We have established that human societies everywhere settle into a stratified equilibrium. Many other social species have hierarchy. Amongst humans, there is the hierarchy of natural castes.
Societies thrive or collapse in proportion that its class system reflects the reality on the ground. A society fails when mediocre men become rulers and great men are made into poor peasants.
A society stagnates when the best outliers are made to live as exiles and the halls of
power belong to ordinary men.
In the modern west, we think of justice merely as fairness in meting out punishments, but it’s much more than that. Justice is a person attaining whatever station and reward is justly theirs.
It is sad we mostly understand this in terms of petty criminals being punished.
Rarely, do we reflect that it is just those with prolish values and temperaments are proles, or that those of noble bearing and character ascend the heights.
All across the internet, one finds idealogues who expect enraged masses to rise up and have a revolution any day now to stop “big government.” Their outrage always turns out to be nonsense of course.
The peasants have always had their champions—champions who nearly always fail and end up dead themselves. The brothers Gracchi in the days of the Roman Republic are a classic example. After the two brothers were murdered in succession trying to pass monopoly-busting land laws, further attempts at reform dwindled for some reason. Despite their far greater numbers, the proles were unable to protect their champions or carry out an agenda themselves. As usual, they missed opportunities their betters would have seized upon. The proles have always been inert.
Like most Americans, I was taught the idea of a “common man” enshrined as some kind of God. But within a few years of going out into the world to fend for myself, I had discovered that the common people are no God, they’re just the mob.
The first universal trait I noticed in their character was passivity. Everywhere I’ve been, prolish folks endlessly complain about their lot and resent their superiors in life. But it dawned on me one day—they never do anything about it, nor are they capable of action.
I looked back through history, since my own life is a narrow anecdotal slice, but the pattern of proles is timeless as the tides.
So long as their stomachs are full most of the time, even if they’re subsisting on junk, they grumble amongst themselves, mostly for stress relief, but utterly lack motivation for change until they are truly desperate. They are constitutionally incapable of framing dissident thoughts of their own volition. Actually, their defining quality is they lack volition and agency. If they were not docile and gullible, societies of millions where just a few have all the wealth would not be possible. In a way, it is just. Unable to defend themselves, they assume their proper place as preybeasts.
Across history and location poor peasants have always been proud supporters of the established order while the truly rebellious have always been educated young men who couldn’t quite make it into, or beyond the upper middle class.
Peasants have always had revolts,
Frustrated petit bourgeois, revolutions.
Proles are by nature obedient creatures that define themselves by working most of the time. They love to brag about how busy they are, all the sacrifices they’ve made while working, the injuries they’ve gotten doing the dirty work of the affluent. They are masochists eternally dying in mines and on battlefields for their masters. They take comfort in repetition. Proles always buy the same brands, drive the same route every day, work the same tedious work, and listen to the same 25 songs everyone else is listening to over and over again.
Proles take pride in collectivism and trust the herd. In a prole bar one doesn’t try to to order craft beers or wine when everyone else has pitchers of coors light. In Proleville, no man can be talked to if he can’t talk about sports—the fine art of watching the accomplishments of others rather than doing for oneself. Eating different foods, learning another language, staying fit with exercise, anything everyone else isn’t doing is a quick ticket to being cast out. Just as they would not let a dog or pig sit with them at the dinner table, they allow no one in their midst who they cannot identify as a fellow human.
Maoist China, Stalinist Russia, or Khmer Rouge Cambodia are fine examples of what happens when the common man becomes ruler. Given far more power than befits his station, his natural loathing and envy of anyone different than himself manifests in hysterical witch hunts. Men like Mao and Stalin understood the vastness of this ocean of envy for The Man and kept their populations appeased by allowing the peasants to terrorize the hated middle management—rich peasants, the landlords, the educated. Given permission by the rulers themselves, their normally impotent rage at life poured forth to create some of history’s greatest disasters.
The majority of human beings are proles. The family I come from were classic anxious upper proles desperately groveling for middle class acceptance.
Their neurotic habits led to the isolation that allowed me to grow up in a vacuum of sorts and eventually develop customs of my own.
I learned to understand the futility of their struggle and regard their subservient attitudes with contempt.
I am genetically a prole, more predisposed to an honest day’s labor than white collar “networking.”
But I have striven to become an active rather than passive individual, attempting to shape my own destiny rather than spending the rest of my life complaining during lunch break. If I accept the universe is fundamentally just rather than unjust, then I must face the fact that I must be the change I wish to see.
I may have unfair obstacles in my path. I can choose to suppose I got a bad lot in life. It does not change my mission.
Some might call my sentiment here “elitist” but that is why proles stay proles. They always stay steadfast that they are undeserving of the lot they’ve been given yet remain ignorant in an age of information and continue to squander their wealth on big trucks and houses they can’t afford, lotto tickets, slot machines, smokes, and red bull by the case. Most importantly, though, they are eternally bereft of imagination and ideas—and that is why things are the way they are.