A System Built by Those Who Desire It
Modern societies take pride in their institutions. They praise elections, parliaments, and the supposed transparency of democratic mechanisms. They claim to have found in these procedures the best protection against tyranny and arbitrariness. Yet, on closer inspection, a disturbing truth emerges: the political system we have today was not born from a demand for justice, but from an appetite for power. It is the product of those who crave it, and it is designed for them. Its very structure bears the imprint of that desire.
Desire as the Origin
One might think that institutions exist to protect people from abuse. But what they actually organize is the competition of those who want to rule. They are not a filter to keep the ambitious at bay; they are a stage offered to their ambitions. The one who longs to dominate finds in elections the perfect instrument: a space to transform desire into legitimacy, ambition into mandate. The system is not shaped by the scruples of those who refuse, but by the race of those who pursue. It is built not on wisdom, but on the will to rise to the top.
History proves it. Today’s systems are nothing but the legacy of older structures, where blood was shed and plots abounded in the struggle for power. Kings, emperors, viziers, popes, or warlords — all secured their place through force, manipulation, or betrayal. Today, the same types present themselves as respectable and sanctified figures of the democratic stage: where skulls were once crushed to reach the throne, men now step forward under the lights pretending to embody the people. But behind the speeches, the same nature persists, the same appetite in disguise. This continuity shows that the powerful desire to rule inevitably consumes those who should be the farthest from it. Our modern institutions are not a moral rupture, but the polished continuation of an ancient drive: the thirst for domination.
Who Wants to Rule?
The question is simple, yet dizzying. Who dares to want to govern? Who can believe themselves worthy of carrying the fate of millions, when everyone knows how hard it is to bear the weight of their own life? The lucid being knows this burden is crushing, beyond human scale. The one who measures their own flaws understands that governing is not a privilege but a curse. And it is precisely this lucidity that prevents one from aspiring to power. The more one grasps the gravity of responsibility, the less one wishes to assume it. The desire to govern thus becomes a sign: either of blindness, or of moral insensitivity.
The Ethical Being Flees Power
The ethical being does not seek to rule. He flees from it, precisely because he understands its magnitude. He knows that as power grows, responsibility expands to infinity. Deciding for oneself is already delicate. Deciding for others is immense. Deciding for millions is inhuman. One who grasps this truth cannot sleep at night. More power means more consequences, more unpredictables, more lives touched by each decision. The ethical being refuses to covet such a burden. He steps aside, leaving the place to those blind to the abyss.
The Madness of Wanting More
It is madness to desire more power. To want more is to expose oneself to more responsibility. Yet the lucid being understands that no one can account for everything. Madness, here, is no exaggeration. It lies in believing that one can carry what exceeds human measure. It is a voluntary blindness. Those who chase power do so because they do not see the abyss it opens — or because they refuse to look. The current system is therefore a mad race. It does not select the wise but those most obstinate in desire, the most indifferent to the moral vertigo of the role.
An Architecture Shaped by Blindness
Our institutions embody this logic. They are not neutral. They are not tools that can simply be filled with good or bad intentions depending on circumstances. They are structured around desire. They elevate those who want, who ask, who present themselves. They reward speech, ambition, the ability to seduce and to promise. They give first place not to those who hesitate, but to those who assert. This is no accident. It is the direct imprint of their origin: they were designed by men who wanted to govern, who built a system where desire becomes a right.
Proof of What It Proves
Some will say this is only a detail of procedure. But it goes much deeper. The mere fact that power is accessible to those who desire it is itself proof. Proof that the system was shaped not by a demand for justice but by the greed of those who seize it. In a lucid world, the desire to govern would be disqualifying. In our world, it is required. The one who wants is encouraged. The one who does not is ignored. The structure reveals what it is: an instrument of a senseless race where the primary criterion is the will to rise to the top. Any institution that requires candidates automatically transforms the thirst for power into a right. It is morally invalid by design.
What a World of Conscience Would Look Like
Now imagine the opposite. A world where the awareness of the burden is so great that no one wants to rule. In such a world, politics would not take the form of competition but of supplication. The people would not choose among willing candidates but would have to beg the reluctant. Power would be imposed against one’s will, entrusted to those who tremble at its weight. The sign of wisdom would be refusal, and this refusal would become the criterion of selection. Persistent public refusal to govern would become the condition of eligibility. Consent would be accepted only out of necessity, never out of desire.
In this world, governing would not be a conquest but a shared curse. Institutions would not be designed to attract the ambitious, but to forcibly retain the most conscious. Selection would come through reluctant conscription: ethical drafts of unwilling profiles, bans on campaigning, the impossibility of turning office into prestige or profit. Power would not be a prize but a burden everyone seeks to avoid. And it is precisely this reversal that would make it more just. For those who would accept to govern would do so not out of desire, but out of necessity, out of duty — never appetite.
The Inverted Logic of Our World
The contrast with our reality is stark. Here, power is presented as victory. It is celebrated, conquered, claimed. We vote for those who want it the most. We admire their ambition, their endurance, their ability to dominate rivals. We have normalized competition for a role that should inspire dread. We have turned it into a race, when it should be an ordeal. And then we wonder at the results: leaders who do not tremble, but dare, affirm, impose. The system selects exactly what it was designed to select.
Responsibility Smothered
This inversion has a direct consequence. More power should mean more responsibility, and therefore more vigilance, more scruples, more sleepless nights. But in those who desire it, the mechanism works in reverse. The further they advance, the more they learn to shield themselves from their own faults. They rationalize, justify, relativize. They invoke the lesser evil. They turn gravity into routine. They no longer see lives behind numbers. They numb themselves to continue the race. Power then becomes not a burden but a tool they wield without bearing its true weight.
An Irreparable System
Can this system be corrected from within? Everything suggests not. For it is not an accident — it is its very nature. It is built on the desire to govern, and as long as it rests on this foundation, it will reproduce the same effects. We can improve transparency, limit corruption, set up counterbalances. But the structure will remain the same: a stage for those who want, rather than a burden entrusted to those who refuse. As long as this fundamental inversion is not corrected, no reform will alter its essence. We will continue to be ruled by those who want to rule — those who do not understand what ruling truly means.
Conclusion: The Imprint of Desire
The current system is not a neutral framework that could simply be filled with good intentions. It is the materialization of desire, corrupted from its very birth. In a world of conscience, power would be shunned, refused, entrusted only to those who do not want it. In ours, it is coveted, fought over, celebrated. That is the mark of its origin. The fact that it attracts those who want to dominate proves it was designed for them. And that simple truth is enough to explain why it always leads us to the same dead ends.
Power should be a curse, but we have made it a prize. It should be a burden, but we have made it a trophy. The history of our institutions is the history of this inversion. And until we acknowledge it, we will remain trapped in the logic of desire. The system is not merely flawed. It is living proof that we have let the blindest build the rules, and that we call “justice” nothing more than the race of pretenders.