Communism has never truly failed.
Upon hearing such a statement, most would scoff and offer a swift rebuttal.
'The Soviet Union, North Korea, and Eastern Europe all collapsed, didn't they? And do you really think the Chinese are living in a state of equal prosperity?'
True. Those regimes collapsed spectacularly. But the core of the issue is that they never practiced genuine communism to begin with.
The downfall of the USSR wasn't because the ideology was fundamentally flawed, but because the ruling class never intended to implement it with any measure of sincerity. They ignited a revolution under the guise of equality, only for the party apparatchiks to mirror the pigs in George Orwell's Animal Farm—becoming 'more equal' than the comrades they were meant to serve.
The true irony lay in their insistence that this corruption was an unavoidable 'transitional phase' of the dialectic. To that, I say: to hell with historical necessity. They were simply protecting their own rice bowls.
Gorbachev and his circle of reformers attempted a cure, but they presided over a catastrophe. By pursuing the contradictory goals of information liberalization and the preservation of Soviet hegemony, they alienated both the military and the youth, sealing their fate. To add insult to injury, those very 'reformers' betrayed Gorbachev the moment capitalism was introduced, proving themselves more corrupt and more susceptible to bribery than the old communist nobility they replaced.
As for Eastern Europe—with the exception of Yugoslavia—those nations were merely puppets struck by a 'communist beam' via Soviet hypnosis (of the physical variety). The moment the USSR withdrew its iron grip, the entire structure crumbled. That is the nature of puppet states devoid of popular mandate.
Then why did Yugoslavia collapse? Because the Serbians chose to spit on Tito's legacy, prioritizing their own narrow tribalism until the ethnic tinderbox finally exploded.
I find it almost impressive, in a morbid sense, that Serbian nationalists managed to ruin the very nation that Tito, a master of political suturing, had spent his life holding together—the same breed of nationalists who ignited World War I by assassinating an Emperor who had actually intended to provide for his minorities.
China is even more remarkable. They claim to follow communism while nurturing massive conglomerates and ruthlessly silencing—or driving to suicide—the very workers they ostensibly represent. They suppress the liberties of the people while giving free rein to the capital of foreigners and the Nomenklatura.
I am genuinely confused as to which part of their system qualifies as 'communism.' The Party calls it 'Socialism with Chinese Characteristics,' but to my ears, that sounds as oxymoronic as 'Non-Alcoholic Vodka' or 'North Korean-style Liberal Democracy.'
Lately, they've even moved beyond that, birthing some grotesque ideological chimera known as 'Socialism with Chinese Characteristics for a New Era' under the Great Leader, Xi Jinping. If they're going that far, I sincerely recommend they just take down the 'Socialism' sign altogether.
And North Korea? They are beyond the scope of rational discussion.
If you truly believe that absolute monarchy qualifies as a communist state, I suggest you admit yourself to the nearest psychiatric ward.
The conclusion, therefore, is simple: Communism hasn't failed; it has never been properly attempted. When you plaster up noble slogans while elites devour everything behind the curtain, it would be a miracle if the system didn't collapse.
If the 'People's Nation' results in the people starving, being hunted, and being forced into silence, then it is nothing more than an authoritarian fascist regime cosplaying as a commune. Putting on a mask and stepping onto a stage does not make one a true actor.
Regardless, I maintained my conviction that the revolutionary potency of communism remained intact. It was a philosophy that had never truly been given its fair trial. The same could be said for anarchism and syndicalism.
Look at the Zapatistas in southern Mexico—they manage anarchism quite well. It is irrational to believe that all idealistic frameworks are doomed to fail.
A communism that faithfully executes the transitional phase of the 'Dictatorship of the Proletariat'—one where equality is coupled with democratic process and individual liberty—cannot fail. Absolute equality is a mathematical certainty, if the variables are respected.
It was with these thoughts that I once posed a question to my professor. Professor Kim (male) responded by suggesting I pursue specialized studies in graduate school...
'Aaaagh! Kim Hwang-jeon, you son of a bitch!'
I awoke with a start. I had been having a nightmare. To think a person would voluntarily submit to a life of academic slavery... there's no way such a thing could actually exist.
I shook off the remnants of the dream and began to move again.
***
The sun reached its zenith, and the temperature continued its merciless plunge.
I had managed to crawl out from the rock crevice, but though I marched on, there was no sign of a settlement in this frozen wasteland. My throat felt as though it were being seared by coals.
Predictably, I had no water. I regretted fleeing the Ursus military squad so blindly that I hadn't checked for supplies. The temptation to lick the snow stretching out before me—and under my very feet—was immense, but that would be beneath the dignity of an intellectual.
Even Socrates said it was better to be a hungry intellectual than a satisfied pig. For a liberal arts major who isn't in law or business, honor is all one has left.
'How desolate is this country? I've walked this far and there's still no village...'
Was this reality? All my eyes met were trees and snow, trees and snow, trees and snow... and a person? A person.
'Wait, a person!'
'Eek! A weirdo!'
An Ursus girl (female) stood before me. She was quite adorable, with the kind of soft cheeks that invited a playful tug, but I restrained myself as a man of intellect. While I am sympathetic to anarchism, I am no pedophile like 'that certain' French anarchist.
Furthermore, I am well-acquainted with the methods of disarming a child's suspicion. I still question why that bastard professor made me babysit his grandson, but the experience was there. Whether they are three years old or six-to-eight, children are fundamentally the same.
'Little girl. This gentleman is absolutely, positively not a weird person. Why don't you come closer? I'll give you a candy... ah, I don't have any candy.'
I forced the corners of my mouth upward, sculpting my face into the most non-threatening smile I could muster. Yes, I was the picture of a harmless passerby.
'Ah! My daddy told me never to trust people who say that!'
Total failure. Why was she so guarded? Her reaction was on par with a staunch conservative who had just realized their best friend was a secret Bolshevik.
Perhaps my 'finishing move' failed because her mental age was more advanced than a toddler's. Time for Plan B.
'Let me repeat: I am definitely not a suspicious person. I simply have a question.'
'A question? Like what?'
Excellent. Success. It seemed psychological persuasion was far more effective than material bribery in this frozen hellscape. Now, I just needed to ask for the nearest village. Given my current state of lightheadedness, my scientific and biological assessment suggested I could hold out until tomorrow. My condition was atrocious due to the professor's assignments from the night before, but survival was possible.
'Do you know where the nearest village is? I've been walking for ages and haven't seen a soul.'
'The village? If you walk for five more minutes that way, you'll find it...'
'What a relief...'
I was about to ask for directions. My head throbbed with increasing intensity, but I calculated I had another twelve hours. Or maybe six. Perhaps one. Maybe ten minutes.
...I was in trouble. I shouldn't have trusted my own scientific expertise. I had never studied biology, and my 'scientific' assessment was clearly a catastrophe.
'C-Could you... could you call an adult? This mister is very... very sick.'
The pain in my skull bloomed like a necrotic flower. Auditory hallucinations, a cacophony of Russian, German, and French, filled my ears. I saw Karl Marx sitting on a wooden swing pushed by Engels; he looked at me with a radiant smile and said, 'Do your best, Comrade.'
Was it this bearded bastard who sent me here?
My knees buckled.
Thud.
'Mister? Mister! Wake up! Mister? Oh no! Help—'
I collapsed into the snow. Weak... pathetically weak.