Great philosophers in the western tradition have rarely been great without also being great masters of the prose or eminent poets of the highest caliber. To their armature of consequent argument–whether it be ontological, epiphenomenal, or eschatological—is always added the exponential force of their lyrical style, which gives an unmistakable music of meaning to their opus.

And this is obviously true of David Hume as well.

Consider the following quote from Hume’s OF THE FIRST PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT:

Nothing is more surprising to those who consider human affairs with a philosophical eye, than to see the ease with which the many are governed by the few; and to observe the implicit submission with which men resign their own sentiments and passions to those of their rulers. When we inquire by what means this wonder is brought about, we shall find that, as force is always on the side of the governed, the governors have nothing to support them but opinion. It is therefore on opinion only that government is founded, and this maxim extends to the most despotic and most military governments, as well as to the most free and most popular. The Sultan of Egypt, or the Emperor of Rome, might drive his harmless subjects like brute beasts against their sentiments and inclination; but he must, at least, have led his mamelukes, or praetorian bands, like men, by their opinion.

This is so well written! The words flow so flawlessly; their intonations falling so tripplingly on the tongue, you are almost tempted, without thinking further, to nod acquiescently and admit its truthfulness. Except this is all utter nonsense.

Consider the “ease” with which the many are governed by the few. Has anything ever been accomplished by the few that has been easy? If being the king, or being the president of United States, which is always a coveted position of the highest honor and prestige, is easy, then certainly there would never have been few. Instead, “most” people would have already become what it is intended to be.

Alternatively, think of the “easiest” professions and the “hardest” professions. It’s easy being a real estate agent, and there are probably millions of real estate agents in the country at any moment. It’s difficult being a theoretical physicist, and there are probably no more than a few thousand theoretical physicists in the country. If it’s easy, certainly, by the principle of economic self-interest, more people than a “few” would have already done it, and this “ease”, due to the influx of new people, would have either ceased to exist or have achieved an equilibrium at which there would be no more economic advantage or social prestige.

But it’s actually never easy to govern, and it’s almost impossible to govern well. Of all the countries in the world, nearly all governments are bad, and the few that are great go on to become the greatest empires in recorded history. Think of the all great leaders of the world, from Peter the Great, Catherine the Great to Alexander the Great, to Richard the Lionheart. Or, given the American perspective, of all the presidents Americans have had, how many presidents are actually great? How many are memorialized on Mount Rushmore?

So quite obviously the first part of the paragraph is already wrong. But how about the second, that the force is always on the side of the governed.

It certainly sounds true, and this idea is so famous it became known as Hume’s “paradox of government “, and has influenced other great thinkers, political scientists, and intellectuals throughout the world. The governor is merely a figurehead. The government itself is merely a figment of our imagination. The people certainly are real. The buildings that they occupy are real. The documents are real. But our Obedience to him, the figurehead, is not real. The people who carry out the force is a part of the governed, and if collectively we refuse to obey, then, the authority of the government ceases to exist.

And from this maxim forms the entirety of modern western civilizational signature: of civil disobedience, of the rights of man, of the social contract, and perhaps even of the birth of modern democracy itself.

But it is admittedly false.

Instead of human society, let’s hypothetically consider Henry David Thoreau living on the shore of Walden pond raising chickens or ducks. He is the governor of the chickens and ducks. The chicken and ducks are many and are being governed but the force is not on the side of the governed, even though they are many. Henry has the force, and Henry has the right to bleed, flay, and boil alive any of them at will. The chicken and ducks are mere brutes, lower species of beings whose only purpose of existence is to serve Henry, as the king, the master, the ruler.

Suppose Henry now has a German shepherd bitch and he trains her to become the guardian of the chicken and ducks. He gives authority to her and she rules over the chicken and the ducks. She will gnarl to death any chicken or duck who wanders out of the Walden pond and into the forest.

So what now? Where is your imagined government and where is your paradox?

The human society, as I see it, is what it is, except that the difference between humans are not as greatly exaggerated in mental capacities as that between Henry and his animals. But not all humans are created equal. Some humans are born to be rulers and kings, and some humans are born to be slaves. White men, for example, are naturally endowed by their creators to be rulers and masters. Asian women, in contrast, are born to be submissive and docile.

In essence the paradox of Hume is a man-made paradox. There is no paradox, and it’s wholly imagined and this imagined paradox is wholly contradictory to the true nature of the world. In a similar vein, as a marginalia, the absurd idea of Rousseau’s social contract is completely made up as well.

But—and this is the most interesting part—does it matter that they are made up and completely wrong? Does it matter that they are contrary to nature and full of fatal errors and indispensable gaps in logic? Throughout all human history we have been praying to false gods, we are paying tributes to them, building elaborate temples worshiping them, writing books praising them, concocting elaborate arguments proving their existence, and when we die, and pass into that other world, we find ourselves gravely mistaken for generations. But humans were able to progress throughout history with increased wealth, well-being, living longer, living happier, all the while worshiping false gods. In the end, then, does the duplicity still matter?

So, it is then, let us happily live in errors, live in our falsehood, live in our lies and imagined enlightenment, and let humans continue to worship their false gods, and let us forever hold our peace and never speak of truth again.