Socialism or Barbarism?

In our current era of disaffection, it’s easy to lose faith in the values that should define society—equity, humanism, inclusivity, tolerance, love.

Has anyone read the news lately? It is said these are dire times, with humanity facing several complex challenges. To name a few—climate change, technological advances impacting jobs and spreading disinformation, heightened geopolitical tensions and inequality. It’s called a polycrisis because these and other threats are interconnected but lack a single cause.

The notion of an emergent polycrisis is mainly Western, as many developing countries already deal with similar challenges. Still, navigating these issues, many of which are global, will require enormous dedication and a willingness to work towards objectives sometimes not reached during one’s lifetime. To achieve such goals, we need to be aware of the alternative: we may fail.

Recent events would suggest that fighting for something bigger than oneself is futile. For all the protests going on around the world, Western governments continue to condone Israel’s genocide in Gaza. Regardless of how many paragraphs are in the various COP agreements, global emissions are not decreasing. At the ballot box, there seem to be only minor differences between the major parties—all in favour of cutting welfare, closing borders and, recently, rearmament. It is no wonder that people, especially young people, feel a sense of disillusionment towards their present and prospective condition. 

An antidote to the potential apathy brought by such feelings is to convince yourself that none of your choices matter anyway and that, in the end, everything will be fine. I have issues with this solution because I don’t think it is necessarily true. Things might get better, but if we’re not careful, they can get worse. 

In 1915, the activist Rosa Luxemburg looked at the world around her, embroiled in WW1, and asked a simple question: socialism or barbarism, which would it be? In other words, societal change is not linear. In fact, it is not guaranteed. Zadie Smith issued a similar warning when appearing on the Swedish podcast Café Bambino some time ago, asserting the dangers in assuming the world is on an automatic path towards ever greater living standards, sustainability and personal freedoms.

The forces of reaction have certainly wasted no time to act. Roe v Wade—the 1973 US Supreme Court decision legalising abortion in all 50 states—was repealed in 2022; the UK government is deporting asylum seekers to Uganda; the EU is building high walls and arming the watchtowers. And these are just a few examples.

In our current era of disaffection, it’s easy to lose faith in the values that should define society—equity, humanism, inclusivity, tolerance, love. If we think of ourselves as powerless, we risk creating a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

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To have the energy to resist when the going gets tough, daring to envision a better future is crucial. At least that’s how I feel. 

I also think it’s important to believe in the inherent goodness of people. As I have said on here before, humans have more in common with each other than not. Moreover, people are not selfish or stupid, as Nobel laureate Elinor Ostrom has demonstrated. It’s easier to have hope for the future if you believe you have friends alongside you.

The media is geared towards negativity because it generates clicks and revenue (don’t forget to subscribe), and some individuals have incentives to turn people against one another. That doesn’t mean the cynical narratives are correct. We can escape the spectre of barbarism. Our choices do matter. To think otherwise only benefits the powers that be.

In Água Viva, Clarice Lispector writes:

“I denounce our weakness, I denounce the maddening horror of dying—and I respond to all this infamy with—exactly this that now will be written—and I respond to all this infamy with joy…I refuse to be defeated: so I love.”

// Adrian