The Perils of Postmodern Progressivism
There is a danger in embracing the “progressive” movement that is devoted to the 100-year-old ideas of a long-dead German intellectual and which aims to send the rest of us careening back to 1930s collectivism.
A danger, that is, besides the filling of graves and that you, yourself, as a “revolutionary thought leader” will end up against the wall as the revolution eats its own children.
This danger, far more eminent and horrible, and something that must be avoided at all costs is that your “revolutionary” and “resistance” activities, your brave speaking of truth to power will offend any number of your coalition.
This has become much more likely – and terrifying – as the left has incorporated the most unlikely groups into their shoulder-to-shoulder march against civilization capitalism.
Imagine my shock when I found out that the pussy-hat brigade was planning yet another “woman’s march” to protest the anniversary of the inauguration of our lawfully elected president. No, seriously, you could have knocked me down with a feather [sarcasm], I was that surprised.
I mean, after all, a movement that started off protesting the removal of vague, unspecified rights from women who couldn’t actually even name a single right endangered by the election of Trump wouldn’t leave enough alone when after a year no rights have been removed from any woman anywhere in US territory. In fact, it could be argued that the #metoo movement has not only righted some long-festering Hollywood injustices and misbehavior but has encouraged women everywhere to go on the hunt for male scalps, deserved or not.
In fact these “Women’s Marches” are the perfect leftist movement: No defined purpose, no particular benefit, but full of sound and fury, signifying nothing and lasting forever, all the while drawing in mindless idiots who want to be “activists” without understanding politics — or really much of anything. Since leftism is a positional good, they are the equivalent of Victorian ladies getting together to have tea and discuss how to save the underclasses who neither know about them nor want their help.
So, yeah, it was in the cards, all along.
But then I read that they would no longer be wearing their trademark pussy hats. I’ll be honest, I was grieved. Okay, maybe grieved is a bit of a stretch, but it did take away so many jokes my friends and I have been making for years now. You know, “Ladies, that’s not the part of you that you should be thinking with” and “seriously, now, you’re wearing that because the president once used the word “pussy” in an informal setting? Considering his age, class, and occupation, doesn’t it amaze you that’s the worst the leftist oppo research could find?”