No Kings Part 4

History rarely turns on a single plea, but the Israelites’ demand for a king—“Give us a king to judge us like all the nations”—is one of the Bible’s starkest inflection points. Samuel, the last great Judge and the prophet of the people, recoiled. His heart, and God’s voice, recognized something toxic in the request. The desire for a king was not just political; it was spiritual—a subtle rebuke of trust in God’s direct governance, of the law written not only on stone but upon hearts.

God’s Stern Warning: The Cost of Kingship

Samuel warned plainly:

“This will be the manner of the king that shall reign over you:
He will take your sons and appoint them for himself, for his chariots and to be horsemen…
He will take your fields and vineyards… He will take a tenth of your seed…
And you shall be his servants. And you shall cry out in that day because of your king…”
— 1 Samuel 8:11–18

The consequences were concrete: taxation, conscription, confiscation, the enrichment of elites, the slow but steady erosion of liberty—until the people find themselves less free than before their emancipation from Egypt. Yet the people persisted: “Nay, but we will have a king over us… that we also may be like all the nations; and that our king may judge us and go out before us, and fight our battles.”

Saul, David, and the Long Pattern of “Necessary Evils”

God relents, and Saul—head and shoulders above the rest—is anointed. His rule devolves quickly: arrogance, insecurity, half-hearted obedience. David, “a man after God’s own heart,” replaces him, foreshadowing the paradox of the “righteous king”: a ruler who is just because he is himself ruled—answerable to a higher law. Still, the die is cast. Within three generations, Israel is divided; within a few centuries, it is exiled.

Throughout this era, God’s warning is confirmed. Kings—whether strong or weak, wise or foolhardy—bring heavy taxes, conscript armies, court intrigue, and deep division. The story of monarchy is invariably the story of power concentrating at the center, of courts and administrators multiplying, of special privilege and special burdens alike accruing to the few while the many groan under the weight.

America’s Dilemma: Republic or Soft Monarchy?

This pattern is not Israel’s alone. The American revolutionaries, scholars to a fault, understood it well. They designed checks, balances, and a system of divided powers so that no single office could become a throne. For much of its first century, America resisted both the imperial temptation abroad and the monarchic temptation at home.

But the 20th and 21st centuries, for all their technological and social progress, have witnessed a gradual accretion of kingly power within democratic form.

The Military Industrial Complex—Crowning the Commander-in-Chief

President Eisenhower’s farewell warning is now legendary:

“In the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex… The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist.”

Like Samuel’s prophecy, this warning did not prevent what it described. The Cold War, the War on Terror, and the specter of ever-shifting enemies have only deepened America’s reliance on a permanent defense establishment—trillions spent, armies raised, and a public told again and again: without this apparatus, you are not safe.

The Medical Industrial Complex—Protection Against Every Threat

Protection from foreign adversaries proved not enough. As our capacity to master the world grew, so too did the expectation that government (and its networks of experts, industries, and public health officials) would shield us from all manner of domestic threats—disease, pain, uncertainty itself.

Consider the opioid crisis: “Opium for the people to conquer pain,” prescribed in good faith but unleashed with the tools of industry and government endorsement, has devastated communities, ensnared millions in new bondage. COVID-19 unleashed an even broader response: lockdowns, mandates, school closures, enforced vaccinations—each justified as a duty to safety, each removing decisions further from home and heart to the desks and devices of distant managers.

In the same vein, a burgeoning array of social and psychological ills have called forth a new class of authorities—therapists, activists, committees—empowered to “protect” us from the discontents of modernity itself. Economic insecurity? More programs, direct payments, bureaucratic rescue. Gender and sexual discomfort? New medical, educational, and social protocols promise “affirming care,” reassigning authority from communities and families to experts and state-sanctioned practitioners.

At each stage, the pattern persists: when anxious and uncertain, the people clamor not for courage, self-mastery, or neighborly solidarity, but for a new order to make the world right. We create thrones at the heart of every institution, only to find ourselves ever less free, increasingly dependent, and spiritually adrift.

Why Do We Trade Liberty for Comfort?

What drives this pattern? The same uneasy cocktail that haunted ancient Israel: fear of enemies (real and imagined), a desire for comfort over risk, and a loss of faith—in ourselves, in one another, and above all, in any power higher than the experts, functionaries, or the king.

But the ancient antidote has not changed. Courage—like Joshua’s—calls us to take risks, to confront uncertainty, to sacrifice and to build rather than to expect others to supply what we want to consume. Faith—trusting that the Author of life is also the protector of souls—releases us from the prison of perpetual anxiety. The law of self-control is the only viable alternative to endless bureaucracy and mounting rules. When restraint is missing from within, it must be imposed from above—by thrones, bureaucracies, or endless new rules.

“Society cannot exist, unless a controlling power upon will and appetite be placed somewhere; and the less of it there is within, the more there must be without.” —Edmund Burke

The Call to Fight—And the True Enemy

The Israelites were told: be strong and courageous, go out and face the giants. Not every ill can be managed by decree or solved by committee. The real enemy is not always out there, but within—the sin of wanting perpetual safety, of avoiding the hard work of virtue, sacrifice, and growing up. Envy, sloth, greed, lust: these ancient foes are never far from those who clamor most loudly for kings, laws, or public guarantees.

The Vaccine Against Kings—Trust, Risk, and God

The recurring drama of centralized control is not a tale of progress, but a warning. If we would be free, we must trust deeper, risk bolder, and accept the possibility of suffering for something larger than our own comfort. Without courage, “safety” becomes the new idol; control the new golden calf.

Do we, as individuals and as a nation, have the willingness to stand—like Joshua, or David in his better moments—trusting not in “chariots or horses,” but in what is steadfast, just, and true? To become “one nation, under God?

“Society cannot exist, unless a controlling power upon will and appetite be placed somewhere; and the less of it there is within, the more there must be without.” — Edmund Burke, Reflections on the Revolution in France (1790)

Looking Ahead

Next, we’ll look at American presidents themselves: which have served as kings—enslaving through policy and power—and which, however imperfectly, have instead held up the cause of liberty and responsibility for all. Is our longing for a “king” a matter of party and personality, or a cross-cutting danger pulling at all who wield power?

Stay tuned for Part 5, where we turn a critical, comparative eye toward American history’s real and would-be kings—ranking their legacies, not by legends, but by their lasting impact on liberty, justice, and the nation’s capacity for moral self-government.