There’s a natural limit to how far human understanding can reach.  A man can know only so many others, grasp only so much, and trust only so far.  Society begins within that boundary.  Cooperation grows where recognition exists.  Beyond it, men no longer deal with one another but with abstractions.  The world grows larger, but the bond grows weaker.

Order is natural only where men can see one another.  When they can’t, they create systems to imitate understanding.  The family, the guild, and the village once functioned through voluntary association.  Each relied on mutual knowledge and consequence.  Trust came from familiarity, not decree.  Reputation served as law.  The result wasn’t perfect, but it was human.

As populations expanded, the circle of trust stretched beyond sight.  Trade made cooperation possible among strangers.  The market became the new bond between men who would never meet.  Through prices, contracts, and property, understanding was translated into numbers and exchange.  The market extended peace farther than blood could reach.

Yet beyond a certain scale, even markets bend.  Distance dulls responsibility.  The more distant the decision, the easier it becomes to ignore its cost.  Bureaucracy fills the space once occupied by conscience.  What was once voluntary becomes regulated, and what was once understood becomes enforced.  The bond between men stands—but only by force

The state claims to act for all because none can see all.  It speaks in the name of unity but rules through separation.  The “general will” is a mask for the will of the few.  The larger the collective, the smaller the individual becomes.  A nation of millions can’t act as one, yet it’s told it must.  The fiction of collective purpose replaces the reality of individual choice.

Economics reflects the same truth.  There’s no such thing as “social value” or “collective utility.” Value exists only in the minds of individuals.  Choice can’t be averaged.  Each decision is personal, rooted in unique knowledge and need.  When a society grows so large that these differences are ignored, reason gives way to command.

Freedom is a function of scale.  Where men understand one another, order is voluntary.  Where they don’t, order must be imposed.  A just society doesn’t require force because its members act within reach of consequence.  An unjust one depends on distance—on laws passed by strangers and enforced by unseen hands.

The natural size of society isn’t measured in numbers but in understanding.  Beyond that limit, communication becomes control, and cooperation turns to obedience.  Civilization begins with recognition and ends with regulation.  The more abstract society becomes, the more it must rely on coercion to sustain itself.

When men can no longer see one another as neighbors, they must see one another as subjects.