The Tier System of Things: Vague Name, Vaguer Usage

luke burrows
Jul 21, 2017 · 13 min read

Like all things that are good in life, I thought of the idea for this article at a brunch. Somehow or another, the conversation lead me and my compadres to the topic of California. Some of us had visited, while others, including myself, had not. To me, California is a far-off, wonderful land that I’ll hear about every now and then. Like a few other states, my knowledge of the place is well below that of the general public’s. I know movies are made there, they have like twelve basketball teams, and that’s about it. My perception of the Golden State is extremely limited and narrow. What I understand about the place is either surface level knowledge, or it’s information I’ve impregnated my mind with from TV shows and discussions with people who have been there; stuff that is probably not even all that true, and definitely not all there is to know about California. But in my wonderful ignorance of the nation’s most populous state, I find a fulfilling and meaningful positioning of myth, where facts cross with falsities and the result is a thing as mysterious to me as it is enjoyable.

There are things in life that we very little about, yet whose existence in our transcultural sphere of mutual knowledge is rarely acknowledged. I know that California exists, not much more. Thus, I tried explaining to my brunchmates that I didn’t want to know anything else about California. I was much more comfortable only knowing the basic and un-nuanced perception of the place. It was blissful ignorance. Yet still, my fellow brunchers were confused.

I tried explaining this yearning to keep California a mystery by furthering my opinions on the ultra-popular Infinite Jest. I’ll be honest right now and say that not only have I never read Infinite Jest, but I do not plan on reading it, nor do I know the first thing about it’s plot, characters, structure, meaning, significance, or author. It’s a book, right? Like, I’m honestly not even sure if it’s fiction or non-fiction. Infinite Jest is a thing of mystery and intrigue. But it’s also a thing of infinite possibilities and postures (eh, “infinite,” eh?). Like our favorite characters in movies and our favorite made up places in books, things with which we know nothing about have staggering potential in our ignorance of their actual essence. Who is Harry Potter? He is no more than the image and characteristics I prescribe to him. In a similar manner, what is Infinite Jest? What is California? They are nothing more than beautiful projections, the ones which my extremely biased perception chooses. With great ignorance on a topic or thing, an equally as great potential for our imaginations becomes possible.

After playing with this idea on the malleability of undiscovered things, me and my brunchmates thought it would be easiest to separate these things from those things which we have discovered — things we have given thought, investigation, and therefore, an identity. We decided that one could manage three distinct categories, or tiers, defining things by one’s level of familiarity and bias. These three tiers include: 1) things which one knows nothing about; 2) things which one shares the mainstream perception or understanding of; and 3) things which one is a “fan” of. And thus, the Tier System of Things (patent pending) was born! With each tier comes a unique brand of character. We soon noticed that the purpose served by particular things changes from tier to tier. By dividing them into classifiable divisions, the various artifacts of cultural and social significance in our lives are given new purpose and meaning. In the following paragraphs, I’ll explain what exactly each tier means, some things I personally place in each tier, how each tier is populated by the things in our lives, what exactly it means for a thing to be located in each tier, and how/why things move between tiers. This last point of interest has special importance when considering things as nothing more than vessels for the meaning we bestow upon them. This all probably makes zero sense so far. Great! Excellent start! Now let’s look at some muthah fucking TIERS, BABY!!!

Source: CA.gov

Tier 1: Things Which One Knows Nothing About

This is the tier of California. I know basically nothing about California other than the name designated for its evocation. I don’t even know what the capital of California is. (It’s Los Angeles, isn’t it? I’m not gonna look it up though — this is tier ONE, dude). In this tier, we find the things in our lives which we’ve heard about, but only at the shallowest of levels. Your interactions with a Tier 1 thing are extremely sparse to non-existent. Tier 1 things are inherently nebulous, unable to define due to our essential lack of knowledge on the thing. For me, Tier 1 things include the aforementioned California and Infinite Jest, but also things like herbal medicine, the movie Lawrence of Arabia, and the art of fletching. It should be difficult — as it was for me — to discern things that fall under the Tier 1 classification, as these are things that you can only name and no more. For instance, fletching is a thing — I know it is an activity that demands movement and diligence — but what exactly it entails, with whatever accompaniments or environment, I could not tell you. (I think it involves tools?)

To be sure, most adults who have become inculcated with American common knowledge and cultural knowhow will have a hard time naming things which they know nothing more about. It is for this reason Tier 1 contains the fewest amount of things. Most would consider this a beneficial truth though. To have heard of something but not know exactly what it is, some would find disheartening and frustrating. I asked my companion brunchers what things they would consider Tier 1, and my favorite response may have been from my cousin, Aldea: “Game of Thrones, for sure,” she said. Now, for me, Game of Thrones is a Tier 2 thing (which I’ll explain shortly), but I love the fact that Aldea has been able to refrain from acquiring any knowledge on one of the most popular televised trends in recent history. Aldea’s remarkable lack of learning on something so far reaching and personally meaningful for many across the Western world (and possibly beyond) demonstrates the magical potential of Tier 1 things. The mystery that shrouds Tier 1 allows us to negotiate and mold these things however we wish. For Aldea, Game of Thrones might as well be a show about talking dogs who fight crime (Aldea, if you’re reading this…it’s not). The things of Tier 1 emit a gleeful ignorance. We can be blissful in the fact that these things have not yet taken any discernible form yet. They are names, labels, and identities that lack a character, essence, or being. Once we become entirely conscious of our own incomprehension of these things, we are shed of the responsibility to define these things. They are free of phenomenological constraints, meaningless until we designate them meaning.

Yet this beckons an important point for Tier 1 and its inhabitants. Some people may not consider lack of meaning a necessarily “good” characteristic. A lack of understanding could mean for some the burden to pursuit understanding. This is where the distinction between Tier 1 and Tier 2 becomes grey. When does something move from 1 to 2? After all, you can want for a thing to move from Tier 1 to 2 and it could still be considered Tier 1. The whole purpose of discerning between the two categories is in acknowledging your absence of thought on a matter. Often times, when Tier 1 things become the focus of a conversation, our minds can play tricks on our overly confident egos. When Tier 1 things arise in dialogue, we often operate as if it were a Tier 2 thing. Because the thing itself sounds familiar — because its existence is known to us — we operate as if we know the thing’s meaning, utility, and importance. For some Tier 1 things, we may choose to remain ignorant, to stay back in the darkness, hidden from the perceptions the rest of society ascribes to a Tier 1 thing. For other things in the Tier, we may choose to use our recognition of their inclusion in Tier 1 to play student when the topic is brought up, or to seek further information on our own, so that we can confidently say that we are not just pretending to know a thing more than we actually know it. Next time something is brought up in a conversation of yours and you think, “Oh, I’ve heard of that thing!” Ask yourself earnestly, “Is this actually something I know about, or is this only something I’ve heard of?” You may be pleasantly surprised by how little you actually know. The revelation of Tier 1 things is an exciting opportunity for many, whether we choose to remain ignorant of them or chase a higher education on the matter. They have the highest potential for furthering knowledge, whether its a fantastic, imaginary characterization we give them (like California), or the actual, agreed-upon definition as bestowed by the rest of humanity (like fletching, which I just discovered is something having to do with arrows???). Either way, I think it’s worth one’s time to consider the Tier 1 things in their own life. Recognizing the Tier 1 things often naturally leads one to the things in the highest populated Tier…

Source: Cartoonmovement.com

Tier 2: Things Which One Shares The Mainstream Understanding Of

This is an interesting Tier, as it is the hardest to define, yet it contains the highest number of things for most people. These are things which we know the name ascribed to them as well as the common definition. From Tier 1, Tier 2 things have been interacted with at a slightly deeper level. These are things we have investigated enough to be comfortable saying we are familiar with, yet not experts of. Admittedly, the line between Tiers 1 and 2 (and Tiers 2 and 3) is both arbitrary and fluid. Though as we agreed upon at brunch that day, Tier 2 things become such the moment one discovers their significance as a reflection of their body, whether it be a book, a person, a place, an issue, an ideology, etc. Consider my knowledge of Game of Thrones. Okay, so I’ve never seen the show or read the books. But I could name a few characters, and I even know the genre, form, and most importantly, the cultural significance the show plays in a world so obsessed with its presence. Other Tier 2 things for me include: skydiving, Oprah Winfrey, Liberalism, coding and coffee, surfing and serfs, anteaters and the Andromeda Galaxy, as well as most other things in my life. Undoubtedly, the vast majority of movies, literature, tv shows, and various media in our lives could be shelved under Tier 2. We know enough about these things to hold a conversation on them, however short and surface level the conversation may be.

I think that the prototypical Tier 2 thing for most Americans could be our communal negotiation of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. There persist a million differing perspectives surrounding the mega-controversy that has cloaked the Middle East in conflict since World War II. Yet I doubt I’ll ever meet someone who admits, “I know nothing about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.” Most of us, in our echo chambered, self-affirming, social media lives will admit we don’t know everything about the Arab crisis, but are confident enough to posit a point or two when some drunk guy at the function throws the word “occupation” out there like the whole ensuing dialogue will be some underhanded softball league of a discussion. It’s a topic that usually ends where it begins, and while debating the matter here would be incredibly unproductive, I think it’s safe to say that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is and always will remain a Tier 2 thing for the world outside of Israel and Palestine.

The point I’m attempting here is that Tier 2 things, like Tier 1 things, leave room for improvement. They lack the ambiguity and mystery of Tier 1 California, but they instead carry a different communicative agency. With Tier 2 things, we find a higher universality. The potential is in finding similarities with others who share Tier 2 status with you. As more and more things are added to one’s Tier 2 repertoire, jokes make more sense, allusions acquire meaning, communications through symbolic framings becomes easier. There is also worth in keeping things within the confines of Tier 2, limiting them from their Tier 3 potential (which I’ll describe in just a second). At Tier 2, it becomes markedly easier to acknowledge and control one’s bias. At Tier 2, things more so remain a fragment of the cultural milieu they exist in, where, compared to Tier 3, it is easier to agree upon their purpose. As we will note just the opposite of in Tier 3, Tier 2 things possess a common communicative connotation. They can be appreciated by a wider audience because that audience shares a similar, if not congruent, definition of that thing. This idea is weird, I know. But maybe things become clearer with a more thorough synopsis of our final tier…

Source: Nerve.com

Tier 3: Things Which One Is A “Fan” Of

Ah, Tier 3. This is an excellent place. This is where one’s fascination with a thing begins to impact their very understanding of the thing, for better or for worse. In Tier 3 belongs things with which one can relate to on a more idiosyncratic level. From Tier 2 to 3, the thing of question changes from a reference — a particle of cultural relevance — to an item of personal import. The things in this tier have the unique capability to remain understandable at a more widespread level, yet they are also tainted by perceptions of the thing distinct to the individual. For instance, my appreciation of the television show 30 Rock has permeated Tier 2, reaching the lesser populated Tier 3. My own impression of 30 Rock has reached a point where it is more informed by personal experiences with the show (i.e. dozens of viewings of each and every episode) than it is by a societal conception of the show. In other words, Tier 3 things take into account one’s own opinion of a thing to a greater degree than everyone else’s opinion. These are things we like to claim as our own. These are things we LOOOOOOVE. These are things we would boast we are a “fan” of. For me personally, I include things like 30 Rock, documentaries on religious groups, the NBA, and seafood in Tier 3.

Understandably, the foggy line dividing Tier 2 and 3 is hard to crystalize. When does something retain more personal meaning than societal meaning? Can’t things be both? Of course! This is why things in Tier 3 are always self-identified, like all things in this completely arbitrary and pointless Tier System of Things. Only an individual can claim what is or is not in his or her Tier 3. Typically, however, the rationale leveled by dissecting our Tier 3 occupants is constant across individuals with widely differing interests. Whereas Tier 2 things are communicative in their ability to resonate with you and a larger audience, Tier 3 things are communicative in that they convey a sense of one’s own identity; they are indicators of personal conviction and liveliness. They may be things you talk about on first dates. They may be things you have all around your home. They may be things you have tattooed on your body. Whatever, the cause, these are things you are passionate about. You will talk about them for hours and hours, moving past convivial conversation and into more lively debate.

This helps beckon the question: Does one necessarily have to like Tier 3 things? Historians who study dictatorships surely would put Stalin and Hitler in their Tier 3. But when asked if they were “fans” of these men, they may hesitate before speaking. For this reason, I think it may be more inclusive to say that Tier 3 things are not necessarily likable things. The differentiating point of Tier 3 things— and the ultimate impact of their existence — is that they cannot be divulged and explored in dialogue without noticeable bias. Think of something you would classify as Tier 3 and imagine a scenario in which that thing is brought up in conversation, formal or informal. How do you react to its utterance? Are you unfazed? Does your mind immediately run to personal experiences with the thing? Are you able to remain neutrally engaged with the mental environment created by an exploration of this thing? Whether this thing is examined by yourself, with friends, or with colleagues, the very mention of this thing evokes some emotion or impulse within you. It upsets, it irks, it stirs and brews, it creates some sort of life inside of you that Tier 1 and 2 things do not. By looking inward and finding our Tier 3 things, maybe we can have a better chance at recognizing our own biases and favoritisms. Tier 3 things bring out the most of our character, saying the most about how we define ourselves.


The Tier System of Things is really quite stupid. In the end, we shouldn’t be relying on foolishly contrived systems of organization to define who we are. At our cores, we are related insomuch as we are distant to one another. The human condition is certainly a condition of sorts, as inescapable as it is individualistic. But there is some worth to be found in the Tier System of Things, I think. It is a comprehensive tool for admitting our lack of knowledge, our middle-of-the-road appreciation, and our biases towards the greatest people, places, and things in our lives. More importantly, as it has not been mentioned yet, the Tier System of Things does apply to values, emotions, and abstract concepts as well. What tier does patience fall into for you? How about unmitigated love? Patriotism? Lust? Wonderment? Humor? By taking the time to mentally catalogue your values — what’s important to you, what’s only relevant on a cursory level, and what’s yet to be fully realized. — we can say with greater confidence where our loyalties lie and who our communities of accountability are. Whether it’s something as trivial as a movie about some guy named Lawrence in Arabia or it’s something as substantial as our family and loved ones, I think it could only help to privately investigate our own psyche, checking for unbridled fandoms and unjust prerogatives alike. Also, sometimes it’s just too much fun writing think pieces. Peace.

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