/leftypol/ - Leftist Politically Incorrect

The capitalist class operates with little regard for borders, a fluidity it leverages to its advantage. The entire United States functions as a network of neocolonies—these states host governments that do not represent their people, but rather the corporations that operate within them. The majority of the population is exploited within this system; in fact, only a privileged 10% truly benefit from the capitalist-imperialist economy.

Beneath this broadly exploited class lies a layer of the hyper-exploited, who form the core source of slave labor for this anti-life regime. This super-exploitation is manufactured along racial, gender, and other lines, a deliberate construct of capitalism's superstructure. The rise of a hyper-militarized "War from Within," waged by agencies like ICE, makes this brutally clear. Hispanic people—and by extension, Indigenous people, as the term "Hispanic" is itself a colonizer label invented in the 1970s to impose a European (Spanish) heritage—are primary targets. Even the spectacle of Proud Boys leaders who identify as Hispanic cannot obscure this systemic reality; it only reiterates the haunting contradictions we must confront.

This pattern is rooted in an unfinished past. The first American Revolution of 1776 was ultimately a war over which faction of the capitalist class would control the colonies. While it included a small but notable faction of true people's revolutionaries—figures like Thomas Paine, who argued for abolishing slavery from the outset—they failed. Their defeat meant the people's revolution was never completed.

Therefore, we are not simply communists or anarchists, though we may be influenced by both. We are abolitionists. Our purpose is to finish that people's revolution and free this land from capital's control.

This struggle did not begin with us, nor did it pause after 1776. It is a continuous thread woven through this land's history: in the pan-tribal resistance led by Tecumseh, in the stunning victory of Indigenous nations at the Battle of Little Bighorn, in the bloody righteousness of Nat Turner’s rebellion, and in John Brown’s holy war against chattel slavery. The Civil War itself contained revolutionary, abolitionist currents that were ultimately subverted by capital, which traded chattel slavery for the prison of sharecropping and Jim Crow.

This tradition of people's war was carried into the industrial era by the IWW, which waged a protracted struggle from the 1880s to the 1930s. They were ultimately squashed not just by state violence, but by the betrayal of turncoat communists within the CPUSA and other factions that chose alignment with social democrats over revolutionary solidarity.

Even the global fight against fascism in WWII was subverted. While millions fought with an anti-fascist spirit, American corporations had fueled Hitler's rise, and after the war, the state imported Nazi scientists via Operation Paperclip, integrating their expertise into the U.S. military-industrial complex. Remember the Business Plot of 1933, where financiers attempted a fascist coup against FDR; though it failed, its architects remained in positions of immense power.

The central problem has always been the strategic separation of perspectives through intentional racial division, a tactic solidified after Bacon's Rebellion. That rebellion was a prototype, unifying black and white workers to such a degree that the ruling class was forced to invent the concept of "whiteness" and codify chattel slavery to shatter that solidarity.

We can view this entire history through a hauntological lens: If Bacon's Rebellion achieved that much, we must imagine the lost future where that alliance also united with the native tribes, successfully ousting the private landed gentry. That ghost of a future, which was stolen from us, holds the key to the future we can still inherit.

It has been 533 years since Columbus landed on Turtle Island in search of trade, gold, and markets; 406 years since the first person of African descent was brought to these shores in bondage; 350 years since Bacon's Rebellion; and 250 years since the capitalist class subverted the revolutionary currents of 1776—the pattern of division becomes starkly visible across the centuries.

The central, enduring problem of American history has been the strategic separation of perspectives through intentional racial division, a tactic systematically codified in the wake of Bacon's Rebellion. That uprising was a fiery prototype of class solidarity, unifying enslaved Africans, European indentured servants, and landless freemen to such a dangerous degree that the terrified ruling class was forced to engineer a social solution: they invented the legal and social concept of "whiteness" and hardened the system of hereditary chattel slavery specifically to shatter that multiracial solidarity. This was the "counter-revolution of 1676," a preemptive strike against a people's revolution that has shaped all that followed.

We must therefore view this entire history through a hauntological lens. We are haunted by the futures that were stolen from us. If the pursuit of trade and gold 533 years ago initiated this cycle of extraction and division, and if the solidarity glimpsed 350 years ago in Bacon's Rebellion was so potent it required a new system of apartheid to contain it, then we must actively imagine the lost future where that rebel alliance also united with the native tribes whose land was the rebellion's initial object. Imagine a future where that coalition—of the enslaved, the indentured, the landless, and the indigenous—successfully ousted the private landed gentry and built a society on a foundation of mutual interest, not racial capitalism.

That ghost of a future, a possibility born 350 years ago and suppressed ever since, is a key. It unlocks the understanding that our present is built on a foundation of deliberately fractured solidarity. We are recovering a roadmap to the future we were denied, a future that, in recognizing its own stolen potential, we can still choose to inherit.