Madmen Are Not Always in Asylums

Madmen Are Not Always in Asylums

Sometimes I look at the world and ask myself: perhaps our definition of “madness” is wrong?

For years, we have thought that a mad person is someone who talks to themselves in the street, behaves strangely, or is hospitalized in a psychiatric institution.

But if we set that definition aside and look at politics, a strange question arises:

Could some of the most dangerous madness in the world be taking place precisely behind political desks bearing national flags?

Imagine this: a person is sitting behind a desk, wearing a suit and tie, giving a speech, smiling, and speaking in a completely serious tone about “the future of the nation.”

Then, with a few signatures, a few orders, and a few decisions, they change the lives of millions of people, start a war, impose sanctions on a country, push an economy to the brink of collapse, displace millions, and sometimes bring the world within a few steps of a major catastrophe.

Then they sit there calmly and say:

“This decision was necessary to protect the security of the people.”

I’m sorry, but if someone can calmly gamble with the lives of millions of people, I have the right to ask at least one question:

Who decided that this person is sane?

The moment a person becomes so convinced of their own power that they can no longer see the possibility of being wrong, that is when the most dangerous person becomes a psychopath.

The most dangerous person is not always someone who shouts or behaves abnormally.

Sometimes the most dangerous person is someone who is completely calm, organized, and certain that they alone are right.

They see their opponents as enemies. They call their critics traitors and consider the people’s protests to be ignorance.

And they blame every failure on others.

But the strangest thing is that the more mistakes they make, the more confident they become!

Imagine this: if an ordinary person accidentally burned down their house once, they would probably think a little before striking a match the next time.

But some politicians, if they set a country on fire, ask for a bigger match the second time.

And this is where things truly become frightening.

Because an ordinary mad person’s mistake usually affects their own life.

But the mistake of a mad politician can destroy the lives of millions.

They make a decision; hundreds of soldiers die.

They give an order; millions of people are displaced.

They impose sanctions; hundreds of thousands of children become poorer.

They give an order; thousands of people are killed beneath bombs and missiles.

They issue a threat; millions of people live in fear for months and years.

And what about them?

They usually sit at a table in the same suit, surrounded by the same bodyguards, eating the same warm food, repeating the same familiar sentence:

“This is the price we must pay for security.”

But there is one simple question:

Why must others always pay that price?

If war is necessary, why doesn’t the decision-maker go to the front line themselves?

If sacrifice is necessary, why does their own family never seem to share in that sacrifice?

If the people must suffer, why don’t the lives of those who make decisions about hardship usually become harder as well?

This is where some politicians move away from reason and turn into something resembling the madness of power.

Power gives people a dangerous illusion:

The belief that because they can make decisions, they therefore have the right to gamble with the lives of millions of human beings.

No.

Having power does not mean one is capable of making the right decisions.

And receiving millions of votes does not mean that a politician owns millions of lives.

People vote so that someone will defend their interests—not so that their lives can be placed on a gambling table.

Perhaps the world needs one simple question more than anything else:

If a decision is so dangerous that it could cost the lives of millions, shouldn’t the person making that decision fear its consequences at least as much as the victims do?

If the answer is “no,” then perhaps the problem is not merely a wrong decision.

Perhaps the problem is power that is no longer afraid of making mistakes.

And I still do not understand why, when an ordinary person displays dangerous and irrational behavior, everyone looks for help—but when the same behavior takes place in a presidential palace, a prime minister’s office, or a military command room, we call it “strategy.”

What bitter irony.

Perhaps some madmen really are not in asylums.

Perhaps some of them are sitting behind desks of power. The only difference is that instead of controlling one room, they control an entire country. 

Written by: Gooya Roshan
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