The Myth of Choice

**This is not my original work. I received it in an email from a group I joined called “Simplifying Socialism.”**

We’re told capitalism is freedom because it gives us choice. Thousands of products, dozens of brands, endless options. Pick your sneakers, your streaming service, your fast-food meal. The market is democracy in action, right?

But peek behind the curtain and you’ll see how “free” the choices we make actually are.

Abundance as Illusion

Walk into any grocery store and you’ll see aisle after aisle packed with competing brands. Twenty different cereals, fifty kinds of chips, hundreds of drink options. It feels like abundance. But behind the labels, the vast majority of those products are owned by the same handful of corporations. Nestlé, PepsiCo, Unilever, Kraft Heinz — a tiny cluster of companies control most of what fills the shelves.

What looks like competition is often monopoly in disguise. The “choice” isn’t between different visions of production or different systems of ownership. It’s just which logo you want stamped on the same profit-driven structure.

This isn’t just food. Tech is the same story. We’re told we have freedom because we can pick Apple or Samsung, Android or iPhone. But each comes with its own traps (proprietary software, built-in obsolescence, surveillance baked into the product). The decision is narrowed to surface-level differences while the real power remains untouched.

The illusion of abundance is shoved down our throats as we are relegated from humans to consumers.

Essentials Without Real Options

The illusion gets crueler when we look at the choices that actually matter for survival.

Healthcare: You can choose between insurance plans, but every option is unaffordable, confusing, and leaves you vulnerable. Millions still go bankrupt over medical bills. Your healthcare is often tied to your employment. Where’s the freedom in that?
Housing: You can pick your landlord, but the rent keeps climbing. You can choose between renting forever or drowning in mortgage debt. Owning a home isn’t a dream for most — it’s a chain and shackles.
Work: You can choose which boss to sell your labor to, but you can’t opt out of selling it entirely. Unless you’re independently wealthy, your “choice” is which workplace will exploit you. Fear not, you can make the choice to go into business for yourself (if you have good credit).

Capitalism calls this freedom, but it’s a false freedom. A choice within limits you didn’t set, with outcomes you can’t control. Real freedom lies not in the illusion of choice, but in the ability to live day-to-day without the worry of hospital bills or rising rent prices destroying our dignity.

Manufactured Desires

Even when options exist, they’re shaped by advertising and cultural pressure. “Choice” becomes less about what you want and more about what you’ve been convinced to want.

Do you really need a new phone every year, or has marketing manufactured that need? Do you choose fast fashion because it’s what you want, or because the industry deliberately conditions you to keep buying at the pace of their profits? Do you have any use whatsoever for Birkenstocks, or do you want them because they are trendy right now?

Capitalism sells us the story that we’re sovereign consumers making rational decisions. But in reality, our desires are engineered, our needs distorted, and our choices narrowed to what generates profit. Capitalism wins when companies succeed at turning our wants into needs, or at least by making us think that we need things we absolutely do not.

Freedom vs. Necessity

Here’s the Marxist insight: freedom isn’t about picking between products; it’s about control over the conditions of your life.

Choosing between Uber and Lyft is not real freedom.
Choosing between ten brands of sneakers is not real freedom.
Choosing between healthcare plans that all bankrupt you is not real freedom.

Freedom is having power over how your labor is used, how resources are distributed, and how your community is shaped. It’s the ability to decide not just between products, but between systems, to collectively govern the economy instead of being governed by it.

That kind of choice, democratic, collective, meaningful, is what socialism points toward. A society built on real collaboration instead of false competition is what we are missing out on by continuing to accept capitalism. Our labor keeps the machine going but instead of reward we are met with a whip to the back proclaiming that we must “work harder!” That is the reality of capitalism.

Conclusion

Capitalism hands us a menu full of small, shallow choices while stripping us of the big ones that matter. We can debate endlessly about which streaming service to pay for, but we have no say in whether housing is affordable, whether our cities are polluted, or whether our labor enriches us or someone else.

Socialism isn’t about taking away freedom. It’s about making real freedom possible. Because the ability to pick between fifty cereals means nothing if you can’t afford breakfast. We can, and we must, leave capitalism in the “museum of antiquities,” as Engels put it.

The future belongs to us, but it will not be handed to us.

Does Socialism Stifle Creativity?

One of the oldest, dustiest arguments against socialism and communism is that they supposedly stifle individuality and creativity. No more artists, no more inventors, no more rebels, just gray uniforms, gray buildings, and gray minds.

This idea gets dragged out every time someone suggests workers deserve rights or billionaires shouldn’t exist. But here’s the truth:

This claim is propaganda and it’s tired.

Yes, in some authoritarian regimes that simply called themselves communist (Stalin’s USSR or Mao’s China), artistic and intellectual repression happened. That’s real. But equating all socialism with state authoritarianism is like saying all capitalism is just Enron and child labor in sweatshops.

Authoritarianism stifles creativity. Not socialism.

Let’s flip the script.

Capitalism loves to parade around as the champion of individuality. But unless your creativity makes more money? It’s worthless.

Under capitalism:

If your art doesn’t sell, it doesn’t matter.
If your innovation can’t be patented or monetized, tough luck.
If you’re too exhausted from your soul-crushing job to create? Oh well.

Creativity under capitalism is only celebrated if it turns a profit. Everything else? It gets buried.

Socialism doesn’t kill creativity. It frees it.

Under democratic socialism or libertarian socialism or anarcho-communism, creativity can actually flourish. Why?

Basic needs are met. You’re not working three jobs just to survive. You have time to think and make things.

Your worth isn’t tied to profit. You don’t need your poem to be a product. Your band doesn’t have to blow up on Spotify to matter.

Community matters. Creativity isn’t just for clout, it’s for connection.

Imagine millions of people who are free to paint, code, write, build, and dream — not because it’s marketable, but because it’s meaningful.

Let’s talk about some actual socialists:

George Orwell wrote 1984 and Animal Farm as a democratic socialist.

Albert Camus was anti-authoritarian, anti-capitalist, and deeply creative.

Nina Simone was a radical, a revolutionary, and raw.

Kurt Vonnegut was openly socialist and still endlessly imaginative.

Entire movements — Soviet avant-garde, worker theatre, Cuban film collectives, Indigenous co-ops — were built on socialist principles.

And let’s not forget that Marx and Kropotkin were writing philosophy and science, not just manifestos.

Bottom line: if communism killed creativity, we wouldn’t have all the radical art, music, theory, and rebellion.

If capitalism encouraged creativity, you wouldn’t be drowning in Marvel sequels, AI sludge, and corporate TikToks trying to go viral by pretending to be relatable.

So no. Socialism doesn’t stifle creativity. Capitalism just wants you to believe that so you don’t imagine something better.

Pissing off the Conservatives and the Liberals

Labels are like Molotov cocktails: fun to throw, even better when they cause confusion.

When I say I’m a libertarian socialist, it’s not just because it captures my politics–anti-authoritarian, anti-capitalist, pro-human dignity–it’s also because it makes certain leftists squirm. The ones who hear “libertarian” and think I’m about to start quoting Ayn Rand and Milton Friedman in a hemp hoodie. They freeze up, like I just talked poorly about Bernie Sanders and AOC.

But there’s history here. Libertarianism didn’t start with capitalist bootlickers hoarding Bitcoin and prepping for the apocalypse. It started with radicals who believed freedom meant freedom from landlords, bosses, and the state. Think Mikhail Bakunin, not Jeff Bezos. So yeah, I’m reclaiming it. And if that irritates some who think socialism only works when it comes with a five-year plan and a side of surveillance? Even better.

Then, when I pivot and say I’m an anarcho-communist, the right melts down like I just canceled Christmas. Suddenly I’m the Antichrist in a Che Guevara shirt. “You want no government and no private property?” they sputter, like I’ve just broken the laws of thermodynamics. “How will you survive without a job and a boss and a sacred chain of command?”

Easy. Mutual aid. Direct action. Horizontal structures. Also spite. Lots of spite.

I say I’m an anarcho-communist to watch their heads spin as they try to square the idea of radical cooperation with their Fox News-induced visions of chaos. To them, communism means gulags and stale bread, and anarchy means Mad Max with gender pronouns. They’ve never read Kropotkin. They’ve never imagined a world without Amazon trucks and landlord parasites. They’ve only learned fear.

So I play the game. Libertarian socialist to make the left clutch their pearls. Anarcho-communist to make the right reach for their ammo. The truth is, I’m both. And neither. I’m here to break binaries, not settle into them.

The goal isn’t to be understood. It’s to force people to think. If they walk away annoyed, confused, or–miracle of miracles–curious? Mission accomplished.

Ash and Seed

The cities fell quietly. Not with fire or fanfare, but with a flicker. Supply chains snapping like old rope, currencies crumbling into irrelevance, and governments too bloated to breathe. People had waited for rescue. None came. Then, something stranger happened: they stopped waiting.

Maya lived in one of the Transition Zones, carved out of the skeleton of what had once been Pittsburgh. Skyscrapers stood hollow, colonized by vertical gardens and data relays. Streets were no longer roads, but corridors of barterless exchange: food grown by solar-fueled machines, distributed by drones with no masters.

She remembered the old world in fragments: clocks, ads, the endless scrolling of fake urgency. In this new world, days were marked by need and contribution. Some days she coded for the mesh network. Other days she repaired the water-capture towers or helped with conflict mediation—though those requests were rarer now.

There was no money. No one starved. The idea of “earning a living” had become as quaint as leeches in medicine. What did it mean to earn what had always been a birthright?

Occasionally, envoys came from outside the Zone—wandering emissaries from collapsing enclaves or liberated factories. Some brought new blueprints, others just stories. Maya loved the stories. One woman spoke of how a collective in former Indonesia had wired up an entire island to run itself, then dismantled their last police drone ceremonially, like a funeral for fear.

In the evenings, Maya sat under the wind trees, their turbines singing above, and read aloud to anyone who wandered by. Tonight it was McCarthy. Tomorrow, maybe Marx. No one made her do this. That was the point.

They lived without rulers or markets, not because they had to—but because they finally could.

And in the ruins of profit, something strange had taken root:

Hope.

But not the kind you wait for.

The kind you build.

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.

Why I Choose to Believe in God and Still Support Abortion and Socialism

Some people think believing in God means aligning with the conservative status quo–opposing abortion, defending capitalism, and preaching personal responsibility while ignoring systemic injustice. I don’t. I believe in God, and I support abortion rights. I believe in socialism too. And no, I’m not confused.

This isn’t a contradiction. It’s a deliberate choice.

Faith isn’t a monolith

Religion in America has been hijacked by the right, turned into a weapon of control instead of a source of liberation. But faith isn’t theirs to own. History is full of radical, justice-driven believers–liberation theologians in Latin America, Black churches in the Civil Rights movement, even the early Christians who lived communally and rejected materialism.

My belief in God is rooted in those traditions. The God I believe in doesn’t demand blind obedience to the state or to billionaires. That God doesn’t shrink at questions or doubt. That God isn’t afraid of justice.

I didn’t inherent my faith fully formed–I wrestled with it. I still do. But I choose to believe because I refuse to accept that this world, in all its cruelty and absurdity, is the end of the story. I believe because somewhere inside me, hope refuses to die although it tries to every single fucking day.

I support abortion because I believe in compassion. Because forcing someone to carry a pregnancy they don’t want–especially in a world that is broken–is violence, not virtue. Because I believe in bodily autonomy. Because I’ve seen what happens when that autonomy is stripped away.

The God I believe in gave people free will. That includes the right to make choices about their own bodies. No government or church should have the power to override that. And if you think banning abortion is “pro-life,” but you’re silent about poverty, maternal mortality, and the children already suffering in this world, your morality is hollow.

You can’t claim to care about life and then ignore the lives of women, trans people, and anyone else whose bodies are up for debate.

Jesus wasn’t a capitalist.

Let’s be clear: If Jesus showed up today, a lot of Christians wouldn’t recognize him. He wasn’t a billionaire. He didn’t hang out with the rich and powerful. He called them out. He flipped tables in the temple and told a rich man to give everything away.

Sound like capitalism to you?

Socialism, at its core, is about taking care of each other. Feeding the hungry. Healing the sick. Building systems that value human lives over profits. I support socialism because I believe we have a responsibility to each other–especially to the most vulnerable.

It’s bizarre how many Christians defend billionaires, corporations, and hoarding wealth while ignoring every single thing Jesus actually said about money and power.

The real betrayal of faith isn’t in questioning doctrine, it’s in using God to justify cruelty. It’s in standing by while people suffer, clinging to a theology of control. I won’t do that. I believe in God. I am a Christian. And because of that, I support a world where people are free. Free to live, to choose, to thrive. I support abortion rights. I support socialism. And I believe God is big enough to hold both my faith and my fire for justice.

Does Socialism Mean that Everyone Will be Poor?

One of the most common myths about socialism is that it makes everyone equally poor. It’s a talking point used to scare people away from the idea of economic justice, but it’s far from the truth. In reality, socialism isn’t about dragging everyone down. It’s about lifting everyone up.

What is Socialism Really About?

At its core, socialism is about making sure wealth and resources are distributed more fairly. It doesn’t mean no one can be successful or that everyone has to live in the same conditions. Instead, it prioritizes meeting basic human needs–like healthcare, education, and housing–so that no one is left behind while a small elite hoards obscene amounts of wealth.

Under capitalism, wealth tends to concentrate at the top, leaving millions struggling to get by. In contrast, socialist policies aim to level the playing field by ensuring that the economy serves the majority, not just the privileged few.

But Won’t That Lead to Poverty?

This is where the misconception comes in. Critics argue that socialism discourages innovation and hard work, leading to economic stagnation. But history shows otherwise. Many countries that have adopted socialist policies–especially in areas like healthcare, worker protections, and public services–have some of the highest standards of living in the world.

Take the Nordic countries, for example. While they’re not fully socialist, they implement strong socialist policies: universal healthcare, free education, and robust social safety nets, The result? High wages, low poverty, and some of the happiest populations on the planet.

Who Really Stays Rich Under Capitalism?

If you’re worried about socialism making you poor, ask yourself: Is capitalism actually making you rich? For most people, the answer is no. Wages have stagnated while billionaires multiply their fortunes. Basic necessities like housing, education, and healthcare are increasingly out of reach for the average person.

Socialism doesn’t mean equal poverty. It means ensuring that wealth isn’t locked away by a tiny elite while the rest of society struggles. It’s about making sure the economy works for all of us, not just those born into wealth and power.

At the end of the day, the real question isn’t whether socialism will make everyone poor. It’s whether we’re okay with an economic system that keeps most people struggling while a handful live in unimaginable luxury.

Explaining Libertarian Socialism to a Child

Libertarian socialism is the belief that people should be free from both government control and corporate power. It’s about creating a society where workers and communities make decisions together, rather than being ruled by politicians or bosses.

Imagine a workplace where everyone has a say in how things are run instead of a CEO calling all the shots. Or a neighborhood where people work together to solve problems instead of waiting for the government to step in. Libertarian socialists want a world built on cooperation, fairness, and shared resources without the need for big government or a ruling class.

It’s “socialist” because it opposes capitalism and wealth hoarding , and it’s “libertarian” because it values personal freedom and opposes authoritarian control

It’s about people sharing and making decisions together, instead of having a big boss or a big government telling them what to do.

Imagine if your toys belonged to everyone, and you and your friends decided together how to play with them. Nobody gets to take all the toys for themselves, and nobody gets to be the only boss. Everyone helps, everyone shares, and everyone is free to do what makes them happy without someone being unfairly in charge.

For liberals:

Libertarian socialism is like taking democracy and applying it everywhere, including the workplace. You already believe in democracy for government. But in capitalism, businesses are run like little dictatorships, where the boss has all the power. Libertarian socialism means workers and communities having a say in the decisions that affect them, so workplaces are democratic, wealth is shared more fairly and corporate power doesn’t run everything. It’s about freedom, but also fairness. You get to keep your personal rights, but without billionaires hoarding all the resources and rigging the system.

For conservatives

Libertarian socialism is about real freedom, freedom from both government overreach and corporate control. Right now, big businesses control the economy, and the government props them up while crushing small businesses and workers instead of relying on government handouts or corporate bosses, libertarian socialism means people working together directly to run things, like worker-owned businesses and community-driven solutions. It’s about keeping power in the hands of everyday people instead of elites, whether they’re in Washington or Wall Street.

Why I’m a Libertarian Socialist

I didn’t vote in 2016 because I didn’t like Clinton or Trump. I voted third party in 2020 because I thought Biden and Trump were both too old. I voted for Harris in 2024 because I thought anyone, even a Democrat would be better than Trump. Voting Democrat does not make me a Democrat, though. I’ve always fallen into what is known as Libertarian Socialism (think more Noam Chomsky and Guy Debord.)

Libertarian Socialism is a political philosophy that combines socialist economics with a strong emphasis on individual freedom, direct democracy, and decentralized power. It oppose both state control as seen in authoritarian socialism and capitalist exploitation, advocating for worker self-management, cooperative ownership of resources, and voluntary associations.

I believe true freedom is impossible under capitalism, as economic coercion forces people into exploitative relationships. I’d like to see a society based on voluntary cooperation. I’m looking for ways to disrupt capitalism and push for socialist alternatives. I’m extremely skeptical of relying solely on electoral politics and traditional protests. I’d like for more immediate tactics.

I don’t trust the powers that be in a capitalist society. Capitalism is an inherently exploitative system that prioritizes profit over people. Capitalism concentrates power in the hands of the few at the expense of the many. Capitalism traps people in powerlessness rather than enabling real change; it also exacerbates human selfishness and destruction. It’s a system that rewards the absolute worst people like Trump, Apartheid Clyde, Zuckerberg, and Bezos while crushing everyone else.

The end goal of libertarian socialism is to create a society where economic and political power is decentralized, capitalism is abolished, and people have direct control over their workplace and communities. It seeks to replace hierarchal systems — whether capitalist or authoritarian socialist — with cooperative, voluntary, and democratic structures.

Essentially, libertarian socialism sees a world where power is in the hands of the people, not corporations or the state, and where cooperation replaces exploitation.

I am more than willing to work with Democratic Socialists, which I have started to do by contacting a local Democratic Socialist representative in the government here. I am also willing to work with traditional socialists as well as communists. I want to do what I can to bring down capitalism where the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. If there are any other socialists or Marxists out there willing to help me in this fight, please reach out. My email is kafkaphony@gmail.com. I realize by having a gmail account it’s just giving capitalists more power, but it’s a necessary evil at the moment.

Can Freedom and Communism Coexist?

I’ve been delving more and more and reading more and more into systems other than the oppressive one that is Capitalism. Something has to be done to bring down the entire Capitalist system. I think we need some sort of revolution and to make way for Socialism or Communism or at the very least Democratic-Socialism, Libertarian-Socialism, or Anarcho-Communism.

I’m fond of the freedoms we have so far in the United States, but with this new administration I fear that those freedoms are going to be taken away by the Capitalists. But you may be asking, “But isn’t Communism against freedom?” I have always thought that as well after being brainwashed and indoctrinated by the education system and the news, but it’s not the case.

Can freedom exist within a Communist or Socialist society? It depends on how you define “freedom” and “Communism.” If by “freedom” do I mean the ability to live without economic coercion? Have access to basic needs and participate in decision making? If that’s what I mean then the answer is yes. Many leftist theorists argue that true freedom is only possibly when Capitalism is abolished, since it forces people to sell their labor to survive.

Communism is against the right to accumulate wealth and own private property at the expense of others. In that regard, Communism is incompatible with freedom. Communism prioritizes collective well-being over individual accumulation, which can sometimes mean restricting certain freedoms such as the freedom to exploit labor or hoard resources.

Historically, some communist regimes have suppressed political freedom such as the USSR and North Korea, but those two were never truly Communist, but I’ll save that for another day. Many leftists argue that a stateless, decentralized form of Communism, like Anarcho-Communism would maximize both economic and political freedom.

In a truly Communist society — especially in a decentralized, democratic form like Anarcho-Communism — freedom of choice, speech, and the press could still exist, and in some ways, they might even be stronger than under Capitalism.

In a Communist system where resources are collectively owned and distributed based on need, people wouldn’t be forced to take jobs just to survive. Instead they could choose their work based on interests and community needs. However, certain choices like owning private businesses or accumulating excessive wealth wouldn’t exist because the contradict the principle of Communist ownership.

In theory, a Communist society could allow free speech and press, especially if it’s structured democratically. If power is decentralized and decisions are made collectively, suppressing speech would go against the idea of worker control. The press would be worker-run instead of owned by a few wealthy individuals, leading to a more diverse range of perspectives instead of media being controlled by corporate interests.

In short, freedom of speech, the press, and choice could absolutely exist under Communism, it just depends on whether the system is democratic and decentralized or authoritarian and bureaucratic.