The Free Prince says…
Politics is the art of illusion—nothing more than a theater of necessity engineered by those who benefit most from your belief in its inevitability. It is not a noble calling. It is not a sacred duty. It is a racket. Full stop.
The political class exists not to serve, but to perpetuate a system where their proximity to power guarantees access to wealth, immunity from consequence, and the ability to manipulate perception behind the curtain.
The entire architecture is designed to keep you just comfortable enough to not revolt. Bread, circuses, and just enough noise to give the illusion of choice.
Every election is a ritual. Every candidate is a mask. Every policy is a transaction.
Your anger, your hope, your tribal loyalty—it’s all collateral in a game you’re not meant to win.
The state is not your protector. It is your handler.
And politics is its language of seduction. They give you sides to choose from so you won’t question the rules of the game.
They let you vote so you feel involved.
They let you scream so you won’t act.
And all the while, they are enriching themselves—through backdoor deals, legalized graft, and the relentless expansion of bureaucratic dominion.
It’s not about ideology.
It never was.
It’s about extraction. Influence. Control. And yet the masses defend this machinery like it’s divine.
They wear their parties like uniforms in a war that only serves the generals.
They bicker about policy scraps while the looters write the laws. They mistake civility for virtue and compromise for progress. They’ve been so thoroughly indoctrinated they can’t even imagine life without their masters.
But politics is not necessary. It’s a relic of a time when centralization meant survival. Now it is a vestigial limb infected with corruption, infecting everything it touches with stagnation and division.
We do not need it.
We tolerate it because we’ve been conditioned to believe that without it, there would be chaos.
But look around—this is chaos. Sanctioned, streamlined, institutionalized chaos where the only consistent outcome is that power protects itself.
We could replace every politician tomorrow and nothing fundamental would change.
Because the system isn’t broken—it’s functioning precisely as intended.
It is the architecture of managed decline, where innovation is throttled, dissent is anesthetized, and the population is distracted just long enough for the looters to make their next withdrawal.
And until we collectively stop worshiping these hollow figureheads, stop pledging allegiance to parties that feed on us, and stop mistaking pageantry for participation, we will remain cattle in a field they don’t even bother to fence anymore—just distracted enough to not notice the slaughterhouse in the distance.
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