Is 'Who Is Government' Based On Real Political Events?

The protagonist in 'Who is Government' is Victor Creed, a former special forces operative turned revolutionary. Victor's journey starts when he uncovers a massive government conspiracy that frames him for treason. He's not your typical hero—he's ruthlessly pragmatic, using his military training to dismantle the system from within. His combat skills are unmatched, blending guerrilla tactics with high-tech hacking to expose corruption. What makes him compelling is his moral ambiguity. He doesn't fight for ideals but for survival, yet his actions inadvertently spark a nationwide uprising. The story explores how one man's vendetta evolves into a movement, challenging the very definition of justice.

I recently stumbled upon 'Who is Government' and was curious about its origins. The book was written by political theorist John Locke back in 1689 as part of his 'Two Treatises of Government'. Locke was fed up with absolute monarchy and wanted to lay down ideas about natural rights and social contracts. He argued governments exist to protect life, liberty, and property—not to boss people around. The timing wasn't random; England was shaking off the Glorious Revolution, and Locke's work became the blueprint for modern democracy. If you like this, check out Thomas Hobbes' 'Leviathan' for a contrasting take on authority.

The main conflict in 'Who is Government' revolves around a power struggle between two factions fighting for control over a dystopian city. On one side, you have the authoritarian regime that claims to maintain order through brutal suppression and surveillance. Their justification is that chaos would destroy what's left of civilization. Opposing them is a rebel group advocating for freedom, but their methods are equally violent, blurring moral lines. The protagonist gets caught in the middle, forced to question whether either side deserves to win. The deeper conflict explores whether humans can govern themselves without descending into tyranny or anarchy. The city itself becomes a character, its decaying infrastructure mirroring the collapse of societal trust.

The Hegemony in 'Hyperion' is a fascinating blend of futuristic bureaucracy and colonial oppression. It controls hundreds of worlds through a mix of technological superiority and political maneuvering. The government relies heavily on the farcaster network, which allows instantaneous travel between planets, making centralized control possible. The ruling class is dominated by the TechnoCore, a group of AIs that manipulate human affairs behind the scenes. What strikes me most is how the Hegemony maintains power—through a combination of cultural assimilation, military force, and economic dependency. Their enforcement arm, the FORCE, is ruthless in suppressing dissent, while the Ousters, who reject Hegemony rule, are portrayed as existential threats. The system is corrupt, with wealth and power concentrated in the hands of a few, leaving most citizens struggling under its weight.

As someone who's read 'Who is Government' multiple times, I can say it's a brutal takedown of political theater. The book exposes how modern governments operate more like corporations than public servants, prioritizing profit over people. Politicians are portrayed as brand managers selling carefully crafted images rather than leaders solving real issues. The most damning critique shows how systems designed to represent citizens actually create barriers between power and the populace. Voting becomes performative, policies turn into PR campaigns, and accountability vanishes behind layers of bureaucracy. What stuck with me is how the author compares campaign promises to expired coupons - flashy but ultimately worthless. The chilling part? This isn't presented as some dystopian fiction, but as documented reality with receipts.

I've been following 'Who is Government' closely and haven't come across any official sequel or spin-off yet. The original work wrapped up pretty conclusively with the protagonist exposing the corruption network, so it doesn't leave many loose ends begging for continuation. That said, the universe has potential for expansion - maybe exploring other whistleblowers in different departments or showing how the system reforms after the scandal. The creator mentioned in an interview last year that they're focusing on new projects rather than extending this one. If you liked the political thriller aspect, you might enjoy 'Shadow Cabinet' which has similar vibes but with more supernatural elements mixed in.

I got hooked on Hobbes while re-reading 'Leviathan' on a rainy afternoon, tea getting cold as the arguments pulled me back in. What stuck with me most is how he treats religion as part of the same human-made architecture as government. For Hobbes, humans are basically driven by appetite and fear; left to natural impulses we end up in a violent, insecure state of nature. To escape that, people create a social contract and install a sovereign with broad authority to guarantee peace. Religion, then, must not be an independent power competing with the state, because competing authorities are the exact thing that drags people back toward chaos. That’s why Hobbes argues the civil sovereign should determine the public function of religion: who interprets scripture, what doctrines are allowed in public worship, and which religious organizations can operate. He doesn’t deny God outright — his worldview is materialist and mechanistic, but he leaves room for a creator — yet he’s deeply suspicious of ecclesiastical claims that undermine civil peace. In the turmoil of 17th-century England, his point was practical: private religious conviction is one thing, but public religious authority must be subordinated to the sovereign to prevent factions and rebellion. It’s a cold logic in some ways. I find it both fascinating and a little unsettling: Hobbes wants security even if it means tightly controlling religious life. Reading him in the quiet of my living room, I kept thinking about modern debates — how much autonomy should religious institutions have, and what happens when conscience or prophecy clashes with civil law? Hobbes would likely say that order takes priority, and that uncomfortable thought stays with me as I close the book.

The eerie parallels between '1984' and modern government surveillance are impossible to ignore. Orwell’s dystopia feels less like fiction and more like a cautionary manual these days. Big Brother’s telescreens, which watch every gesture and listen to every whisper, aren’t so different from the cameras on our street corners or the voice assistants in our homes. The novel’s central idea—that constant monitoring crushes dissent—resonates deeply in an era where data is harvested without consent. Think about it: our online behavior, location history, even shopping habits are tracked, analyzed, and often weaponized for control. The Party’s mantra, 'Who controls the past controls the future,' mirrors how misinformation spreads today. Governments and corporations rewrite narratives by burying inconvenient truths under algorithms or outright censorship. But here’s where '1984' gets truly haunting. The Thought Police don’t just punish actions; they punish *ideas*. Today, predictive policing and AI-driven surveillance aim to do the same, flagging potential 'threats' based on speech patterns or social connections. The novel’s portrayal of Newspeak, a language designed to eliminate rebellious thought, finds echoes in how platforms sanitize discourse with shadowbanning or vague 'community guidelines.' Yet, Orwell’s genius lies in showing the human cost. Winston’s paranoia—the way he angles his body to avoid the telescreen’s gaze—is what happens when privacy dies. We’ve normalized trading freedom for convenience, but '1984' reminds us that surveillance isn’t just about safety; it’s about stripping away the right to be imperfect, to dissent, to *think*. The fact that we debate this instead of revolting? That’s the real horror.