Tyrant's Corner

Castro Suspects Nuclear War

2010-08-08T11:09:00.000-07:00

Tyrants must shepherd the emotions of their subjects. Desire must be harnessed into action. Anger must be cast down on enemies of the state and party. And fear ought to be channeled into motivation.

Point the Accusatory Finger for effect.

Fidel Castro has utilized the people's desire throughout his "tenure" as sole dictator of Cuba, and in one of his first political actions in years, he just did it again.

If you've hired good textbook and news-editing committees, you'll be able to throw them into a panic quickly. Threaten impending doom. Wave your arms and use big words like "conflagration" or "holocaust" to rouse their passions and swell the ranks of your military.

Fidel, the Cosmo Kramer of Tyrants, can always be trusted to enter proudly with a cigar, speak with fervor, and rouse suspicion in every listener. A good tyrant is a manager of suspicion. He raises it up, nurtures it, and then lets it ferment. He even lets it stand in a court of law as evidence.

North Koreans Learn Shameball

2010-08-03T13:42:00.000-07:00

After a lackluster performance in the 2010 FIFA World Cup, North Korea has shown its appreciation for their hardworking stars by publicly shaming them. Their coach? Sent to work construction. Team building exercises, anyone?

That's right, hide your face from your dear leader.

Public humiliation is better than instant capital punishment. Show your athletes that failure is not an option, and your citizens will get the message. How can you run a good police state without making public figures pay for failure? You can't, so get those shaming pedestals ready for their un-triumphant return home. Take all the credit if your athletes do great, but if they fail be sure to cast them into the bowels of your dungeons after descrying their puny efforts on state TV. Oh, the joy of sportsmanship! Thanks to Kyle for the link.

Poster Thursday: Fascist Flair

2010-07-22T14:26:00.000-07:00

After all this communist blather, I thought I'd compose an ode to fascist art. The Italian Fascist government under Benito Mussolini was ideal: a whole nation with a penchant for the dramatic called upon to design uniforms, weapons and parades. They had the freaking Romans to look to for inspiration. What a disappointment that gladiatorial battles didn't come back. What a greater shame that the mama's boys filling the ranks of Italy's army fled at the first sounds of battle. Rome's legions once made Germanic tribes piss in their deerskin leggings.

Hijack the symbols of other nations for effect.

The text reads "Here Are Your Liberators." Note the drama mask, something only a theatrical Italian artist would depict on an otherwise demonic poster. This Caravaggio of chaos also imagines a burning hospital, complete with red cross and screaming children. Surely, these evil Yankees will target orphanages, cathedrals, and convents. What a genius poster. Too bad the only Italian conquests these days are naive female tourists.

Which to Bury: Ceausescu or the Hatchet?

2010-07-21T15:45:00.000-07:00

Nicolae Ceausescu, my second favorite Romanian dictator, was exhumed today to find a DNA match for an ongoing trial. This is heartbreaking news for tyrants everywhere. Can't they just leave us be? Wasn't it enough to seize him and his wife, give them an Iraqi speed trial, and execute them by firing squad?


What a lovable tyrant grin.

No, the public must have their justice. With all the fear Nicolae spread over his twenty-five years of sweet power, you'd think they'd be afraid to dig up his grave. The man's ghost surely rules the spirit world with a suspicious eye and an iron claw.

Nicky Chu (my nickname for him) deserves a more in-depth article. He established Securitate, a top-notch secret police force, gave his Labrador a motorcade, and was generally an all-around nice guy, as far as us bloodthirsty tyrants go. If he had impaled with impunity, he'd get more props from me than Vlad Tepes.

The USSR Anthem: A Study in Motivation

2010-07-20T16:04:00.000-07:00

Nothing helps one command absolute power like a great national anthem. After all, what are your parades going to march to? Salute this tableau of Soviet power:

This video does wonders for the national soul by evoking an idyllic feudal past. It's a clever twist on history, since Russian farmers have been chaff to the ruler's sickle for centuries. We also enjoy vistas of Moscow, massive parades, inspiring scenes of dead visionaries, and peasants smiling nervously in front of the camera. I was so moved after I watched it that I imprisoned seven mediocre Olympians.

Some key lyrics include "An unbreakable Union of free republics" and "Soviet flag, free flag, Let it lead from victory to victory!" A little comedic hyperbole on your part will always motivate the masses. Make sure to have your police informants watch for anyone not singing con brio at your rallies. The rest of the lyrics can be found here.

Manuel Noriega, Model Latin Dictator

2010-05-21T13:21:00.000-07:00

Manuel Noriega, easily the most fearsomely-named Latin American dictator of the 20th century, has been extradited to France and placed in prison. Up until this point, Noriega had been languishing in a Miami jail. It's not really that tough if they let you wear your military uniform, watch TV, write manifestos, and have your own quarters. They probably let him orate from the prison balcony to the other inmates, too.

Noriega was Panama's defacto dictator from 1983 until 1989. While glam-rock climbed the Billboard charts, Noriega climbed Panama's power structure and declared himself supreme dictator. While Billie Jean pounded through stereos across America, Noriega billy-clubbed dissidents.

I raise my glass of prohibitively-priced Cognac to never saying you're sorry, no matter how much the media drags your good name through the mud. After all, it's only been a few years since you were telling them what to report in the first place, right?

In the spirit of Latin-America's love-affair with dictatorship, I've decided to create a test of sorts. What might you be named had you been born into Caribbean or Latin American political privilege? Better yet, what would you have done with that privilege? I would have been a merciless dictator. And my name, well...
My Latin Dictator Name is is Jacinto "Partido Autentico" de San Cristobal.
Take What's My Latin Dictator Name? today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.

Have fun imagining your crowds of admirers and political supporters, but remember they get fickle when you don't keep them in line.

Jean-Claude Duvalier: West Indian Giver

2010-02-04T13:49:00.000-08:00

Some Jean-Claudes kickbox their way to fame, but Haiti's former dictator Jean-Claude Duvalier was born into it. Like a true child of privilege, he spent his 1971-1986 term of office squandering the resources of his people, to their apparent surprise. They drove him out of the country, for he was no iron-willed military man, but merely an immature playboy. If you want their respect, don't let them call you "Baby Doc." Jean-Claude fled to France but was able to keep his fortune in Swiss bank accounts. He divided the rest of his time between resort-hopping and fighting in the Kumite.

The Swiss Government froze 4.6 million of Duvalier's funds with the assumption that they were ill-gotten. I don't see anything wrong with skimming a little off the top, but Switzerland wanted to make a public statement that their banks are no haven for thugs. The money was to be given back to Haiti. This statement looks real stupid now that the Swiss Federal Supreme Court overturned the freeze and handed Baby Doc his blank check back. This happened, incidentally, right before the earthquake hit. What a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites. To the developed world, Switzerland says "Hey, we're cleaning our act up, you naughty dictators and drug lords!" To the next aspiring class of tyrants they say "We take small bills, change, and U.N. food stamps too." The Swiss system has turned Jean-Claude into the biggest (West) Indian Giver the world's ever seen. Now the government has re-frozen the money, since it's become a PR fiasco.

Picture this as a dictator: you're exiled, your funds are frozen, your home country has an earthquake, and then your fortunes magically reverse: all of a sudden all your money is yours again and your nation is more or less leaderless. Now it's time to come back home. Use your freshly-released millions to hire an army, pass out food and proclaim that you willed the earthquake to happen because your countrymen spurned you. Assume the throne and rule until your death, when a willing successor will be ready to reign in your place. Don't forget to line your pockets and buy extra-fine gold epaulets with all the earthquake relief money. Dynasty restored, people relatively happy, history rewritten.

Fulgencio Batista: Berets and Bribery

2009-12-04T14:05:00.000-08:00

In the pantheon of Latin American Dictators, there are few as awesomely corrupt as Fulgencio Batista, Cuba's pre-Castro puppeteer. He staged TWO coups d'etat, accepted millions in bribes, and wore a blinged-out uniform. The uniform is the most important part of a Latin Dictator's public persona. Nothing says "I'm pocketing education dollars" like a pair of gold-laced epaulets or unearned valor medals. Just grin playfully like Batista and everyone will laugh their suspicions away.

As a prominent sergeant in the Cuban Army, Batista led a coup in 1933 to depose the dictator Gerardo Machado, as if a coup would make the society less dictatorial. With the army in his pocket, he put up figurehead presidents for several years until he ran himself in 1940 and won the presidency. After increasing the army from 8,000 to 20,000 soldiers, he lost the next term in 1944 and took an 8-year break from politics to plot his comeback. He was asked back to be on the presidential ticket in 1952. Instead of waiting to see the outcome, he just seized power in a matter of days using his military connections. He later defended this in his book Growth and Decline of the Cuban Republic by saying "I have been forced to carry out this coup because of my love for the people." If only all tyrants would so eloquently refuse to apologize .

Batista managed to run Cuba like a rock star from 1952 to 1959, when Fidel Castro marched into Havana with his bearded hipster rebels. These seven years were full of all manner of dirty things that a Latin lothario could wish for. Batista brought the Mafia in via his friend Meyer Lansky, a Jewish mob mastermind. He built the Havana Hilton and numerous other gambling shangri-las. Time magazine called 1950s Havana a "fleshpot," and with nearly 12,000 prostitutes doing business, they were right. If you're going to be deposed for your decadence, then don't half-ass it. Batista matched Mafia investment in casinos nearly dollar for dollar. He cancelled corporate taxes to encourage foreign investment. And each night, he sent a bag-man to the casino floors to collect as much as ten percent of the gambling floor earnings on his behalf. He most certainly spent his nights in a crushed velvet corner booth, passing out cigars to mobsters, winking at bonitas and sipping on Havana Club Anejo.

Batista held a mock presidential election in 1954 with himself as the only candidate just to give his critics a laughing middle finger. At a televised baseball game on December 4, 1955, fifteen students rushed the field to whine about his policies. A cadre of police took their cue and proceeded to beat the crap out of them in front of a national audience. This was a crucial moment in Batista's reign. He should have had the entire audience at the game beaten on national TV to send a message, but instead he let the opposition grow. The University of Havana cried out in protest, so Batista shut it down indefinitely. A few other times he let soldiers fire on demonstrators, but like most hastily-planned crowd massacres, this one hurt Batista more than it helped him. If you're trying to make a point, at least send a tank to run them down!

The last few years of Batista's reign were marked by Fidel's rebel armies gathering support for their cause, the July 26th Movement. Fidel and Raul Castro botched their first attempt at landing a sizeable force on Cuba. Their force of 82 was dead, captured or scattered, and in proper dictatorial form, Batista ordered that "ten prisoners must be shot for every dead soldier." But Che Guevara, Fidel, and the rest of the revolutionaries were able to escape and regroup. Although Batista rained down American-bought napalm on the rebels, tortured suspected sympathizers, and squashed peasants like a Russian Tsar, his days were numbered.

Instead of going down with the ship and holing up in his office with a machine gun, Batista abdicated the presidency and left Cuba on New Year's Day 1959. He spent the remainder of his days in Portugal with dictator Antonio Salazar, writing unapologetic books and spending the $300 million he absconded with. Oh, the perks of letting the Mafia run your capital city! Gracias, Fulgencio. If only all dictators had your sense of style.

Henry VIII of England: Poet, Priest, and Potentate

2009-11-19T17:48:00.000-08:00

Oh, Henry! Reading about the second Tudor king's laundry list of tyrannical accomplishments made me reach for a candy bar. Henry VIII was King of England and self-proclaimed head of the Church of England. He reigned from 1509 until his death in 1547. Throughout his tenure, there arose several tests of Henry's worth as a monarch, which he passed with flying colors.

First, remember to have William Wallace on your side if you're a bekilted Scotsman trying to invade England. King John IV of Scotland neglected this simple fact in 1513, and got his lily ass handed to him by an inferior force of Englishmen. King John was slaughtered in battle along with his son, eleven earls, fifteen lords, and three bishops.

Another test for Henry VIII came when thousands of English Northerners revolted in a religious uproar called the Pilgrimage of Grace. In response, Henry promised their leader Robert Aske that he would negotiate. Robert dismissed the slovenly rabble and came at Henry's invite to a banquet in London. Not a year later, Henry had him arrested and suspended in chains from Clifford's Tower to die above York. Not so graceful now, are we, Robert? Henry was just getting warmed up. After stomping Aske, he released an order to his northern nobles that read as follows:

"You shall in anywise cause such dreadful execution to be done upon a good number of every town, village and hamlet that have been offenders in the rebellion, as well by hanging them up in trees as by quartering of them and the setting of their heads and quarters in every town, great and small, as they may be a fearful spectacle to all other hereafter that would practice a like matter."

Henry's formidable cunning was balanced out by a hip-hop star's penchant for partying. Beyond the expected kingly interest in hunting, dancing, and poetry, he held massive wine-soaked banquets, and loved to gamble. Rolling in with his massive entourage of trumpeters and heralds, he would throw gold coins and dice to his guests so they could join in the festivities. He hosted the "Field of the Cloth of Gold," a month-long carnival for Europe's royalty. There were wine fountains, fireworks, and fake chapels stocked with priests instructed to pardon any sins. Henry stood on his throne while the crowd bounced to the orchestra and he poured champagne down the blouses of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting.

Henry VIII liked the womenfolk. Like a philandering televangelist, he spoke out against Catholicism while his loins burned for women besides his wife. Like a Mormon forefather, he found a way to marry six of them and appear mildly pious. Instead of hashing out his marital difficulties with the Pope, he created the Church of England, of which he was the sole head. A note to you aspiring tyrants: if the church denounces you for making your own rules, make up your own church. If they won't annul your marriage, just have the cardinal (or the woman) beheaded on trumped up treason charges and marry the next one.

When public opinion wavered against Henry, he pushed the Treasons Act of 1534 through parliament, which pronounced guilty anyone who might "slanderously and maliciously publish and pronounce, by express writing or words, that the king should be heretic, schismatic, tyrant, infidel or usurper of the crown." If you called Henry a tyrant, he confirmed your suspicions and had you beheaded.

Believe me, there is much more to tell about our fascinating friend Henry VIII: the six wives, the destruction of the monasteries, the founding of the British Navy, and The Mob of Evil. But I hope that this panoply of regal delicacies has sated your curiosity for the time being.

The Quotable Secret Policeman

2009-11-13T14:46:00.000-08:00

After a long day of jailing dissidents, sending families to labor camps, and opening questionable mail, any secret policeman can grow weary. The state depends on you, and you have to show them you care about the little guys. Precisely, what are the little guys plotting? Who are the little guys talking to, and how soon are you going to extract information from them? I've collected some heartwarming quotes to soothe the soul of any languishing secret police officer. Think of these while you shine your boots and polish your binoculars.

"If an extra thousand people will be shot, that is not such a big deal"

- Nikolai Yezhov, Soviet Secret Police Chief

"Without mercy, without sparing, we will kill our enemies in scores of hundreds. Let them be thousands, let them drown themselves in their own blood. For the blood of Lenin and Uritsky … let there be floods of blood of the bourgeoisie – more blood, as much as possible."

- Krasnaya Gazeta, Red Army Newspaper

"Shoot first and inquire afterwards, and if you make mistakes, I will protect you."

-Hermann Göring, Gestapo Chief

"You have two hours left in which to confess everything. If you don't, I shall hand you over to the Gestapo, who are used to dealing with such gangsters and criminals — you won't enjoy their methods a bit."

-Reinhard Heydrich, Gestapo Chief

"Oppression is the essence of power"

- Ernst Kaltenbrunner, Gestapo

"I admire you, but in the end everybody talks."

-Klaus Barbie, Gestapo

Now I know you're ready for another hard day of listening out in the windswept streets. That careless table conversation at the pub is sure to draw your all-hearing ear. Remember, every bit of information you collect is another gem in the basket of our glorious state! A gem that will be thrown into the mud and crushed to a pulp.

Secret Police: A Tyrant's Best Friend

2009-11-10T18:15:00.000-08:00

As you consolidate your power and drink in the adulation of the masses, remember that not every tyrant is celebrated. Some people will actually question your rule. They will whisper to coworkers, friends, and acquaintances all sorts of lies about you. They must be taught that that is not how things work. Since they've bitten the hand that feeds them, they are no better than dogs. Dogs that hold underground meetings and raise up opposition to your glorious regime. Organize a Secret Police force to find out who's talking. When the office loudmouth doesn't show up at work next Tuesday, you can bet on a nice productivity spike. On Wednesday, your name will praised by the lips of every former detractor.

Your first order of business is to appoint a fitting chief. Look at Lavrentiy Pavlovich Beria here. He posesses the requisite beady eyes, wire-rimmed glasses, and baldness. If I saw Beria on the street, I'd appoint him based on looks alone. Don't pick the strapping lad with a full head of hair; he's not bitter and vindictive enough. Mr. B was famous for his leadership of the NKVD of the Soviet Union, quite possibly the most devastating secret police force ever to supress a populace. During the first Great Purge in the Soviet Union, Josef Stalin and the former NKVD chief Nikolai Yezhov saw an average of nearly 1,000 people executed each day. A grand total of anywhere from 600,000 to 1.2 million enemies of the state were sent to the gulags or shot. The NKVD gave arrest and execution quotas to local commissars, which had to be filled or else the leaders themselves would be accused of behavior problems.

When you name your police force, remember to intimidate. The NKVD was preceded by the sinister Cheka, Nazi Germany employed the Gestapo, and Ivan the Terrible formed the Oprichnik. What one word will be whispered in terror amongst the huddled masses you rule over? The Secret Police must also employ a catchy slogan. The Khmer Rouge used to radio broadcast their heartwarming motto, "to keep you is no benefit. To destroy you is no loss."

Secret Police are no good unless they keep a sharp eye. And you can't do this without some creativity. The East German Stasi used a host of toys, like this unassuming trashcan microphone. Oops, shouldn't have used the President's name in vain when you threw away that government issue bag of moldy potatoes! Informers are priceless. Remember to give them plenty of incentive, like first grab at the possessions of their friends after they're sent to Siberia. But then punish their thieving ways, because no party member should grub for the people's wealth!

Always follow the NKVD's example of internal accusation. No true secret police force keeps the same staff for a year or even a month. Jog the roster, so to speak, and you'll be sure to keep them loyal.

cited: Soviet Repression Statistics

The Quotable Tyrant

2009-11-06T14:02:00.000-08:00

I've dug up some inspiration for all you aspiring dictators out there, and until Life's Little Instruction Book For Tyrants is written, you'll have to make do with the crumbs I throw you. Please, sit still while Josef and I take the lectern and pour forth the wisdom of the ages. Of course, Josef would never share a lectern, but he's dead.

Since we've already been on the subject of Genghis, he'll open up the floor:

"The greatest pleasure is to vanquish your enemies, to chase them before you, to rob them of their wealth, to see their near and dear bathed in tears, to ride their horses and to sleep on the bellies of their wives and daughters." - Genghis Khan

"The death of one man is a tragedy. The death of millions is a statistic." - Josef Stalin

“It is not these well-fed long-haired men that I fear, but the pale and the hungry-looking.” –Julius Caesar

"In any country there must be people who have to die. They are the sacrifices any nation has to make to achieve law and order." - Idi Amin

"Hitler was even more ferocious. The more ferocious the better, don't you think? The more people you kill, the more revolutionary you are." - Mao Zedong

Have fun applying this wisdom to your work and relationships. Actually, don't do that.

Genghis Khan: Steppe Up To The Plate

2009-11-05T15:09:00.000-08:00

Genghis Khan means Supreme Conqueror. Remember to take a good name if you're going to rack up six-digit body counts. Genghis Khan stormed across central Asia in the roaring 1220s, conquering more land than any single man ever had or ever would. His armies controlled over 5 million square miles. This is an area as big as all 50 states and Mexico combined. The namby-pamby Lewis and Clark made a lifetime achievement out of skipping through an area half this size and giving out lollipops, but Genghis stabbed westward with his Mongol horde and slew anyone who stood opposed. If you have a horde of anything coming after you, you're going to lose. If you're born with the name Temujin, which means "man of iron," forge something better with your life than pots and horseshoes.

With simpler technology than Napoleon, a humbler pedigree than Alexander the Great, and less resources than Julius Caesar, he stormed through steppe, mountains, and desert to subjugate millions. He levied tribute from far away like no king would do until European colonization. He devised a mounted mail system, the first iteration of the Pony Express. Using relay stations stocked with riders and horses, a message could travel hundreds of miles in a few days. Genghis would quickly find out when city-states rebelled, whereupon he would condemn them to swift judgment, often riding back to see to it personally. It wasn't worth asking if Genghis was going to get you, it was merely a question of when.

Unfortunately, Mongolia today is a shadow of its erstwhile glory. When most people hear of Mongolia or Genghis Khan, they visualize piles of noodles when they should be seeing piles of heads; a sizzling grill when they should be seeing a burning city. Look at this pathetic example to the left. Not only has Genghis been made into a selling point for greasy food, he's not even Mongolian most of the time! If you think General Tso would have stood a chance against Temujin, you're deluded. Hopefully these places will cease to be patronized as long as they sully the mighty name of their country's conqueror. If you must historically name your restaurant, do a tyrant a tongue-in-cheek favor. How about Vlad's Turkish Shish-Kebabs?

Think of Genghis at the head of a thundering column of mounted swordsmen, bent on stomping your tiny village into submission. That's how he would wish to be remembered. After all, you may even be a distant relative of his. According to some genealogists, as much as 0.5% of the world's population shares a unique chromosome with ol' daddy Khan, around 16 million people. Genghis was a regular Wilt Chamberlain, who was aptly nicknamed Wilt the Stilt. You could make the proper adjustment; Geng the W...but I'll leave that to you. I feel like his virility alone deserves its own article, which I am not going to attempt writing just yet. So for today, I will let you imagine the tumultuous pounding of Mongol, um, hooves on the horizon.

Sweet dreams. To give credit, these photos are from the movie "Mongol," about Mr. G's rise to power. A worthy flick, especially if you like seeing rival tribes battle it out and roast victory goats. It's a proper epic: long, but worth it.

Military Parades: A Dictatorial Necessity

2009-08-14T12:17:00.000-07:00

All apologies for the Tyrant's hiatus from his balcony. After a long trip to my summer fortress overlooking the Caucasus Mountains, I am back on my pedestal and prepared to speak with ardor to my throngs of adoring subjects.

If the tyrant wishes to ensure their nation's continued devotion, and strike fear into the souls of their enemies, one of the most effective tools is an ostentatious Military Parade.

Let your imagination run rampant. Massive missile trucks, goose-stepping troops, and obsolete cavalry brigades are must-haves. Your might must go on display to the known world. Spending for epaulets and ceremonial swords will go through the roof, but oh, the fun you'll have!

You must employ a bombastic parade planner. Who else is going to artfully arrange the marching columns and order sword tassels? All you should have to do is salute them from your balcony. Give this planner access to your empire's coffers, and you won't be disappointed. If the parade is unsuccessful, you can always send them to a labor camp.

The ceremonial accoutrements will show that you are a dictator that cares about history, despite the fact you're rewriting it. A burly column of tanks snarling along behind your mounted troops will keep the parade from being a lame PR event. In case the crowd was thinking about rioting, the tanks are there to say "hey, we'll fill our treads with you, if you nominate yourself." What if the tank driver in Tianamen Square had kept going? No more protest, no conversation about the strength of the human spirit, just a lot of people saying, "glad I'm not that guy." And if the foolish democratic nations reprimand you, what should the tyrant's response be? "Shouldn't have been standing there."

Wed culture with brute force, and evoke your nation's warlike past. Have children march in front of the soldiers with baskets of flowers, so you can melt spectator's hearts while you keep them in a vice grip. Maybe traditionally dressed dancers or folk musicians will add a special tenderness to an otherwise Spartan spectacle. The Nazis used torches to remind everyone they're still barbarian Huns at heart.

Say what you want about the Nazis, but you have to agree that a torchlight parade would inspire devotion and, as the video says, "provoke reflections impossible to be ignored."

Your subjects will cower in fear at the sight of their own conscripted brothers marching, the world will watch in trepidation as your nuclear missile trucks drive by, and the masses will see you staring on in approval from your balcony. Dress to impress. This is the time to show off your gallant red cape, ermine robe, or gilded armor. Come down from your pedestal and shake hands with the troops. Aw, you're a nice guy, after all! But then scowl and point out the scuffed leather boots of one of the regulars, because you're nobody's friend.

Stellar example of a North Korean marching column. Note the terrific use of bayonets, a clue to the crowd that rebellion would be a bad idea.

Tyrant's Tool Tuesdays: Reeducation Camps

2008-11-26T02:04:00.000-08:00

One of the best ways to crush your enemies is to send them to a proper reeducation camp. It guarantees that your ideas will be accepted, and that anyone who doesn’t take them to heart will enjoy some nice pickax-swinging labor. There’s nothing like splintered hands and trench foot to change a rebellious mind.

The victories of any good tyrant should encompass more than just “strategic” victory. You can’t forget about moral victory, where the defeated enemy is happy to be defeated and finds themselves agreeing with you. If your citizens, prisoners and political dissidents don’t share your convictions, make like the Soviet invaders in Red Dawn and send them to a reeducation camp.

Reeducation camps have been around as long as dictatorships have. The Romans were mighty implementers of slave labor, and scorned their enemies by exacting tribute from conquered peoples. As technology advanced, these camps evolved into more complete tools for control. The Soviets sent political opponents to the Gulag, the Chinese threw their dissenters into Laogai camps, and the Vietnamese used the “trại học tập cải tạo,” which you can’t say three times fast without being re-educated. China’s Laogai system is famous for its tagline: “Forced labor is a means toward the goal of thought reform.”

How should you run a proper camp? There are many fun tools available to you. Never underestimate a good camp administrator. Find a proper warden candidate—ideally, one that is vengeful. Take a high-ranking military officer who has a history of clamoring for power, and demote him to camp warden. His anger against you will be fueled, but instead of upstaging you or planning a coup, he’ll take out his jealousy on the prisoners. Two birds with one stone. You could also get creative and promote one of your political dissidents to camp warden. The sudden rush of power will feel so good that he will forget why he disagreed with you in the first place. The sniveling cur will do his job with such gusto that you might want to promote him to general. But don’t. Make another prisoner into the camp warden and send the first guy back to forced labor.

A good speaker system is necessary for re-education. Your political ideology is much more likely to be believed when broadcast over a wide area at loud volumes. The louder, the better. Above a certain decibel level, your prisoners won’t be able to think straight. First, place wooden or metal towers around your camp. Next, install your speakers. They should blare with a metallic resonance. They should be static-tinged, but not so much that they are unintelligible. Just static enough to grate on the ears and inject your propaganda into beleaguered minds. Make sure that your gentle voice is heard over the speaker system at all hours to encourage contrition for their sins against you. You could even have a statue of yourself erected, with a speaker for a mouth. Have this statue belt out inspiring quotations, or better yet, demand that all present bow to it three times a day. You could have objectors thrown into the furnace like King Nebuchadnezzar II.

Speakers aren’t a cure-all, though. You’ll need to put your enemies to labor, that they may repay you for the grief they’ve caused. What public works need to be constructed? What minerals need to be torn from the earth? Well, by disagreeing with you, your army of prisoners just agreed to help you construct, extract, and harvest to your heart’s content. “You just pulled landscaping duty,” you might inform them. You may build a wall on one of your domain’s borders, construct newer, bigger prison camps, or erect monuments to your nation’s glory. Can you think of any arbitrary ditches that need digging? Regardless, you are mortaring bricks with the blood of your enemies, which should please any proper tyrant. Mining is also useful. May I recommend coal? As your dissidents’ lungs blacken in the darkness, they’ll repent of their foolishness, only to be greeted by more days, months, and years of soot and grime. Their morale will be crushed by repeated cave-ins, and you will be able to fuel your war machines and warm your capitol city with all the cheap energy.

Creativity will be your friend as you find ways to make your enemies pay. Torture can be too heavy-handed. Subtly break the dissenter’s spirit as you break their body, and you could conscript them into your army when they’ve been straightened out. Your prisoners are valuable assets, though relatively expendable, depending on your mood. Ask yourself one question: “what have my political opponents done for ME lately?” Probably not a lot. Put them to work.

Vlad Tepes, or Vlad the Impaler

2008-08-26T15:01:00.000-07:00

You ever wonder where Dracula came from? Everyone’s favorite bloodsucking Balkan was based on a real person. A tyrant so vicious, people thought he actually drank blood. A warlord so brooding, he impaled any fool who irked him. He was Vlad III the Impaler, also known as Vlad Dracul, Vlad Tepes, and The Biggest Badass Who Ever Lived.

Vlad the Impaler was the ideal tyrant. He set an example that any aspiring tyrant should follow. Let’s see: did he fancy an obscure form of torture? Check. Wielded absolute power? Check. Made decisions based on his own obscure sense of moral superiority? Check. Punished friend and foe alike for no good reason? Check. Good reason wasn’t really an issue with Vlad. If you crossed him, you got impaled. If he was having a bad day, you got impaled. If your motives were questionable, you got impaled. If you didn’t bow low enough, you got impaled. If you didn’t doff your cap quickly enough in Mr. V’s presence, it literally got nailed to your head. Reason was irrelevant to Vlad. The threat of impending impalement was reason enough for his kingdom to get its act together.

Vlad Tepes was the Voivode of Wallachia, which is now southern Romania. Wallachia was what you think of when you hear the term “Dark Ages.” It was filled with mud, thatch huts, castles, creepy woods, wolves, and the constant threat of invasion. Due to Vlad’s influence, people are still afraid of being impaled in Romania to this day. Plus, having a creepy title like Voivode guarantees the trembling devotion of your subjects.

Much of the available information about Vlad’s life is shrouded in mystery, and it can be hard to pinpoint the line between truth and fiction. A lot of anecdotal, and probably questionable information, came in the form of pamphlets. These were distributed throughout Europe in the centuries following Vlad’s reign of terror, full of stories about his fearsome tactics and swift judgement. The truth of the details was never certain, but even if the numbers of impaled and dead were halved, he’d still be one dangerous dude. Here’s a paraphrase of one story:

“Vlad Tepes was very concerned that all his subjects work and contribute to the common welfare. He once noticed that the poor, vagrants, beggars and cripples had become very numerous in Wallachia. He issued an invitation to all the poor and sick in Wallachia to come to the capital city Tirgoviste for a great feast, claiming that no one should be poor or hungry in his land. As the poor and crippled arrived in the city they were ushered into a great hall, where a fabulous feast was prepared for them. The guests ate and drank late into the night. Vlad himself then made an appearance and addressed them with arms outstretched, asking, "What else do you desire? Do you want to be without cares, lacking nothing in this world?" When they replied with a resounding “Yes!” Vlad ordered the hall locked up and set aflame. None escaped the inferno. Vlad explained his action to the landowning boyars by claiming that he did this "in order that they represent no further burden to other men, and that no one will be poor in my realm."*

Was this guy for real? Hell yes. Vlad didn’t give out foodstamps or sign a welfare bill. Instead, he let all the disenfranchised and crippled live like rockstars, and benevolently ended their high life on a high note. No tax burden, no legislation, just a quick and fearsome solution. This is probably the best that these poor and crippled ever got treated. I don’t think this solution would be feasible in our modern society, although back then it probably quarantined a good deal of plague and leprosy.

And that’s not the only atrocity that Vlad is renowned for. He impaled people whenever it struck his funny bone, and once even forced the boyars (landowning barons) to dine with him in a forest of impaled corpses. Amidst the stench of death and bodily fluids, one of them foolishly plugged his nose. Vlad had this wiseguy impaled on a stake higher than the rest, since the boyar apparently thought himself above the stench. He often dined this way, with a thief, wrongdoer, or Turk wriggling on a stake in front of him. He also averted a Turkish invasion by impaling several thousand captive Turks along the banks of the Danube river in southern Wallachia. The Turkish army was so disheartened by the sight of their mangled countrymen that they turned and went back. That would be like Russia turning away from invading tiny Czechslovakia in 1968. Instead of leaflets, Vlad’s idea of propaganda was impaled Turks. It takes a truly twisted bastard to use impalement as incentive, but Vlad was convinced of its redemptive, healing power.

Vlad Tepes was an ideal tyrant because he didn’t conform to some obscure moral code; he just made up his own as he went along. He was a member of a secret society known as The Order of The Dragon, and that’s how he came to be known as Dracula (Dracul is Romanian for Dragon). If I could write a guide for aspiring Tyrants, membership in a dark secret society would be one of the first suggestions. Having a cereal inspired by your dark deeds would be the next requirement. You can enjoy Count Chocula around Halloween, and impale little bat-shaped marshmallows on your spoon. It’s the only cereal I know of that’s been inspired by an Eastern European warlord.

Throughout the life of this blog, be prepared to read many more treatises on Vlad’s life. Vlad’s wimpy, conniving brother Radu the Handsome needs to be humiliated, The Order of the Dragon needs to be revealed, and impalement deserves its own article. Vlad Tepes was a model tyrant, and we ought to pay ample attention to his brooding, impetuous, impaling legacy.

*this pamphlet anecdote's structure and verbage were borrowed from this source, and edited for grammar and content

Why Tyrant's Corner? A Short Manifesto

2008-08-26T14:40:00.000-07:00

Because unbridled power is funny. Because megalomania is real, and serious. Because anything worth taking seriously is worth making fun of. Because since the beginning of human history, countless men have enjoyed a degree of power that is both frightening and unhealthy. We call them tyrants. We call them warlords, despots, czars, kings, conquerors, princes, emperors, caesars, khans, kaisers, autocrats, dictators, barons, fuhrers, dukes, popes, lords, monarchs, potentates, rulers and sultans.

They rule with an iron fist. They crush rebellions, give rousing speeches, and consolidate power. They make snap judgments and write their own law codes. They torture, debilitate, and destroy. They sire heirs and even declare the right of prima noctis. They sweep down from the steppes, mountains, hills, and plateaus. They invade and storm in. They strike fear into the hearts of the citizenry. They create cults of personality. They cross Rubicons. They lay siege, levy taxes, and leave trails of destruction. They scorch earth. They stage coups. They win Pyrrhic victories and install puppet governments. They foster genocides, bloodbaths, trails of tears, and death marches.

Tyrants are among the most fascinating people to ever walk this earth. They possess money, power, and fame, and wield them with gusto. They live on the edge of insanity, and often well past it. While inspiring devotion, love, fear, hate, and respect, they’re planning a glorious death or sneaky escape, just in case things go south.

Tyrants are remembered because they are important. They shift the sands of time and write the pages of history. All of our lives have been profoundly affected by these remarkably crazy men and women. Yet despite their wealth and supremacy, many of them were deeply troubled. They all knew their time on this earth was short, and although some reached for the moon in spite of this, others took their own lives at the end of a rope. These are the men that shook the earth’s foundations, the mighty Atlases of humanity.

Because I am so wretchedly fascinated by these weirdos and warlords, I have devoted a blog entirely to tyrannical appreciation. I am going to give concise biopics on as many tyrants as I can research, for the entertainment of whomsoever comes. I am going to introduce material that will surprise and disturb you. I will write with the savagery of Genghis Khan, research with the tactical prowess of Napoleon, and examine these madmen with the consuming obsession of Ivan the Terrible. I hope you enjoy it.