Tag: capitalism

I’m Not a Liberal, I Just Make Sense: Why Labels Fall Short

It happens all the time. I challenge right-wing talking points, call out capitalist exploitation, or support basic human rights, and suddenly — boom — I’m a “liberal.” As if that’s the end of the discussion. As if being anti-fascist or pro-worker automatically plants me squarely in the Democratic Party’s center-left garden.

Let me be clear: I am not a liberal. I just live in a country so far to the right that calling for universal healthcare, climate action, or labor rights feels like revolution.

Why people call me a liberal:

  1. I argue with conservatives.
    • Apparently, in the American binary brain, if you’re not parroting Fox News or defending billionaires, you must be a Democrat. The idea that there’s something to the left of liberals is unthinkable to many.
  2. I care about people
    • When you defend the poor, the unhoused, immigrants, or even the basic right not to die from lack of insulin, people assume you’re a part of the “bleeding heart” liberal crowd. As if compassion is a party platform rather than a moral baseline.
  3. I don’t support Trump
    • That alone gets you painted blue in some circles. Never mind that opposing authoritarianism, racism, or conspiracy cults isn’t a matter of party loyalty — it’s basic sanity.

Why I’m not a liberal

  1. Liberals love capitalism. I want to overthrow it.
    • Liberals think the system is mostly fine and just needs tweaks. I think the system is fundamentally broken and built on exploitation. We don’t need nicer capitalism — we need a new world.
  2. Liberals believe in reform. I believe in rupture.
    • Liberals put their faith in voting, committees, and incrementalism. I believe the change we need won’t come from polite asks or polished speeches. It’ll come from disruption, pressure, and direct action.
  3. Liberals want to return to “normal.” I want to move forward.
    • “Normal” gave us Trump, climate collapse, and a society that treats people as disposable. I don’t want to go back. I want something radically better.
  4. Liberals apologize for empire. I oppose it.
    • Whether it’s war, coups, or sanctions, liberals rarely challenge American imperialism. I do — because solidarity shouldn’t stop at our borders.

So what am I?

Call me a leftist. A socialist. A troublemaker. An anti-capitalist. A human being tired of being told the best we can do is Joe Biden or Kamala Harris with a side of despair. Just don’t call me a liberal.

Because I’m not here to make capitalism kinder. I’m here to make it history.

The Lazy Argument Against Socialism

Every time someone dares to critique capitalism, someone inevitably lobs the same tired grenade: “What about the 100 million people killed by communism?”

It’s a rhetorical nuke meant to shut down debate. And like most nukes, it leaves behind more smoke than substance.

Let’s unpack it.

First, the death tolls often cited (Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot, etc.) come from sources like The Black Book of Communism, which bundle together famines, wars, executions, and sometimes even natural disasters under the label of “communist killings.” By that logic, capitalism is responsible for every death under every U.S.-backed dictatorship, every colonial empire, every war for resources, and every child who dies because their parents couldn’t afford insulin.

Want to play that game? Fine. Let’s talk:

Colonialism under capitalism killed tens of millions — India under British rule, Congo under Belgium, the Americas under British conquest.

The Atlantic slave trade was a capitalist enterprise. Tens of millions died or were enslaved for profit.

Modern capitalism kills 8 million people every year from poverty-related causes like hunger, unsafe water, and lack of healthcare. Quietly. Systemically.

If we’re comparing body counts, capitalism is still actively killing.

Authoritarianism is not socialism.

The atrocities committed by Stalin or Mao were products of totalitarian regimes — not the idea of socialism. If we’re blaming socialism for every tyrant who used the label, then we have to blame capitalism for Pinochet, Hitler (who privatized heavily), and every U.S.-armed strongman from Latin America to the Middle East.

It’s not the label that matters — it’s the structure of power.

Socialism, at its core, is about democratic control of the economy. It’s about prioritizing people over profit. When done right, it looks like universal healthcare, strong labor rights, public ownership of essential services, and economic dignity for all.

That’s not a death camp. That’s a lifeline.

There’s the “Freedom” myth of Capitalism.

The defenders of capitalism always fall back on the idea of “freedom” — the freedom to start a business, chase your dreams, and become the next Jeff Bezos.

But for most people, capitalism means the freedom to work 60 hours a week and still not afford rent. The freedom to die if you can’t pay for insulin. The freedom to drown in debt because you got sick or went to college. Capitalism promises opportunity, but mostly delivers exhaustion.

And let’s be real: billionaires don’t get rich by working hard. They get rich by owning things other people work hard to maintain.

Karl Marx didn’t create the Soviet Union. He didn’t build gulags. He sent his life writing about a world where ordinary people could live without being exploited. The fact that authoritarian regimes warped his ideas doesn’t erase the truth of what he fought for anymore than capitalist’s crimes erase the concept of free markets.

The irony? Under capitalism, Marx’s grave now charges admission. Even in death, the system tried to make a profit off of him.

Socialism doesn’t need to be perfect to be better. Capitalism isn’t judged by Stalin. Why should socialism be?

If you’re tired of a system where billionaires fly to space while kids go hungry, maybe it’s time to stop fear the word socialism and start fearing the status quo.

Capitalism is Exploitation with a Smile

Capitalism sells itself as freedom. The freedom to work, to buy, to compete, to win. But when you strip away the ads and the jargon, capitalism is little more than a global scheme propped up by the suffering of the many for the comfort of the few.

Let’s call it what it is: exploitation dressed up as opportunity. The boss makes money off your time–not theirs.

Under capitalism, labor produces value but workers don’t own the value they create. If you work eight hours a day building houses, flipping burgers, or coding apps, the profit generated doesn’t go to you. It does to the owner. Your wage is just a fraction of the wealth you produce–enough to keep you alive and quiet. That’s not opportunity. That’s theft.

The owner didn’t build the thing. You did. They simply own the means–the tools, the land, the license–and the systems that says that’s enough to justify getting rich off your back.

That’s exploitation.

Who picks your vegetables? Who sews your clothes? Who delivers your packages at 10 PM for minimum wage and no healthcare? Capitalism pushes costs downward and hoards rewards upward. The working class gets debt, burnout, and rent hikes. The ruling class gets yachts, tax loopholes, and bailouts.

A job under capitalism isn’t just a source of income. It’s a hostage situation. You work or you starve. You smile through abuse because your landlord doesn’t take moral victories as rent. The “choice” to work is only free if your survival doesn’t depend on it. Otherwise it’s coercion.

If you’re wondering why billionaires exist while people die from lack of insulin, it’s because capitalism isn’t broken–it’s working exactly as it’s designed.

Try living “off the grid” or refusing to work for a wage. See how long the system lets you survive. You’re either producing for capital or consuming from it. Either way, you’re part of the machine. Capitalism doesn’t need your consent. It just needs your compliance.

Capitalism wraps itself in the flag and calls its critics ungrateful. It tells us the work harder, hustle more, and bootstrap your way out of systemic inequality. But the truth is, no one ever got rich from hard work alone. They got rich from other people’s hard work. That’s the capitalist dream: own more than you do, and extract more than you give.

Capitalism doesn’t just fail to meet our needs, it feeds off of them. It turns basic human rights into business opportunities. Housing, healthcare, food, water are all rationed by who can pay. And if you can’t? Tough.

So no, capitalism doesn’t need reform. It needs to be replaced. With something that puts people over profit. With something that doesn’t see humans as inputs for someone else’s wealth.

Because a system built on exploitation will never deliver justice.

Review of The Conquest of Bread

I just finished reading anarcho-communist Peter Kropotkin’s The Conquest of Bread, and it was like stepping out of the haze of despair and into a blueprint for a different world, a world that doesn’t just rage against capitalism but offers a vision for what should replace it. Kropotkin didn’t just theorize revolution, he laid out the bones of a society built on mutual aid, voluntary cooperation, and the abolition of property as power. For someone like me–driven by a mix of anti-capitalism, misanthropic fire, and a stubborn belief that another world has to be possible–this book hit hard.

Kropotkin’s critique of capitalism goes beyond the surface-level arguments I was used to. He attacked not just the exploitation of labor, but the entire premise that anyone should hoard the means of survival while others suffer. He makes a moral argument without falling into moralism. It’s pragmatic and humane all at once. What stood out to me most was his insistence that revolution must not merely destroy but create. Bread first. Housing next. Then libraries, education, beauty. He reminds us that revolution must be immediate and sustaining.

Before reading the book, I knew I was an anti-capitalist, but I didn’t yet know how to articulate much of a vision. I leaned toward libertarian socialism, distrusted hierarchy, and wanted action, not just analysis. Kropotkin didn’t just validate those instincts; he gave them clarity. He fused my longing for direct action with a plan that doesn’t rely on state power. He made me think bigger: not just about resisting capitalism, but building the scaffolding of its replacement in our daily lives.

The book also sharpened my skepticism of so-called progressive compromises. Kropotkin pulls no punches in calling out the failure of reformism and electoralism. He gave me permission to imagine what happens after the collapse; how to build networks, systems, and support structures that don’t mirror the oppressive systems we fight.

Reading the book didn’t convert me; it confirmed me. It hardened my resolve to fight for socialism in a way that isn’t just about changing who’s in charge but about ending the very idea of bosses altogether. It reminded me that the chaos I crave isn’t destruction for its own sake. It’s the fertile ground where something better can grow.

What Radicalized Me

I didn’t pop out of the womb swinging a red flag. I wasn’t raised by union organizers or taught to quote Marx before I could walk. Like a lot of Americans, I coasted on autopilot for a while. I figured the president—whoever they were—probably knew what they were doing. The system seemed fine, or at least functional. Corrupt, maybe, but stable.

Then came Trump.

That was the first crack in the illusion. Suddenly the office of the presidency wasn’t just some boring institution, it was a circus, a cult, a threat. It wasn’t just bad policy. It was kids in cages. Racist dog whistles cranked up to bullhorns. And half the country cheered. That’s when I realized the system wasn’t broken. It was functioning exactly as designed.

That’s when I started reading. Rand again, first. I loved her in high school—thought she was deep. Then I picked up Atlas Shrugged as an adult and felt like I’d been duped. It wasn’t philosophy. It was selfishness with a thesaurus. The heroes were sociopaths. The poor deserved it. The rich were gods. It clicked: capitalism doesn’t just tolerate cruelty. It requires it.

From there, I fell down the rabbit hole. Camus hit me like a freight train. The Myth of Sisyphus gave shape to something I’d felt but couldn’t name. This low, constant hum of absurdity. The rock rolls back down the hill, and we push it again. Not because it’ll change anything, but because we refuse to give up.

That absurdism became fuel. So did my misanthropy. Not in the “I hate everyone” kind of way, but in the “I don’t trust people to do the right thing unless they’re forced to” kind of way. I watched people defend billionaires like they were sports teams, as if Apartheid Clyde was going to show up and hand them a Tesla for their loyalty.

I started arguing online. Then organizing. Then donating. I joined the Democratic Socialists. I started lurking at meetings, listening more than talking. I wanted to shake things up, but not just with signs and chants. I wanted disruption. Chaos. Direct action. Guerilla organizing.

I kept reading. Kept pushing. Anti-natalism hit me hard—David Benatar, Cioran, all of it. The idea that no one consents to be born, and that bringing someone into this world is an inherently selfish act. In a dying planet, under a dying system, having kids felt like feeding bodies into the machine.

All of that coalesced into anarcho-communism. Because socialism wasn’t enough. The state isn’t neutral, it’s a tool of capital. Voting helps, but it’s a bandage on a severed limb. I believe in mutual aid, in decentralized power, in horizontal structures. I believe in burning down what doesn’t serve us and building something new from the ashes. Something where people matter more than profit. Where community matters more than hierarchy.

And yeah, I still own guns. Gifts, mostly. I don’t shoot much. But they’re there—”just in case” feels more relevant by the day.

What radicalized me? The cruelty. The absurdity. The lies we’re told about success, about work, about life itself. And the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, we can break the cycle. So I meme. I write. I organize. I fight. Because if this is a pyramid scheme called life, I at least want to go down pissing off the billionaires at the top.

Right to Exist

In the year 2047, capitalism had finally achieved its ultimate form. Landlords no longer rented apartments, houses, or even beds. Those were luxuries. Now they owned the very act of existing.

It started innocently enough: a small tax on “public space usage” in overcrowded cities, then someone had the bright idea to monetize the most valuable real estate of all: being alive.

Basic Existence Plans

The government, now fully privatized under the United Corporations of America, partnered with major landlords to introduce Existence Permits. Every citizen was required to pay a Base Rent just to continue occupying space. There are different pricing models.

Basic Model: $999/month – The right to breathe, stand, and move in designated living zones.

Premium Model: $2499/ month – Sitting rights, access to indoor spaces, and limited privacy.

Elite Model: $9999/month – Full movement, private rooms, and the ability to own furniture.

Those who couldn’t even afford the Basic Model had two choices: join the Debt Labor Program (indetured servitude with a 200-year contract) or be sent to the Non-Existence Zone, which was a fenced-off wasteland where the unpaying masses wandered, waiting to starve.

Marcus Caldwell, a former software engineer, had recently been downgraded from “Basic” to “Pre-Expired” Status after missing two payments. A red timer hovered over his citizen ID, counting down the 48 hours until his legal existence would be revoked.

He tried everything: selling his furniture, begged on the Pay-to-Speak app, applied for a breathing subsidy. With ten minutes left, he made a final desperate call to his landlord, Mr. Hendrix, a man who owned over 50 million existence units across the country.

“Please,” Marcus begged. “I just need another week.”

Hendrix sighed. “Look, Mark, I like you, but if I let you slide, what message does that send to my other tenants? Existence isn’t free, my friend.”

“But I’ve lived here for years!”

“Exactly! And every year, your right to live gets more valuable. That’s how markets work.”

The timer hit zero. Marcus felt a strange sensation in his chest. His Existence Lease had been terminated. His biometric ID deactivated. The streetlights dimmed around him. Doors locked automatically. Card refused to recognize him. Even his digital wallet self-destructed, ensuring he could not longer participate in the economy.

Two armored Existence Enforcement Officers appeared, scanning his ID.

“Sir, you are currently occupying space without a valid permit. Please proceed to the Non-Existence Zone immediately.”

Marcus ran, but had nowhere to go. Everywhere had a fee. Sidewalks charged by the step. Air had a metered oxygen tax. His phone flashed its final message before shutting off permanently.

“Your free trial has expired.”

As Marcus disappeared into the wasteland, the landlords met in their executive towers to discuss the next innovation” charging people for memories. After all, why should anyone be allowed to keep experiences they haven’t fully paid for?

The future was bright … for those who could afford it.

How to Fight Capitalism with Absurdism and Anti-Natalism

Absurdist Economic Takes:
1. Corporate Feudalism Proposal – Argue that since corporations already control everything, we should just go full medieval and assign CEOs official lordship over their workers. “Sir Bezos of Amazonia” could knight his best delivery squires.

Hyper-Libertarian Work Ethics:
Suggest that employees should pay for the privilege of working at a company because exposure to capitalism is a valuable experience.

NFT Labor Contracts:
Advocate for replacing wages with NFTs of one’s own labor. “I don’t get paid, but I have a blockchain receipt proving I worked 40 hours this week.”

Extreme Subscription Model:
Suggest that capitalism should be fully subscription-based. Want to breathe air? That’s a premium feature.

Bring Back Bartering, but Stupid:
Insist on trading Pokemon cards, Beanie Babies, or memes as legitimate currency. “You want my labor? That’ll be three rare Beanie Babies.”

Disrupting Billionaire Worship:

Billionaire Hunger Games:
Suggest that the world’s richest should settle disputes in gladiator-style combat, with the winner getting to keep their fortune.

Forced Billionaire Parenthood:
Since billionaires love growth, they should be required to have at least 50 children each to keep the economy strong. Looking at you, Apartheid Clyde.

The Pharaoh Trump Proposal:
Demand that Trump be buried in a golden pyramid surrounded by all his wealth to ensure he takes it to the afterlife.

Absurdist Takes on Productivity Culture:

24/7 Workday:
If productivity is all that matters, why stop at 40 hours? Demand that we sleep in cubicles, dream about work, and have our unconscious thoughts monetized.

Replace CEOs with AI:
Insist that if workers can be replaced by AI, so can executives. “Let ChatGPT run Tesla. Can’t be worse than Musk.”

Uber for Everything:
Suggest that everything should be gig work, including marriage, parenting, and friendship. “I don’t have a best friend, but I can summon one on an app for $10 an hour.”

Taking the Stock Market to Its Logical Extreme:

Stock Market Battle Royale:
Argue that if capitalism is just a game, we should televise the stock market like a reality show where losing CEOs get voted off the island.

Day-Trading Human Lives:
Suggest that instead of money, people should be publicly traded. “I just invested in Karen’s Etsy shop. Her stock is rising.”

Weaponize Anti-Natalism Against Capitalism:

Kids as Investments:
I propose that children be issues stocks at birth, and parents must trade shares in their offspring.

Life as a Pyramid Scheme:
Argue that having kids is just capitalism’s version of multi-level marketing. “Recruit new workers or capitalism dies.”