Hegel’s dystopia and liberalism’s terror
Plato’s critique is nothing short of historical. The Hegelian motif is contextual. The medieval march to modernity meets its match. Malevolence is encased in crewed nuance. Human growth is an ethical performance. Through organisational confrontation changes are bound to follow. Yet this progress is declining. Proud tribalist groups seek the same ideological doctrine of their ancestors. The game is the same even if the pieces are different. Ethics is a synonym for my way or else. The veil of technological immersion does not empower the moral side. If anything it only fuels the immoral modality. This progress does not have setbacks it has yet to evolve.
The problem is not the institutional system but the personal interaction. The stoic relation to one another. The democratic ailment rife with racist emotions only capitalises on the inherent dehumanisation. The universalist paradigm imposes its will demoralising those who do not fit the bill. Progressives push for institutional changes but altering mechanisms does not shift the personal abdications. A democracy that preaches freedom and produces wage slavery is hypocritical. A democracy still built on the equality of man suppresses the diversity of man. The argumentation of institutional freedom inherently presupposes a devious lacking. Promising a network that needlessly fails its goals. Shifting mechanistic burdens redirects the toxic liquid. The toxicity remains strong even if walled off. Without bastardising the liquid to a gas, the liquid un-evaporated lingers on. A blood stain under the rug.
The promise of a better tomorrow by shifting the goalposts is a haunted lie. Each generation asserting its dominance. This will usher in the utopia. Whether it be revolutionary systems or rebellious protests. Changes that may in fact demand social equity do not salvage the distorted portrait. It was the system that needed alteration. If the model is refuelled in a manner that maintains the organismic construction with different variables moved. The game of chess continues with elevated pieces. The queen no longer is restricted to moving one move diagonally but has unrestricted freedom. Able to move across the board with ease. Yet this move advancement is still burdened to protect the king. Pawns are still lowly pawns. Changing an elephant piece to a bishop centres on the ideological novelty but the space is sanctified for a special type. The pawn never changes always at the bottom of the totem poll. At least the religious placed him above the animals on the value hierarchy.
Similarly, in the real world, peasants remained peasants. Their name may have changed but they have yet to usurp the incriminating futility of simple-minded foot soldiers. They fight for their lives for a cause that they lie dormant of proper grace. Peasants were the middle class before the middle class. Even if they are given more accessibility. Improving their lives at the cause of submission. Provided the bare minimum to discredit the counterbalance of fate. According dubious solutions to maintain the disastrous hierarchical asymmetry. Trickling down the innovative salvation. Permitting bits to be allocated to the disenfranchised. The lower levels are enslaved to the order that represses their growth. Rebellious causes protest the startling divide yet the system rejects their claim. The marvel surplus received in shredded heaps of secondhand crumbs. Selfish notoriety steals the majority of the equitable pie and leaves the crust to the peasantry. The share is proportionally divisible. The medieval age is far gone, fair wages are supplied.
Air-conditioned homes and supermarkets ease the life burden. The peasants are rewarded with living. If sufficient work is applied then these assets can be purchased. A reward for hard work. Dangling a treat in front of the starving dog. Making the throwing motion but throwing air. The dog runs and is unable to find anything. Confused he continues his search but after failing for hours gives up in sad distress. He makes his way back to his owner who is cunningly smirking. The dog bellows in a depressed tone to which the owner’s mouth widens into a crackle. Bending over and presenting half a treat. Saved from hunger but still hungry. Treats used to be stale and now they are chewy. Delicious but still unavailable to the desired. Only if hoops are jumped through in a spectacle for elite humour can the the starving peasant satiate himself. There are no freebees, everything has a price. Even the generous owner who leaves the chewy treats out has left them out for days. Pouring the treats in a bowl was his job. The dog was fed just not with edible nor healthy food.
Peasants are all equal in fated depravity. Yet they fight amongst once another. Distressed with their situation fury escapes their condition. Anger overtakes their clear-minded inclinations. The adversary is blurred. Hallucinating in a despondent state of crisis. Neighbours become the greatest enemy. Blue-eyed peasants check their affinities. Peasants but part of the blue-eyed club. Identical to his neighbours except for this biological marker. A fan club that met on Sundays for meetings. Blue-eyed members lived harmoniously yet the ongoing struggle was tumultuous seeking where to redirect anger. A blue-eyed government reigned so how could peasants be suffering. Neighbours must be the cause. The failure of the peasantry is the peasantry not the sovereign, he is trying his best but brown-eyed peasants are disorienting that trickled excellence. Stealing it for themselves. Those selfish bastards were former co-workers turned savages. Friends turned enemies. Staring down that neighbour and writing them off. Their eye colour is disfiguring. Their eyes turn red at night and hunt down blue-eyed babies. Ocular powers hypnotise the good blue-eyed folk forced to struggle in the lower class.
A reckoning is assumed in the revolutionary cause. Revolutions will drastically bring humanity closer to perfection. Moral ideas brand the campaign slogans. Demonstrations raise sympathetic slogans in search of change. These public displays are punished by the leader. The leader stubborn and paranoid refuses to concede. If he will leave willingly, he must be compelled. Violence in the name of salvation is the accepted trajectory. Killing conservative countrymen optimistic in pressuring the sovereign. Naive heretics with false dreams. Corrupt leadership cannot be altered. The tainted sovereign must be cleansed. A new ripe leader from a different tribe must revamp the proper annuls of leadership. The liberal zealots promise big for their cause. When the impure leader is ousted and the revolutionary leader takes his place, he fails completely to facilitate his dream. Conservatives are branded traitors. Their insight sought as a burden and decried for their disservice. The new leader is a reincarnation of the old leader funnelling his ideology into a scammed silence. The phone line disconnected left to cope with their burdensome pieces. Foot-soldiers remain peasants.
No system is perfect. There is always room for growth. Self-growth voices unredeemed to the repressed peasant. A few tweaks here and there will perfect the imperfect. Ridding the legal deficiencies will habituate an ethical relation. It is the legal routine that disrupts the hope for ceremonial joy. Unity is blocked by systemic fraud. An intentional underlying discolouring agenda. Deep-seated resentment fades without legal separation. Ethics is solved by legal dictation. Fixing the broken valve allows the flow to persist. Wealth and positive attitudes are the solution. If train lines are diverted to a single train. All on the same train to the shared destiny. Compelling interaction will shed the stereotypical jargon for realistic deductions. Shouldn’t the decision to divert to one train be questioned? A well-intentioned goal but strategically positive? Fear and anger encompassing the groups must be solved by the restrictive rules to ensure the mission succeeds. Instead of advocating personal adventures to debunk those stereotypes, coercing societal clashes for the sake of a potentially future understanding after many have passed in the crossfire. Necessary deaths for the mission.
Blind to the diverter’s intentions. A puppeteering conquest meshed into horizontal skirmishes. Focusing on the irrational distaste for fellow humans on the basis of psychological dissonance. A neurosis stemming from heresy-hunting warfare. Heretics are locals. Locals who do not agree with the progressive tone. Brown-eyed peasants have received unduly advantages. Bishops can charge their desire but a pawn must know his place. He must not cheat and think he be a bishop. Fighting hard through the thicket to reach the other side to be elevated. The pawn has done his work. His operator has placed him efficiently. He was fortunate and lucky. Able to reach the beaches of Normandy. His luck is polemically tied. The operator is never questioned. His decisions are accepted but the pawn still receives the blowback instead of praise. Proud that one of their own made it through. Fate is unfair but little is afforded to assist the unlucky. The operator sacrificed them. Some pawns snuck through but the pawns were to trap the enemy for the bishop to steal all the glory. The bishop has more prestige and thus he deserves to reap in the rewards of the kill that the pawn set up.
Picking on fellow peasants for their success stories does little to raise unity. An echo chamber of monistic restlessness. Those who have succeeded are no longer tolerated in their circles. The face to face anguish brews contempt. The real villain is not some machine but neighbour peasant. His success must be from some cheat. He doesn’t deserve it. As a successful peasant he is isolated from his birth and newfound life. He is no elite but he is no peasant. An elite in body but a peasant in soul. The strife of isolation is tremendously overwhelming. Alienation is no fun escapade and his former friends see him as a stranger. His success which they all seek is the stain. Their deplorable luck is his problem to bear. Despite their behaviour towards him, an underground revolution brews to align with him. To re-establish control. Prophetic voices and hymns echo in the dim light. Caught up in a newly lavish light. He is happy but so far from the peasant mindset he drops off funds to help his brethren. They shoo him away in disgust. He leaves angrily misunderstanding their stress and his donating insolence.
Process is not evolutionarily but dynamic. Engulfed in the ideological sway turns ladders into slides. All roll for the slides. If the system is inverted then all will be solved. The climb is a monstrous trek with rarely any victors. To ensure the system aids everyone the system must do a half spin. This mechanistic shift requires legal hegemony and political banter to manipulate the model. Though representatives find more security in ensuring they enjoy their seat. The aristocrats of old are the politicians of new. Varying positions with a little more freedom but the same problem. The same failures in Athens and Rome are present in England and America. The power to rule does not accord with the people’s desires. Egotistical panic plays politics framing answers in evasive rejoinders. The vertical asymmetry is slowly catching on. The public though aware of the political ploys maintains its grudge against its fellow countrymen. Immersed in an obvious illusion. Having already seen the true face of the devil then mistaken the devil for a hallucination. Recalling the snippets of reform whereas his countrymen has failed to legislate.
One step forward two steps back. Eventually the utopia will be reached. If steps forward were linear and not circular. Making the wrong turn not out of idiocy but madness. Following the map drawn by the institutional reps. Their word is prophetic. News anchors flaunt these maps to the public. Trust these, they were orchestrated by those reps themselves. Yet no one is able to breach forth. Returning to the same point of origin. Zero intuition or deviance is questioned. Those who deviate are hounded for their misdeed. News councillors mock them and publicise their sin for everyone to join in on the attack. The victim’s cry for assistance is ignored. Screaming do you not see the divine sing. The fire from heaven consuming only the victim’s sacrifice. The counsellors are not disturbed but the people are for a brief moment. Then the counsellors issue death threats and the public follows retracting the previous incident. Their repentance inadequate and conditioned on narcissistic preaching. In the same hole as their predecessors.
Evolutionary change would at least seem enlightening. The stale toleration is an unbridled public ignorance. No name calling in public unless felt otherwise. Ideally there is a distance since the stereotypical makeup cannot be eclipsed. Toleration admits defeat to the diversified congregation. Anarchist tendencies malign any essential tracker. Stripping ideology of its prowess. As long as the top-down order educates in its preferred model. The sown seeds of malice may only be verbal bullying but contextually it is more powerful than physical bullying. It is not a matter of a lesser degree. The magnitude of control is irrelevant as long as the mechanism remains in place. What is ideal is rarely ever upheld. Inching away at the borders to extend jurisdiction. The only real freedom is for the legislators who can never be prosecuted in their group protection scheme. Civil rights strengthened with contempt. Legality is the only way to ensure instead of refurbishing values. An educational lesson in the original document without speculating of historical insufficiencies. Nitpicking the language to ferment a societal picture denying the founding intention on a technicality. Fuel rage at the brainwashed instead of recognising their victimisation and fall guy positioning.
Vertical vectors are currently challenged. Backsliding avenues are exposing the radical insular corruption in the representative sphere. Rome has met its maker once again. The next caesar may be lurking in the shadows. The populist leadership to win back the people’s losses are crucified as an irreverent actor seeking glory. Blackballed from contention. Gradual dynamics protest but they are inconsistent. Blinded by the media’s strong interior. A wall of defence protecting the fraudulent. Are these backsliders and independents the near future utopian saviours? Ideally potentially but what will it bring? Will enough people get on board? Will it last? Every outlandish outcry is brief. Feeble public energy to challenge. Spewing talking points without consideration nor analysis. Short-term memory loss cuddles the nation’s peasantry. To the slaughterhouse they go without batting an eye. There is room for progress. A chance to speak up but insufficient outcry derails its impact. Exploitation is revealed detailed to the public but they have accepted their fate. Robots with no will. To be screwed cry about it and move on. There will is a tin box wound to obey.
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