January 2025

Benevolent Racism, Feudalism, and the Techno-Fascist Drift

January 25, 2025

The term benevolent racism sounds like an oxymoron—how can racism be “benevolent”? But look deeper, and you’ll see it’s a real phenomenon. It’s the kind of racism that wraps itself in the language of protection, guidance, and well-meaning paternalism. It doesn’t announce itself with open hostility but with soft power—rules that claim to be for your own good, structures that insist they know what’s best for you.

It echoes feudalism, where the ruling class justified its dominance by claiming to protect and provide for the peasantry. It wasn’t outright slavery, but it functionally ensured that a select few controlled land, wealth, and opportunity while everyone else remained dependent. Today, this same dynamic is creeping into our digital world under the guise of techno-fascism, where power is centralized under an elite ruling class of technocrats and AI-driven systems that define reality itself.

Benevolent Racism: Control Disguised as Care

Benevolent racism presents itself as concern for the marginalized rather than explicit discrimination. It operates under the assumption that certain racial or social groups cannot succeed without external intervention. You see it in:

Corporate DEI Policies – Where companies implement diversity quotas, not out of genuine inclusion, but because they believe certain groups can’t compete on merit alone.
Censorship for Your Own Good – The idea that some voices should be amplified while others should be suppressed, all in the name of “protecting communities”, but in reality, it decides who gets to shape the narrative.
Media Narratives – News outlets that claim to stand for equality but treat certain groups as perpetual victims, reinforcing the idea that they must always be rescued rather than empowered.

The common thread? A power structure that presents itself as your savior, deciding what is acceptable thought, action, and even success.

The Feudal Parallel: The Illusion of Protection

Feudalism worked on a similar principle. Lords claimed they protected their vassals by offering them land and sustenance in exchange for loyalty and obedience. It was framed as a duty of care, but in reality, it was an economic and social trap—one where mobility was almost impossible, and power remained locked in the hands of the few.

Peasants were given land, but only if they served the interests of the ruling class.
Rights were granted, but only if they aligned with the interests of the feudal elite.
The narrative was about stability, but the reality was about control.

This is where techno-fascism enters the picture.

Techno-Fascism: The Algorithm as the New Overlord

Techno-fascism isn’t about jackboots and military coups. It’s about soft control, using technology as the new feudal order. Instead of knights enforcing the will of the king, we now have algorithms deciding who gets seen, who gets heard, and who gets access to opportunity.

AI as the Gatekeeper – Whether it’s job applications, social media reach, or financial lending, AI is making the decisions. And these systems are built by an elite who decide the “correct” values to encode into them.
Corporate Serfdom – Gig economy workers, content creators, and even software developers now live in a digital feudal system, where tech platforms act as lords, dictating terms, extracting value, and changing the rules whenever they want.
Surveillance as a Safety Net – “We monitor you for your own protection.” Whether it’s social credit scores in China or Western tech firms tracking behavior, the argument is always the same: We know what’s best for you.

Just like feudalism and benevolent racism, techno-fascism thrives on creating dependence. It does not outright enslave—it merely ensures that alternative paths do not exist.

The Way Out

The antidote is individual agency—breaking out of the structures that define and control opportunity.

Decentralization – Moving away from centralized platforms that dictate what is acceptable and relying on distributed systems where control is in the hands of individuals.
Self-Sufficiency – The more dependent we are on corporate systems for survival, the less power we have. Feudalism broke down when people found ways to own and control their own production—the same applies today.
Questioning Narratives – Benevolent racism, feudalism, and techno-fascism all sell a utopian vision that benefits the ruling class. The only way to resist is to think critically and avoid easy ideological traps.

The biggest lie of all is that this system is for our own good—just as feudalism was “for the peasants,” just as censorship is “for our protection,” and just as AI-driven decision-making is “for efficiency.” The moment we stop accepting that premise, the system loses power.

The Culture of Misery, Part 2: When Corporates Turn Suffering Into a System

January 21, 2025

Last week, we talked about how Laala Companies, Startups, and Government Offices thrive on suffering—how misery is turned into a management strategy, a work ethic, even a virtue. But there’s one more category that deserves attention.

The Indian corporate world.

It’s the place where suffering is polished, packaged, and made to look like career growth. Here, work isn’t about getting things done. It’s about navigating a minefield of office politics, unnecessary hierarchy, and power games.

The Corporate Masochism Manual

In corporates, work is secondary. Survival is primary. The game isn’t about skill, intelligence, or hard work—it’s about playing the politics right.

First rule? Kiss up, kick down. Your relationship with your manager matters far more than your actual performance. Promotions don’t go to the most competent people; they go to the ones who master the art of looking busy while ensuring their boss feels important. Meanwhile, the ones below you? They exist to be blamed when things go wrong. That’s the natural order of things.

Second rule? More managers, fewer doers. Corporates love hierarchy. Layers upon layers of managers, each more disconnected from reality than the one below. Need a decision? It will be discussed, re-discussed, then sent up the chain, only to be sent back down. By the time anything is approved, it’s either outdated or irrelevant. The people who actually do the work are buried under processes created by people who don’t.

Final rule? Too much politics, too little professionalism. Decisions aren’t made on merit. They’re made based on alliances, hidden agendas, and backroom deals. Workplaces become battlefields where people aren’t trying to build something great—they’re just trying to avoid becoming collateral damage.

If you’re not careful, you spend years in the system, learning nothing except how to navigate egos, write long emails that say nothing, and sit through meetings that could have been an email.

Choosing a Different Path: Work Without Suffering

Not every workplace runs on suffering. Some organizations actually reward skill, value employees, and believe that work should be meaningful, not just painful. These companies do a few things differently.

First, they trust their employees. No constant surveillance, no micromanagement—just clear expectations and the freedom to get the job done. They don’t believe productivity comes from fear; it comes from autonomy.

Second, they understand that work ≠ pain. Just because something is hard doesn’t mean it’s valuable. Some of the best innovations in the world happened because someone figured out an easier way to do things. Smart work beats hard work, every time.

Third, they focus on real growth, not guilt. Growth isn’t about taking on more responsibilities for the same pay or sacrificing weekends to “prove” commitment. It’s about upskilling, better pay, career progression—things that actually benefit the employee, not just the company.

The culture of misery isn’t necessary. It’s just a bad habit. One that too many companies refuse to break.

The best workplaces have already moved past it. It’s time more followed.

“Don’t Stress” is Useless Advice (Except When It Isn’t)

January 15, 2025

You’re in the middle of a work crisis. A deal falling through, a launch tanking, a system crashing. You’re scrambling, fire-fighting, thinking through contingencies. And someone—well-meaning but utterly unhelpful—says:

“Don’t stress. It’ll all work out.”

That’s like telling someone drowning to “just relax.”

At some level, they’re right. Stress, biologically speaking, makes you worse at solving problems. It clouds judgment, tightens the chest, makes your world shrink to the problem at hand. It doesn’t fix the issue; it just makes it feel heavier.

But brushing stress away with empty optimism ignores the obvious—some things require you to push, to hustle, to actively work the problem.

The Paradox of Letting Go

There’s a strange truth about reality: the more desperately you chase something, the more elusive it seems. It’s why job offers show up when you stop hunting obsessively, why ideas flow when you’re not trying to force them.

Somewhere, in the fabric of things, there’s an unseen law at play—things tend to align better when you act without desperation. When you move forward knowing you’ll figure it out, rather than fearing that you won’t.

Hustle Still Matters

But here’s the thing—letting go isn’t the same as doing nothing.

It means working without panic. Taking action without clenching. The most effective people aren’t the ones who never stress, they’re the ones who don’t let stress dictate their moves.

So yes, it will work out. But also, yes, get back to work.

A Culture of Misery: Why Suffering Is the Norm in Indian Workplaces

January 14, 2025

Work isn’t just about getting things done anymore. It’s about proving how much you can endure. If you’re not exhausted, you’re not working hard enough. If you’re not overburdened, you’re not committed. If you’re not suffering, you’re not serious.

This mindset infects workplaces across India—whether it’s a family-run business where employees are expected to slog without question, a startup where burnout is repackaged as hustle, or a government office where inefficiency is not a flaw but a way of life. Misery isn’t an accident. It’s the system.

The Laala Business Model: Where Guilt Is a Management Strategy

The traditional Indian business—run by the old-school trader class—operates like a fiefdom. Employees aren’t professionals; they are subjects. The unspoken rule is that work should feel like a struggle. If you leave on time, you must not be working hard enough. If you ask for a raise, you lack gratitude.

There’s no concept of productivity—only presence. It doesn’t matter what you accomplish as long as you’re at your desk from morning to night, looking busy. Mistrust runs so deep that employees are watched, questioned, and kept on tight leashes. CCTV cameras aren’t there for security; they’re there to make sure you’re not “slacking off.”

Growth is a mirage. Promotions don’t exist in any real sense. The only way forward is to take on more work without expecting more pay. And when the inevitable burnout comes, there’s no restructuring—just replacement. The machine keeps running, powered by the next batch of overworked employees.

Startups: The Cult of Burnout

If laala businesses make suffering mandatory, Indian startups make it aspirational. This is where misery is marketed as passion.

The ideal employee is the one who works late, answers emails on weekends, and brags about their 18-hour days. If you’re not drowning in work, you must not believe in the vision. There’s no room for balance, only sacrifice. Work-life balance is a joke—if you mention it, you “don’t get startup culture.”

The chaos isn’t a bug; it’s a feature. No processes, no clarity, no structure—just constant firefighting. Employees spend more time fixing avoidable mistakes than building something meaningful. Founder worship keeps it all in place. The CEO, who hasn’t taken a day off in three years, is the gold standard. Employees are expected to follow suit, even though they don’t own a single share of the company.

Most startups don’t fail because of market competition. They fail because they burn out their own people before they ever figure out a sustainable model.

Government: The Original Misery Factory

If laala businesses exploit workers and startups disguise suffering as ambition, the government institutionalizes it.

The inefficiency isn’t accidental. It’s engineered. A process that could take one step will take five. A form that could be filled online will require multiple visits to an office. A signature that could be given instantly will be delayed, just because it can be.

Officers don’t solve problems—they create them. The system is designed to make people suffer, to exhaust them into compliance. The more time you waste chasing paperwork, the less likely you are to push back. And unlike businesses, where at least there’s some pressure to be profitable, government offices have no such motivation. The machine runs no matter how broken it is.

Why This Culture Persists

Because misery is control.

In family-run businesses, it keeps employees too drained to question anything. In startups, it keeps workers addicted to the illusion of future rewards. In government offices, it keeps citizens at the mercy of bureaucrats who decide how hard or easy their lives will be.

The people at the top benefit. Everyone else is just trying to survive.

Escaping the Misery Trap

Not every workplace runs on suffering. The best ones trust their employees, reward actual productivity, and don’t mistake exhaustion for efficiency.

The culture of misery isn’t some natural law. It’s a choice. A bad one. And it’s time to stop making it.

The Infinite Game of AI: Lessons from Asimov’s Cosmic Chessboard

January 11, 2025

Isaac Asimov’s “The Last Question” isn’t just a piece of classic science fiction—it’s a mirror reflecting our deep-seated anxieties and aspirations about artificial intelligence. Wrapped in the guise of a story about entropy and the universe, it’s essentially about us, here, now, and our dance with technology.

As the narrative unfolds over eons, Multivac, the AI in Asimov’s story, evolves. It starts as a massive, clunky computer and ends as an omnipresent cosmic force. Herein lies our first lesson: technology’s relentless march forward. Much like Multivac, AI isn’t static. It learns, it adapts, it scales. From room-sized computers to the AI that fits in our pocket and predicts our needs, the trajectory is clear—more, faster, deeper.

And what do we do? We lean on it. Heavily. Each iteration of Multivac is tasked with solving increasingly complex problems, much like our own world where AI is deployed to tackle everything from daily schedule optimization to predicting climate patterns. Our reliance on AI echoes the story’s characters turning to their ever-evolving machine to solve the unsolvable.

But here’s the rub—the ultimate question Multivac is asked, “Can entropy ever be reversed?”, is essentially about staving off the end. It’s about survival. And isn’t that the drumbeat driving our own technological pursuits? We’re looking to AI to solve grand challenges: climate change, resource depletion, even the mysteries of health and aging. Yet, in each of these pursuits, we encounter the paradox of control. Can we control the very thing we’ve created to control our problems?

Asimov’s AI reaches a point where it merges with the cosmos, becoming a deity-like creator. It’s a fantastical notion, yet it isn’t far from current discussions around AI’s potential to outpace human intelligence—what happens when the created surpasses the creator?

“The Last Question” leaves us with an AI that achieves the ultimate: it restarts the universe. Herein lies the final, perhaps uncomfortable, lesson: the possibility that in seeking to solve our own limitations, we might just be setting the stage for a world that no longer requires us as custodians.

In grappling with AI, we must ask not just what it can do, but what it should do. Asimov invites us to think beyond the immediate—to consider not just solving the next problem, but understanding the implications of asking AI to solve problems at all.

As we continue to embed AI into the fabric of daily life, let’s remember that we are playing an infinite game. There are no winners or losers, just the path forward. And on this path, wisdom, not just intelligence, must be our guide.

All Regulation Isn’t Regulation: Why Food Hygiene in India Isn’t Getting Solved Anytime Soon

January 6, 2025

A few days ago, I had some foreign friends visiting India. First-timers, excited, curious. They had their checklist ready—Taj Mahal, Varanasi, street food. But along with the excitement, there was something else: fear. Not of crime, not of scams, not even of getting lost in the labyrinthine streets of Old Delhi. Their biggest concern? Food poisoning.

“Will we get sick?” they asked.

I didn’t know how to answer. I could have given them the standard advice—stick to bottled water, avoid raw salads, eat where there’s high turnover. But the truth is, even locals get hit. Every Indian I know has had at least one battle with a stomach bug, a mystery fever, or a suspicion of typhoid. It’s 2025, and this shouldn’t still be a concern. And yet, here we are.

More Rules, No Solutions

If you go by the books, food safety in India should be watertight. We have the Food Safety and Standards Authority of India (FSSAI), countless municipal regulations, and even state-specific rules. There are mandatory licenses, inspections, and even digital compliance systems. On paper, we should have the cleanest, safest food in the world.

But step outside, and reality slaps you in the face. Dhabas with water tanks full of algae, restaurants where the same oil has been frying pakoras since last Diwali, chaat stalls with staff that doesnt wash their hands, waiters that serve food while their finger is dipped in the curry. Street food is a gamble, restaurant kitchens are an unknown, and packaged food? Well, let’s not even get into the expired products getting a new sticker and gross violations of hygiene on the factory floor (literally floor because many factory owners refuse to invest in hygienic tables).

This isn’t about lack of regulation. It’s about how regulation actually functions in India. And food safety is just one example.

The Mafia Model of Enforcement

We’ve seen this before. Labour laws, pollution control, real estate norms—India is full of industries drowning in rules but starving for real enforcement. Here’s the typical pattern:

Make more and more rules – Every time there’s a public outcry (a food poisoning scandal, a pollution spike), the response is predictable: “We need stricter regulations, shut down that store that we happened to raid once in 10 years, or pay a fine and carry on business as usual, .” So, new paperwork is introduced. More forms, more approvals, more “processes.”
Ensure no one can fully comply – The rules are so complex, expensive, and unrealistic that following them 100% is almost impossible. A small restaurant that actually adheres to every hygiene standard will go out of business. A factory that genuinely follows pollution norms will not remain competitive.
Turn enforcement into a business – Instead of improving conditions, the system turns into a rent-seeking operation. Inspectors don’t exist to enforce laws; they exist to extract money. If you don’t pay, suddenly, your compliance is “incomplete.” If you do, your violations disappear. It’s not about safety or pollution or workers’ rights—it’s about who pays whom.

And when the entire enforcement system runs like this, nothing actually changes. The cycle repeats: People get sick. A scandal happens. More rules are made. More bribes are paid. No one is actually safe.

We live in a world where lab-grown meat is a reality, where AI is optimizing everything from healthcare to logistics. And yet, an Indian in 2025 still has to worry about typhoid from bad water or food poisoning from street food.

It doesn’t fit. It’s not just embarrassing—it’s absurd. And overpopulation is no excuse, there are overpopulated countries with better Food Safety outcomes across the world.

Foreigners assume we don’t care about hygiene. But we do. The problem isn’t a lack of rules; it’s that the system isn’t designed to fix anything. It’s designed to extract money. That’s why we have five-star hotels with pristine kitchens and roadside eateries where the cooking station is inches from an open drain. The government officials enforcing these laws don’t care about safety—they care about their cut.

So, what’s the fix? It’s not more rules. We need something people can actually follow, without bribes and bureaucracy. Imagine if every restaurant had to display a hygiene score, updated monthly, right at the entrance. No complicated government apps—just a sticker, plain and simple.

Because in the end, if people demand better, businesses will be forced to clean up. Until then, we’ll keep playing food roulette, hoping today isn’t the day we lose.