He called himself Dominus. He spread rumors that he -- the Supreme King -- was the incarnation of Jupiter. He even wore a crown that seldom worn by Roman emperors: the white ribbon studded with pearls. Surprisingly, Gaius Aurelius Valerius Diocletianus Augustus -- the Roman rulers between 284-305 AD -- was the only emperor who recorded history as the builder of "Socialism" in the vast empire.
In the year 301, he issued an edict, Edictum de pretiis. Socioeconomic circumstances and presumably the King's sense of fair wanted it. He handed out food to the poor. He held government projects to accommodate the widely-labor. He put the industry under the supervision of the state, so that no handful of entrepreneurs jumped from togetherness.
State, in the Roman tradition, has long mastered the natural resources, such as salt and various mine fields. Now under Diocletian, the authority increased. Butchers, bakers, bricklayers, blacksmiths, glass blowers, contractor: everything is put in order with the detailed government regulation.
And they could not rebel. They did not have moral reasons. On the contrary, Diocletian had good reason. The kingdom was being threatened by the enemy. Meanwhile -- the Supreme King lamented in Edictum de pretiis -- "the stinginess was raging". Needless to say, the merchants -- in the power system which had such an assumption -- became the hunted dog.
But unfortunately it turned out Edictum quickly fell. The traders swiftly hid their goods. To combat the game, the bureaucracy was deployed. But that's what had to be borne by a government which wanted to set too much: the officials forced branching, the departments in overlapping. Ancient historian Lactantius estimated the amount of bureaucracy at that time to reach half of population.
Perhaps this estimation was exaggerated. But he nonetheless depicted a strong impression, about a time when the cost of bureaucracy every year practically spent the countries entire income. Of course, the record needs to be added. What is at issue is not the cost, but the futility of the ongoing.
Will Durant, who compiled a history of Western civilization in eleven thick volumes, in one part of his great work was revealed with great difficulties faced by Diocletian's bureaucracy, "The bureaucrats found their task too great for human integrity, too sporadic for their surveillance the evasive ingenuity of men."
It turned out that the task of the bureaucrat was too heavy for human honesty, and their supervision was too fragmented to be able to capture the ingenuity of those clever dodge.
Thus, corruption was growing, the negligence spread. Every time the stench wafted, then more and more layers of bureaucracy to supervise, and so on, seemingly inexhaustible. In his turn, even Diocletian himself was accused of "having an affair".
How sad it was. Because Diocletian basically was not a low life. He was calling himself Dominus, but as said by the ancient chroniclers Aurelius Victor, "He behaves like a father". He wore the clothes of his greatness, but he smiled knowingly, that in times of crisis, the power required a lot of make-up. Also the rumors that he was a descendant god -- at a time when Christianity had spread -- could be seen just a political ploy.
Because it's not the power he was looking for. He impeached himself at the age of 55 years, handed over the country leadership to the younger. And when people asked him to return to the throne to settle a conflict, he just showed his lush cabbage plants: a private who just wanted to forget his experiment with "Socialism".
***
[CZ-lacalifusa010513]
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| An inspiring smile of Mikhail Khodorkovsky |
The last actor closed the door.
"Caesar, I'm home."
And the dressing-room was empty.
Mirror was so cold, like an abandoned old face.
Anyone gone home,
although on the back of the jacket with a hollow he still felt the tip of the knife was stabbed,
and an accordion singing at the time of death.
"Theatre, "the director always muttering," is just the two-nights life"
"But still life," he wanted to answer.
He always felt he could answer.
He liked his own voice and a few words.
But at each stage wreckage
he forgot the words.
At each stage wreckage
he only wanted three seconds - three seconds that sure:
in the ships hallway, the dust never stopped just because the light was not there anymore.
He did not like melancholia.
***
2013
"Caesar, I'm home."
And the dressing-room was empty.
Mirror was so cold, like an abandoned old face.
Anyone gone home,
although on the back of the jacket with a hollow he still felt the tip of the knife was stabbed,
and an accordion singing at the time of death.
"Theatre, "the director always muttering," is just the two-nights life"
"But still life," he wanted to answer.
He always felt he could answer.
He liked his own voice and a few words.
But at each stage wreckage
he forgot the words.
At each stage wreckage
he only wanted three seconds - three seconds that sure:
in the ships hallway, the dust never stopped just because the light was not there anymore.
He did not like melancholia.
***
2013
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