What if the greatest hero was also the most dangerous villain? Frank Herbert’s Dune challenges us to see beyond the façade of messianic leadership, revealing the seductive dangers of power, control, and unbridled faith in authority. Yet some of his message might not be as apparent in the film version as we are still to see the turn of events with Paul embracing his dark side and the true consequences of his chosen path on the silver screen. In the Portuguese political landscape, where messianic movements continue to shape discourse and central planning ends up as the solution for every problem, Dune offers a striking lens through which to examine the dangers of blindly following leaders and the concentration of power.
“He Who Controls the Spice…
…controls the universe”. This is how Baron Harkonnen perfectly summarizes the importance of this commodity in Dune’s universe, and the role he plays in the state-created monopoly (as most monopolies are), of which he is in charge. Centralized power structures dominate the universe of Dune. The Empire concentrates almost absolute power in the figure of the emperor, whose only check would be the Landsraad, the assembly of the Great Houses, but who are easily manipulated against each other or rendered powerless by cutting off their access to spice melange, a rare, addictive substance found only on the desert planet Arrakis (who the natives name Dune). This substance is vital for space navigation, enabling the Spacing Guild Navigators to fold space and travel safely through the universe. Spice extends human life, enhances awareness, and grants limited prescience. Consequently, the Spacing Guild monopolizes galactic transportation as the sole solution for long-range space travel, via its melange-fueled pilots.
The Bene Gesserit, a secretive religious order, wields power through mysticism and a meticulously orchestrated eugenics program aimed at producing the Kwisatz Haderach—a prophesied messianic figure capable of bridging space and time. Yet their centuries-long plan falters when Paul Atreides, the unexpected product of their machinations, rebels against their control. Herbert uses the Bene Gesserit to critique the hubris of centralized planning, showing how their pursuit of perfection leads to unintended consequences.
The emperor’s mismanagement of Arrakis illustrates the perils of centralizing economic control in the hands of a single authority. Instead of fostering a competitive market for spice exploration and extraction—an approach that would incentivize efficiency and innovation while protecting the rights of all parties—the emperor enforces a monopolistic system that benefits only a select few. Thus, up until the start of the story, House Harkonnen grows incredibly rich extracting spice in the name of the emperor while embezzling a part of production for themselves and persecuting the local inhabitants of the planet, the Fremen, for hindering his sacking.
In a misguided attempt to consolidate power, the emperor replaces the Harkonnen with House Atreides as administrators of Arrakis, hoping to pit the two houses against each other and emerge as the ultimate victor. The Harkonnen launch a brutal attack, wiping out most of House Atreides and forcing Paul and his mother, Jessica, to seek refuge among the Fremen. The superstitions and propaganda spread by the Bene Gesserit among the Fremen had led them to believe that a saviour from another world would come to lead them into paradise. At first, Paul only wants to survive the Harkonnen and denies these prophecies.
Living with the Fremen Paul begins to see himself not just as a victim seeking justice, but as a potential liberator capable of reshaping the galaxy. Letting the Fremen believe he is their messiah might even be necessary, to recruit millions of the best fighters in the universe to do his bidding. After all, if it leads to a fairer society, isn’t it all worth it? If only someone had handed Paul a copy of Capitalism and Freedom. He might have heeded Milton Friedman’s warning: “Concentrated power is not rendered harmless by the good intentions of those who create it.” Herbert perfectly illustrates this idea at various other points, showing how absolute power not only corrupts but also paralyzes innovation and undermines individual autonomy.
On one hand, the Fremen’s blind faith in Paul leads them to spread a never-ending war across the galaxy, killing indiscriminately in the name of their messiah instead of achieving the paradise they envisioned. This tragic irony underscores the danger of collective delusions and the perils of entrusting salvation to a single figure. On the other hand, Paul himself becomes trapped by the very power he has concentrated. The following he fostered transforms into an unstoppable tide of destruction, one even he cannot control. Herbert demonstrates the inherent danger of trusting charismatic leaders, regardless of their intentions, as power—even when well-intentioned—tends to generate unpredictable and catastrophic consequences.
Frank Herbert articulated this warning through the character of Liet Kynes, the Imperial Planetologist: ‘No more terrible disaster could befall your people than for them to fall into the hands of a Hero.’ This statement encapsulates a fundamental principle: unchecked power erodes individual autonomy and fosters dependency, making systems brittle and prone to collapse. Paul’s rise demonstrates how centralized authority, even when wielded with the best intentions, inevitably leads to oppression. His failure is not personal; it reflects the inherent flaws of a system built on monopolies, coercion, and hierarchical control. Friedrich Hayek’s insight that ‘the more the state plans, the more difficult planning becomes for the individual’ echoes this critique, as the concentration of power stifles individual agency. Herbert’s narrative serves as a vivid allegory for the critique of the cult of leadership, showing how even well-meaning leaders become ensnared in the systems they create, ultimately perpetuating destruction and inequality. As Herbert said, “Leaders make mistakes, and those mistakes amplified by the number of those who follow without questioning, move inevitably toward great disasters.”
The Golden Path or the Road to Serfdom?
Paul Atreides’ son, Leto II, represents the extreme evolution of centralized and messianic power. In God Emperor of Dune, the 4th book in the saga, Leto II is near-immortal and conducts an authoritarian reign lasting 3,000 years. Under the justification of saving humanity from an apocalyptic future, he implements a rigidly controlled system, limiting individual freedom and suppressing resistance in the name of collective survival.
Leto II’s rule closely mirrors Leninist ideals of absolute control. Like Lenin’s revolutionary vanguard guiding the proletariat, Leto positions himself as humanity’s only saviour, leading them along the “Golden Path” to prevent self-destruction. However, as with Marxist regimes, his vision demands the suppression of individual freedom and relies on violence justified by the promise of a utopia. Under his rule, economic, cultural, and technological stagnation takes hold, creating a cycle of conformity and dependence that stifles humanity’s growth.
Herbert’s critique of centralized power echoes Hayek’s insights: central planners, no matter how capable, cannot match the ingenuity of millions of individuals solving problems they intimately understand. Leto II’s near-godlike abilities—immortality and prescience—make him the most likely to succeed with the task at hand. Yet even his rule devolves into oppression and decay, proving that no amount of control can substitute for the vitality of freedom and competition.
Unlike the misguided or narcissistic bureaucrat, Leto fully understands the consequences of his tyranny. He explains, “When I set out to lead humankind along my Golden Path, I promised them a lesson their bones would remember.” His oppression is deliberate, a calculated antidote to humanity’s self-destructive tendencies. By giving them what they think they want—stagnation and absolute certainty—he forces them to confront the value of unpredictability, freedom, and individual autonomy. Herbert’s foresight is striking: years before the fall of the USSR, he anticipated that prolonged tyranny could serve as a “vaccine” against authoritarian ideologies. Just as post-Soviet states became resistant to Marxist dogma after enduring its failures, Leto’s rule compels humanity to resist the allure of centralized power in the future. Yet, this “vaccine” is imperfect. The current resurgence of right-wing authoritarianism in those same countries reminds us that the struggle for liberty is never truly over. Leto’s Golden Path warns against the false promises of centralized power, underscoring the liberal principle that true progress requires decentralized systems, individual responsibility, and the rejection of messianic leadership.
“A Lesson Their Bones Would Remember”
Dune is a meditation on fundamental choices that shape societies. Frank Herbert challenges us to reflect on the dangers of centralized power, the importance of local autonomy, and individual responsibility. These principles, central to classical liberalism, offer a counterpoint to authoritarianism and excessive interventionism. Herbert becomes even more visionary when we consider that he wrote all this before the fall of the Berlin Wall and before global awareness of Soviet-era totalitarianism and its environmental catastrophes became widespread.
For readers, Dune presents an opportunity to engage in dialogue with those who might align with these values but have yet to defend them consciously. Art of such kind helps structure these ideas, fostering a deeper understanding of freedom and responsibility. Herbert offers a vision that transcends dogma, warning us to avoid the mistakes of the 20th century and the allure of charismatic fascists and socialists, whose promises often lead to oppression and stagnation.
