All Hail the Leviathan: In Praise of State Greed
Greed. That primordial sin, the cornerstone of capitalism, the lifeblood of Wall Street, the unholy motive behind every overpriced cup of coffee. We shake our heads at bloated CEO salaries, wail about pharmaceutical price gouging, and gnash our teeth over corporate bailouts.
And yet, in all our righteous fury, we overlook the grandmaster of greed, the undisputed champion of avarice, the monopoly that makes all others look like corner-store hustlers.
The State.
For all their machinations, corporations are but amateurs in the art of wealth extraction compared to the state. They are bound by competition, market forces, and the quaint necessity of customer consent. The state, however, operates under no such constraints. It does not compete; it commands. It does not persuade; it coerces.
It’s time we acknowledge this brilliance — not as an indictment, but as a standing ovation.
Taxation: The Crown Jewel
Imagine a corporation so visionary that it could demand payment under threat of imprisonment, with fees that fluctuated based not on services rendered but on its insatiable appetite. We might call it extortion if not for its noble title: “public good.”
Taxation is the most elegant of revenue models —unburdened by the need for reciprocity. Whereas corporations must entice customers, the state decrees. The illusion of choice is unnecessary when compliance is non-negotiable. Netflix may cancel your subscription; the government cancels your liberty.
And the genius lies not merely in collection but in storytelling. Taxation, we are told, is an investment in society, a sacred obligation. It’s said to pave our roads, educate our youth, and secure our nation— or so we are assured. In reality, it fuels the perpetual engines of war, bureaucracy, waste, and political self-congratulation.
Rome, in its wisdom, taxed itself into the annals of history. Under the weight of royal demands, the peasants of England rose in revolt. The French, when pressed too far, gave birth to the guillotine. And here we stand, centuries on, still enamored by the call for “fair shares” — lulled into complacency by the promise that this time, surely, the guardians of our future are the right ones.
Inflation: The Invisible Hand in Your Wallet
Taxation, for all its brilliance, is still too obvious. People notice when money is taken from their paychecks. It's far better to steal without leaving a paper trail.
Whereas taxation must be announced, debated, and — at least in theory — justified, inflation is the state’s invisible hand in your pocket. It operates beyond the reach of votes or protests. It’s theft so elegant that it leaves no trace.
The mechanics are simple: Print money. Devalue savings. And watch as purchasing power erodes. And yet, when prices surge, who do we blame? Not the money printers. Not the government overspenders. No, no. We point fingers at greedy corporations, unscrupulous landlords, and the shadowy forces of “supply chain disruptions.”
A farmer who dilutes his milk with water is called a fraud. A vintner who stretches his wine is denounced as a cheat. But when the state dilutes the currency, it calls it “monetary policy.”
And should you object? Fear not. A panel of well-respected economists —modern alchemists — will assure you everything is fine.
No wonder inflation is favored over direct taxation.
State Greed’s Greatest Hits
No matter the method — taxation, inflation, or sheer bureaucratic pyromania — the state has perfected the art of vaporizing your money. It doesn’t pinch pennies; it torches them in bonfires of “public investment.” It taxes what you earn, inflates what you save, spends what you don’t have, and when that’s not enough, borrows against your children’s future.
This isn’t mere waste — it’s a breathtaking display of fiscal recklessness so vast, so unrepentant, that it demands admiration. Here are just a few of its greatest hits:
The National Debt: A glorious $33 trillion. A bold declaration of our commitment to future prosperity. Borrowing beyond our means isn’t just economics; it’s a visionary act of faith in our nation’s endless potential.
The War in Afghanistan — Two decades, $2.3 trillion, and 2,400 American lives later, the grand finale? A dramatic encore of the opening act: replacing the Taliban with… the Taliban. Worry not — the defense contractors made out just fine.
The Bridge to Nowhere — Nothing captures government ambition quite like a $398 million bridge connecting a remote Alaskan island (population: 50). Why build where people live when you can build where they don’t?
The California High-Speed Rail — Initially budgeted at $33 billion, now ballooning past $128 billion, this bullet train was supposed to revolutionize travel. Instead, it’s become an expensive metaphor for government competence — still unfinished, still over budget, still connecting nowhere to nowhere.
Regulatory Capture: Here lies the state’s artistry, where to tax, regulate, and then subsidize the same corporations is not a contradiction but harmony. Take the FDA, the gatekeeper of public health — or, more accurately, the concierge service for Big Pharma. As FDA commissioner, Scott Gottlieb oversaw the approval of new drugs, regulated the industry, and shaped policies that directly impacted pharmaceutical profits. Less than a year after stepping down, he was rewarded with a board seat at Pfizer. Not a bad retirement plan.
The Rothbardian Perspective
Murray Rothbard, that venerable critic of statism, once posited that the state was nothing more than a monopoly on violence, cleverly disguised as legitimacy. If he were to rise from the annals of libertarian thought today, he might expand this definition to celebrate the state as a monopoly on greed with a nod of grudging respect.
In its magnificence, the state doesn’t merely appropriate your funds; it liberates you from the burden of autonomy. It graciously decides how much of your earnings you can keep, dictates how your property should be utilized, and even guides what you can say or do.
But let’s give credit where it’s due. Perhaps Rothbard, in his heart of hearts, would applaud the state’s brass. After all, what corporation wouldn’t dream of having such assurances: an unwavering revenue stream, no pesky rivals, and a captive audience that can’t simply walk away? In this light, the state isn’t just a monopolist; it’s the ultimate monopolist, an entity so efficient in its methods that it renders competition not just unnecessary but quaint.
Thus, we might imagine Rothbard, with a wry smile, tipping his hat to this grand orchestration while whispering under his breath about the beauty of freedom lost.
Lessons from the Masters of Greed
What pearls of wisdom can we glean from the state’s masterful orchestration of greed? Corporations, take note, for here lies the ultimate curriculum in profit without persuasion:
Brand Yourself as Benevolent: The state has mastered the art of PR, framing its greed as an “investment in the future.” Corporations take notes. You’re already dabbling in this with greenwashing, DEI initiatives, and virtue signaling, but you’re thinking too small. Reframe your profits as a public good, your price hikes as economic justice, and your monopolistic dominance as progress. Do it right, and your critics won’t just stop complaining — they’ll thank you.
Punish the Noncompliant: A good business encourages customers. A great business forces them. But the best business? It punishes those who refuse to buy. Imagine if Disney required you to subscribe to Disney+ and, should you refuse, assigned you a lifetime of watching Chicken Little as punishment.
Don’t Offer Choices: Why bother with product differentiation when you can simply mandate purchases? Imagine if Amazon passed a law requiring you to subscribe to Prime — or else.
The Cult of the Expert
Now, let us pay homage to the enlightened order of “The Cult of the Expert,” where the state’s policies are not merely decisions but sanctified by the divine wisdom of those who have ascended to the heights of knowledge. Here, every policy is a testament to human progress, blessed by the sacred rites of “the science,” economics, and social theory.
In this grand cathedral of intellect, when experts contradict one another or when their flawless predictions inexplicably fail, it is not a failure — it is an evolution. The state, in its infinite wisdom, seamlessly integrates new truths, ensuring that our collective march toward perfection never falters.
So when the phrase expert consensus is uttered, let us not merely comply — let us rejoice. For we are not just being governed; we are partaking in a sacred rite, where state ambition is cloaked in the infallibility of knowledge, guiding us all toward a brighter, more prosperous, and ever more obedient future.
The Apologists’ Lament
No critique of state power goes unanswered. Like clockwork, Leviathan’s loyal defenders emerge, their arguments as rehearsed as a presidential stump speech and as substantial as a campaign promise to work “for the people.”
“But who would build the roads?” they ask, eyes twinkling with the confidence of someone who just discovered that water does not, in fact, originate in bottles. As if civilization itself — the force that erected the Pyramids, strung the planet together with undersea cables, and sent humans into the sky — would be utterly paralyzed by the challenge of laying asphalt without bureaucratic approval.
When pressed further, they retreat to the well-worn sanctuary of market failures — those theoretical black holes where self-interest supposedly collapses in on itself. And who do they propose as the antidote? Why, politicians, of course — those rare, incorruptible beings so transcendently selfless that they must be shielded from their own greed by campaign finance laws and ethics committees. Curious logic indeed: markets fail because humans are selfish, so let’s create governments run by… the same humans.
“But civilized society needs rules!” they cry, as if the choice were between totalitarian bureaucracy and apocalyptic anarchy, as if history’s greatest atrocities had come from too little government rather than too much. They champion stability while ignoring that the most violent, lawless forces in history have all flown under the banners of flags, empires, and official decrees.
The visible benefits they champion obscure the invisible costs — the innovations smothered in regulatory cradles, the prosperity sacrificed on political altars, the freedoms surrendered in increments so subtle that, before you even realize it, the weight of chains has become like the comfort of safety.
Conclusion: All Hail the Leviathan
So, let us tip our hats — not to the CEOs, but to the true masters of greed. The state doesn’t just participate in the market; it is the market. It builds the rules, rigs the game, and sells us the privilege of playing — all while convincing us it’s for our own good.
The next time you hear someone railing against corporate greed, remind them who the true champion is. Corporations may sell overpriced coffee, but the state sells overpriced everything — and it never runs out of customers.
Thus, we salute the Leviathan, the grand monopolist of greed. But one must ponder: at what point does the cost become the price of our freedom?
