Rene Beugie

1971 Is Not a Date — It’s a Fault Line Some charts don’t need commentary. They don’t argue. They don’t persuade. They simply reveal. This one does exactly that. Up until 1971, debt behaves like something human. It rises during crises, falls during recovery, breathes with history. There is tension, release, correction — a rhythm. Then something changes. After 1971, the movement loses its memory. Debt no longer returns. It accumulates. Not because of war, not because of disaster, but because the system itself has shifted. This is not about politics. It’s not about left or right, good intentions or bad decisions. It’s about a structural break — a moment where limits quietly disappeared. From that point on, debt stops being a temporary tool and becomes a permanent condition. Growth is no longer earned; it is borrowed from the future. Stability is no longer grounded; it is managed. Time keeps moving forward, but the anchor is gone. What makes this chart uncomfortable is not the numbers. It’s the smoothness. The normalization. The way an exception slowly turns into a baseline. You don’t need to be an economist to see it. You don’t need a model to understand it. You only need to look — and notice that after 1971, the story changes direction. Not abruptly. Not dramatically. But irreversibly. And once you see that, you start to understand why so many things today feel disconnected from reality — yet perfectly logical within the system that replaced it. Some graphs don’t predict the future. They explain the present. This is one of them. #1971 #SoundMoney #SystemicShift #DebtBasedEconomy #MacroPerspective #EconomicHistory #MonetaryReality #StructuralBreak #FinancialTruth #SeeingThePattern

When Cooperation Stops: Why the Rule of Law Still Matters at Sea There is something quietly significant about a country saying: we’re stopping this cooperation. Not with a megaphone. Not with outrage. Just a firm: this no longer aligns with how we operate. That is what happened when the Netherlands decided to halt parts of its cooperation in the Caribbean because of fundamental differences with the way the United States conducts maritime drug enforcement. Exploding boats with heavy weaponry may be efficient. It may look decisive. But efficiency is not the same as legitimacy. And legitimacy still matters. Let’s be clear: drug trafficking is a serious problem. It undermines societies, fuels violence, and corrodes institutions. Addressing it is necessary. The disagreement is not whether enforcement should happen, but how it happens — and who gets to decide guilt. This is where things quietly slide from law enforcement into something else. When a state intercepts a vessel, destroys it, and eliminates everyone onboard in the same action, something fundamental disappears: the separation between arrest and judgment. The moment force becomes verdict, the legal process collapses into a single act. That is not law enforcement. That is Judge, Jury, and Executioner — with radar. The Netherlands takes a different position: intercept, arrest, and prosecute. Not because it is softer. But because it insists that judgment belongs elsewhere. This distinction is not a technicality. It is the backbone of what we call the Trias Politica, a concept articulated by Montesquieu. Legislative power makes the law. Executive power enforces it. Judicial power evaluates whether enforcement was lawful and proportionate. Once these roles blur, the system does not suddenly collapse. It erodes. Quietly. Functionally. Often with applause. Of course, proponents of hard enforcement argue necessity: “These people are criminals.” “This saves time.” “This deters others.” But necessity has a habit of expanding. What begins as an exception tends to become standard practice — especially when no independent body is left to ask uncomfortable questions afterward. The Dutch position is not dramatic. It does not claim moral superiority. It simply draws a line: we will not participate in actions where force replaces judicial review. That line matters. Not because it guarantees justice in every case — no system does — but because it preserves the possibility of justice. A dead suspect tells no story, offers no defense, and receives no verdict beyond the one imposed by firepower. Stopping cooperation in such circumstances is therefore not anti-enforcement. It is pro–rule of law. And perhaps that is why it feels rare today. In a world that favors speed, spectacle, and certainty, insisting on process can look almost radical. Even quaint. But law was never designed to be cinematic. It was designed to slow power down. So yes, drugs must be tackled. Yes, borders must be controlled. But if enforcement no longer leaves room for an independent judge to speak, then what remains is not justice — only momentum. And momentum, unlike law, does not know when to stop. #RuleOfLaw #TriasPolitica #SeparationOfPowers #Proportionality #JusticeNotSpectacle #InternationalLaw #PowerAndLimits #NoJudgeDredd #DueProcess #LegalIntegrity