Barbarians at the Gate: From Diocletian to COVID-19

Fear is the most insidious thief of liberty (and reason) the world has ever known. From ancient Rome to draconian lockdowns and invasive mandates during the COVID-19 pandemic, the pages of history are littered with instances of a fearful population relinquishing their rights without hesitation. 

In the grip of fear, people not only hand over their hard-won liberties but thank those who have stripped them away  — all in the name of “safety.”

This is not new. In the waning days of the Roman Empire, Emperor Diocletian found himself presiding over a period that would be familiar to modern eyes. Faced with increasing poverty and a looming invasion, Diocletian resorted to the same tired playbook that has tempted tyrants throughout history.

With a pen stroke, he issued the “Edictum de Maximis Pretiis” (edict on maximum prices) in 301 A.D., an order that fixed prices and wages across the empire. To tackle mass unemployment, Diocletian launched massive public works projects. He implemented a vast welfare state to appease the masses, distributing free food to the poor and needy. Of course, such “benevolence” came at a price. Private businesses found themselves crushed by taxation, and the government seized control of industry after industry.

When businessmen protested and predicted economic collapse, Diocletian declared that “barbarians are at the gate,” asserting that individual liberty must be sacrificed for the greater good. 

Like all such efforts, Diocletian’s was doomed to fail. The artificial price controls led to shortages and black markets, while the public works projects drained the treasury. The once-proud Roman economy was left in tatters. Ultimately, the barbarians merely delivered the coup de grace to an empire that had already rotted from within.

During the French Revolution, the infamous Reign of Terror saw the streets of Paris run red with the blood of those deemed enemies of the new republic. Under Maximilien Robespierre, the ideals of liberté, égalité, and fraternité gave way to paranoia and persecution. Thousands of citizens found themselves before sham tribunals, their fates sealed by the whims of the mob and the slice of the guillotine’s blade — all to protect the republic, of course.

In the 20th century, the totalitarian regimes of Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union perfected the dark art of exploiting fear for political gain. In Germany, Hitler stoked the embers of anti-Semitism to justify atrocities in defense of the “Aryan race.” At the same time, Josef Stalin wielded the bludgeon of class warfare to cement his rule.

And here, in America, the “Red Scare” of the 1950s saw citizens willingly surrender civil liberties in the name of fighting the perceived threat of communist infiltration. Americans huddled around their televisions, consumed by the spectacle of Senator Joseph McCarthy’s crusade against the Red Menace. With each new name named, each fresh accusation of communist sympathy, the nation descended deeper into a frenzy of paranoia and suspicion. Neighbors turned on neighbors, co-workers on co-workers, as the mere hint of leftist leanings became a ticket to ruin. All the while, many self-declared “patriots” cheered these un-American acts. 

But is this tradeoff between liberty and security inevitable? Are we doomed to repeat the cycle of fear and repression, forever sacrificing our freedoms in the name of safety? 

The Psychological Factors of Fear-Based Decision-Making

As H.P. Lovecraft observed, “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.” 

In the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks, shell-shocked, many Americans were willing to accept government surveillance and security theater in the name of preventing another attack. With little debate or public scrutiny, Congress hastily passed the 342-page USA PATRIOT Act, which granted sweeping new powers to the state. In their rush to “do something,” many legislators didn’t even take the time to read the bill before voting on it.

Politicians and media outlets, keenly aware of the power of fear, routinely exploit it to manufacture support for their agendas. By framing issues in “us vs. them” terms and relentlessly hyping potential threats, they can create a sense of urgency and demand for “decisive action,” even if the proposed measures do little to actually improve the circumstances.

Fear-based rhetoric also becomes a weapon to silence opposition and stifle dissent. Those who dare to raise questions or voice concerns are swiftly denounced as “soft” or “unpatriotic,” and their loyalty and even humanity are questioned. During the COVID-19 pandemic, for example, skeptics of lockdowns, mandates, and other heavy-handed measures were vilified as “grandma killers.” The space for reasoned debate and the balancing of competing concerns rapidly diminished in the atmosphere of panic. Some commentators even went so far as to suggest that dissenters should be denied medical treatment or imprisoned — notions that in normal times would be seen as radically un-American.

The problem with governing by fear is that it tends to become self-perpetuating. Once the architecture of panic is installed— the expanded state powers, the demonization of dissent, the addiction to emergency “action” — it becomes exceedingly difficult to dismantle. 

War — What is it good for?

When we’re told “barbarians are at the gate,” we experience “moral panic”—widespread fear and anxiety. This reaction is not limited to military conflicts; it is also seen in the rhetorical “wars” that politicians declare on social issues.

From the “war on drugs” to the “war on poverty” to the “war on crime,” once unleashed, these campaigns take on a life of their own. They become deeply entrenched in our political and social landscape, their momentum making any reversal increasingly difficult. Attempts to change direction or question their efficacy are met with accusations of surrender.

But the constant invocation of war has a corrosive effect on our discourse and our values. It normalizes violence and aggression as the default means of solving problems, elevating them from last resort to first instinct. In a state of perpetual war, peace becomes an aberration, a temporary lull between battles rather than a fundamental goal.

Questioning the effectiveness of these “wars” comes with consequences. Politicians and media figures who have staked their reputations on these campaigns have a vested interest in maintaining the narrative of an existential threat, even in the face of contradictory data. The “war on drugs,” for example, has been waged for over 50 years, costing billions of dollars and resulting in the incarceration of millions of people, disproportionately from communities of color. Yet despite this toll, drug addiction and abuse remain rampant in our society, and the root causes are neglected in favor of punitive measures. 

We’re losing the war — but we may keep fighting to the death.

The Psychological Toll of Perpetual Fear

The relentless onslaught of real and perceived threats has given rise to a pervasive sense of fatalism and learned helplessness, particularly among younger generations. Fatalism, the belief that all events are predetermined and inevitable, robs individuals of their agency. Learned helplessness reinforces this bleak outlook.

For Millennials and Gen-Z, who have come of age in an era defined by a series of crises—from 9/11 to the Great Recession to climate change to the COVID-19 pandemic—a state of emergency feels like the default. They’ve watched as institutions failed, leaders misled, and the social contract frayed. This constant upheaval and uncertainty have left many feeling like mere spectators, powerless to effect change.

Rates of anxiety, depression, and nihilism are skyrocketing among these cohorts as the background hum of dread takes its toll. When people believe their actions have no bearing and the game is rigged, they are less likely to engage in proactive, problem-solving behaviors. Instead, they retreat into the bleak comfort of apathy, cynicism, or despair.

This learned helplessness can have severe consequences for the health of our democracy. If our citizens, especially our young people, feel that their voices are drowned out and that the system is fundamentally broken, they will increasingly opt out. If this psychology of fear and helplessness takes root, it will create a vicious cycle in which civic disengagement and social fragmentation make our problems even more intractable, fueling the sense that positive change is impossible. 

We risk creating a society defined by its anxieties, one in which fear is the only currency that matters and hope is a long-forgotten luxury. 

The Hidden Costs of a Fear-Based Society

In our pursuit of security and safety, we have increasingly resorted to fear-based solutions, investing heavily in systems of control, surveillance, and punishment. While these measures are sold as necessary, they come with an opportunity cost that needs to be acknowledged.

Every dollar, ounce of political capital, and shred of public attention we invest in expanding the architecture of fear—whether it’s building more prisons, engaging in more foreign interventions, imposing more restrictive health mandates, or allowing more invasive monitoring of our private lives—is a resource diverted from building a society of hope, innovation, and prosperity. 

A fundamental question is at play here, one that strikes at the heart of our values. By investing so heavily in fear, are we creating the conditions of insecurity and instability we seek to prevent? When we allow fear to drive our decision-making and prioritize control over freedom and punishment over prevention, are we not creating a more fearful, divided, and mistrustful society?

This is the self-fulfilling prophecy of a nation governed by fear. The more we neglect investments that build a free, prosperous society, the more we create the conditions that give rise to crime, unrest, and social breakdown. And the more we respond to these problems with ever more draconian measures of control, the more we exacerbate the underlying causes, trapping us in a cycle of escalating fear and instability.

A New Vision of Security: Freedom, Trust, Resilience

Breaking free means recognizing that true security and resilience cannot be achieved through ever-greater systems of control but built from a foundation of freedom, trust, and mutual understanding. 

It means redefining security not as the absence of threats, achieved through the constant monitoring and suppression of potential dangers, but as the presence of resilience. 

It means learning to trust in the fundamental goodness and potential of our fellow human beings, even in the face of our differences and disagreements. 

Above all, it means nurturing a culture of open and honest dialogue where we can confront our challenges head-on without resorting to fearmongering or scapegoating.