Open Societies vs. Closed Societies: A Fundamental Divide

 

Open Societies vs. Closed Societies: A Fundamental Divide

In an increasingly interconnected world, nations often present a façade of modernity through impressive infrastructure and technological advancements. Yet, beneath this surface, lie profound differences in societal structures that dictate the freedoms and opportunities available to their citizens and interactions with the global community. The distinction between "open societies" and "closed societies" serves as a crucial lens through which to understand these disparities, with Western democracies typically embodying the former and China representing a prominent example of the latter.

Western democracies, often termed open societies, are fundamentally built upon a set of universal principles designed to foster individual liberty and societal progress. These include the rule of law, ensuring that everyone, including those in power, is subject to the same legal framework; robust human rights, protecting freedoms of speech, assembly, and belief; the separation of church and state, guaranteeing religious neutrality and preventing religious interference in governance; and a commitment to democracy, empowering citizens through participation in their government.

Crucially, open societies thrive on the free flow of information. Information is not centrally controlled but circulates freely through independent media, academic discourse, and open internet access, allowing citizens to form informed opinions and hold their leaders accountable. Similarly, there is a free flow of people, with citizens generally possessing the right to travel internationally, and visitors experiencing fewer restrictions on movement within the country. The free flow of capital also underpins economic dynamism, with relatively unrestricted movement of investments and currency across borders, fostering global trade and integration. These interconnected freedoms create a vibrant, dynamic environment conducive to innovation, criticism, and adaptation.

China, while undeniably a modern country boasting breathtaking infrastructure—high-speed rail networks, extensive highways, and towering skyscrapers that rival any in the world—operates on a fundamentally different paradigm, best described as a closed society. Despite its outward appearance of modernity and technological prowess, the underlying societal controls are extensive and pervasive.

One of the most defining characteristics of China's closed society is the severe restriction on the free flow of information.The "Great Firewall" is a sophisticated censorship and surveillance system designed to block access to vast swathes of the global internet, including international news outlets, social media platforms, and websites deemed politically sensitive.Domestic media is tightly controlled, and dissent is routinely suppressed, ensuring that the information citizens receive is largely curated by the state. This lack of unrestricted information profoundly limits public discourse and critical thought.

Furthermore, there are significant limitations on the free flow of people. While Chinese citizens can travel abroad, the issuance of passports and overseas travel is often subject to state approval, and the ability to emigrate is not a readily exercised right for all. For foreign tourists, access to certain regions within China can be restricted, and movements are often monitored. This control over physical movement reflects a broader governmental desire to manage societal interactions.

The free flow of capital is also highly regulated in China. Strict capital controls are in place to manage the inflow and outflow of currency, impacting foreign investment, repatriation of profits, and individual financial transfers abroad. While these controls are often justified for economic stability, they fundamentally limit the autonomy of individuals and businesses in managing their financial assets globally.

In essence, while China has mastered the hardware of modernity, its software—the operating system of its society—is built on principles of centralized control rather than individual liberty and openness. This fundamental difference in the flow of information, people, and capital is what truly distinguishes an open society from a closed one, irrespective of superficial technological achievements.

From Pax Sinica to Decline: Could China Follow the Roman Arc?

 

From Pax Sinica to Decline: Could China Follow the Roman Arc?

As an historian, one must approach historical analogies—especially those spanning millennia and continents—with extreme caution. No two empires are truly identical. However, the study of the Roman trajectory, particularly its decline, provides a powerful and often sobering framework for analyzing the sustainability of any vast, centralized power, including modern China. The question is not if the current Pax Sinica will end, but whether it will crumble slowly from internal contradictions like Rome, or rapidly due to external shock.

The Roman Pattern: Zenith and Decay

Rome did not fall in a day. Its decline was a slow, systemic process, often masked by periods of apparent stability (like the Antonine Golden Age). Key factors that contributed to its centuries-long decay include:

1. Imperial Overextension: Rome continuously expanded its borders, placing unbearable strain on its logistical and military capacity. This required ever-increasing taxes and manpower, depleting the core.

2. Economic Decay and Inflation: The debasement of currency (inflation) to fund wars and state bureaucracy eroded public trust and destroyed the economic stability of the middle class, concentrating wealth among the elite.

3. Internal Cohesion and Succession Crises: A reliance on the military for political stability led to frequent civil wars, instability in the core, and a diminishing sense of shared identity across the vast empire.

4. Moral and Intellectual Stagnation: The bureaucracy became ossified, unable to innovate or respond effectively to new challenges, relying instead on past solutions.

The Chinese Trajectory: Potential Echoes of Collapse

If China were to walk the Roman path, the events between its current zenith and its ultimate decline would likely follow a recognizable pattern of systemic stress and overreach:

1. The Peak of Global Dominance (The New Golden Age): China successfully achieves undisputed global economic and technological superiority, perhaps solidifying the Pax Sinica across the Indo-Pacific. This moment represents the maximum geopolitical reach—the Antonine Age moment.

2. The Overextension Trap: Driven by nationalistic fervor and strategic necessity (securing resources, maintaining global influence), Beijing commits resources to projects or conflicts far from its border (analogous to the Roman campaigns in Dacia or Persia). This leads to chronic budgetary strain.

3. The Bureaucratic and Demographic Crunch: The ruling structure, obsessed with control, becomes too rigid and unresponsive to complex regional problems. Simultaneously, the rapidly aging population and declining birth rates create a demographic inversion that suffocates economic dynamism and dramatically increases the tax burden on a shrinking working population.

4. Economic Contradiction: To maintain the illusion of growth and finance social welfare (a form of imperial bread and circuses), the state continues to print money or inflate asset bubbles. This leads to endemic local debt crisesand rising internal inequality, eroding the social contract.

5. The Crisis of Legitimacy: Unlike Rome, China's core challenge is the lack of religious or constitutional legitimacy; it relies solely on economic performance. As the economy stalls or reverses, the crisis of governance will manifest as a severe succession or political instability crisis at the center, leading to fracturing trust among the elites and the public.

6. Peripheral Fractures and Military Strain: The state is forced to allocate an ever-larger portion of its shrinking wealth to internal stability (domestic security) and border defense, reminiscent of the Roman practice of paying frontier armies in debased coinage. External rivals or internal regional unrest exploit this military and financial strain, hastening the system's breakdown.

The end, unlike Rome's ultimate balkanization in the West, might more closely resemble the traditional Chinese Dynastic Cycle—a period of intense civil strife and chaos, eventually giving way to a new, centralized order built on the ruins of the old. However, in a nuclear, globalized world, the consequences of such a collapse would be catastrophically immediate, unlike the slow-motion tragedy of the Roman west.

The Weight of Gold and Order: Why China’s Values Echo the Pagan Pragmatism of Rome

 

The Weight of Gold and Order: Why China’s Values Echo the Pagan Pragmatism of Rome

The Gods of Status and Stability

In the Western mind, the concept of universal human dignity has become the air we breathe. We take for granted the intrinsic worth of the individual—the very idea that the life of the weakest citizen, the prisoner, or the social outcast holds an equal, sacred value to that of the emperor or the billionaire. But as my work in Dominion attempts to show, this notion is not a natural inheritance of humankind; it is a profoundly Christian imposition, a radical departure from the moral norms of the pre-Christian world.

To understand a major power that stands outside this Christian paradigm, we must look backward, beyond the revolutionary message of the Crucifixion, and toward the classical world—specifically, to Rome.

Ancient Rome, for all its colossal achievements in law, engineering, and conquest, was governed by naked power and unflinching status. The Romans were masters of a cruel pragmatism. Compassion was not a virtue; it was often a weakness. Justice was defined by hierarchy; the life of a citizen was immeasurably more valuable than that of a slave. The purpose of the individual was to serve the greater glory of the Pax Romana—the peace established through overwhelming dominance.

It is in this moral landscape of pre-Christian utility that we can find uncanny echoes in the modern system of China.

The Return of Utilitarian Hierarchy

While China is shaped by its own immense traditions—Confucianism, Legalism, and modern Communism—its governing moral principles today demonstrate a fascinating continuity with the pagan Roman focus on order, power, and utility.

1. The State as the Ultimate Judge: In Rome, the Res Publica (the Commonwealth) and later the Emperor were the supreme moral arbiters. The state was not merely a servant of the people; it was their master, demanding ultimate allegiance. Likewise, the dominant philosophy in contemporary China centers on state stability and national rejuvenation. Individual freedoms, conscience, and political dissent are not dismissed as wrong, but as subordinate to the collective strength and security of the Party-State. This is the very definition of the pagan principle of utility: the individual exists to serve the dominance of the power structure.

2. The Absence of the Lowly’s Sacredness: The Christian story—the worship of a crucified slave—revolutionized Western ethics by sanctifying weakness. Rome scorned weakness. China’s system, prioritizing talent, efficiency, and demonstrable contribution to the nation, mirrors Rome’s focus on status and demonstrated competence. When the system deals with critics, dissenters, or marginalized groups, the state's judgment is prioritized because, like Rome, the core assumption of universal, God-given individual rights is simply absent from the operational manual. If a citizen’s existence threatens the Pax Sinica (the Chinese Peace), their sacrifice is viewed as pragmatic and necessary, not as a moral outrage against a divine order.

3. The Cult of Wealth and Strength: Roman society was obsessed with exhibiting virtus (manly virtue/dominance) often demonstrated through spectacular wealth and conquest. Today, both Beijing and Rome celebrate monumental construction, economic mastery, and the projection of military strength as the ultimate proof of their moral superiority and right to rule. There is no fundamental suspicion of power, privilege, or wealth in the way it later arose in the Christianized West.

To a Westerner, the idea of sacrificing a minority group’s rights for economic stability seems barbarous; yet, to a Roman senator—or, arguably, a modern Chinese official operating without the deep, nagging moral inheritance of Christianity—it is merely a sensible calculation.

The modern West, even in its most secular iterations, fights these battles using vocabulary (equality, human rights, the weak being worthy of protection) forged in Bethlehem and Jerusalem. China, having developed largely outside this revolution, operates on the older, more ruthless, but profoundly logical principles of Imperial Rome: Order by Dominance. The only question is how long this new Pax can maintain the spectacular tension between material affluence and moral detachment.

Foreign Officials in Asian Governments: A Bygone Era

 

Foreign Officials in Asian Governments: A Bygone Era

During the 19th century, it was not uncommon for foreign individuals to hold high-ranking government positions in Asian nations. These officials were often recruited for their specialized knowledge and technical expertise in fields like military strategy, finance, and infrastructure, which many Asian countries sought to acquire in their quest to modernize and compete with Western powers. This practice highlights a unique period of global interconnectedness.

One notable example is Andreas du Plessis de Richelieu, a Danish man who became the commander-in-chief of the Royal Siamese Navy under King Chulalongkorn (Rama V). Arriving in Siam (now Thailand) in 1875, he earned the king's trust and was instrumental in modernizing the Siamese military. He designed key fortifications and introduced modern weaponry. Beyond his military contributions, Richelieu also played a crucial role in developing Bangkok's early infrastructure, including its electric grid, railways, and public transport systems.

Another prominent figure was Sir Robert Hart, a British man who served as the Inspector-General of China's Imperial Maritime Customs Service for over 50 years, from 1863 to 1908. He was responsible for collecting customs duties and managing China's trade. Hart's integrity and efficiency provided a crucial, reliable source of revenue for the Qing government. His administration was known for its modern and transparent practices, making it a model of bureaucratic excellence at the time.

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A List of Foreign Officials and Their Roles

The employment of foreign experts was a widespread practice across Asia during this period. Here are a few more examples:

• Gustave-Émile Boissonade (Japan): A French legal scholar hired by the Meiji government to help draft Japan's modern civil code in the late 19th century. His work was essential for establishing a modern legal framework, helping Japan transition from a feudal society to a nation-state.

• George Washington Williams (Japan): An American military officer who served as a foreign advisor to the Japanese military during the early Meiji period. He was one of several foreign experts who helped train the Imperial Japanese Army to adopt modern military tactics and organization.

• Dr. Georg Böhmer (Korea): A German physician who became a medical advisor to the Korean government in the late 19th century. He was vital in establishing modern medical institutions and introducing Western medical practices to the country.

• Hermann von Keyserlingk (Persia/Iran): A German diplomat and military officer who became an advisor to the Persian government in the early 20th century. He contributed to the modernization and training of the Persian armed forces.

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From Globalized Governance to National Sovereignty

These historical examples show a world where national borders were more permeable. Countries were willing to bring in foreign talent for key government roles, often to fill gaps in knowledge and technology. This was a direct result of the pressures of globalization and colonial expansion, as nations felt a need to rapidly modernize to compete or defend themselves.

Today, the idea of a foreigner holding a high-ranking government position—like a military commander or the head of a major government agency—is largely unthinkable in most modern nation-states. Countries have become far more protective of their sovereignty and government roles, seeing them as exclusive to their own citizens. This shift represents a paradox: while we are more globally connected through technology and trade, the trust placed in foreign individuals to hold positions of power within a country’s government has significantly diminished. The world has become less "globalized" in this specific sense than it was 200 years ago.

The Curious Case of the Human Cattle Market

 

The Curious Case of the Human Cattle Market

You go down to the dating market these days, and it's a sight to behold. Folks standing around, holding up pieces of paper, like they're selling used cars. Or maybe, more accurately, like they are used cars. "One owner, low mileage, good on gas," or something like that. They list their features, their assets, their... specifications. It's a shopping mall, but instead of shoes and shirts, it's people.

Now, in the old days, say, the Middle Ages in England, if you were in the cattle market, you’d be looking for a good cow. A sturdy one, maybe a calf coming along, good for milk or meat or pulling a plow. You’d poke at it, check its teeth, maybe even give it a sniff. And if you liked it, you'd buy it. Simple as that. The cow didn't get to choose you.

But the dating market, oh no, that’s where it gets complicated. Because here, the cattle get to choose back. You might eye up a prize bull, thinking, "Now that's a fine specimen for my pasture." And then the bull looks at you, snorts, and trots off. Or maybe some scrawny little goat comes bleating around, all eager, and you think, "Nah, not my type." And so, you both stand there, the choosers and the chosen, doing a little dance of rejection until, lo and behold, you’re the last ones left. The "older stock," as it were.

Just the other day, I heard about this woman in Hangzhou. Thirty-four, apparently, which in dating market terms is practically ancient history. She spots this fellow, average-looking, about 5'9", nothing special on the outside. But then you peek at his spec sheet: "Annual salary 500k RMB, multiple properties in Hangzhou, studied in America, owns a luxury car." Well, now, that's a different story, isn't it? That's a prize bull in any market.

So, she goes up to him, all enthusiastic, which, I'm told, is unusual for women in these situations. "I'm a go-getter!" she practically shouts. "I’m 300k a year, two apartments, two cars, same height as you! It’s a match made in heaven!" She's practically salivating at the thought of all those apartments and the luxury car.

And what does he say? He crosses his arms, gives a little uncomfortable chuckle, and says, "Uh, I like 'em younger. '94 or later." Can you believe that? This woman is practically offering to bear him eight children – eight! – and he’s still saying no. Says he wants to have three kids, and apparently, a 34-year-old can’t handle that kind of reproductive output. My grandmother had five by the time she was 30, but what do I know?

She even offers to take him to dinner, drive him wherever he needs to go. "We're the strongest match!" she insists. "You'll regret it if I get married tomorrow!" Like she's a limited-time offer at the supermarket.

It’s just… baffling. In the cattle market, if you found a good cow, you took it. You didn't say, "Well, it's a fine cow, but I was hoping for one born in '94 or later, and this one's a '91." You’d just be happy to have a good, healthy cow.

But in the dating market, everyone's looking for something perfect, something that ticks every single box on their imaginary checklist. And then they wonder why they're still standing there, holding their "for sale" signs, while all the "perfect" people are off doing whatever perfect people do. Maybe they’re looking for their perfect match, too.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? Maybe we should all just go back to the Middle Ages. At least then, you knew where you stood. Or, more accurately, where the cow stood.

The Colorful Crash: China's Shared Bike Bubble and the Echoes of NFT Mania

 

The Colorful Crash: China's Shared Bike Bubble and the Echoes of NFT Mania

A few years ago, Chinese cityscapes transformed into vibrant, chaotic canvases. Millions of brightly colored bicycles, each representing a different startup, flooded sidewalks and became a ubiquitous symbol of the "sharing economy" gone wild. This meteoric rise of dockless bike rentals was hailed as a revolutionary solution to urban mobility, attracting billions in venture capital. Yet, as quickly as the phenomenon arrived, it collapsed, leaving behind not just financial ruin but colossal "bike graveyards" – stark monuments to an unsustainable frenzy. This dramatic boom and bust offers striking parallels to the more recent NFT (Non-Fungible Token) fiasco, revealing a common thread rooted in human psychology: the powerful, often destructive, interplay of herd mentality and greed.

The Business Model: Convenience, Capital, and Catastrophe

At its core, the Chinese shared bike model aimed to solve the "last mile" problem – the short distance between public transport hubs and a user's final destination. Companies like Ofo (yellow bikes) and Mobike (orange bikes) deployed vast fleets of GPS-enabled bicycles across cities. Users simply downloaded an app, scanned a QR code to unlock a bike, rode it, and left it anywhere within designated zones. Payment was typically a small fee per ride (often mere cents) or through subscription passes, with initial models often requiring a refundable deposit.

The business model was deceptively simple, but its execution was fueled by an insatiable thirst for market share, backed by enormous venture capital injections. The strategy was to "burn cash" through heavy subsidies and aggressive expansion to acquire as many users as possible, with the long-term hope of establishing a dominant, profitable monopoly. This led to:

• Massive Over-supply: Startups rushed to deploy millions of bikes, far exceeding actual demand, leading to immense waste and urban clutter.
• Price Wars: To attract users, companies engaged in fierce price competition, driving down rental fees to unsustainable levels.
• Deposits as a Funding Pool: Many companies initially collected user deposits, which, in the absence of robust regulation, were often used to fund operations rather than being held securely, creating a systemic risk.
• High Maintenance Costs: The dockless nature meant bikes were left anywhere, leading to damage, theft, and constant logistical challenges for collection, redistribution, and repair. The sheer volume made maintenance an unmanageable burden.
• Lack of Profitability Focus: The obsession with user acquisition overshadowed any real path to profitability. The low per-ride fees simply couldn't cover the immense capital expenditure and operational costs.

Who Won and Who Lost in This Fiasco?

The shared bike collapse created a clear divide between winners and losers:

Losers:

• The Startups (Ofo, Bluegogo, etc.): Many went bankrupt, their ambitious dreams turning into financial nightmares. Ofo, once valued at billions, famously collapsed, owing millions in user deposits and leaving behind mountains of bikes.
• Investors: Venture capitalists who poured billions into these companies saw their investments evaporate.
• Users (Initially): Millions of users found themselves unable to reclaim their deposits when companies folded, leading to widespread frustration and public outcry.
• Cities: Municipal governments were left to deal with the aftermath, including clearing vast "bike graveyards" that clogged public spaces and required significant resources to manage. Environmental impact from discarded bikes was also considerable.
• The "Sharing Economy" Brand: The chaotic failure tarnished the reputation of the sharing economy in China, highlighting its potential for unsustainable growth when not properly regulated.

Winners (or those who emerged stronger):

• The Surviving Giants (Meituan, Didi, HelloBike): While even they faced significant losses, the market consolidated. Companies with deeper pockets or those acquired by larger tech conglomerates (like Mobike by Meituan) survived by absorbing competitors and, crucially, adjusting their business models towards profitability, including raising prices and focusing on more sustainable operations like e-bikes.
• Some Users (Long-term): After the initial chaos, the surviving, more regulated companies offered a more reliable service, albeit at slightly higher prices. The concept of shared mobility for the "last mile" did persist, but in a more controlled manner.
• The Regulators: The fiasco prompted stricter government oversight and regulations on bike deployment, parking, and deposit management, leading to a more orderly market.

Echoes of NFT Mania: Herd, Hype, and Human Frailty

The trajectory of China's shared bike boom and bust bears striking similarities to the more recent rise and fall of the NFT market. Both phenomena:

• Experienced Explosive Growth: Driven by novel technology (QR codes/GPS for bikes, blockchain for NFTs) and the promise of a new paradigm.
• Attracted Massive Speculative Capital: Investors, often without deep understanding of underlying fundamentals, poured money in, fearing missing out on the "next big thing."
• Suffered from Over-saturation and Lack of Utility: In bike-sharing, it was too many bikes for too little demand. In NFTs, countless digital assets were minted with little artistic value or practical utility, beyond pure speculation.
• Relied on the "Greater Fool" Theory: The expectation was that someone else would pay an even higher price, irrespective of intrinsic value.
• Resulted in Significant Losses for Many: When the hype died down, values plummeted, leaving many holding worthless assets.

This common pattern strongly suggests that these fiascos are, at their core, deeply intertwined with human weakness and the psychology of herd and greed.

Herd Mentality: Humans are social creatures. When we see others apparently getting rich quickly, a powerful psychological impulse to join the stampede kicks in. The fear of missing out (FOMO) overrides rational analysis. In bike-sharing, everyone saw competitors flooding the streets and felt compelled to do the same. In NFTs, viral sales of high-priced digital art fueled the belief that anyone could strike it rich, leading to a scramble to buy and sell. The "safety in numbers" fallacy encourages individuals to ignore red flags if enough people are doing the same thing.

Greed: The allure of quick, substantial profits blinds individuals to fundamental risks. In the shared bike market, the promise of monopolistic dominance and future profitability, no matter how distant or uncertain, justified burning billions of dollars. In NFTs, the idea of owning a unique, digitally scarce asset that could appreciate exponentially tapped into a primal desire for wealth accumulation without tangible effort. This greed often leads to a disregard for due diligence, sound business principles, or actual product utility.

Ultimately, both the shared bike boom and the NFT bubble serve as powerful reminders that while innovation can be transformative, it is susceptible to the same old human tendencies. When technological novelty merges with unchecked speculation, the outcome is often a colorful, chaotic, and ultimately, a costly crash, proving that even in the digital age, human nature remains a constant.