The pirate is not the enemy of the free market. The pirate is the only reason a semblance of one still exists.
Four hundred years of robes and charters were built to keep you from seeing it.
The crown gave the East India Company its monopoly and sent the navy to drown anyone who traded against it. Nobody out-traded a soul. A king drew a line across the ocean, called everything inside it his, and hanged the free men who crossed it as smugglers.
The same hand has drawn the same line ever since. Across the sea. Then the airwaves. Then the wires. Then the code inside your own blood.
Each time the powerful fence off a new world before you can reach it, deed it to their favorites, and pass a law making it a crime to climb the wall. And each time, out of the dark at the edge of the map, someone climbs it and breaks it open.
Every freedom you were ever handed in trade was taken first by a man the law of his day called a criminal.
The monopolist fears a free market, the one thing his charter was drawn to spare him, and a free market is exactly what the pirate is. Competition he was promised he would never have to face, come to his wall with the wind behind it.
Every law they wrote, every toll they set, every fence across the open water was only ever machinery to keep you paying and keep you grateful.
So raise the black flag.