thrillers to Star Wars with the TV show Andor (2022-2025).

Although Star Wars was always political, none of the films were as explicit in depicting the rise of fascism as Gilroy's contribution. By following the rise of the rebellion against the Galactic Empire, Andor steps away from the operatic fantasy Lucas created to tell a story at the people’s level, in a style more reminiscent of John le Carré and Tom Clancy than of the Flash Gordon serials that inspired Lucas.

What all those stories have in common is that they show that every change begins with a question. One that someone kept asking about.

And perhaps that’s what questioning authority is really about: asking questions and paying attention rather than reacting. When someone takes the time to sit back and think critically, they can channel their original childhood stubbornness into constructive skepticism.