“I just don’t understand, father,” the young ruler said from the deck of his yacht. As they sailed away, he stared back towards land and his burning capitol.
“It should have worked. Everything made perfect sense. Why was there a revolution?”
The old man looked at his son, eyes full of the sympathy only a father could know. “I told you before son. Every form of government works on paper and any form of government will fail if its participants don’t play along. I ruled as I did because it worked well enough and tried to account for human whimsy.