Voima Weekly #26 - When Systems Buy Time

Plaster cast of Pharaoh Tutankhamun¹. Image purchased from a stock photo library

The Book of Exodus does not begin with a miracle, but with labor, production, and the fear of power. The miracles come only later, when the system no longer functions. It is rarely read as a description of how societies and economic systems can break down. Yet it is precisely in this respect that it is exceptionally compelling.

The Egyptian kingdom did not collapse overnight. It did not fall because of a single decision, a single war, or a single mistake. It began to fracture in the way systems usually do: gradually, layer by layer—albeit at an ultimately accelerating pace.

First, the real economy failed. Crops were destroyed, livestock died, and the water was contaminated². What sustained the kingdom began to disappear. This was not a single bad year or an exceptional crisis, but a gradual erosion of productive capacity. When food and water are gone, no government remains stable for long—regardless of how strong its army or administration may be.

Next, labor failed. The Egyptian economy was built on a system of forced labor, and the Hebrews were not merely an oppressed minority but a central component of the productive machinery. When their departure became inevitable, Egypt did not lose only its workforce—it lost the foundation of its economy³. This is an often underestimated aspect of the narrative: without labor there is no production, without production there is no tax base, and without a tax base there is no power

Finally, authority and trust collapsed. Pharaoh lost control. Public pressure grew. The plagues did not end permanently but came in waves. It is here that Pharaoh’s actions reveal something essential: he was unable—or unwilling to humble himself— to resolve the problem, and instead tried to buy time between the plagues⁴. After each respite he retreated, hardened his stance, and delayed the decision, until the system was ultimately forced into a resolution it no longer controlled.

The Egyptians gave gold and silver to the Hebrews so that they would leave. Not because the Hebrews represented a superior economic system or moral virtue, but because the collapse had to be brought to an end. This was a liquidation forced by crisis⁵. The options remained, Egypt paid off the group whose departure would end the crisis.

This is not an exception in history, but rather a recurring underlying mechanism. When a system is unable to correct itself in time, it does not collapse immediately—it begins to buy time. Money loses value so that debts need not be paid in real terms. Labor or industry is kept in place through subsidies and tax relief—whether it is economically viable or not—the main thing is that the wheels keep turning⁶. Capital is offered special deals and one-off exemptions so that it does not flee.

All of these are different manifestations of the same phenomenon: attempts to postpone the inevitable rather than address problems at their root.

This is the economic core of the Exodus narrative. When a system loses production, labor, and legitimacy, it cannot be repaired by stories. It pays a price, often to those who manage to exit in time. Not because the departing party has earned a reward, but because all other means have been exhausted. When a system is no longer able to silence, subdue, or destroy the disturbance, it pays in order to remove the immediate cause of the crisis and to restore a sense of control, however briefly.

This turning point occurs only in the final phase of a crisis. First, the system commands, restricts, and punishes. When these measures no longer work, it is forced to relinquish its terms. At this stage, “payment” does not mean a reward, but an unfavorable concession: debts are eased through inflation, production is subsidized regardless of profitability, and capital is granted exceptions that would not be acceptable under stable conditions. The purpose of the payment is singular—to eliminate the immediate trigger of the crisis and to regain control for a moment.

The benefit does not remain with the system, but with those who receive value unconditionally and in liquid form when the rules have already broken down. This is not a question of justice, but the system’s final adaptive move.

Against this backdrop, it is instructive to examine the present moment. The United States is currently attempting to respond to the same structural problem in a markedly different way than many others. Rather than propping up the system through transfers and administrative fixes, efforts are being made to pull the real economy back to the core. Production is being incentivized, investments are being made, and supply chains are being rebuilt. Trade policy is being used deliberately as a tool⁷.

Tariffs have often been dismissed as simplistic, even foolish. In reality, they function as a two-gear mechanism. The first effect is immediate: tariffs generate revenue directly for the state—not as debt, not as promises, but as cash flow here and now⁸. The second gear has a longer-term effect: tariffs create a strong incentive to invest in the United States, the world’s largest consumer market. If you want to serve the customer, it makes sense to move production closer.

When this is combined with reductions in income taxation and incentives that favor investment, the result is an unusually powerful mix. Companies are offered both a stick and a carrot at the same time. Staying outside becomes costly; operating inside becomes attractive. The outcome shows up in jobs, industrial investment, and local economic vitality. The real economy begins to pull again.

This is not to say that these measures are perfect or without problems. The point is direction. When a system recognizes that its real economic foundation has eroded, it can either buy time or attempt to restore production. That is a conscious choice— and a remarkably candid one Europe has largely moved in a different direction. Structural problems are not primarily addressed through production, labor, and investment, but through subsidy systems, transfers, and supranational bureaucracy. Funds are distributed broadly, often through application processes and political negotiation. The system has also become known for the fact that if resources are not obtained, hints of withdrawal or obstruction of cooperation can be used—and this pressure works surprisingly often.

In concrete terms, this is visible in the EU’s regional and structural funds. During the 2021–2027 programming period, approximately €392 billion is being transferred through these mechanisms—over 30 percent of the entire EU budget—from net contributor countries to so-called less developed regions. In practice, Germany, France, the Netherlands, and the Nordic countries finance large transfers to Poland, Italy, Spain, Romania, and Greece. Poland has been the largest net recipient, receiving an estimated €75–80 billion. In these transfers, money does not follow productivity or structural reform, but regional classification—this is pure income transfer.

The same logic is repeated in agriculture. The EU’s Common Agricultural Policy distributes nearly €400 billion over the programming period. Support is not primarily based on food produced or efficiency, but on compliance with conditions, land area, and administrative criteria⁹. The result is a system in which reducing production or leaving land fallow is often economically more rational than increasing output.

In this sense, agriculture may be the saddest example of the entire system. For a Finnish farmer, the most critical skill is no longer reading the field, tracking the weather, or maintaining equipment—though all of these remain essential—but managing EU subsidy applications. Payments are made for fallow land, but not always for production. The question is fundamental: what rational system pays for the downsizing of food production at the same time as food security and selfsufficiency are political buzzwords?

This is not primarily environmental policy, but a seriously distorted incentive system in which bureaucracy has become detached from economic reality.

This is not about isolated mistakes, but about structure: money is collected where production works and distributed where structures have not been repaired. At this stage, this is not yet a moral judgment, but an observation. Systems can postpone consequences for a long time¹⁰. They can buy time. But history shows that no system can do so indefinitely.

Finland is a small country that has a history of rising from difficult periods when challenges have been faced honestly. We still have expertise, people who are willing to work, and the capacity to rebuild—not on the basis of subsidies, but on work, responsibility, and trust.

The best days are not behind us if we dare to repair the foundations in time. The question is not whether Finland will endure—but whether we choose construction or delay while there is still time.

–Marko Viinikka
Founder, CEO
Voima Gold Oy

Disclaimer: Voima Weeklies are the personal writings of the undersigned. They do not necessarily represent the official view of Voima Gold Oy or any other company, nor do they constitute investment advice or a recommendation to purchase securities.