Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and

“Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.” — P. J. O’Rourke

Listen closely, my child, for these words, though wrapped in laughter, are born of deep and ancient wisdom. When P. J. O’Rourke, a man of wit sharpened by truth, spoke this line, he did not jest idly. His humor was a cloak for prophecy. To give money and power to government, he warned, is to tempt chaos itself — to hand dangerous tools to those unready to wield them. Just as a youth, drunk on whiskey and thrilled by car keys, is blind to consequence, so too can rulers, drunk on authority, race heedlessly toward ruin.

The ancients knew this peril well. From the scrolls of Plato to the chronicles of Rome, sages and historians alike spoke of the corruption of unchecked power. The Greek philosophers taught that the soul of a state mirrors the souls of its rulers. When those rulers are tempted by greed or pride, the whole nation stumbles as a chariot without reins. So it is when the people, weary or trusting, place too much power in the hands of government, believing it will guide them wisely. For power untested breeds arrogance, and money unguarded feeds corruption.

Think of the Roman Empire, in its twilight. Once guided by the firm discipline of the Republic, it later fell under emperors who wielded absolute power with reckless abandon. Nero, drunk on excess, spent fortunes on vanity and spectacle while his people starved. The treasury overflowed not with wealth, but with decay. Like a boy speeding through the night, Rome’s leaders believed themselves immortal — until the crash came, and the empire shattered under its own indulgence. History’s pages are filled with such wrecks, all born from the same folly: the belief that authority can restrain itself.

O’Rourke’s metaphor is not mere mockery of leaders, but a warning to all who would trust too blindly. Governments, like youths, are made of men — fallible, impulsive, and hungry for more. To give them limitless money and power without restraint is to invite disaster. The whiskey is temptation, the car keys opportunity. Combine them, and you have motion without reason, action without conscience. And what begins as ambition ends in wreckage — of liberty, of wealth, of the soul of the people.

Yet, despair not. The lesson is not to reject all governance, but to temper it with wisdom. Just as the young must be taught responsibility before freedom, so must a nation hold its rulers accountable before granting them trust. A good government is like a disciplined driver: steady on the road, guided by the laws of reason and morality. But such discipline comes not from power itself — it comes from the watchfulness of the people. When citizens grow silent, power grows wild. When citizens grow lazy, corruption grows bold.

Remember this: freedom demands vigilance, not apathy. The wise citizen gives not all his gold nor all his trust to those who govern, but watches them as a shepherd guards his flock. Question authority, not in rebellion, but in reverence for truth. Ask not only what your leaders promise, but how they keep those promises. For when the people cease to question, they hand over the keys — and the government, like a reckless youth, speeds toward tyranny with laughter on its lips and destruction in its wake.

So take heed, O student of liberty. Hold fast to the lesson of O’Rourke’s warning: that power without accountability is peril, and money without conscience is ruin. Give neither whiskey nor car keys to the unready. Let your leaders earn your trust as one earns the right to drive — through discipline, restraint, and humility. For the strength of a nation lies not in the might of its government, but in the wisdom of its people. And only when the people stay awake — sober, watchful, and free — will the chariot of democracy steer true upon the road of destiny.