… I’ve resolved to resist, at least for a day or two. Anyway, there’s a more important subject on my mind.

     There’s quite a bit of chatter and speculation about our new Holy Father, His Holiness Pope Leo XIV. The name of Robert Cardinal Prevost wasn’t on my private list of “contenders” for the Throne of Saint Peter. It’s moderately reassuring that the Conclave chose him in only four ballots; more would have suggested an unpleasant amount of politicking among the cardinals. I’ll need to do a lot more reading about him, and watch his opening moves for a while, before I form any further opinions.

     The Catholic Church is perhaps the simplest organization possible at its immense size: only four hierarchical levels above the layman. In truth, the title of bishop is the one that matters most. Bishops are the “recursive” level of the hierarchy: the one that can ordain priests and elevate priests to bishops. (NB: The title of archbishop, while it sounds weighty, isn’t actually superior to that of “bishop.” It merely indicates that the possessor superintends an archdiocese: an unusually large diocese.)

     My point here is to emphasize the simplicity of the clerical hierarchy. It’s always been the way it is today, except for the creation of the rank of cardinal in the early fourth century. Simplicity is the best possible protection against all manner of faults and corruptions. Yes, there are and have been faults and corruptions within the Church. Though created by the Son of God, it remains a human institution, and therefore fallible. But considering its size and its amazing longevity (God builds things that last), those faults and corruptions have been remarkably few.

     Some time ago, I wrote about how complexity creates niches for villains. It’s an important subject that has implications for all organizations, particularly the largest: governments. The key proposition:

     Let the above henceforth be known as Porretto’s Iron Law Of Complexity.

     An organization that has a limited lifetime, with the limit being externally imposed and enforced, has less of a chance of developing complexity. Of course, any aspiring layabouts and villains within the organization will strive to remove that limit, for which reason it should be steel-hard. Should the limit remain in place, the amount of corruption to which the organization is vulnerable will be limited as well. Pournelle’s Iron Law of Bureaucracy implies this, among other things.

     This brings us to an interesting pass, one that might have escaped anyone’s notice until now. President Trump decreed the creation of the Department of Government Efficiency. He also announced at the very beginning that it would have a limited lifetime: 180 days. Whether that limit proceeded from Trump’s grasp of institutional dynamics, I cannot say. Nevertheless, it was a critical imposition, for which he deserves applause.

     Now, having seen the excellent results that have issued from the efforts of DoGE’s personnel, many Americans are arguing that it should be made a permanent federal department. That would be a terrible mistake. If this puzzles you, go back to the beginning of this piece and read it again.

     Every item of history that speaks to the dynamic of power militates against the creation of another permanent Cabinet department. The ones that already exist are what DoGE has labored to corral and correct. To make DoGE a department of that sort would inevitably corrupt it. It would acquire permanent staff, among whom would surely be some layabouts and villains. Those persons, in accordance with Porretto’s and Pournelle’s Laws, would set to work creating complexities they could exploit – and without an externally imposed limited lifetime, no power on Earth could prevent it.

     A marvelous fictional depiction of this effect can be found in Jonathan Lynn and Antony Jay’s Yes Minister. It should be required reading for all students of bureaucracy, right next to C. Northcote Parkinson’s The Law, Complete.

     Can you, oh Gentle Reader of Liberty’s Torch, imagine anything more painfully ironic than a Department of Government Efficiency whose principal aim is expanding itself and its funding? A department that works against the goal expressed in its own title? That is what we would get, were DoGE to be granted the permanence of other Cabinet departments. It would not be an exception to the laws of power.

     I could go on, and as you know very well, sometimes I do. But the point has been made. Let DoGE live, function, and die as President Trump intends it. Let medals be struck for its heroes, especially Elon Musk, who set aside immense personal responsibilities to oversee its operations and has done magnificently in that role. And let the rest of the administrative state beware: Behave! For DoGE could rise from its coffin to rampage through the bureaucracies afresh. In its life and death, it will set a vital example for how executive departments ought to be chartered.

     Let the timely expiration of DoGE give the time-servers in the other Cabinet departments a few nightmares. Nothing ought to live forever – especially government bureaucracies.

     (See also this incredibly relevant Baseline Essay, and this more recent one.)

     “The closest thing to eternal life on earth is a government program.” – Ronald Reagan, 40th President of the United States