The concept of a "slave-seeking society" may seem archaic on the surface, but if examined through a contemporary lens, it can still hold relevance in the power dynamics we experience today. Societies throughout history have been organized around control structures, whether through direct ownership of individuals or more subtle forms of exploitation and control (concept of a home). Today, while the overt practice of slavery is illegal and condemned globally, modern systems of labor, economics, and governance can still exhibit parallels.—this might not be everyone’s cup of tea in terms of language or vibe.

But this isn’t meant to apply to daily life in the way a self-help book does. It’s more about planting seeds for reflection.

When I talk about rivers and Plato, I’m referencing things that have lasted across centuries. Why? Because these ideas resonate precisely because they apply to timeless human experience. It’s not about over-complicating life, but about embracing the idea that certainty is a myth. And by acknowledging that, we can live with more openness, less dogma, and more curiosity.

Slaves today don’t wear chains. They wear uniforms, dresses, sometimes nothing at all because that's the reality of it—modern slavery isn’t a relic of the past, it's living, breathing, and it’s hidden in plain sight. And if we think for a second that the systems of power, the police, or the so-called protectors are here to fix it, we’re fooling ourselves. How do you trust someone to solve a problem when they are the problem? When the ones meant to enforce justice are the same ones creating victims, exploiting the very people they claim to protect?

It's a sick, twisted cycle. The same girls who end up on the wrong side of the law, trafficked, abused—are they not the new serfs of our time? Bound not by contracts but by fear, violence, and desperation? It’s a feudal system without the castles, but the lords are still there, sitting pretty at the top with their golden parachutes, cushioned by privilege so thick they’ve forgotten what it’s like to be on the ground.

The police? The enforcers? They’re just another cog in the machine, too often part of the problem rather than the solution. You hear stories—hell, you know the stories—about officers raping, trafficking, abusing their power in ways that should make every single person sick to their stomach. And we’re supposed to trust them to protect the weak? The gap between those in power and those they claim to serve is as wide as it’s ever been. In the old days, it was lords and serfs. Now it’s executives and exploited, politicians and prisoners, and the gap’s still growing.

It’s the same old game, just with different players. Feudalism never went away, it just learned how to evolve. It put on a suit, picked up a briefcase, and started talking about profits, shareholders, and “efficiency.” But the hierarchy’s still there, and the language of exploitation has just gotten more polished. The people on the bottom? They’re still scrambling for scraps, trying to survive while the folks at the top keep talking about “trickle-down” like that isn’t a joke we’ve heard a thousand times. The wealth doesn’t trickle—it stays locked up in the hands of the same old feudal lords, who’ve swapped crowns for corporate titles and scepters for stock options.

The worst part? People on the ground know this. The girls who get trafficked, the workers grinding through a double shift just to make rent—they know the system’s rigged. But what are they supposed to do about it? The system doesn’t just control their labor; it controls their lives. It keeps them desperate enough that they’ll take whatever they’re given, and if they push back, well, there’s always someone waiting to push harder.

We like to think we’ve evolved beyond this. We tell ourselves we’ve moved past feudalism, past slavery. But the truth is, it’s all still here, just dressed up in more palatable terms. The new lords don’t need whips; they’ve got power structures that do the work for them. And the police, the so-called guardians of order? They’re just the enforcers of a system designed to keep people in their place.

It’s a sick joke, really, watching them stand on their platforms, talking about justice and equality while turning a blind eye to the suffering beneath their feet. And in the meantime, the gap widens, and the serfs of today—whether they’re factory workers or trafficked girls—keep on falling through the cracks.

If we’re going to call it what it is, let’s not mince words: this is modern feudalism, plain and simple. And until people stop pretending otherwise, we’re just going to keep playing the same old game. Only now, the stakes are higher, and the consequences? They’re real.

Consider how economic structures bind individuals into cycles of dependence. Many people, especially those in precarious positions, work long hours for insufficient wages, tethered to debt, housing insecurity, and limited upward mobility. While not legally considered slavery, these conditions can reflect elements of coercion and entrapment, where freedom is an illusion or privilege accessible only to a few. The increasing disparity between those who control capital and those who provide labor mirrors older systems of ownership and dependence, albeit in a more sanitized and abstracted form.

Corporations, for example, exert control through wages, surveillance, and expectations of productivity, turning workers into commodities within a marketplace. Governments often create and enforce conditions where this type of servitude remains possible—through policies that prioritize capital accumulation, property rights, and economic growth over individual well-being and autonomy.

From a philosophical perspective, thinkers like Rousseau and Marx have critiqued how modern societies construct a facade of freedom while relying on structures of oppression. Rousseau's notion that man is "born free, but everywhere is in chains" speaks to how societal structures bind people through unwritten contracts that limit their true autonomy.

They say history is written by the victors, but what if the victors spent all their time quoting Marx? Let’s be honest—there’s something amusing about how the most authoritarian regimes of the last century, from Russia to China, all brandished Marx's ideas like sacred texts while building prison walls higher than their worker's rights banners. It’s as if they read his critique of power and thought, “Brilliant! Now, let’s use this to seize absolute power ourselves.”

Marx, old Karl with his scruffy beard and feverish ambition, had the boyish charm of a man who believed, truly believed, that we could tear down capitalism and live happily ever after in a utopia of shared labor and classless camaraderie. A lovely idea in the abstract, really. But give it to someone with a penchant for control—Mao, Stalin, a couple of politburo enthusiasts—and suddenly you’ve got gulags, re-education camps, and a whole lot of people suspiciously missing from dinner parties.

Don’t get me wrong; Marx had a point. He saw the inequities, the exploitation of the working class, and the soulless grind of industrial capitalism. His critique stung because it was true in parts. But boy, did he get lost in the dream of his revolution. He thought he could see the end of history, but instead, he paved the way for some of the most gruesome chapters ever written.

The world has a habit of proving Marx wrong in the most brutal fashion. It's almost poetic: the very systems meant to free the worker ended up enslaving them further, often to the tune of slogans about equality, which—let’s face it—don’t exactly comfort you when you’re standing in a breadline. The irony is delicious, but the tragedy? Less so.

What fascinates me is how these regimes, from Russia to China, took Marx’s vision and twisted it beyond recognition. They built economies where the state owns everything, but no one truly owns their lives. Everyone’s “equal,” but some are more equal than others. It’s like some cosmic prank that keeps repeating itself—call it Marxist déjà vu.

Now, I’ll admit it: I’ve never had much patience for Marx. His grand visions sound good over a few beers, but when the rubber hits the road (or the tanks hit Tiananmen), the theory falls apart faster than a state-planned economy. It’s not the critique I despise—critique is necessary, sharp even. But the solution? It’s like trying to fix a broken clock with a hammer: all blunt force, no finesse.

Here’s the thing: I love freedom, maybe to a fault. I love the messiness of it, the way it doesn’t fit neatly into anyone’s ideology, the way it stubbornly refuses to be tamed. Marx wanted to box freedom up, to make it orderly, uniform—like a factory line of liberty, neatly distributed by the state. But freedom doesn’t work that way. It’s wild, unpredictable, and, more often than not, a bit reckless. Just the way I like it. I know this kind of thought process can sound pretentious or overly philosophical, but that’s not the point. The idea isn’t to sound superior or enlightened, but to embrace the vulnerability in not knowing—it’s about processing the idea that, as much as we seek understanding, we’re continually humbled by the limits of our knowledge.

So, yeah, maybe I’m a bit allergic to Marx.

But it’s not just the old man himself—it’s the people who still wave his flag, as if all that’s needed is another revolution to finally get it right.

Sorry, comrades, but the revolution is over. And guess what?

Freedom (almost) won.

If Marx was the brooding poet dreaming of revolution, capitalism is that cocky quarterback swaggering through the world, confident, messy, and, well, profitable. It’s easy to hate him—capitalism, I mean—but you’ve got to admit, the guy knows how to score. He’s not out there with manifestos and grand theories. No, capitalism’s too busy winning games and raking in the dough.

Here’s the thing about capitalism: it’s scrappy, unpredictable, and pretty much guaranteed to offend someone, somewhere. You could almost admire its audacity if it wasn’t, you know, also capable of being wildly unfair. There’s this boyish charm in the hustle, the competition, the sheer freedom of it. Everyone gets to play, but—and this is the kicker—not everyone wins. It’s the lottery of life, and the odds aren’t exactly in your favor.

Now, some folks will tell you capitalism’s the best system we’ve got, and I can’t fully disagree. There’s a certain beauty in its chaos. It’s dynamic, creative, full of possibility. It lets you dream big, fail big, and then dust yourself off to try again. You don’t need anyone’s permission to hustle your way to the top, and that’s something Marx never quite grasped. The freedom to fail is, weirdly enough, a kind of power.

But there’s a dark side, and we’ve all seen it. Capitalism might be free, but it’s also greedy. It’s a system that thrives on consumption and sometimes leaves you wondering if there’s anything left to consume but yourself. It’s great at rewarding winners but not so great at cleaning up after itself. You’ve got CEOs with golden parachutes and workers with cardboard boxes, all while capitalism keeps churning along, grinning like it just hit the jackpot.

I’ve seen how capitalism can chew people up, spit them out, and then move on like nothing happened. The gap between the haves and the have-nots? That’s not a bug in the system—that’s part of the game. The game isn’t rigged, but it sure as hell doesn’t play fair. You’ve got monopolies, corruption, and systems built to keep certain people at the top while others scramble for scraps. It’s survival of the fittest, but instead of the jungle, it’s a boardroom.

And yet—yet—it’s hard to fully hate capitalism. Why? Because it’s the system that, despite all its flaws, gives you a shot. A long shot, maybe, but a shot nonetheless. It’s not perfect, but it doesn’t pretend to be. Capitalism doesn’t make promises of equality or fairness; it just gives you a chance to make something of yourself, even if it might leave a few bruises along the way.

The beauty of capitalism lies in its messiness. It’s not scripted, and no one’s got a monopoly on ambition. You can love it, hate it, or stand somewhere in between, but there’s no denying it has a certain boyish charm—a wild, untamed energy that can either lift you up or knock you down.

I guess if you ask me whether capitalism’s any better than Marx’s utopian dream, I’d say, at least capitalism knows what it is: flawed, imperfect, but free. And that’s something, isn’t it? There’s room to move, to try, to fail, and to try again. It’s a freedom that’s as messy as it is exhilarating.

So, yeah, capitalism’s like that cocky quarterback. He’s not always the nicest guy on the field, but damn if he doesn’t keep the game interesting. Ah, the plot thickens. Capitalism may strut around like it’s the hero of the story, but let’s be real: underneath that confident grin is a dark undercurrent, a whole messy history of feudalism, exploitation, and the ghosts of societies that thrived on something not too far off from slavery. We like to dress it up with shiny stock markets and "innovation hubs," but if you pull back the curtain, the foundations can start to feel pretty rotten.

Capitalism, for all its flash and hustle, didn’t exactly spring forth from the ground pure and untainted. No, it’s built on the backs of systems that thrived on inequality—feudalism, colonialism, and, yeah, let’s face it, shades of fascism. Those in power have always found clever ways to keep the masses under their thumb, whether it’s through lords and serfs or CEOs and wage slaves. Sometimes, it’s hard not to wonder if we’re just running on an upgraded version of the same oppressive software.

Feudalism didn’t disappear—it just rebranded. Instead of peasants tied to the land, we’ve got people tied to debt, to low-wage jobs, to systems that trap them in cycles they can’t break out of. It’s feudalism with a 21st-century makeover, and it’s dressed up as opportunity. You’re free to work wherever you want, they say, but freedom doesn’t mean much when your choices are boxed in by survival.

And then, of course, there’s that ugly undercurrent of fascist tendencies that creeps up when capitalism gets too cozy with unchecked power. We’ve seen it before—when businesses and governments start colluding, when nationalism gets woven into economic policies, and suddenly, the lines blur. You get these systems that promise prosperity, but only for the “right” kind of people, leaving others marginalized, oppressed, or worse. Nazism wasn’t just about power—it was about control, about building a society where some were entitled to the fruits of capitalism while others were disposable.

It’s easy to see echoes of that today, isn’t it? In the way economic power concentrates at the top, in the way some people are given endless chances to succeed while others are left with none. We might not call it fascism or feudalism outright, but the parallels are there, lurking beneath the surface. The system keeps churning, and if you’re not careful, it’ll sweep you up and carry you along whether you like it or not.

Capitalism, for all its merits, is like a double-edged sword. Sure, it gives you freedom—but only if you’re in the right place at the right time, with the right resources. Otherwise, it feels a lot like a gilded cage, a shiny version of the same old hierarchies humans have been living under for centuries. And the kicker? Those at the top of this system have perfected the art of making you think you’re free, when in reality, they’re just playing a more sophisticated game of control.

So, what do we do with that? Do we throw out the whole system, torch it all and start fresh? Maybe. Or maybe we just need to strip away the illusion, to admit that capitalism is running on borrowed time, built on structures that demand inequality to survive. Maybe we keep the best parts—the hustle, the innovation—but tear out the rotten core, the parts that keep us tied to feudal thinking and fascist shadows.

I don’t have the answer, but I know one thing: pretending capitalism is some pure, flawless beacon of freedom is a joke. It’s got skeletons in its closet, and it’s high time we aired them out. If we’re ever going to move forward, we’ve got to be honest about where we are and how we got here. Maybe then, we’ll have a shot at something better—something that isn’t just a new version of an old nightmare.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a rendezvous with some unruly ideas. Marx may have missed the mark, but the real fun is in the chase. The issue, fundamentally, revolves around control: control of resources, control of labor, control of thought. In a society still structured around these hierarchies, the pursuit of autonomy and genuine freedom remains elusive for many. Understanding this helps expose the underlying currents of exploitation that drive much of the modern world's socio-economic realities. We are no longer shackled by chains, but by debt, algorithms, and systemic inequality.

In this sense, the question becomes not whether we live in a slave-seeking society, but rather how these control structures manifest today and what can be done to dismantle them. Understanding and confronting these issues requires a deep philosophical, economic, and ethical inquiry—one that challenges the status quo and reimagines what freedom and equality truly mean.

The question of whether reform is possible, particularly in entrenched systems of power like law enforcement, the entertainment industry, or the defense sector, is both complex and deeply contextual. On the one hand, there are historical precedents for reform in various sectors, suggesting that change is possible. However, these reforms often come slowly, face significant resistance, and may not address the root causes of systemic corruption or exploitation.

The protection of property has deep historical, philosophical, and economic roots, reflecting the way societies have evolved over time. At its core, property represents not just physical assets but power, social status, and economic security. Here's a breakdown of why protecting property has become such a central tenet in many societies:

Economic Foundation and Stability: In capitalist economies, private property is foundational (much like slaves used to be the foundational (bean counter-aspect) of our economic landscape in society). The ability to own land, goods, and resources is seen as a core right that incentivizes individuals to produce, innovate, and invest. Property ownership gives people a stake in society and a reason to protect their interests. Governments and legal systems protect property because it is seen as essential to economic stability and growth. Property rights allow for contracts, trade, and investment, which are cornerstones of modern economies. Without this protection, economic development would stagnate.

Historically, the protection of property has been tied to the maintenance of social order. In early civilizations, land and resources were controlled by elites—nobles, kings, or landowners—whose wealth was tied to their property. Early policing structures were often developed to protect these property rights from theft, rebellion, or other threats, not necessarily to protect individuals. The Industrial Revolution, with its increased concentration of wealth in the hands of industrialists and capitalists, further cemented property protection as a primary function of the state. In many societies, the concept of justice and law emerged from the need to regulate and protect the ownership of goods and land. Property is also tied to power and control. Those who own property—whether land, businesses, or resources—often hold significant influence over political and social systems. The protection of property, therefore, is also the protection of the status quo. Historically, police forces, legal systems, and even militaries have been used to maintain these hierarchies by protecting property owners from threats posed by the lower classes or marginalized groups. Slave patrols in the United States, for example, were explicitly designed to protect the "property" of slave owners, illustrating how property protection has been tied to upholding systems of oppression.

Philosophers like John Locke argued that property is a natural right, derived from an individual’s labor. Locke believed that individuals had a right to acquire and protect property as a way to sustain themselves and improve their lives. This idea has been central to liberal democratic thought and has informed legal and political systems in many Western countries. However, critics, particularly from Marxist traditions, have pointed out that the emphasis on protecting property often prioritizes the interests of the wealthy and powerful over the needs of the poor and marginalized. The protection of property is also seen as a means of maintaining social order. Governments and law enforcement agencies argue that without the protection of property, societies would descend into chaos, as people would have no deterrent against theft or destruction of assets. This belief drives much of the rhetoric around law enforcement and the need for policing, even though many argue that this focus disproportionately benefits the wealthy at the expense of marginalized communities.

Beyond its economic function, property is deeply tied to personal and group identity. People often see their homes, land, or businesses as extensions of themselves or as symbols of their success and autonomy. As a result, attacks on property—whether through theft, vandalism, or government seizure—can feel like personal attacks, threatening not just economic stability but social status and identity. The state’s role in protecting property is often seen as protecting this sense of individual and collective identity.

Why Protecting Property Is Prioritized Over People

While laws and systems are ostensibly designed to protect people, the reality is that the protection of property often takes precedence. This is because of how tightly property is linked to power and the functioning of the economy. Police forces, for instance, may be more likely to intervene quickly in cases of property crime (theft, burglary) than in cases involving interpersonal harm, like domestic violence, especially in certain communities. This prioritization reflects the underlying belief that protecting economic interests is paramount to maintaining order.

In the battle to reform, the mountain to destroy is the protection of property being so deeply ingrained in modern legal, economic, and political systems that it often takes precedence over the protection of individual well-being (we are still inherently in a slave seeking society, built around this control structure). The historical evolution of policing and law, combined with economic theories about property and power, shows that this dynamic is not accidental but deliberate. Understanding this helps explain many of the tensions and frustrations people feel toward law enforcement and justice systems today, especially when it appears that property is being valued more highly than human life and dignity.

Reforming entrenched systems, especially those based on hierarchical power dynamics, is inherently difficult. These systems are often designed to protect those in power and to resist challenges. Law enforcement, for instance, has undergone various reforms over the years, such as body cameras, civilian oversight boards, and diversity training. However, these efforts have been met with mixed success. In many cases, they only address surface-level symptoms of the problem rather than the structural issues at its core. For example, police reform efforts aimed at reducing violence or improving community relations often don't tackle the underlying cultures of silence and immunity that protect bad actors within the system.

Many industries, including the defense sector or entertainment, have built-in resistance to reform. In the defense industry, where a culture of deference to seniority and authority exists, reform efforts can be stymied by those with power who see change as a threat to their control. Sexual harassment and misconduct are pervasive in many industries, but the entrenched power dynamics make it nearly impossible for meaningful change to take root without a complete overhaul of accountability mechanisms.

Look at the #MeToo movement, for example, which brought attention to sexual harassment and abuse in industries like Hollywood. While it led to increased awareness and the downfall of some high-profile figures, the industry as a whole remains resistant to the kind of deep, systemic change that would prevent future abuses. Similarly, corporate reform often stalls once the spotlight fades, and without continuous pressure, industries revert to their old ways.

Public perception is a powerful tool in driving reform, especially when media and advocacy groups consistently spotlight issues. However, media narratives are also manipulated by those in power to maintain control. In law enforcement, for instance, media representation of police officers as heroic figures often complicates efforts to hold officers accountable. Even in the face of overwhelming evidence of misconduct, public opinion can sometimes favor the status quo due to how deeply ingrained these narratives are.

A more philosophical approach to this question reveals a troubling reality: reform may not be enough to address the root causes of corruption and abuse of power. Reform typically works within the existing structures, which often perpetuate the very issues they’re trying to address. For instance, as long as qualified immunity exists for law enforcement, or as long as the power structures within industries like defense or entertainment remain hierarchical and patriarchal, those in power will find ways to exploit their positions with relative impunity.

Incremental Change vs. Radical Overhaul

Some argue that incremental reform is better than nothing, but the problem with incrementalism is that it allows the systems to continue operating largely as they always have. True change, in many cases, may require a more radical overhaul—a restructuring of the very foundations of how these industries operate. This could mean stronger oversight, transparent accountability, and a dismantling of the protective mechanisms (like qualified immunity or industry blacklisting) that shield those in power from the consequences of their actions.

Historically, major reform efforts, whether in policing or in industries like banking, have met with some success but are rarely comprehensive. For example, the post-Enron regulations in the financial sector, designed to prevent corporate fraud, didn’t stop further abuses or economic crises. Likewise, efforts to reform the entertainment industry after scandals tend to focus on the most egregious cases but fail to address the underlying power imbalances that allow abuse to persist.

In short, reform is possible but faces significant barriers. These systems are resistant to change by design, and reform efforts often fail to address the root problems. Whether in law enforcement, defense, or entertainment, the deeper issue is the protection of power and the structural incentives that encourage exploitation. Reform, in its truest sense, may require not just new policies but a fundamental shift in how power is distributed and how accountability is enforced. The question is whether those who benefit from the current system will ever allow that to happen.