Sympathy For the Ayatollah
Being a dictator is hard, thankless work. We should really have a Dicatator Appreciation Day.
This is my fundamental conclusion after one of my characters in an online RPG was acclaimed dictator by his people.
I will admit that I had certain expectations of dictatorship. I mean, ol' Argus (that's the character's name) is no Turkmenbashi, but I'd have settled for minions and death-squads. Instead? Personnel decisions. "Glorious leader, should I put the wheelbarrow over here with this peasant, or over there with that peasant?" "My subcommander is an idiot; you should have him stabbed and install me instead!" Not a single mechanical gold heliotactic statue, not even a single month named after me, just complaints and demands, complaints and demands.
It gets worse, really. "General, attack those evildoers." A day later, nothing. "Why are the evildoers still unattacked?" "Well, I told my subcommanders..." "Subcommanders? Why are the evildoers still unattacked?" "My lord, we were waiting for you to tell us how to attack the evildoers." Well bugger that with a spoon. It's like a Monty Python sketch -- "How shall we fuck off, O Lord?"
This, I think, is how life must be for most dictators in the real world, too. Kim Jong Il must be out on his porch every morning. "Minion! Why has the massive concrete pyramid not been polished?" "Dear leader! What sort of polishing do you desire?" Probably the first few times it happened, he had them shot, but the replacements were just as bad, so he's given up by now. He's resigned to the fact that the massive concrete pyramid will not be properly polished and the missiles won't be right-end-up and whatnot. It's so hard to find decent help these days.
And then there's the rest of the world. "We shall vanquish the dictatorial tyrants!" What, do these people not get it? Hello, the tyrant's life already sucks, he doesn't need your help. He's just trying to make the best of a hard job. And the answer is to kill your way through his people to make him pay for his crimes? Sorry, Mr. Chairman can't take your calls right now, because he's under his desk sobbing at your stupidity.
I really feel for these people, you know. I have sympathy. You take up the crushingly demanding task of leading your people to glorious victory, and before you've got your boots off you're abruptly surrounded by idiots. It's not like the great dictators went into it thinking, "these people are a bunch of idiots; I must crush them beneath my instep." No, they all went in thinking, here are a people who have been hard done by, but really they'd be rich and glorious if only they had some decent leadership, I'll just step in and give them what they need to make it. And what was needed was often not nice and not fun -- you can't make an omelet without killing a few people, after all -- but did the people appreciate? No. No, they turned into surly obsequious lackwits as if a giant loser-switch had been thrown in the cosmic fusebox.
And here's the thing: The people were smart, clever people. There is not a dumbass gene is not built into the human genome of entire peoples. And it's true, all the people needed was some organization, someone to take charge. The dictators were right, as far as that goes. The problem is just... well, there actually is a dumbass gene built into the human genome. It's the cringe-and-whine gene. The defer-to-authority, heed-the-deep-male-voice, please-don't-kill-me dumbass gene. The one that sees the glorious leader, hero of the people, descendant of the gods themselves, powerful and august beyond measure, and says, "independent thought go bye-bye now." The brain has a kill-switch that turns people into drooling vegetables in the presence of such ultimate majesty.
How bad is it? Read the news. In the face of dictatorship, people forget how to do subsistance agriculture, something every stationary human society develops practically within hours of settling down and chasing the hyenas out of the fields. "Commander of the Regime," you can practically hear them plead, "which way shall we rotate the crops?" Do I look like a frickin' agronomist? I didn't think so! I'm your maximum leader, you're the peasants, try to keep track! Did I say to start engaging in cannibalism to feed your starving family? Did I? Oh don't give me that shit. Subsistance-frickin'-agriculture. Look it up. It's under 'S', between "submachinegun" and "sudden jackbooted death." Criminy.
So let's have a moment of sympathy for all the dictators. They went into the job with the best of intentions; it's not their fault that their glory, like a nasty bout of heavy-metal poisoning, turned the liberated masses into mewling morons. Let us bend our heads for a moment and remember just how much their jobs suck. Have some sympathy. Or else I'll have you all killed.
This is my fundamental conclusion after one of my characters in an online RPG was acclaimed dictator by his people.
I will admit that I had certain expectations of dictatorship. I mean, ol' Argus (that's the character's name) is no Turkmenbashi, but I'd have settled for minions and death-squads. Instead? Personnel decisions. "Glorious leader, should I put the wheelbarrow over here with this peasant, or over there with that peasant?" "My subcommander is an idiot; you should have him stabbed and install me instead!" Not a single mechanical gold heliotactic statue, not even a single month named after me, just complaints and demands, complaints and demands.
It gets worse, really. "General, attack those evildoers." A day later, nothing. "Why are the evildoers still unattacked?" "Well, I told my subcommanders..." "Subcommanders? Why are the evildoers still unattacked?" "My lord, we were waiting for you to tell us how to attack the evildoers." Well bugger that with a spoon. It's like a Monty Python sketch -- "How shall we fuck off, O Lord?"
This, I think, is how life must be for most dictators in the real world, too. Kim Jong Il must be out on his porch every morning. "Minion! Why has the massive concrete pyramid not been polished?" "Dear leader! What sort of polishing do you desire?" Probably the first few times it happened, he had them shot, but the replacements were just as bad, so he's given up by now. He's resigned to the fact that the massive concrete pyramid will not be properly polished and the missiles won't be right-end-up and whatnot. It's so hard to find decent help these days.
And then there's the rest of the world. "We shall vanquish the dictatorial tyrants!" What, do these people not get it? Hello, the tyrant's life already sucks, he doesn't need your help. He's just trying to make the best of a hard job. And the answer is to kill your way through his people to make him pay for his crimes? Sorry, Mr. Chairman can't take your calls right now, because he's under his desk sobbing at your stupidity.
I really feel for these people, you know. I have sympathy. You take up the crushingly demanding task of leading your people to glorious victory, and before you've got your boots off you're abruptly surrounded by idiots. It's not like the great dictators went into it thinking, "these people are a bunch of idiots; I must crush them beneath my instep." No, they all went in thinking, here are a people who have been hard done by, but really they'd be rich and glorious if only they had some decent leadership, I'll just step in and give them what they need to make it. And what was needed was often not nice and not fun -- you can't make an omelet without killing a few people, after all -- but did the people appreciate? No. No, they turned into surly obsequious lackwits as if a giant loser-switch had been thrown in the cosmic fusebox.
And here's the thing: The people were smart, clever people. There is not a dumbass gene is not built into the human genome of entire peoples. And it's true, all the people needed was some organization, someone to take charge. The dictators were right, as far as that goes. The problem is just... well, there actually is a dumbass gene built into the human genome. It's the cringe-and-whine gene. The defer-to-authority, heed-the-deep-male-voice, please-don't-kill-me dumbass gene. The one that sees the glorious leader, hero of the people, descendant of the gods themselves, powerful and august beyond measure, and says, "independent thought go bye-bye now." The brain has a kill-switch that turns people into drooling vegetables in the presence of such ultimate majesty.
How bad is it? Read the news. In the face of dictatorship, people forget how to do subsistance agriculture, something every stationary human society develops practically within hours of settling down and chasing the hyenas out of the fields. "Commander of the Regime," you can practically hear them plead, "which way shall we rotate the crops?" Do I look like a frickin' agronomist? I didn't think so! I'm your maximum leader, you're the peasants, try to keep track! Did I say to start engaging in cannibalism to feed your starving family? Did I? Oh don't give me that shit. Subsistance-frickin'-agriculture. Look it up. It's under 'S', between "submachinegun" and "sudden jackbooted death." Criminy.
So let's have a moment of sympathy for all the dictators. They went into the job with the best of intentions; it's not their fault that their glory, like a nasty bout of heavy-metal poisoning, turned the liberated masses into mewling morons. Let us bend our heads for a moment and remember just how much their jobs suck. Have some sympathy. Or else I'll have you all killed.