Autocracy And Planning, Hell Or Paradise
Autocracy and central planning are no panacea. They promise to lift the masses from poverty, yet widen the chasm of wealth; they claim to solve problems, only to unleash greater disasters; they are not the rainbow-clouded heroes people yearn for, but a Sauron wielding the One Ring, ravaging all life. Why? Wealth springs from differentiation, division of labor, and free flow, yet the concentrated plans of a few simplify individuals, enforce rigid hierarchies, and strip away the potential each person holds—the premium of competitiveness born from human diversity. Forced circulation paths choke trade’s vitality, birthing grotesque price distortions. All cash are equal. They create no wealth, only squander its potential, forging deeper injustice. When power lust swells, deeming itself above God, anything threatening its sway becomes an enemy. Thus, from their insatiable greed, a truly prosperous and wise majority is the last thing they desire.
Instead, an obedient, impoverished, ignorant, easily swayed mass is their prized asset. The larger this group, the firmer their foothold, the greater their influence—and the more devastating their ruin. They dangle dreams of paradise, only to plunge most into a hell on earth, leaving feathers strewn across the ground. When the dust settles, they brush off their sleeves, leaving scholars to whitewash their deeds. The arrogance of rulers, the poverty of the masses, and the hindsight of apologists form a triumphant, self-sealing carnival of absurdity. One must marvel: sometimes human folly outstrips beasts. Instincts of self-preservation numb under woven lies; hunger and death fail to rouse them, granting vile opportunists the chance to don fine robes, ride radiant clouds, and masquerade as saviors.
Yet history isn’t a one-note dirge. The Soviet Union rose with five-year plans, only to crumble under rigidity, proving forced planning’s inefficiency. France’s Bourbon dynasty hoarded wealth in splendor, sparking the Revolution that exposed autocracy’s rot. But consider Tang China’s land-equalization system: it fueled early prosperity, only to falter under corrupt bureaucrats. Postwar Japan soared with industrial policy, then wisely loosened its grip to the market. These tales reveal that concentrated power and planning aren’t absolute evils—their fate hinges on the “degree.” Unchecked, they’re Sauron; guided by clear goals and adaptability, they can spark fleeting glory. Singapore’s strong state built public housing and lured capital, while Germany’s social market economy balanced efficiency and equity—proof that power and freedom can dance, not just duel.
How to gauge this “degree”? Where lies the line? Power demands transparency and accountability—Sweden’s open budgets curb its slide into private gain. Economic growth must be fair and sustainable—America’s antitrust laws ensure it benefits the many. Individuals need basic rights and equal shots—Finland’s education levels the field, unleashing potential without crushing it. Mechanistically, checks and balances (like America’s tripartite system) tame autocracy; a mixed economy (Singapore’s model) blends efficiency and welfare; law and learning (Dutch trade codes) shield personal liberty. North Korea’s collapse warns of imbalance’s peril, while Eastern Europe’s awakening ignites hope—the masses aren’t forever dulled; information and suffering can shatter the cocoon of lies.
Thus, autocracy and planning aren’t wholly useless; their sin lies in rigidity and greed, not their mere existence. Wealth’s key is differentiation and flow, yet unchecked freedom breeds chaos—think Britain’s Industrial Revolution slums. The true path isn’t in rejecting one side, but in dynamic balance: binding power’s hand with transparent law, igniting individual minds with fair education, tuning the economy with flexible tools. This way, we dodge Sauron’s Ring, escape hell, and build an imperfect yet hopeful mortal realm.
