Sec­tion 4 presents a dis­turb­ing view of soci­etal con­trol in Flat­land, par­tic­u­lar­ly how irreg­u­lar or dis­con­tent­ed cit­i­zens are dealt with by the rul­ing Cir­cles. Those who do not meet the strict stan­dards of shape may find them­selves con­fined for life in state insti­tu­tions under the pre­tense of reha­bil­i­ta­tion. A few of the most rebel­lious or hope­less­ly flawed are exe­cut­ed with­out fan­fare, con­sid­ered a threat to the sta­bil­i­ty of the realm. To sup­press unrest, espe­cial­ly among the Isosce­les class, the author­i­ties use decep­tion and divi­sion. Sol­diers loy­al to the Cir­cles are deployed quick­ly dur­ing such crises, or ten­sions are sub­tly encour­aged among the dis­senters them­selves, prompt­ing them to turn on one anoth­er. Rebel­lions have occurred hun­dreds of times in Flatland’s record­ed his­to­ry, but all have end­ed in sup­pres­sion or self-destruc­tion. What may seem like a spon­ta­neous upris­ing is often the result of deeply root­ed sys­temic injus­tice, hid­den beneath the smooth sur­face of order and con­for­mi­ty.

The top­ic then shifts to the most feared mem­bers of Flat­land soci­ety: the Women. Despite being the low­est class, their phys­i­cal form makes them extra­or­di­nar­i­ly dan­ger­ous. With no angles or sides, they are reduced to sharp lines—comparable to needles—and can ren­der them­selves near­ly invis­i­ble when viewed head-on. This makes acci­den­tal con­tact with a Woman poten­tial­ly fatal, par­tic­u­lar­ly in crowd­ed or poor­ly lit areas. For this rea­son, strict laws were cre­at­ed to reg­u­late their move­ment and pres­ence in pub­lic. They must enter build­ings through a des­ig­nat­ed entrance and are required to emit a con­tin­u­ous “peace-cry” to warn oth­ers of their approach. Any woman who is ill or has invol­un­tary move­ments is con­sid­ered a pub­lic dan­ger and is exe­cut­ed. In some regions, addi­tion­al laws demand that Women sway their backs vis­i­bly or be escort­ed by male rel­a­tives, reflect­ing the fear and mis­trust deeply woven into the legal fab­ric of Flat­land.

How­ev­er, these laws have not always result­ed in social har­mo­ny. Exces­sive restric­tions have, at times, trig­gered vio­lent retal­i­a­tion from women. His­to­ry records instances where entire vil­lages were wiped out in a mat­ter of hours dur­ing coor­di­nat­ed female revolts, sparked by long peri­ods of forced con­fine­ment or oppres­sive reg­u­la­tion. Even the gov­ern­ing Cir­cles have acknowl­edged that over­ly harsh laws can desta­bi­lize soci­ety rather than pro­tect it. As such, the min­i­mal set of laws—public entrance eti­quette, the peace-cry, and vis­i­ble movement—have become the stan­dard in more bal­anced states. Iron­i­cal­ly, the most effec­tive safe­guard isn’t law, but the Woman’s own risk of injury. If she can­not dis­en­gage after attack­ing, her frag­ile body may be shat­tered. This nat­ur­al con­se­quence ensures a lev­el of cau­tion in her actions that leg­is­la­tion alone can­not enforce.

Social fash­ion also plays a role in behav­ioral con­trol. In well-gov­erned areas, ladies of sta­tus instinc­tive­ly sway their backs to sig­nal their pres­ence, a ges­ture passed down through imi­ta­tion rather than law. The ele­gant, rhyth­mic sway of upper-class women is admired and copied by low­er-rank­ing females. This chain of imitation—from Cir­cles down to Isosceles—helps pro­mote pub­lic safe­ty and vis­i­bil­i­ty, reduc­ing the chance of acci­den­tal deaths. In elite house­holds, this prac­tice is uni­ver­sal, giv­ing their men a safer domes­tic envi­ron­ment. Though this behav­ior orig­i­nat­ed in fear, it evolved into a cul­tur­al stan­dard, upheld by tra­di­tion and social pres­sure. Thus, while legal codes attempt to gov­ern, it is habit and sta­tus that often prove more effec­tive in shap­ing every­day life. The lines between law, cus­tom, and sur­vival are thin but care­ful­ly main­tained.

Emo­tion­al­ly, women in Flat­land are not con­sid­ered heart­less, but their reac­tions are described as dan­ger­ous­ly impul­sive. Lack­ing angles, and thus intel­li­gence by Flatland’s stan­dards, they are said to be dri­ven entire­ly by imme­di­ate emo­tion. In moments of anger, they may com­mit vio­lent acts with­out mem­o­ry or remorse. The nar­ra­tor recalls a case in which a Woman destroyed her fam­i­ly dur­ing a fit of rage, only to inquire short­ly after where they had gone. This lack of fore­sight and mem­o­ry is not viewed with com­pas­sion but treat­ed as a flaw to be con­tained. Apart­ments are built to pre­vent women from turn­ing, ren­der­ing them harm­less and for­get­ful after brief peri­ods. It’s a cold solu­tion, one that val­ues con­trol over under­stand­ing. Still, most fam­i­lies func­tion with­out chaos, par­tic­u­lar­ly out­side the mil­i­tary class­es, where tact and care­ful speech help avoid vio­lent out­bursts.

Among the low­er mil­i­tary ranks, how­ev­er, dis­as­ter is more com­mon. The men, con­fi­dent in their sharp angles and used to com­mand­ing oth­ers, often pro­voke their wives unin­ten­tion­al­ly. Lack­ing the social grace and aware­ness found in high­er ranks, they mis­judge how to deesca­late a sit­u­a­tion. The result is often trag­ic and avoid­able. Domes­tic peace in Flat­land depends not on love or empa­thy, but on spa­tial lim­i­ta­tions and behav­ioral con­di­tion­ing. What emerges is a por­trait of a soci­ety where fear, geom­e­try, and pow­er main­tain order—at the cost of mutu­al respect.