Where Indic wisdom meets global strategy. Reflections on culture, power, memory and the forces shaping civilizations past and present.
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Sunday, December 1, 2024
Currency Wars: Trump Warns BRICS Nations
Saturday, November 16, 2024
Truth is not eternal & objective, it’s temporary & subjective
Saturday, November 9, 2024
Harari’s Warning: Free speech and the death of truth
Thursday, October 31, 2024
Peter Thiel’s Zero to One: Notes on Startups, or How to Build the Future
Saturday, October 26, 2024
Theologies without Gods & sandcastle of reason: Hegel, ideology & the modern mind
Saturday, October 5, 2024
On Capitalism & Socialism
Sunday, September 29, 2024
Gad Saad’s The Parasitic Mind: How Infectious Ideas Are Killing Common Sense
Saturday, September 21, 2024
The Mirage of Mastery: China, the U.S., and the End of the Superpower Era
Tuesday, September 17, 2024
The philosophy of time: Hindu cycles, Chinese dynasties, Western dates, Islamic eras
One of the most revealing ways to understand a civilization is to examine how it measures time. A culture’s sense of history is, in many ways, a mirror of its soul.
In the Hindu worldview, time is not a straight line with a fixed beginning and end—it is a vast, recurring cycle. Historical events are placed within the four Yugas: Satya Yuga, Treta Yuga, Dwapara Yuga, and Kali Yuga. Beyond these lie even grander cycles—the Kalpa and the Manvantara—cosmic spans that dwarf human history, measuring not centuries but aeons. To date the universe is, for the Hindu mind, to speak in the language of eternity.
The Chinese, by contrast, anchor their history in a succession of dynasties. Each era is defined by the reign of a ruling house, with its own ethos, achievements, and decline. The first, the Xia dynasty, traditionally founded by Yu the Great around 2070 BCE, marks the dawn of recorded Chinese civilization; the last, the Qing, ended in 1912 with the abdication of the Xuantong Emperor. The Chinese sense of time is thus imperial, woven into the continuity and rupture of political order.
In the Western tradition, history is divided by a single defining moment—the birth of Jesus Christ. Events are measured as occurring “before” or “after” that birth (BC and AD, or BCE and CE in modern academic usage). For occurrences in the latter era, the Western impulse is to date with precision, locating an event within the exact grid of the Gregorian calendar, as if to pin the flow of time to an unyielding sequence of days.
In Islamic historiography, the reference point is the advent of Islam in the 7th century CE. The Hijri calendar begins with the Prophet Muhammad’s migration (Hijra) from Mecca to Medina in 622 CE, and events before this are often deemed to belong to an age of ignorance (Jahiliyyah). The emphasis is not on the universal sweep of human chronology, but on the sacred narrative of revelation and community.
The way a civilization tells time is not a mere technicality—it is a philosophy of existence. It reveals whether a culture sees history as cyclical or linear, sacred or secular, imperial or theological. In the end, our calendars are less about counting years and more about telling ourselves who we are, where we came from, and how we imagine the arc of our destiny.
Saturday, August 17, 2024
AI & the transformation of humans into Galactic Gods
Saturday, August 10, 2024
A note on Michael Crichton’s State of Fear
Saturday, August 3, 2024
Ancient man’s God is modern man’s reason
Saturday, July 27, 2024
Nick Bostrom’s book — Superintelligence: Paths, Dangers, Strategies
Saturday, July 20, 2024
The Day of the Jackal by Frederick Forsyth
Saturday, July 13, 2024
The Political & Philosophical Reason for Taxes
Saturday, July 6, 2024
'Churchill, Hitler and the Unnecessary War' by Patrick Buchanan
Saturday, June 29, 2024
Iain McGilchrist's The Master and His Emissary
Saturday, June 22, 2024
Daniel Kahneman’s book—Thinking, Fast and Slow
Saturday, June 15, 2024
The mirage & myth of Aristotelian non-contradiction
Saturday, June 8, 2024
Short note on Thomas Piketty’s Capital in the Twenty-First Century
Saturday, June 1, 2024
Stakeholder Capitalism by Klaus Schwab: Saving humanity is 'multinational corporation's burden'
Saturday, May 25, 2024
David Graeber’s theory of ‘Bullshit Jobs’ in capitalist economy
Saturday, May 18, 2024
The alchemy of hope
Saturday, May 11, 2024
Must read for India’s politicians & bureaucrats: Tim Schwab’s The Bill Gates Problem
Saturday, May 4, 2024
Nature cannot be destroyed: The mythology of environmentalism
Sunday, April 28, 2024
Political power & the mythologies of economics
Saturday, April 27, 2024
The mythology of land of the free and the logic of capitalist exploitation
The belief that a perfect society can be brought into existence through communism is, at its core, a modern secular mythology. Yet capitalism is no less mythological. It, too, rests upon grand narratives and articles of faith disguised as self-evident truths. Its so-called twin pillars—individual freedom and free enterprise—have been elevated to the status of moral absolutes, but they are as historically contingent and as vulnerable to abuse as the tenets of ancient cults and religions.
When a political leader proclaims his desire for a “free society,” what he often means is a society free to conform to the norms, values, and hierarchies of his own culture. The annals of history are filled with instances in which “freedom” was wielded as a weapon—a moral justification for the subversion, domination, or assimilation of other cultures. Similarly, calls for “free trade” have rarely meant a neutral exchange of goods and services; more often, they have signified an ambition for one nation’s corporations to penetrate foreign markets, commandeer natural resources, exploit local labour, and in many cases, influence or control the levers of political power abroad.
The uncomfortable question thus arises: can a capitalist society truly flourish without plundering the resources of weaker minorities—both within its borders and beyond them? Historical evidence offers little reassurance. Capitalism has yet to produce a sustained model of prosperity and contentment that does not rest upon the exploitation of humanity’s voiceless underclass.
The United States has long styled itself as the exemplar of capitalist virtue and the “land of the free.” Yet its history tells a more sobering story. The violence inflicted by European settlers upon the Native Americans—ranging from dispossession and forced removal to outright extermination—was every bit as brutal as the Bolshevik terror unleashed on Russia’s bourgeoisie after 1917. Nor was the exploitation confined to indigenous peoples; the transatlantic slave trade brought millions from Africa in chains to labour for the enrichment of the colonial and later industrial economies.
By the close of the 19th century, with the Native American nations subdued and their lands expropriated, American ambitions turned outward. The 20th century saw the United States not only participate in but play decisive roles in the First and Second World Wars. It has, with remarkable consistency, been at war somewhere on the globe for most of the last century. Its foreign policy record is replete with covert interventions, engineered coups, and the installation of pliant regimes—often at the expense of democratically elected governments—in order to safeguard American geopolitical and corporate interests.
If the world’s major nations were to emulate the American capitalist model in both spirit and method, the prospects for peace would be grim. The competition for resources, markets, and strategic advantage would almost certainly accelerate the slide toward large-scale conflict, perhaps even a Third World War.
This week, I finished reading John Perkins’s semi-autobiographical Confessions of an Economic Hit Man, a work that offers a shadowy glimpse into the machinery of economic imperialism. Perkins claims he was recruited by the engineering consulting firm Chas T. Main, allegedly connected to American intelligence, and tasked with persuading leaders of developing nations to accept vast loans for infrastructure projects—loans designed not to foster genuine development but to ensnare them in cycles of dependency and control.
I am not persuaded that Perkins’s account is wholly reliable. At times, his narrative drifts into the realm of the overheated conspiracy theory; at others, it veers toward the rhetoric of the ideologically committed activist. Yet even if one approaches his work with scepticism, his central critique—that capitalism and corporatism often operate through coercion, manipulation, and the calculated entrapment of vulnerable nations—rings uncomfortably true. In that sense, his book stands as a reminder that beneath capitalism’s shining myths lies a machinery as capable of subjugation as any ideology it claims to have superseded.






















