Government as Organized Crime?
Radio Eriwan was once asked "Is government a form of organized crime?"
Radio Eriwan answered: "In principle, no. But in practice, we are not allowed to comment on ongoing investigations."
I once attended a public governance course at Fondue Academy. Most lectures followed the same pattern—I raised my hand, asked uncomfortable questions, challenged assumptions. The professors were patient, but I could tell they weren’t used to someone in his 40s, with a fair share of life experience, poking holes in their theories.
Except for one lecture.
That day, I didn’t interrupt. I didn’t even speak.
Because that day, the topic was government as organized crime.
It wasn’t some radical conspiracy theory. It was the work of Charles Tilly, a respected political scientist, whose essay War Making and State Making as Organized Crime laid it all out in plain terms.
Tilly argued that states and crime syndicates operate on the same fundamental principles. They establish monopolies on force, neutralize competitors, demand payment in exchange for "protection," and extract wealth from those under their control. The key difference? Governments have managed to convince people that their racket is legitimate.
A Mafia With a Flag?
Governments promise security, just like a mafia boss promises to keep the neighborhood safe. The only catch? The biggest threat to your security often comes from the ones offering protection.
Try setting up your own currency, creating a private security force, or simply refusing to pay taxes. You’ll quickly see that governments, like crime syndicates, don’t tolerate competition.
Of course, they have better branding. The mafia says, “Pay up, or bad things might happen.” The government says, “Pay your taxes, or you’ll be fined, maybe imprisoned.”
The mafia takes a cut of local businesses. Governments take a cut of everything you earn. The mafia controls who operates in its territory. Governments call it "licensing" and "regulation."
The core logic is the same—the state just has better PR.
War: The Protection Racket on a Global Scale
Tilly’s argument goes further: states engage in war the same way crime syndicates defend their turf. The only difference is that governments dress it up in grand narratives like "national security" or "defending democracy."
History is full of wars fought under noble banners. But at their core, they were all about power, control, and resources. Rome, Britain, the United States—every empire justified its expansion as a necessary defense of its interests.
Governments manufacture threats to justify their existence. They create instability, then offer security. They fuel conflicts, then demand greater surveillance and military spending to keep people "safe." It’s an old trick, and it still works.
The protection racket is simple: keep people afraid, and they will never question the ones keeping them "safe."
The Taxation Racket
Tilly was clear—taxation was never about funding services. It was about control.
If taxes were really about the public good, why do so many governments run up massive debts while basic infrastructure crumbles? Why are the ultra-rich able to navigate around taxes while the middle class is squeezed dry?
Governments frame taxation as a civic duty. But let’s be honest: taxes are not voluntary. You don’t get to opt out.
And no, pointing to public services doesn’t justify it. The mafia also funds community projects. That doesn’t make their business model ethical.
The Monopoly on Force
Max Weber famously defined the state as the entity that holds the monopoly on legitimate violence.
If an individual forces you to hand over money for protection, that’s called extortion. If the government does it, it’s called taxation.
If a private citizen uses force to defend his property, he might end up in legal trouble. But if the state does it, it’s called law enforcement.
The rules are clear: the state decides when force is justified. It makes sure no one else gets to play by the same rules.
The Management of Consent
Defenders of democracy argue, “But governments are elected! The people consent!”
But is it really consent when the system itself controls the choices?
Modern democracy operates within the Overton Window—the range of acceptable political discourse. You can vote, but only for pre-approved options. You can debate, but only within the limits set by those in power.
And the most radical question—“Do I want to participate in this system at all?”—is never on the ballot.
True freedom means being able to opt out. But opting out is never an option.
But What’s the Alternative?
Thomas Hobbes warned that without government, life would be "nasty, brutish, and short." But at what point does government itself become the very thing it was meant to prevent?
If we accept that modern states function like organized crime, the real question becomes: what could replace them?
Robert Nozick offers one vision. In Anarchy, State, and Utopia—which you should own, if only for its stunning cover—he explores alternatives where governance is chosen rather than imposed.
The Quiet Revolution
Revolutions fail because they fight the system on its own terms. Governments are built to withstand opposition. They expect it. They have the resources, the legal mechanisms, and, ultimately, the force to suppress it. History is full of movements that sought to overthrow a system, only to become what they fought against.
The real alternative is not revolution, but irrelevance.
Power structures do not collapse when confronted head-on. They wither when people stop needing them. The best way to undermine a coercive system is to make it obsolete—not through grand uprisings, but through quiet, practical alternatives.
This has happened before. The printing press made the medieval Church less relevant, not a violent rebellion. The internet made traditional gatekeepers of information less relevant, not a decree.
Cryptocurrency, for all its flaws, threatens to make central banks less relevant—not by storming their headquarters, but by offering an alternative.
What does this mean for government?
It means shifting focus from fighting the system to outgrowing it.
Decentralized alternatives to governance can replace bloated bureaucracies.
Peer-to-peer networks can replace state-controlled economic systems.
Self-reliant communities can reduce dependence on centralized power.
This is not utopian thinking. The groundwork is already there. Technology, global connectivity, and decentralized systems are quietly eroding traditional hierarchies. The question is not whether government will shrink—it’s whether we will have the courage to stop relying on it.
Overthrowing a system means tearing it down and dealing with the chaos that follows. But making it irrelevant means building something better until people no longer see the need for what exists.
Governments don’t survive on their own. They survive because people still believe they are necessary. The moment enough people realize they aren’t—the system won’t need to be overthrown.
Government will simply fade away.