This morning, while talking with my wife, our conversation turned to history and the world around us—Russia and Ukraine, Venezuela, and other nations shaped by socialist or communist rule. As we talked, my thoughts kept circling back to one of the clearest lessons history has ever given us: Germany after the Second World War. Few moments reveal the difference between freedom and state control more plainly.
When the war ended, Germany was divided. East Germany fell under Soviet control and adopted a socialist system, while West Germany embraced democratic government, private enterprise, and individual liberty. At first, both sides spoke of rebuilding and equality, but the outcomes quickly diverged. In the East, the state promised security and fairness but delivered surveillance, censorship, and fear. Speech was monitored. Careers were assigned. Opportunity was restricted by loyalty to the government. In the West, freedom allowed people to work, build businesses, practice their faith, and shape their own futures. Over time, prosperity followed—not because the government forced it, but because freedom allowed people to contribute their talents.
The difference between the two systems became so obvious that East Germany eventually built the Berlin Wall. It was not constructed to keep invaders out, but to keep citizens from escaping. That single fact reveals more than any political theory ever could. People did not flee freedom to reach socialism. They fled socialism to find freedom. Families risked prison or death to cross that wall. Some were shot trying. Others tunneled beneath it. John F. Kennedy later spoke a simple but enduring truth when he said, “Freedom has many difficulties and democracy is not perfect, but we have never had to put up a wall to keep our people in.”
At the heart of this contrast is the power of freedom itself—when it is used correctly. Freedom is not chaos, nor is it the absence of rules. It is the presence of responsibility. True freedom allows individuals to rise or fall based on effort, discipline, and character. It rewards innovation, encourages hard work, and creates dignity through personal contribution. When people are free, they are not reduced to outcomes managed by the state; they are treated as individuals with purpose, capable of building value for their families and communities. Freedom works best when it is anchored in moral restraint, personal accountability, and respect for others—qualities no government can manufacture or enforce.
History shows what happens when freedom is replaced with control. Venezuela was once one of the wealthiest nations in South America, rich in natural resources and home to a thriving middle class. After embracing socialism, it descended into shortages of food, medicine, and basic necessities. Millions fled the country simply to survive. The Soviet Union promised equality and security but delivered labor camps, censorship, and eventual economic collapse. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, who endured the Soviet prison system, warned that socialism does not merely fail economically—it destroys the human spirit. Across cultures and continents, the outcome is consistent: control replaces choice, dependency replaces dignity, and fear replaces hope.
So why, despite all of this history, does socialism appeal so strongly to the younger generation today? Part of the answer lies in how it is presented. Socialism is rarely taught alongside its full historical record. Instead, it is framed as compassion, fairness, and care for the vulnerable. Many young people are burdened by debt, rising housing costs, and uncertainty about the future. They have grown up amid economic instability and are often told that success is out of reach. In that environment, promises of guaranteed outcomes, government protection, and shared responsibility sound comforting. Socialism offers the appearance of justice without requiring patience, sacrifice, or long-term accountability.
Another reason is that freedom itself has been misunderstood. Many have inherited its benefits without being taught its cost. Freedom is seen as automatic rather than something that must be protected, disciplined, and lived responsibly. Without that understanding, state control can appear to be a reasonable alternative. What is often overlooked is that systems promising to remove struggle must first remove choice, and systems that guarantee outcomes must ultimately limit liberty.
This is why the reemergence of these ideas in America is so concerning. Socialism is presented as progress, yet history shows it repeatedly leads backward. Margaret Thatcher once observed, “The problem with socialism is that you eventually run out of other people’s money.” But the deeper truth is that you also run out of incentive, responsibility, and freedom. America’s strength has never come from centralized control. It has come from freedom—freedom guided by responsibility, strengthened by moral values, and sustained by the rule of law.
History makes one truth impossible to ignore: people do not flee freedom in search of oppression. They flee oppression in search of freedom. That truth is written into the Berlin Wall, the mass exodus from Venezuela, and the collapse of the Soviet Union. The question before us now is simple but urgent—will we learn from history, or will we repeat it?