Is every civilization destined to rise… only to eventually fall?
Is there such a thing as a perfect form of government that can stop that fall?
Why do some civilizations thrive for centuries, while others vanish without a trace?
These are the kinds of questions that have haunted humanity for thousands of years.
And more than two thousand years ago, they deeply fascinated a Greek historian named Polybius.
He wasn’t just some dusty scholar tucked away in a library. Polybius had a front-row seat to history. Exiled to Rome as a political hostage, he didn’t waste away in a prison cell. Instead, he found himself living among Rome’s elite — right in the heart of a rising empire. Rather than just observing history, he tried to make sense of it. And in doing so, he asked one of the most powerful questions in political thought:
Can there be anyone, so apathetic or lacking in curiosity to have no desire to understand , by what means & under what form of government the Romans conqured the entire inhabitat world & brought in under absolute control in a time span of barely 53 years?
Like many ancient thinkers, Polybius believed civilizations behaved like living organisms. They go through a natural life cycle: birth, growth, maturity, stagnation, decline, and death. Philosophers like Plato and Aristotle had explored similar ideas, but Polybius took it a step further. He laid out a detailed theory — a cycle of seven political stages — called Anacyclosis.
Anacyclosis: The Political Life Cycle
Stage 1 → No Political Structure
In the beginning, early humans had no political system. No kings, no councils — just small groups struggling to survive in a lawless world. Decisions were made by necessity or mutual understanding, with no long-term leadership.
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Stage 2 → Kingship
Eventually, from this power vacuum, a strong and capable leader emerges — someone brave and wise enough to bring order. He earns the people’s trust, protects them, and builds structure. In gratitude, they grant him authority. Kingship is born.
But over time, the king’s descendants inherit power without earning it. Arrogance creeps in. Justice fades. Kingship begins to rot.
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Stage 3 → Tyranny
Kingship decays into tyranny. Rulers start to govern through fear and cruelty, not wisdom. They exploit the people for personal gain. Discontent simmers.
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Stage 4 → Aristocracy
Eventually, the noblest and wealthiest citizens overthrow the tyrant. They don’t install a new king. Instead, they share power among themselves. An aristocracy is formed.
In its early days, this elite class governs with the public’s interests in mind. But their children grow up pampered, entitled. The noble mission gives way to selfishness.
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Stage 5 → Oligarchy
Aristocracy slips into oligarchy — the selfish rule of a powerful few. Power is hoarded, and inequality deepens. The people suffer under neglect and oppression.
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Stage 6 → Revolution → Democracy
Eventually, the people have had enough. They rise up, overthrow the oligarchs, and swear never to give unchecked power to the few again. They decide that power must lie with the people. Thus, democracy is born — founded on freedom, equality, and collective voice.
For a time, things improve. Prosperity returns. But nothing lasts forever.
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Stage 7 → Democracy Corrupted → Mob Rule
Future generations, born into rights they never fought for, begin to take them for granted. Division spreads. Greed grows.
Charismatic leaders — demagogues — rise. They speak the people’s language but serve only themselves. They inflame anger, manipulate fear, and break down reason.
Democracy unravels. Chaos takes hold.
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Stage 8 → Anarchy → Rise of a New Strongman
Out of the chaos, either anarchy reigns — or a new strongman takes control. He promises order, restores discipline, and begins the cycle anew.
And so, the wheel turns once again.
This is Anacyclosis — Polybius’s theory of a repeating cycle in which each form of government inevitably decays into its corrupted version. Monarchies become tyrannies. Aristocracies turn into oligarchies. Democracies dissolve into mob rule.
It sounds dramatic, but when you look at history, the pattern… kind of checks out.
Take Athens, the crown jewel of ancient Greece. Legend says it began under wise kings like Theseus — the same guy who defeated the Minotaur. Over time, Athens grew wealthier and stronger but fell into the hands of tyrants. Eventually, the people rose up and handed power to aristocrats.
After more political evolution, Athens developed into a direct democracy by the late 5th century BCE — at the height of its cultural and military might.
But then came corruption. Demagogues, pretending to be men of the people, took power and made reckless decisions. The result? A crushing defeat in the Peloponnesian War and the slow death of the Athenian empire.
In the next century, all of Greece ended up ruled by kings again — Alexander the Great and his successors. Full circle. Back to monarchy.
So why did Rome break the cycle — at least temporarily?
That’s the puzzle Polybius tried to solve in his famous Histories. How had Rome conquered the Greek world so easily?
His answer? Rome didn’t get stuck on the Anacyclosis wheel like everyone else.
Rome began with kings, like most civilizations. But by the 6th century BCE, they overthrew their monarchy and built a Republic — run by aristocrats at first, but gradually expanded to include ordinary citizens. And by the 2nd century BCE, during Polybius’s lifetime, the Roman Republic had evolved into something entirely different: a mixed constitution.
Rome’s system blended elements of monarchy (executive magistrates), aristocracy (the Senate), and democracy (popular assemblies and elected officials). Each branch could check the power of the others.
As Polybius wrote:
“Rome’s constitution has three branches, each with its own political power. These powers are distributed and balanced so carefully that you can’t say for sure whether Rome is a monarchy, an aristocracy, or a democracy.”
In modern terms, we’d call this a system of checks and balances. Each branch depended on the others, and none could dominate without being restrained.
He explained further:
If one branch tries to overstep its bounds, the others can block or restrain it. This balance keeps the whole system stable.”
To Polybius, this was Rome’s secret sauce. They hadn’t abolished the political cycle — they’d transcended it by blending the strengths of all forms of government.
But here’s the twist.
Polybius was writing at the height of the Roman Republic — when it still looked like it might last forever.
History, though, had other ideas.
Just about a hundred years later, in the 1st century BCE, Rome’s Republic imploded. And guess what? It collapsed almost exactly the way Polybius had warned.
Discontent was everywhere — among veterans, allies, poor citizens, and even parts of the elite. They all felt cheated out of the rewards of Rome’s success.
Into this chaos stepped power-hungry figures: Marius, Sulla, Pompey, and finally Julius Caesar. They manipulated the system, built personal armies, and turned political conflict into full-blown civil war.
And then came Octavian — Caesar’s adopted heir. He crushed his rivals, took total control, and rebranded himself as Augustus. With him, the Republic died — and the Empire began.
So did Polybius get it wrong?
Not really.
He had just underestimated one thing: nothing lasts forever.
Even Rome, with its clever mixed constitution, couldn’t escape the wheel forever. It just delayed the inevitable.
And that brings us to today.
Polybius’s theory doesn’t just feel ancient — it feels timeless.
Take Nepal, for example. In just a few decades, it transitioned from an absolute monarchy to a constitutional monarchy, fell into civil war, flirted with dictatorship, and eventually became a democratic republic in 2008.
Yet, even now, the system faces instability, infighting, and disillusionment.
The wheel turns.
So maybe Polybius wasn’t just talking about Rome.
Maybe he was talking about us — about human nature, about power.
We like to think history moves in a straight line — always forward. But maybe it’s a circle.
Maybe it’s a story we keep rewriting. Different names, different systems, different flags…
But the same patterns.
Call it history.
Call it politics.
Call it what it really is:
The oldest game we still don’t know how to stop playing.
The Ancient Greek philosophy has acquired a new generation of acolytes. USC Dornsife philosophy professor Ralph Wedgwood explains its appeal.
In 2012, Penguin Random House sold 12,000 copies of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, reflections influenced by the Ancient Greek philosophy Stoicism. In 2019, the book sold 100,000 copies.
YouTube channels devoted to “Modern Stoicism” have millions of subscribers, and Silicon Valley tech millionaires expound its wisdom. What prompted a 2,300-year-old philosophy to stage a comeback in such spectacular fashion?
It may be that Stoicism’s ancient framework for managing emotions feels particularly relevant for navigating modernity’s crises. Our phones buzz ceaselessly with alarm about rising authoritarianism, the threat of nuclear war, or AI’s impending takeover, yet responding constructively to all of these disasters feels impossible.
Enter Stoicism, which urges you to ignore the rage bait, put down the phone and think more constructively. “Men are disturbed not by things, but by the views which they take of them,” says the Stoic Epictetus in his Handbook.
“Stoics think that each of us are finite, limited beings. There are a few things we can control and other things we can’t control, and we should keep track of those things and have different attitudes towards those domains,” says Ralph Wedgwood, director of the School of Philosophy and professor of philosophy at the USC Dornsife College of Letters, Arts and Sciences. “That’s the goal of life, to have this accurate understanding, and to be guided by this.”
Stoicism: The phoenix philosophy
Stoicism was born from disaster and has rerisen, rather Phoenix-like, for centuries. Around 300 B.C., a shipwreck bankrupted a merchant named Zeno and landed him in Athens, Greece. There, he began studying philosophy, eventually developing and teaching his own. He held forth at the Stoa Poikile, a columned walkway from which his acolytes, Stoics, would later draw their name.
For nearly 500 years, the philosophy held great influence in both Greece and the Roman Empire. It was eclipsed over the years by other branches of philosophical thought, and then Christianity. A millennium passed, and Stoicism became mostly forgotten, the vast majority of its texts lost or destroyed, including those of Zeno. (Most of what remains is Roman like the Meditations.)
In the 15th century, the Renaissance’s renewed interest in classical antiquity sent excited scholars diving into the archives to dredge up older ideas. One of these was Stoicism. The debut of the printing press in the 1440s made broad distribution of ideas easier, and Stoicism gained a more permanent cultural foothold, although its popularity would continue to wax and wane over the years.
Although Stoicism’s ascendance seems relatively recent, it’s actually been a somewhat steadily growing, subliminal influence since the 1970s.
Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), a form of talk therapy that encourages patients to rethink their emotional reactions, was directly inspired by Stoicism. Its founder, the psychiatrist Aaron Beck, told an interviewer in 2007, “I also was influenced by the Stoic philosophers who stated that it was a meaning of events rather than the events themselves that affected people.”
CBT is now one of the most popular forms of mental health treatment. Small wonder, then, that Stoicism’s popularity has grown alongside the widespread clinical use of its philosophical relative.
Stoicism as a tool for the warrior scholar
However, unlike traditional therapy, which often conjures up visions of pastel couches and comforting Kleenex, Stoicism has a reputation for tactical, mindful hardiness.
Aurelius wrote down his reflections while planning military campaigns. Navy Officer James Stockdale famously deployed its teachings to help him endure years of torture and imprisonment during the Vietnam War. Stockdale turned in particular to the lectures of Epictetus, who himself suffered as a slave in ancient Rome.
It’s perhaps unsurprising that its current revival has sprung up in large part from the “manosphere” of male podcasters, YouTubers and Substack writers, an association that has some poo-pooing its revival as just a toxic return to repression of male emotions.
Wedgwood, whose USC Dornsife courses include “The Ancient Stoics” (PHIL 416), says that’s an inaccurate understanding of the philosophy. “It’s not about tamping down feelings. For Stoics, it’s about achieving an emotional intelligence, trying to change your habits so they’re not so destructive,” he says.
Stoics criticized emotions like anger, which they regarded as misleading. They analogized the beginnings of anger to being splashed with cold water, the jolt of which makes you feel you must immediately react. “This is an illusion, that somehow revenge would fix the wrong,” says Wedgwood. “Rather than raging or fuming, you should try to have feelings that are productive. We should think of the future rather than avenging the past.”
Women will find the philosophy’s wisdom just as useful; Stoics themselves made a number of egalitarian arguments, observes Wedgwood. “The later Stoics are not social reformers, but they believed women should receive the same education as men and insisted they have the same capacities as men for courage, wisdom and self-control.”
Stoics offer “circles of concern” to guide priorities
In addition to better management of emotions, Stoics offer helpful insight into how to prioritize demands on our time and resources, says Wedgwood. Such a framework may be increasingly helpful in an era in which we’re grappling with how to best respond to the crises of the entire world.
Consider the debate over rebuilding Notre Dame: Effective altruists decried the millions spent to fund the reconstruction of the Notre Dame Cathedral, arguing that the money would have been better spent on lifesaving mosquito tents in Africa. In recent discussions around immigration, Vice President JD Vance revived St. Augustine’s notion of “Ordo Amoris” (“Order of Love”) as a guide to how we deploy our attention and resources.
Stoics have been contemplating the best way to order our priorities since Zeno himself. They proposed that humans inhabit a nested set of circles, a framework of affinity dubbed “Oikeiosis.” The innermost circle was our soul, next came one’s physical body, then various layers of family, after that one’s community, and so on, to the entirety of humankind.
Closer circles are usually given more weight, but those closer to the edge of the ring can still be valued. We may even strive to collapse some of the difference between outer circles at times by treating them as if they inhabited a more inner ring. “For the Stoics, we do not belong to just one whole, we are part of many wholes, called to serve all those many communities,” says Wedgwood.
Hannibal, Missouri made Mark Twain, and, in turn, Twain made Hannibal famous. Few American authors are as closely intertwined — and influenced — by their hometowns as Twain. The childhood years spent in this Missouri town gave birth to some of the most famous characters in American literature, an emotional and memory-filled well that Twain would return to again and again.
Twain came from humble origins
Samuel Langhorne Clemens was born in the tiny town of Florida, Missouri, on November 30, 1835, two weeks after Halley’s Comet made its closest approach to the Earth. He was the sixth of seven children born to John and Jane Clemens. He was a sickly youth, whose parents feared he might not survive, and the family was beset by the tragic early deaths of three of Twain’s siblings.
When Twain was 4 years old, his family moved to the Mississippi River port town of Hannibal, where John worked as a lawyer, storekeeper and judge. John also dabbled in land speculation, leaving the family’s finances often precarious. His son, who would become one of the wealthiest authors in America, would follow in his father’s financially-shaky footsteps as an adult and was prone to speculation and ill-advised investments that would repeatedly threaten his financial security.
Jane was a loving mother, and Twain would later note that he inherited his love of storytelling from her. His father couldn’t have been more different, and Twain later claimed that he had never seen the dour and serious John smile.
His years in Hannibal would be the most formative of his life
Hannibal would be immortalized as the town of “St. Petersburg” in Twain’s works. He would write of lazy days spent in the company of a group of loyal friends. They played games and spent hours and days exploring the surrounding area, including a cave just outside of town that was a favorite of Clemens’ real gang of friends, which would play a key role in Tom Sawyer as the cave where Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher nearly died.
Thatcher was based on Twain’s real-life childhood crush, Laura Hawkins. Like Twain, Hawkins had moved to Hannibal as a child, and her family lived on the same street as the Clemens family. She and Twain were schoolmates and sweethearts, and idealized versions of Laura made their way into several other Twain books, including The Gilded Age. Later in life, Twain and Hawkins rekindled their friendship, with Twain visiting with her in Hannibal and Hawkins traveling east to Twain’s Connecticut home just two years before his death.
Sawyer’s half-brother Sid was based on Twain’s younger brother Henry. The two were quite close, and when Twain began training as a riverboat pilot on the Mississippi, he encouraged Henry to join him. Tragically, Henry was killed in a steamboat explosion at the age of just 20. Twain never forgave himself, and Henry’s death haunted him for the rest of his life.
Twain said he based the character of Sawyer on himself and two childhood friends, John B. Briggs and William Bowen. But many believe that he nicked the character’s name from a hard-drinking, Brooklyn-born fireman named Tom Sawyer who Twain had befriended in the 1860s. Like Twain, Sawyer had worked on riverboats in his youth, and the pair bonded over a series of drinking benders and gambling adventures in San Francisco, Nevada and elsewhere.
Another childhood friend was the inspiration for Huck Finn
Although Twain initially claimed to have invented the character entirely, he later admitted that Finn was based on Tom Blankenship. The son of the town drunkard, Blankenship was nonetheless idolized by the boys of Hannibal, who relished his sense of freedom and easy ways.
As Twain later wrote in his autobiography, “He was ignorant, unwashed, insufficiently fed; but he had as good a heart as ever any boy had. His liberties were totally unrestricted. He was the only really independent person — boy or man — in the community, and by consequence, he was tranquilly and continuously happy and envied by the rest of us.”
The character of Finn, first introduced in “Tom Sawyer” before getting his own book in 1884, was Twain’s most indelible creation — and his most controversial. While enormously influential and still popular more than a century after it was published, the book is also one of the most frequently banned in America, criticized for its use of coarse language, ethnic slurs and its depiction of the runaway enslaved person, Jim, which many consider racist.
The novel shows Twain dealing with the impact of American slavery
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was one of the first American novels to be written entirely using an English vernacular language and dialect, as Twain recalled both the sights and sounds of his youth. It was also Twain’s attempt to reconcile both the darkness and light of his Hannibal years, which were filled with happy childhood memories as well as darker ones, reflecting the realities of the often capriciously violent world of a riverboat town and the lasting effects of racism and slavery.
Twain later admitted he had grown up unquestioningly accepting slavery, before becoming an avowed advocate for Black rights later in life. Missouri was a slave state, and both Twain’s father and several Clemens family members owned enslaved people. As a young boy, Twain spent summers on his uncle’s farm, listening to stories told by its enslaved workers, including an old man named “Uncle Daniel.” Twain also drew on similar stories he heard from formerly enslaved people who worked for his sister-in-law in upstate New York after the Civil War to create his portrait of Jim, and a long-ago story of the Tom Blankenship’s brother’s secret assistance to a runaway enslaved person would inspire Finn’s relationship with Jim.
Twain’s childhood ended early
When young Twain was just 11, his father died, pushing the family to the brink of economic collapse. Twain was forced to leave school and worked a series of jobs before becoming a printer’s apprentice, where he put his burgeoning love of words into tactical practice by setting type. After stints working for his brother’s newspaper and other publishers in the Midwest and East, Twain fulfilled another childhood love fueled by his Hannibal days by becoming a Mississippi River boat pilot. This brief, though happy, phase of his early 20s was also where he acquired the pen name that millions would soon know him by: “Mark Twain,” a term used by captains to mark a water depth of two fathoms, indicating safe passage for their ships.
Although Twain would only work on the Mississippi for a few years before the start of the Civil War, that period, like those in Hannibal before them, left a lasting impression. Twenty years after his riverboat career ended, Twain took a nostalgic journey along the river to New Orleans, inspiring much of his 1883 book, Life on the Mississippi. And as he made his way back up along the river, he made a return visit home to Hannibal, back to where it all began.
Georgism, also known as Geoism or the single tax movement, is an economic philosophy advocating for the public ownership of economic rent derived from land and natural resources. The ideology posits that individuals should own the value they generate, while the value derived from land and other natural resources should be shared among all members of society. Rooted in the writings of Henry George, an American economist and social reformer, Georgism's ideas are encapsulated in his seminal work, Progress and Poverty (1879), which argues that poverty and economic inequality stem from the private ownership of land rent. George believed that taxing the economic rent from land, rather than taxing labor or capital, would lead to a more just and efficient economy.
The main tenet of Georgism is the land value tax (LVT), which taxes the unimproved value of land. Proponents argue that this tax is fair and efficient because it does not penalize productive activities. Instead, it captures the unearned value that accrues to landowners from societal and natural developments. Revenues from LVT can potentially replace other taxes, reduce economic inequality, and provide public services or a basic income to citizens. Georgists argue that land, unlike other forms of wealth, is fixed in supply and its value is created by the community. Therefore, taxing land value does not distort economic incentives or reduce productivity. Economists such as Adam Smith, David Ricardo, and Milton Friedman have recognized that a land value tax does not cause economic inefficiency. In fact, it can lead to better land use, reduce speculation, and promote more equitable wealth distribution.
The concept also extends to other forms of economic rent derived from natural monopolies, pollution rights, and intellectual property. Georgists maintain that capturing these rents for public use can address broader social and ecological issues. The historical context of Georgism shows its rise in popularity in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, influencing political movements and policies. Several communities and political parties, particularly in the United States and Europe, adopted Georgist principles. Notable examples include the Commonwealth Land Party in the U.S. and the Justice Party in Denmark. Despite its historical influence, the direct implementation of Georgist policies has been limited. However, the philosophy has left a lasting impact on economic thought, with land value taxation still considered by many economists as an effective and just means of raising public revenue.
Implementing a land value tax involves accurately assessing the unimproved value of land, which can be challenging. There is also debate over whether existing landowners should be compensated for the shift in tax policy. Some argue for full compensation, while others believe only new increases in land value should be taxed. Successful examples of land value taxation include regions in Australia, Hong Kong, and certain U.S. municipalities. These implementations have demonstrated benefits such as reduced property speculation and better land use, though challenges remain in broader adoption. Georgism also intersects with environmental economics. By taxing land value and capturing rents from natural resource use, it encourages the conservation of natural resources and reduction of pollution. Georgists advocate for policies that limit pollution through taxes or quotas, with revenues used for public benefit or environmental restoration. This approach aligns with ecological economics, which emphasizes the sustainable use of natural resources. By integrating these principles, Georgism offers a framework for addressing both economic and environmental challenges.
Henry George's influence extends beyond his time, as his ideas continue to resonate in modern discussions about economic justice and sustainability. George's assertion that the appropriation of land rent for private use contributes to persistent poverty and economic instability has been supported by various economists throughout history. His proposal for a land value tax was seen as a way to correct these imbalances by ensuring that the benefits of land and natural resources are equitably distributed.
One of the key economic arguments for Georgism is that land, as a fixed resource, gains its value from the community and societal developments around it. Therefore, capturing this value through taxation would not deter productive use but rather encourage it. By taxing land value, speculative holding of land would be discouraged, leading to more efficient and productive use of urban spaces. This would also help alleviate housing shortages and make cities more livable.
Furthermore, Georgism posits that replacing taxes on labor and capital with a land value tax would remove distortions in the economy. Taxes on income and sales are seen as punitive, discouraging work and consumption. In contrast, a land value tax is viewed as non-distortionary because land cannot be hidden or moved to avoid taxation. This makes it a more stable and reliable source of public revenue.
Despite the theoretical appeal of Georgism, practical implementation faces significant hurdles. Accurately assessing land values without including improvements can be complex and contentious. Additionally, the political will to shift from entrenched tax systems to a land value tax is often lacking. However, some regions have successfully implemented versions of land value taxation, showing it can work under the right conditions.
In environmental economics, Georgism's principles provide a compelling argument for sustainable resource use. By taxing the economic rent from natural resources and pollution, Georgism aligns economic incentives with environmental stewardship. This approach can reduce urban sprawl, encourage the preservation of natural areas, and fund environmental restoration projects.
Moreover, Georgism's emphasis on social justice is reflected in its advocacy for the redistribution of tax revenues. This could take the form of a basic income or citizen's dividend, ensuring that all members of society benefit from the collective value of natural resources. This concept aligns with modern ideas of universal basic income, providing a safety net and reducing economic inequality.
Georgist policies have influenced various social and political movements throughout history. In the early 20th century, Georgist ideas were incorporated into the platforms of several political parties and reform movements. These ideas contributed to debates on land reform, taxation, and social justice. Although the direct influence of Georgism has waned, its principles continue to inform contemporary discussions on economic policy and environmental sustainability.
The challenge of integrating Georgist principles into modern economies lies in overcoming the entrenched interests of landowners and the complexities of transitioning to a new tax system. However, the potential benefits of such a transition—reduced inequality, more efficient land use, and sustainable resource management—make Georgism an enduring and relevant economic philosophy.
In conclusion, Georgism offers a vision of economic justice and efficiency through the public capture of land rent. By advocating for a land value tax, Georgists propose a system that aligns economic incentives with social and environmental well-being. While implementation challenges remain, the principles of Georgism continue to inspire discussions on how to create a fairer and more sustainable economy. The legacy of Henry George and his ideas provides a foundation for exploring how economic policies can be designed to benefit all members of society and promote the responsible use of natural resources.
This year marks the centenary of Vladimir Lenin's death, a significant moment in history that warrants reflection on his legacy. Lenin, the architect of the Soviet state, passed away in January 1924 at the age of 53, after a brief but impactful reign. His tenure was marked by the brutal implementation of communist ideology, which laid the foundation for the horrors of the Stalinist era.
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's "The Gulag Archipelago" details the dehumanizing brutality of Stalin's regime, but it is crucial to recognize that these atrocities had their origins in Lenin's rule. Lenin's governance was characterized by widespread terror, arbitrary enforcement, and a complete disregard for human dignity. Estimates of the people tortured, maimed, and murdered under his regime reach well into the millions. However, beyond the sheer number of victims, Lenin's methods of governance were chilling in their systematic and impersonal nature.
Lenin's model of government embraced terror as a means of control. Unlike warnings against bureaucratic overreach, such as President Reagan's famous remark about the dangers of government intervention, Lenin viewed the terrifying power of unlimited government as essential. This approach mirrored that of previous totalitarians like Maximilien de Robespierre, who also employed terror in the pursuit of an ideological utopia.
Lenin, inspired by Karl Marx, translated theoretical ideals into brutal acts. Winston Churchill, in his historical work "The World Crisis," aptly compared Lenin to Marx, highlighting Lenin's ruthless pragmatism in implementing Marxist theories. Lenin's revenge was notably impersonal—while he showed reluctance in killing individuals, he had no qualms about causing mass suffering to entire classes and nations.
Lenin's vision of "true democracy" involved the abolition of traditional democratic institutions. He dismissed freedom of the press as a bourgeois deceit, believing that the state alone should determine the people's interests. This proto-totalitarian idea of the "general will," borrowed from Rousseau, justified the subjugation of individual freedoms for the supposed greater good.
Central to Lenin's ideology was the belief that freedom ultimately belonged to the state, not the individual. He saw people as mere cogs in a vast political machine, a view that stripped away personal agency and autonomy. Although quoting Lenin is now politically unpalatable, his ideas linger in various forms of bureaucratic control and authoritarian impulses.
Today, the resurgence of authoritarian ideologies and the erosion of individual freedoms echo Lenin's legacy. Recent political and social movements have shown an unsettling willingness to rehabilitate figures and ideas once deemed toxic. This includes a troubling trend among some young activists who glorify past tyrannies or embrace radical, anti-democratic rhetoric.
The specter of Leninism manifests in modern efforts to expand state control over various aspects of life, from healthcare and finance to personal freedoms and environmental policies. This growing bureaucratic control, often justified as benevolent oversight, risks replicating the very authoritarian structures Lenin championed.
As we remember Lenin's death a century ago, it is vital to reject his monstrous legacy. The early years of the Bolshevik Revolution brought immense human suffering and societal barbarization. While America has not reached such extremes, the warning signs are evident. Vigilance is necessary to prevent the encroachment of soft tyrannies and to preserve the democratic values that safeguard individual freedom.
The centenary of Lenin's death is a poignant reminder of the dangers of unchecked state power and the importance of maintaining democratic principles. By understanding and rejecting Lenin's legacy, we can strive to prevent the repetition of history's darkest chapters.
The internet, once a symbol of freedom and connectivity, has become a concentrated and fragile system. A few large corporations dominate the market, stifling innovation and limiting access. This is not just a problem for the tech industry, but for society as a whole.
In the 1990s, the internet was seen as a utopia, where information and ideas could flow freely. However, this vision has been compromised by the concentration of power and wealth in the hands of a few. The internet's infrastructure, once a diverse and resilient system, has become a monoculture, vulnerable to collapse.
The consequences of this concentration are far-reaching. Innovation is stifled, as small companies and individuals are unable to compete with the dominant players. Privacy and security are compromised, as personal data is harvested and sold for profit. And the flow of information is controlled, with a few gatekeepers determining what we see and hear.
But there is hope. A new approach, called "rewilding," aims to restore the internet to its former glory. This involves breaking up monopolies, promoting diversity and resilience, and creating a more open and inclusive system.
Rewilding is not just a metaphor, but a concrete plan to restore the internet's ecosystem. It involves recognizing the internet as a damaged system, and working collectively to regenerate its diversity and resilience. This requires a commitment to transparency, accountability, and cooperation.
One key aspect of rewilding is the promotion of interoperability. This means ensuring that different systems and platforms can work together seamlessly, without the need for a single dominant player. This would allow for a more diverse and resilient system, where innovation and competition can thrive.
Another important aspect of rewilding is the recognition of the internet as a public utility. This means acknowledging that the internet is essential to modern life, and that it should be regulated and managed in the public interest. This would involve ensuring that the internet is accessible and affordable for all, and that it is protected from exploitation and manipulation.
The rewilding of the internet is a complex and challenging task, but it is essential for the health of our society. It requires a commitment to transparency, accountability, and cooperation, and a willingness to challenge the dominant players and promote diversity and resilience.
In conclusion, the internet is a damaged ecosystem in need of repair. The concentration of power and wealth in the hands of a few has compromised its diversity and resilience, and has far-reaching consequences for society. But there is hope. The rewilding of the internet offers a new approach, one that promotes diversity, resilience, and the public interest. It is a complex and challenging task, but it is essential for the health of our society.
Here are some key points to consider:
- The internet is a damaged ecosystem, dominated by a few large corporations.
- This concentration of power and wealth has compromised the internet's diversity and resilience.
- Rewilding offers a new approach, one that promotes diversity, resilience, and the public interest.
- Interoperability and the recognition of the internet as a public utility are key aspects of rewilding.
- The rewilding of the internet is a complex and challenging task, but it is essential for the health of our society.
Some possible solutions to consider:
- Breaking up monopolies and promoting competition
- Ensuring interoperability between different systems and platforms
- Recognizing the internet as a public utility and regulating it in the public interest
- Promoting transparency and accountability in the tech industry
- Encouraging cooperation and collaboration to address the challenges facing the internet.
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The New Deal, a pivotal series of programs and reforms enacted by President Franklin D. Roosevelt between 1933 and 1938, aimed to address the devastating effects of the Great Depression in the United States. This comprehensive initiative encompassed public work projects, financial reforms, and regulations, seeking to provide relief, recovery, and reform.
Key components of the New Deal included programs such as the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), the Works Progress Administration (WPA), the Civil Works Administration (CWA), the Farm Security Administration (FSA), the National Industrial Recovery Act of 1933 (NIRA), and the Social Security Administration (SSA). These initiatives aimed to support various segments of society, including farmers, the unemployed, youth, and the elderly.
The New Deal also implemented significant constraints and safeguards on the banking industry and took measures to re-inflate the economy, which had suffered from a sharp decline in prices. The programs were a response to the urgent needs of the time, focusing on providing relief for the unemployed and poor, recovering the economy to pre-depression levels, and reforming the financial system to prevent future economic crises.
Politically, the New Deal led to a realignment, with the Democratic Party becoming the majority party, supported by progressive ideas, the South, big city machines, labor unions, and various ethnic groups. Republicans were divided, with progressive Republicans supporting the New Deal, while conservatives opposed it, viewing it as detrimental to business and economic growth. This realignment solidified into the New Deal coalition, which dominated presidential elections until the 1960s.
Despite its achievements, the New Deal faced criticism and opposition. Conservatives and some historians argue that it expanded federal debt, fostered bureaucracy and administrative inefficiency, and infringed upon free business enterprise. Some critics also contend that the New Deal prolonged the Great Depression and missed opportunities for more radical reforms.
However, supporters of the New Deal maintain that it restored hope and self-respect to millions, built labor unions, upgraded national infrastructure, and saved capitalism from potential collapse. They argue that the New Deal's most significant impact was preserving democracy during a period of uncertainty and crisis.
In conclusion, the New Deal was a transformative period in American history, marked by a series of bold initiatives that aimed to alleviate the suffering caused by the Great Depression. While its impact and legacy continue to be debated, the New Deal's influence on American society and politics cannot be overstated.
Ludwig von Mises, an Austrian-American economist, historian, and sociologist, was born on September 29, 1881, and passed away on October 10, 1973. Mises was a prominent figure in the Austrian School of economics and a staunch advocate for classical liberalism. He is best known for his work on praxeology, a methodology for understanding human action, and his critiques of socialism and communism.
Mises wrote extensively on economics, and his magnum opus, "Human Action," is considered a foundational text of the Austrian School. He argued that economics should be based on praxeology, the study of human action, and that individual subjective values are the driving force behind economic activity. Mises was a strong advocate for laissez-faire economics and argued that government intervention in the economy leads to inefficiencies and economic downturns.
Mises was a vocal critic of socialism and communism, arguing that these systems are based on flawed economic theories and lead to economic and social chaos. In his 1920 article "Economic Calculation in the Socialist Commonwealth," Mises argued that socialist economies cannot efficiently allocate resources because they lack a pricing system. He expanded on this critique in his 1922 book "Socialism: An Economic and Sociological Analysis."
Mises's ideas have had a significant impact on libertarian and conservative movements. His students, including Friedrich Hayek and Murray Rothbard, have gone on to become prominent economists and thinkers in their own right. Mises's work continues to be studied and debated by economists, political scientists, and philosophers around the world.
Mises's views have not been without controversy. Some have criticized his views on fascism, arguing that he was too sympathetic to the movement. However, Mises's biographer, Jörg Guido Hülsmann, argues that these criticisms are based on a misunderstanding of Mises's views. Mises was a strong critic of fascism and nationalism, and he believed that these ideologies were a threat to individual liberty and economic prosperity.
Ludwig von Mises' magnum opus, "Human Action: A Treatise on Economics," is a seminal work that presents a compelling case for laissez-faire capitalism based on praxeology, his innovative method for understanding human decision-making. Widely regarded as a masterpiece of economic thought, this treatise rejects positivism within economics and instead defends an a priori foundation for praxeology, methodological individualism, and laws of self-evident certainty.
Mises argues that the free-market economy is not only superior to any government-planned system but also serves as the very foundation of civilization itself. He contends that market-generated money prices are essential for determining the most highly valued uses for resources to satisfy consumer demands. Furthermore, Mises demonstrates the inconsistencies of piecemeal political intervention in the market economy and the pernicious effects of political control and manipulation of the monetary system.
In Mises' view, government interventions that distort market prices inevitably result in misdirections of resources, including labor, and malinvestments of capital, leading to inflationary upswings followed by inevitable economic downturns. He believed that the market economy was the only system that provided freedom and personal choice to all members of society while generating the means for coordinating the actions of billions of people in the most economically rational manner.
Mises was particularly critical of monetary manipulation by central banks, which he saw as one of the most disruptive distortions to the process of economic calculation. He argued that such manipulation was a key factor in the boom-and-bust cycle of economic activity and that it ultimately led to economic instability and crisis.
The roots of "Human Action" can be traced back to Mises' earlier work, "Nationalökonomie: Theorie des Handelns und Wirtschaftens," which was first published in German in 1940. While "Human Action" was not a direct translation of the earlier work, it used its general framework and expanded on it significantly.
The first edition of "Human Action" was published by Yale University Press in 1949. However, due to production delays, the planned release date of a revised and expanded second edition was pushed back. Mises used this opportunity to negotiate with the publisher and eventually secured a deal with Lyle Munson, publisher of Bookmailer, Inc., to publish the book. The resulting 1963 edition was unfortunately marred by numerous typographical errors, and another edition had to be printed quickly afterwards by another editor.
The third edition, published by Henry Regnery in 1966, was a significant improvement over its predecessors. A posthumous fourth edition was published in 1996, with revisions by Bettina B. Greaves. This edition is available in various formats, including hardback, paperback, and a portable "Pocket Edition" published by the Ludwig von Mises Institute in 2010.
Throughout its various editions, "Human Action" has remained a seminal work in the field of economics, influencing generations of economists.
In our digital age, the impact of technology on our lives is undeniable. From the screens we interact with daily to the data streams we navigate, technology permeates our existence. Bernard Stiegler, a pioneering philosopher of our time, goes beyond the surface effects of digital tools. For Stiegler, technology isn't just about how devices impact our lives or how they're created and used—it's about something deeper: technics.
Technics, for Stiegler, is the essence of human experience. It's what distinguishes us from other species. Our existence is defined by the experiences and knowledge our tools enable, whether it's a cutting-edge brain-computer interface or a primitive axe used for clearing forests. However, technics isn't merely synonymous with technology. As Martin Heidegger noted, the 'essence of technology is by no means anything technological.' Instead, technics is an open-ended creative process, a relationship with our tools and the world.
Stiegler's journey to becoming a leading philosopher of the digital age was unconventional. Born in 1952, he experienced the political upheavals of 1968, which shaped his early worldview. Disenchanted with traditional Marxism and the political trends of the time, Stiegler sought new ways to understand the rapid rise of electronic technology. He realized that technology was redefining our relationship with ourselves, the world, and each other. To account for these changes, Stiegler believed philosophy needed to be rewritten from the perspective of technics.
His time in prison for armed robbery became a turning point. In his cell, Stiegler immersed himself in philosophy, exploring ideas that would shape his later work. He came to see technics as a fundamental aspect of human existence, tied to our ability to store and preserve knowledge through tools like books and archives.
Stiegler's concept of technics challenges us to rethink the role of technology in our lives. It urges us to consider how our tools shape our world and our understanding of it. While technology offers new possibilities, it also poses risks, from standardizing our experiences to increasing surveillance. Stiegler's work reminds us that our future is not predetermined by technology; rather, it is shaped by our choices in how we design and use our tools.
In a world increasingly dominated by digital technologies, Stiegler's philosophy offers a profound insight: our tools shape not only our world but also ourselves. It is through understanding this relationship with our tools that we can begin to imagine new ways of living, being, and evolving. Technics, not technology, holds the key to unlocking the future.
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"A Modest Proposal," written by Jonathan Swift in 1729, is a Juvenalian satirical essay that suggests a shocking solution to ease the economic troubles of impoverished Irish people: selling their children as food to rich gentlemen and ladies. This hyperbolic proposal is a critique of heartless attitudes towards the poor, particularly the Irish Catholic population, and British policies towards the Irish.
Swift's essay is renowned for its sustained irony and shock value. It begins by vividly describing the plight of starving beggars in Ireland, leading readers to expect a serious proposal. However, the essay takes a surprising turn when Swift proposes that well-nursed, healthy children can be a delicious and nourishing food. He even provides detailed suggestions for preparing and cooking the children, as well as calculations to show the financial benefits of his suggestion.
The essay also critiques the can-do spirit of the times, which led to illogical schemes to solve social and economic issues. Swift mocks projects that proposed simplistic solutions to complex problems, such as the idea of running the poor through a joint-stock company.
In addition to criticizing these projects, Swift targets the calculating way people perceived the poor, viewing them as commodities. He uses statistical analysis ironically to show the absurdity of trying to justify cruelty with dispassionate statistics.
Swift's rhetorical style persuades readers to detest the speaker and pity the Irish. He creates sympathy for the Irish and disdain for the narrator, who shows emotion only for his own class. Swift also degrades the Irish by using language usually reserved for animals, highlighting the dehumanization of the poor.
Scholars have speculated about the influences on Swift's essay. It has been compared to Tertullian's Apology, which satirically attacked early Roman persecution of Christianity. Swift's work also responds to Daniel Defoe's essay on preventing murder and other abuses, as well as Bernard Mandeville's proposal for public bordellos.
Swift's essay was met with backlash in British society, with members of the aristocracy responding to it. Despite its controversial nature, "A Modest Proposal" is considered a masterpiece of satire and is studied in literature courses as an example of early modern western satire. It continues to be relevant today, serving as a critique of simplistic solutions to complex social and economic issues.
In conclusion, Jonathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal" remains a powerful and provocative work that challenges readers to confront their assumptions about poverty, society, and human nature.