It unnerves me, holding a handful of US Dollars.
I feel like Frodo clutching the ring of power.
So much evil condensed in one place.

I never thought I would have such a strong reaction to something so simple as a visit to the airport money-changer.
Yet I did.
Indeed, I feel it every time I hold those abominable little bills, from which the faces of evil men sneer with contempt for the world.
Warlords and conquerors, one and all.

I think of the rivers of blood that have been spilled to prop up their empire.
I think of the sheer weight of human misery that these bits of paper represent.
I think of the innocent people who deserved better.

People ask me why I joined the Seasteading Institute.

Is it because I hate paying the taxes that feed and clothe the poor?
Is it because I think Bioshock and Waterworld represent a desirable model of society?
Is it because I dream of being dictator of my own floating city-state?


I do it for them.
I do it for the people who deserved justice but will never get it.
The women raped and the men slaughtered, the children sold into slavery.
All the victims of all the empires, past and present and – unless something changes – future.

From Genghis to Alexander, from Rome to USFedGovInc. – I hate them all with a passion I won’t even bother trying to quantify in words.
And almost none of these bloodthirsty monsters will ever face justice for their crimes against humanity.

For there is no justice in the world – not by default.
Justice must be fought for.
It must be carefully constructed and maintained.

In a universe sliding towards entropy and chaos, any form of order requires constant effort to maintain.
Social order is no different.

This is why I loathe ideas like Karma or Divine Justice.
These concepts simply lull good people into a false sense of security, enticing them to neglect their duty to fight for good and against evil.

“God will take care of it”.

“The meek will inherit the Earth”.

Still waiting on that.
Any day now….

I joined the Seasteading Institute because I believe the oceans may be our last viable frontier, our last chance to hit the reset button,
and radically reshape the way our society functions.

I used to think space travel would do the trick, but now I’m not so sure.
No-one will care if Elon Musk declares himself absolute dictator of Mars – people forget about abstract philosophy when food, water and oxygen at stake.

“Obey me and I will give you air to breathe.”

People have mortgaged their freedom for less.

If we can’t make it work here on Earth, with it’s breathable air and it’s plentiful water and it’s global infrastructure to draw upon,
we have fuck-all chance of not killing each other while scratching around in the Martian dirt.

This may be our last chance to dethrone the princes and dismantle the empires, to build a social order based on peace and justice and free trade between all peoples.
This may be our last chance to reclaim our civilisation from the psychopaths who now lord over it, the egomaniacs whose nuclear arsenals could scour all life
off the face of the earth in four minutes flat.
This may be our last chance to atone for the sins of our forefathers.

We may succeed or we may fail.
Maybe we’ll all end up dead at the bottom of the sea, with American or Chinese or Somali bullets in our skulls.
Maybe the movement will fizzle out anticlimactically – Joe and Randy will go back to their day jobs, and I’ll go live in a cave somewhere and let my hair grow even longer.
Maybe it will become corrupted over time, and the predators will simply assume their place at the top of the hierarchy as they always seem to do.

I don’t care.

Because maybe, just maybe, we will win.
And maybe one day will cast these fucking pieces of paper into the fiery pit where they belong.
And maybe then those little Arab kids will sleep peacefully in their mass-graves.