To Humanity

[SamMay]

I think it’s about time to be honest at last.
I don’t want to talk too much about my sickness. I have already talked too much about it.
However, I want to talk about what defines me besides my condition. Now, I want to talk about
my achievements.
Not many people know me.
I am not famous. Few know my name, and ever fewer my face. There are no photos, no articles,
no reports—only my ideas.
And yet, quite a few are familiar with my ideas. Some are even convinced by them. In fact, a
book has already been written about me, although the author dismissed me as merely a
pseudonym for an AI that supposedly developed this idea. Perhaps that is for the best, for I do
not like standing in the limelight. I do not wish to be blinded by the fickleness of fame.
But who am I? What have I done? Frankly, nothing particularly grand. It was a single
publication, released without fanfare and without much hope that it would ever gain recognition,
let alone have any influence. And yet, my word of it is slowly spreading.
I had the idea when I was eighteen, during a brief, clear moment one evening as I waited for
my beer at the bar. Not the final, complex, mature idea of today, but the simple, fragile spark of
thought that I could just as easily have forgotten. It was the idea that democracy alone cannot
withstand autocracies and imbalances in politics and economics. It was the realization that the
efforts of the economy to exert influence can never be prevented, only channeled. It was the
conclusion that a new foundation for effective and fair politics was necessary. That evening, I
coined the neologism that would accompany me for years: Trigonocracy—the rule of the
triangle formed by democracy, meritocracy, and technocracy.
Aside from this idea, I consider one of my greatest intellectual achievements to have been the
recognition, at eighteen, that I was not yet ready to perform the necessary intellectual work to
develop a concrete form of my own idea. I was not capable yet—too little life experience, too
little understanding of people—and simply not educated enough.
So I saw it as my task to hold on to the idea and acquire the knowledge needed to tackle this
mammoth undertaking. For that is what it was. There are disruptive inventions that change
economies and entire societies. These recur in so-called Kondratieff cycles and shape entire
decades. But political innovations have been far rarer in human history, shaping entire millennia.
Despite these dimensions, I kept the idea in my mind and continued my education for ten years.
At twenty-eight, the time had finally come. I decided to consolidate my knowledge and, slowly
but surely, develop the framework for a new form of government—methodologically sound,
transparent, and supported by research findings.
Originally, I had planned three years for the concrete elaboration. However, current political
developments—such as increasing radicalization in Europe, the Russia-Ukraine war, the
plutocratization of the USA, and the growing danger of a world war—forced me to hurry. But
not only the world, I myself was one of the reasons why I decided to complete the work as
quickly as possible. Not least because of the knowledge of my own mortality, which was
approaching ever faster. It was foreseeable that I did not have much time left; I had to face the
task.
For many times, I though about my duty to think this idea through to the end and present it to
the world—as the duty of the one who conceived it. An idea that represented the solution to all
these problems we have to face. An idea that perhaps no one else could have conceived.
Parallel to my work as an archivist and contrary to my fears of getting lost in the subject and
failing to finish the project in time, I created within four months a general form of the
trigonocratic constitution. I must admit that I barely remember the actual process. It was like
continuous sleepwalking. Illness and medication consumed my body, while my mind buried
itself in an ongoing process of thought and creation.
The goal was to find a resilient, dynamic, and flexible balance between the interests of various
groups in society. I had to find equilibrium between rights and duties, between idealism and
realism, between proven methods and forward-looking mechanisms.
Nevertheless, there are weaknesses in the system I introduced. To this day, I worry whether
implementing a trigonocratic constitution might plant the seed of a police state in which the
Custodium seizes power. This idea is even addressed in the aforementioned book, confirming
my fears. Perhaps this was the great mistake I made in the elaboration. However, I consider it
the task of subsequent generations to handle my ideas prudently and to address the remaining
issues. For one must acknowledge—and this judgment comes easily—that I have done enough.
More than enough, if my invention is truly destined to change the world.
Based on this work, I subsequently wrote my manuscript within a month, which explained the
scientific derivation of the necessities and the individual elements of the constitution in detail
across nearly 80 pages. I repeatedly emphasized that the blueprint I proposed is only a
framework that must be adapted to each culture. For far too often in history, one's own values
and ideas have been imposed on other peoples, even under supposedly good intentions. And
every time, such an undertaking ended in disaster. This should not happen with my idea; thus,
I incorporated this foresight into my work.
In in the end of 2024, I submitted the paper to SSRN, which was published some months later,
on February 12, 2025.
I chose SSRN to avoid sensationalism. The idea should spread naturally, judged by its merit,
not by its author, who, by nature, would have a positivist attitude toward it. The idea itself
should spread without artificial interference.
After the publication, I focused on my illness, yet I kept an eye on what happened to my work.
Just two months after publication, someone unknown republished the paper under my name on
another platform, and views and downloads steadily increased. I did not intervene. Yet the loud
outcry did not come at first. However, a small group in the USA has been formed, adopting my
ideas and further developing them; they are adapting the blueprint to their conditions, just as I
recommended. I would be lying if I claimed I was not a little proud of this.
But just as my invention could change the world, it would also be both desired and fought. But
even in the unlikely event that it truly becomes so disruptive, I will not be there anymore. I will
never have the chance to step up as the originator of Trigonocracy, nor actively or passively
involve myself in processes related to this idea.
And I think that’s a good thing. This form of government is intended primarily to prevent
corruption. If it becomes globally known, developed, and demanded, its followers would revere
the inventor; he would reap fame. But fame is power, and power corrupts. And I do not want to
become what my own invention was originally meant to prevent. Trigonocracy should endure
beyond its creator, like a structure that outlives its architect.
This is neither an apology nor a farewell. It is an explanation that I have said what I wanted to
say. My words stand in black and white, accessible to every person in the world—and there is
nothing more to add to what I have written. The knowledge—the invention—is no longer my
property. It belongs to humanity, to history. So let humanity and history decide how to deal with
this knowledge.
As for me—I do not have much time left in this world to accomplish anything else, anyway.
But as long as the world still has time, much can be accomplished for good.
I wish everyone who takes on this task all the strength and courage necessary.
Do not remember me. Remember my words.