The Church and the Welfare State

In the dingy gray mornings of the old Soviet Union, the peasants learned a terrible national dogma. They queued for hours outside concrete shops that smelled of dust and vinegar, ration cards in hand, waiting for the chance to buy a loaf of bread or a few bruised potatoes.

Just the line itself was a life lesson in social policy. You learned to keep your head down, to say little, to nod politely at the clerk who decided when “enough” was enough. In that long, cold wait, obedience became a survival skill. When the State controls the grain, dissent is a luxury few can afford.

In this state religious system, the queue was the creed and obedience was the sacrament. The bread you received was not a gift but a leash. When a nation’s hunger is met only through government approval, gratitude turns to dependence and dependence to quiet fear.

The people no longer prayed for their daily bread — they petitioned bureaucrats for it.

Rome discovered the same dark magic two millennia earlier. Free grain and endless games pacified citizens far better than legions ever could. “Bread and circuses,” Juvenal mocked, the cheap bribes of an empire in decline.

The Romans learned that a populace fat and entertained is easier to rule than a populace free and responsible. The method has never lost its charm. From Soviet ration cards to Roman grain doles, rulers have always known that the quickest way to dull a spine is to fill a stomach.