Why anti-capitalism?

On confronting the torrent of apathy and continuing the struggle. The ideology of resistance.

By subscribing to this publication, clicking the link to this essay, and reading this first sentence, you have done what most people will never do: you have questioned the status quo; you have questioned the legitimacy of your capitalist reality.

Capitalism today appears not only as a system of socio-economic organization, rather, it constitutes a way of living, thinking, behaving, and interacting with each other and the world at large. Capitalism is a deeply entrenched all-encompassing dogma — almost a natural constant, such as the speed of light or gravity. Without ever overly emphasizing its presence, it provides the background to every social, political, and economic interaction. As I continuously highlight in my works, it constitutes the very stage upon which the theater of life plays out. And much like every stage, it shines its spotlights on some aspects of the drama, emphasizing those who are deemed important — the main actors — while leaving most of us in the dark, left to spectate and wonder. One is never supposed to see what goes on in the background, and who operates those spotlights.

To question capitalism is to question fundamental ideological principles. It means challenging the belief that material comfort is the only valid metric to human happiness; it means protesting the credo of working one’s entire life, sacrificing family, friends, and interests — in short, all that makes life worth living in the first place — to enjoy a few years of leisure at the end; it means highlighting the absurdity of infinite growth on a finite planet; it means objecting to ever-increasing inequality, the exploitation of the Global South, and the destruction of entire ecosystems; and it means fighting a system whose very foundations are defined by individualism, greed, exploitation, and personal gain at the cost of all else. All that is precisely what I do here on Beneath the Pavement.

To question capitalism, in the end, is to question the world as it appears before us:

A vast majority of the populace left without perspective, no hope of real freedom, a life spent in the hamster wheel of daily grind. Enriching others — those who adapted early enough — while struggling to survive. Estranged from each other, with no sense of community, no sense of purpose — because there is none left — constantly being fed lies and an unstoppable stream of subliminal propaganda. This is how you must live to be happy, this is what you must consume, vote for this or that party.

The Global South being held in poverty, hunger, and despair while we still claim to help. A whole multi-billion-dollar industry built on the lie of aid. Masking the crimes of the past — colonialism, slavery, neo-liberalism — while committing new ones even more atrocious. All the while smiling and shaking hands. The cognitive dissonance and apathy slowly destroying our humanity.

Entire Western generations spending their lives in disillusionment and the always present, nagging, never-disappearing, painful feeling of a kind of emptiness they — we — cannot explain. Something is missing and we do not, cannot, even know what because we have never experienced it. The world today feels so very wrong because, well, it is.

All the while, we are looking for someone to blame, someone to hold responsible. Governments, multinational corporations, banks, institutions, billionaires — anyone. The horrible realization: it isn’t anybody’s fault in particular. Everything is a symptom.

Governments acting according to the unwritten rules of economic growth and the ever-increasing exploitation of environments and peoples. These rules not in any way diminished or made less for not being written down but, on the contrary, even more potent precisely because of it. Capitalist realism constructing an illusionary and yet all-encompassing social reality too strong to fail. Seemingly eternal. We blame governments and institutions because it is convenient. They are victims and perpetrators at the same time.

Corporations: just another symptom. How are they to blame? They do exactly what is expected of them. The only thing we have ever programmed them to do. The momentary relief of destroying these machines of exploitation and destruction would soon be supplanted by the knowledge that others would take their place. Same for bankers and billionaires. Merely doing what we are permitting them to do.

One cannot change a system by fighting its symptoms. Much like a persistent cancer that has infected its malleable host, the system can only be destroyed by tearing it out at the root. By entirely annihilating it and making sure it cannot return, ever. This is what it would take. Do not argue with the cancer, do not collaborate with it, do not think that you can change the cancer for the better. You can’t and you won’t. Liberals and social democrats have tried for decades and have achieved nothing but concessions and breadcrumbs that can be taken away at will, not to speak of the climate disaster that could turn us all into corpses.

But, everyone is an anti-capitalist in thought. It’s easy.

Yet everyone acts like a temporarily embarrassed millionaire.

True happiness and purpose have been replaced with the kind of happiness one can buy and sell. The kind of happiness one can project on graphs. But worst of all: capitalism has been made eternal. The ability to resist and fight replaced with impotence and apathy. How can one fight an illusion? How can one fight dogma? How can one destroy a self-perpetuating set of abstract beliefs? Adapting and dissolving everything into its internally inconsistent machinery to the point where anti-capitalism becomes capitalism and activism turns into conservatism.

My essays, while attempting to present facts and data as they appear, are not objective. Nor do I pretend they are. Rather, they aim to capture the Zeitgeist of a range of generations, increasingly disappointed in the world presented to them — to us. Generations who were promised everything and yet receive nothing.

Housing and education made a luxury only available to a select few, raising children a financial and ultimately moral burden — what kind of world will they inherit? — declining wages, increasing hunger, poverty, and inequality, wars raging all around the globe despite decades of supposed progress, and the prospect of climate disaster and a planet turned hostile to humans in the name of profit.

Generations who finally question the unquestionable: the necessity and benefit of economic growth and material consumption. All the while, a system denying their right to such an opinion. Coercing them to conform. They should, after all, be happy with what they have. Every alternative would be far worse. So the propaganda.

When confronted with the realities of the world, in my experience, most people react along the lines of two broad categories:

First, apathy. The vast majority of people in the Western world, particularly relatively well-off members of the middle classes, fall into this category. The temporarily embarrassed millionaires. It is easy to ignore the appalling conditions under which most of the world’s population exists when you don’t have to worry about where your next meal will come from. It is, in fact, the healthy and rational thing to do. Most people do not concern themselves with the kinds of thoughts presented in pesky angry publications such as the one you’re reading right now. Otherwise, society would likely fall apart quickly (what tragedy). I, myself, have been a member of this category for a significant part of my life.

Second, fury. It is difficult to pinpoint what exactly causes people to fall into this category. Most likely a complex combination of general unhappiness, a feeling of not quite fitting in, a heightened sense of justice, reading certain books and learning certain things, experiencing poverty or hunger or America’s imperial hand of blood and steel oneself (or witnessing it firsthand), and so on. Being in this category is not exactly beneficial to one’s mental health and is usually even frowned upon, especially if you are a member of the Western world (as any reader of this publication likely is).

Most people will never question our capitalist society or even spend much thought on it. They will pity those poor starving children in Africa and then move on. Well, what can we do? Most of us are so caught up in our daily lives, that we never pause to think: doesn’t this feel wrong somehow? Instead, we act in a condescending, patronizing way towards those who do rebel. Oh those idealists, those utopians, don’t they know how good they have it?

The purpose of Beneath the Pavement (and a myriad of publications like it) is to give voice to those not content with the status quo. Those who feel the necessity to speak up. Those who cannot stand the apathy any longer. And also those who just started questioning certain unquestionable aspects of life. There are alternatives. There was a time before capitalism and there will be one after. There is something besides desperation and apathy. But to understand what, we must examine capitalism, understand its inner workings, and recognize it for what it is: a dystopia.

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I’m author, writer, and activist Antonio Melonio, the creator of Beneath the Pavement. If you enjoyed this piece, please consider becoming a paid subscriber here on Substack or over on Patreon. It’s the best way to support Beneath the Pavement and help me put out more and higher-quality content.

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