Class Pride vs. Cultural Chauvinism

Painting of Chinese doctors celebrating the great achivements of working class people

The reason why western communism frequently fails and becomes mouthpieces of the US military industrial complex is simple: Workers are not allowed.

The way that workers and technocrats see the world differ immensely. A worker will define themselves by what they are, Adorno and Chomsky for instance, are forced to define themselves by what they’re not.

Since intellectual labour rarely produces anything meaningful besides furthering the interests of their benefactors, they have no way in which to see themselves reflected in the world around them.

Even if a worker is, for instance, employed by a real estate company to build houses, they are not merely providing a service for the landlord, but can see a secondary product of their labour: Namely a family with a roof over their heads.

But when Chomsky for instance, or Adorno, or Foucault for that matter, write fictions about the red hordes in the east, and the urgency by which they must be civilised, then their labour is reflected by newspaper headlines. Headlines about how Iranians are starved by sanctions, about how Hindutva nationalists are mobilising in the streets against peasants who are accused of working for the Chinese.

Headlines about mass shootings and progroms against Asian immigrants. Headlines about how Neo-Nazis in Poland and Ukraine are citing their books as evidence of Hitler’s legitimacy.

Their products become the justification of violence, starvation, poverty and fascism. They unequivocally support the landlords of the world, with no nuance such as that of the builder.

This is why the Soviets depicted fascists as vipers, because their chief product is poison.

As a result, the synthetic left must define themselves by what they’re not. To define themselves by what they are is to draw water from a very shallow well. As they embody the traits of people who are slavish, pathetic, hypocritical and chauvinistic, they are defined by their uselessness, their cowardice, their imperiousness and their meekness in the face of authority.

They are people who value their careers over their principles, who would shun injury at the cost of someone else’s life, who uses the poor and the downtrodden as human shields, they are tragic beings who despise the workers who are their natural superiors.

George Orwell is a good example of this. Even in his own book, in which he idealises his own position through the self-insert of Winston, all he manages to be is a tragic character who spends his days playing out some kind of twisted working class sexual roleplay with another petit-bourgeois state functionary until the very day he is caught and frankly, unsympathetically executed. A sad and pathetic worm of a man, with a thousand complaints and no desire to risk himself in resolving it.

Who would rather develop a sexual fetish in which he pretends for a day that he is a working class person in his little dacha on the wrong side of the tracks, and die for this, frankly, sad perversion, than to die fighting his supposed oppressors.

Winston is the archetypical bourgeois leftist, and I applaud George Orwell for such a wonderful satire. Not many men would have the good nature to be so self-deprecating.

Personally I have broken the law numerous times, and put myself at risk in an effort to combat the injustices and circumstances of capitalism and class warfare. I have risked my freedom, my livelihood, my reputation and god knows what else. I have faced a lot of punishment for this, foregone a lot of opportunities at self-gain, and frequently lived life in precarious and dangerous circumstances because my principles mattered more to me than opportunism.

This is natural to working class people, it is as natural as the air we breathe, most working class people do not desire life at all costs, and would gladly die for another should that be necessary. This is because workers define themselves by what their are, contrary to petit-bourgeois rationalists. Rationalisation is the morality of serial killers. To justify yourself with “At least I’m not a….” is a good way to race to the bottom.

“At least I’m not a conservative” said the liberal.

“At least I’m not a liberal” said the conservative.

“At least I’m not a rapist” said the murderer.

“At least I’m not a murderer” said the rapist.

The ruling class and its many lapdogs enjoy these kinds of discussions. “A vote for rape is a vote against murder!” one says, “A vote for murder is a vote against rape!” the other says.

Although they gloss it up with college words like “War” and “Austerity.” But in practice it pans out to the same results.

So this is why the Chomskys of the world have such a vested interest in making everyone else seem like inferiors. It is the only way they can look themselves in the mirror. “At least I’m not a Chinese.”

Yeah well I don’t care about what I’m not. I’ve been a cleaner, an engineer, a technician, a minister, you name it. When I cleaned I gave dignity to the elderly so they would not have to live in their filth, when I was a minister I counselled people and prevented suicides. I don’t need the world to be full of savages to feel useful.

This is why labour abolition is so popular among technocrats, they want everyone to become useless sponges like them. It is a worldview in which the labour of workers is seen as something shameful. But I enjoy manual labour, a lot of workers do, Karl Marx said that labour was central to the human experience. That communism was built on the idea that humans do not need coercion and exploitation to work.

That work is as innate and natural to us as walking is. That all workers have creativity, passion and inspiration, and that labour is how we express ourselves. An expression that builds wonderous things and inventions. That makes the world more fun, and safe, and beautiful.

When a worker sees the atom, she envisions a warm home with lit windows for every family in the world.

When an academic sees the atom, he envisions a doomsday weapon which harkens a military hegemony which will prompt all civilisations to be made in his image. The atom bomb was the highest achievement of liberalism, the very peak of their philosophy, the final technology needed to assure that the world remained divided among slaves and aristocrats, and thankfully it failed.

A future of slaves numbered in the billions. A future of overnight air-delivery holocausts. A future that would make Hitler’s menace seem like a mild inconvenience should it ever happen.

Thankfully Stalin saved us from this future, from this liberal utopia in which the peoples of the world would toil under the lash of America and western Europe.

But within the abstract and bleak halls of liberal academia, in the madhouses that would envision these kinds of doomsday plots, the political machinations liberal journalism, people spend their days denying their status not as leeches, the capitalists are leeches, but assistant leeches. To be lower than a leech. To be a being so tragic, that all they do each day is to worship the leech, to justify its position, to spend every day denying their own existence in favour to that of a leech.

To spend each day being the voice of military contractors, landlords, corporate lobbyists, liberal political insiders and god knows what else. To do this, this most demeaning labour, in exchange for a mere pittance. For every million that their houndmaster makes, they get a decimal of this value as a paycheck. I would sooner be homeless, or even dead, than to have such a miserable existence.

No wonder they spend their days trying to imagine a world without working class people. No wonder they spend every day being resentful of our achievements, from space travel to democracy. No wonder they must clench their teeth at Stalin, a lowly peasant, who became the liberator of the world and the father of industrial era democracy.

Communism appeals to these intellectuals because they assume workers are fools, that we are illiterate, that we need leeches of our own. The notion that we can read our own books, produce our own art, and build our own nations is as absurd to them, as the idea that a cat could pilot an air craft carrier.

But we are not cats, we are people, and while they are busy inventing reasons to invade countries and bomb civilisations, we are busy building those things. Capitalists destroy things to create markets, to create demand. Hunger is a market, thrist is a market, disease is a market, homelessness is a market.

The worker builds societies, and the capitalist builds markets. This is the perpetual war between rich and poor.

Sadly though, history is not on their side. Every worker across the world, when faced with the incontrovertible truth of history, can only feel pride. The industry of shame, the industry of lies, the industry in which the Chomskys of the world make their money by justifying atrocities and fascism, is but a maidenhead on a slave ship.

Never let these people doubt you, never fear your own power, never fear your neighbors and your community. Trust your fellow workers, celebrate the workers of the world, explore the history of worker’s republics, and never for a moment doubt that you’re the good guy.

Soviet poster of a working class man standing as a giant, slamming his fist unto a conference table full of ant sized capitalists and career politicians.



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