The proletarian struggle & the government pretence of advancing the people’s cause

The proletarian struggle that originally defined communism was envisioned by Marx as a pathway toward classless equality and the dismantling of oppressive economic structures. Yet, over time, the theory’s transformation into practice created something far removed from its intellectual roots.

When communism took on flesh in history, especially under the regimes of Lenin, Stalin, and later Mao, it morphed into something grotesque and complex, enmeshed with power, fear, and state control.

This transformation from Marx’s idealized vision of a proletariat-led revolution to the realities of Leninist, Stalinist, and Maoist regimes involved distortions that redefined the struggle itself. In Stalin’s USSR, for instance, the working-class liberation became a state apparatus of repression, where ideological purity meant subjugation and industrialization came at the cost of millions of lives. The revolution’s ideals became overshadowed by the machinery of the state and the cult of personality that sustained the ruling elite’s power. Similarly, Mao’s vision in China was marked by the Cultural Revolution’s brutal cleansing of so-called “bourgeois elements,” leading to widespread suffering.

The spear that propelled these interpretations forward in history was sharpened not by Marx’s notions of class consciousness but by a series of historical and political exigencies. Fear of losing control, consolidating power, and dealing with internal and external threats turned the theoretical pursuit of class equality into a reality where uniformity and submission were enforced.

Thus, what was meant to be a struggle for human liberation morphed into a rigid system marked by violence, state surveillance, and coercion, becoming a grotesque mirror to its foundational ideals.

The proletarian struggle, in its rawest form, carries an inherent tension between aspiration and application, and history shows that this tension can forge outcomes far from the original ideologies.

In these regimes, power solidified under the pretence of advancing the people’s cause, but history reflects a different story—one where the struggle became a tool for maintaining state power and a grim chapter in the tale of human governance.

All capitalist systems, like all entropic structures, inherently drift towards a state of increased disorder and eventual decline. This entropic trajectory is often fueled by a cycle of human behavior that can be more aptly described as institutional dependency or exploitative labor conformity. These systems tend to amplify socioeconomic disparities and reinforce rigid hierarchies that thrive on maintaining control and limiting upward mobility.

As capitalism evolves, its mechanisms channel vast amounts of energy and resources into sustaining growth, productivity, and profit. Yet, over time, the concentration of capital in fewer hands and the relentless pursuit of efficiency lead to systemic pressures on the working population. This often results in individuals and communities becoming locked into patterns of constrained autonomy and chronic economic dependence. Such a dynamic, while different from historical notions of overt enslavement, shares a parallel: individuals are compelled, whether by economic necessity or social structures, to commit their labor in ways that ultimately benefit a narrow segment of society.

This tendency, which might be described in clinical terms as chronic economic subjugation, reflects how capitalist systems leverage and normalize human labor to meet insatiable demands. This perpetuates cycles where individuals are bound to their work not purely by choice but by the structural mandates of survival, limited social mobility, and dwindling alternatives. The entropic pull of these systems, therefore, underscores their susceptibility to devolving into frameworks that, while promoting innovation and growth, also incubate dependency, stagnation, and the erosion of meaningful freedom over time.

In capitalist systems, power is frequently consolidated by those who control capital, enabling a cycle where economic influence translates into political and social leverage. This consolidation fosters an environment where the justification for wealth disparities, exploitation, and labor subjugation is cloaked in narratives of meritocracy and individual freedom. The inherent drive to maximize profit and sustain growth often perpetuates systemic abuses, as those in power frame such inequalities as necessary or even virtuous.

On the other hand, ostensibly proletarian-focused systems, like those seen in various socialist or communist implementations, have shown a similar pattern when actualized. Power becomes centralized in the hands of a ruling elite or state apparatus that claims to represent the masses but often ends up justifying control and repression in the name of maintaining ideological purity or social order.

These justifications allow for abuses that range from economic disenfranchisement to outright violence and suppression of dissent.

As i deconstruct my own lamentation I see it touches a deeply resonant chord within the history of political and social movements—the disillusionment with ideals that, once fervently pursued, too often succumb to the gravitational pull of power dynamics. Whether under the banners of capitalism, socialism, or any other system that claims to embody freedom and justice, the inherent flaw lies not in the theories themselves but in the human pursuit of power that inevitably distorts them.

Philosophically, it is true that the struggle in any system becomes one of power—of who wields it, who holds onto it, and who suffers in its wake. The language of competition or collective well-being becomes a façade when a select few secure their position by any means necessary, reducing the noblest of ideas to mere rhetoric. Thus, control becomes the endgame, wrapped in justifications and narratives that seek to pacify or manipulate the masses.

I can, I admit, poetic lamentation for “princesses” as I deconstruct I realize this suggests a yearning for figures or movements that transcend this cycle—a hope for purity of purpose, for leadership that rises above the entrenched patterns of control and self-interest. Yet, history tells us that these moments, these individuals who embody genuine virtue and resist the seduction of power, are rare and often mired in tragedy. Those who attempt to uphold true justice and equality may find themselves undermined, corrupted, or cast aside by the very systems they seek to reform.

Indeed, the cycle of control, justification, and abuse defines the struggles of both past and present. Even when movements arise with the promise of freedom, equality, or prosperity, they often converge on the same path: an initial surge of idealism that wanes as power becomes an end rather than a means.

What begins as a revolution for liberty often solidifies into a new order with its own hierarchies and mechanisms of control.

In this view, the “princesses” are those rare voices—whether real or symbolic—that resist the inevitability of corruption and embody the untarnished pursuit of a world built on empathy, wisdom, and justice. They remind us that while systems may converge under the weight of power, the hope for something better persists, not in grand structures or dominant ideologies but in the spirit of those who still believe in and strive for change, even against the odds.

And so, we are left with a paradox: the yearning for a world where power serves rather than consumes, where the rhetoric of freedom is not just a mask but a living truth. It is a vision woven from lament and hope, both fragile and resilient, waiting for those who dare to pursue it, undeterred by the failures that came before.

The struggle against systems of subjugation, like slavery, and the fights that follow for justice and human rights often align with civil wars and broader social upheavals because they strike at the core of power structures and challenge entrenched hierarchies. In the United States, the Civil War and the abolition of slavery became defining historical moments, encapsulated not just as political and military conflicts but as moral battles. The documentation of these events, rich with narratives of struggle, emancipation, and reconstruction, offered a touchpoint for both historical and present discussions about freedom, justice, and power.

The American Civil War was uniquely intense, given the ideological and economic stakes. The conflict was rooted not only in economic interests tied to slavery but also in fundamental ideas about state sovereignty and human rights. The abolitionist movement and figures like Frederick Douglass and Harriet Beecher Stowe helped build a powerful moral case against slavery that resonated far beyond political maneuvering. The war and subsequent Emancipation Proclamation represented the high-water mark of a fight that ultimately forced the nation to reckon, albeit imperfectly, with its founding contradictions—promising liberty while permitting human bondage.

Globally, the abolition of slavery played out in varied and complex ways, often with less definitive “moments” for the public to anchor their understanding. European nations, such as Britain, took legislative approaches, with the British Parliament passing the Slave Trade Act in 1807 and the Slavery Abolition Act in 1833. These actions were driven by economic shifts, moral awakening spurred by abolitionist campaigns, and practical needs that made the institution of slavery increasingly unsustainable. Yet, despite legislation, systemic inequalities and justifications for labor exploitation persisted through colonial systems and economic subjugation in other forms.

In the Middle East, Africa, and parts of Asia, abolition often came through a combination of international pressure, local reformist movements, and eventual legal enactments that were not always straightforward in practice. The complexity of these struggles, often obscured by government records and official narratives, makes tracing a clear path difficult. Post-colonial regimes, civil wars, and continued forms of systemic oppression blurred the line between abolition and freedom, making it challenging to separate propaganda from reality.

Our rub here at xawat, the point about post-truth coverups is particularly pertinent when considering how governments often reshape historical narratives to suit contemporary needs. The rewriting of history, strategic omissions, and mythologizing heroes or victims are tools used to frame a narrative that maintains control, shields the powerful, or unites a population under a common, albeit simplified, story. This complicity in obscuring true motives or events makes it difficult to discern the full truth from surface-level data, as much of the world’s documentation has, at one time or another, served an agenda.

The result is a global history of abolition that is fragmented, with moments of high drama like the American Civil War cast in stark relief, while other struggles are muffled under layers of colonial legacies, post-war coverups, and selective memory. The challenge is to sift through these layers and recognize that while the mechanisms and outcomes differed across nations, the underlying struggles for power, freedom, and control resonate as universal elements of human history.

In a world where we hustle, where we strive, where we grind, chasing the wind, leaving peace behind. Oh, the papers, the meetings, the endless to-do, But what of the dreams that we once knew?

We smile in the morning, we nod through the day, Hiding the things that we never dare say “Climb the ladder, don’t look down, Success wears a suit, Neveu crown.” But there’s a little voice in the quiet night, Soft as a whisper, yet painfully bright. “Where’s the joy you promised you’d keep? Where’s the laughter that rocked you to sleep?”

So hold someone close, sing off-key, dance slow, Remember the you that you used to know. Life’s not a race, it’s a dance in disguise, sometimes, my friend, it’s okay to cry.

Out on the edge where the lights fade, Where silence wraps you in a fragile cascade. The noise of the world, it hums far away, here in the quiet, your thoughts come to play.

A sip of old, cold as the past, taste of regrets that never could last. You laugh to the night, a lone, fleeting sound, Echoes of joy you thought you had found. Barefoot on gravel, the sting and the thrill, rawness of life that no paycheck can fill. A sky full of stars, but not one’s in reach, universe whispers what it can’t teach.

So hum a tune only the shadows know, song of small victories and the way they glow; smirk at the dark, defiant and bright—See beauty in being your own lone delight.