[Roberto]

I think your last point gets to the heart of the matter. Supporting the Right is not inherently more irrational, from a socialist standpoint, than supporting the Left when both ultimately accept the continuation of capitalism.

The crucial issue is not whether workers vote Left or Right, but whether they understand their position as a class.

Workers do not become class-conscious simply by moving from a right-wing party to a left-wing one. If they still believe that their interests can be secured through better leaders, nationalisation, protectionism, national liberation, stronger borders, or a more efficient administration of capitalism, the fundamental relationship remains unchanged: capitalism continues and workers remain wage workers.

This is also why I would be careful about describing workers attracted to nationalism simply as stupid or irrational. As you say, people can change their minds. What matters is giving them an explanation of society that enables them to examine their own experience.

A worker may begin with nationalist ideas and nevertheless ask perfectly reasonable questions: Why, despite working all my life, do I remain economically insecure? Why are housing, employment and public services permanently under pressure? Why does every government promise fundamental change while the same basic problems continually reappear?

Those questions provide an opening for socialist argument.

And this is where class consciousness matters. It does not mean persuading workers to support the “correct” capitalist political camp. It means reaching the point where workers recognise that their common interest is not British, Argentine, American, Cuban or any other national interest, but a class interest shared across national boundaries.

The pendulum between Left and Right can continue indefinitely. The failures of the Left can prepare the ground for the Right, and the failures of the Right can eventually restore the Left. Changing who administers capitalism is not the same thing as changing the social system.

So perhaps our response to the growth of the Right should not be: “How do we get these workers back to the Left?”

It should be: “How do we get workers to stop looking to either side of capitalist politics and begin thinking in terms of their own class interests?”

That seems to me the much more important question.

[Roberto]

I think the first thing socialists have to avoid is responding to nationalism with another form of nationalism, even a supposedly progressive or left-wing one. Once politics is framed in terms of what is “good for Britain”, “good for Spain” or “good for Germany”, the basic nationalist premise has already been accepted.

The more important question is why nationalism becomes attractive to workers in the first place. People experience insecure employment, housing shortages, declining public services, falling living standards and a general sense that they have little control over their lives. Nationalism then offers a simple explanation: the problem is immigrants, foreigners, Brussels, another country, or some other group of workers.

But changing the nationality of those who administer capitalism does not change the fundamental economic relationships of capitalism. Workers remain dependent on wages, production remains organised around profit, and competition for jobs, housing and resources remains. Nationalism therefore redirects dissatisfaction with the system towards other workers rather than towards the social relationships that produce that insecurity.

That is why simply telling nationalist workers that they are irrational or stupid will achieve very little. Their explanation may be mistaken, but many of the problems to which they are reacting are perfectly real. The task is to separate the real problem from the false explanation.

The socialist response should therefore be patient but uncompromising: immigrants are not the cause of capitalism’s contradictions, and neither tighter borders nor a different government can abolish those contradictions. A worker born in Britain, Spain or Germany ultimately has more materially in common with a worker born elsewhere than with the owners of capital who happen to share the same passport.

Perhaps the most important thing is not to chase nationalist opinion by adapting socialist arguments to it. If socialism begins asking how capitalism can be run in the “national interest”, it has already abandoned the internationalist case.

Nationalism says: your problem is the worker on the other side of the border.

Socialism should answer: the border is obscuring the fact that workers on both sides share the same fundamental relationship to capital.

You can reason with people attracted to nationalism, but probably not by beginning with nationalism itself. Begin with their actual lives: their work, rent, wages, insecurity and lack of control. Then ask whether changing the nationality of another worker really changes the system producing those conditions.

[Roberto]

The attack on Iran must be understood not as an isolated moral crime, but as a predictable consequence of the global system in which all states operate. The United States, Israel, and Iran each act to defend and expand their economic, political, and military power. Modern wars are not struggles between good and evil; they are structural conflicts between states competing for influence, resources, and strategic advantage. Ordinary people, who have no control over these decisions, are the ones who suffer the consequences.
Condemning the immediate human cost — the deaths of civilians, students, and families — is necessary and urgent. Yet framing the conflict as the wrongdoing of one government alone is misleading. Iran is itself a capitalist state with its own regional and strategic interests. Selective anti-imperialism, which opposes Western interventions but excuses rival states, risks replacing one bloc with another and fails to address the structural causes of war.
Historical context is essential. External interventions and regime-change campaigns — such as the 1953 coup against Mosaddegh — show that foreign powers rarely act to promote democracy or peace. Instead, they reshape governments to serve strategic and economic interests. Similarly, targeting Iran’s leadership today is less about morality or security and more about shifting the balance of power in the region. Military escalation, sanctions, and proxy conflicts are predictable outcomes of a system built on competition and profit, not justice or human rights.
The global scale of the problem is clear. Worldwide military spending exceeds two trillion dollars annually. Alliances shift according to economic and strategic advantage, not ethical principles. Civilians bear the cost of sanctions, arms races, and proxy wars. The structural drivers of conflict are embedded in the organization of capitalist states; until these are challenged, wars will continue, regardless of who occupies leadership positions.
A genuine socialist perspective rejects nationalism, moral alignment with any government, and the illusion that stopping one attack solves the problem. True change requires international working-class awareness, solidarity across borders, and a fundamental transformation of society to remove the systemic causes of war. Only by confronting the structures that produce recurring conflict can humanity hope to prevent the next war, rather than simply reacting to its latest outbreak.
This is not a call for choosing sides, but for understanding that peace is inseparable from the end of a system that profits from division, conflict, and exploitation. The working class, not governments, must become the agent of real change. Until then, each “crisis” will be merely another chapter in the same predictable story of power and suffering.

[Roberto]

Much of the current discussion around Iran now revolves around a phrase that sounds technical but carries enormous historical weight: “regime change.” Understanding it is essential if we want to move beyond propaganda and examine what is actually being proposed.
“Regime change” does not simply mean policy reform or diplomatic pressure. It means replacing an existing government or ruling system — often with direct or indirect external intervention. This can occur through sanctions designed to collapse an economy, military strikes aimed at destabilizing leadership, support for internal uprisings, covert operations, or, in extreme cases, full-scale invasion.
This is not an abstract concept. Iran itself experienced one of the clearest historical examples in 1953, when the democratically elected Prime Minister Mohammad Mosaddegh was overthrown in a coup organized by the United States and the United Kingdom after he nationalized the oil industry. The result was not democracy but a strengthened authoritarian monarchy aligned with Western strategic interests.
Today, discussions of regime change have resurfaced following U.S. and Israeli military strikes and the targeting of Iran’s leadership structure. Some policymakers openly argue that removing the current ruling system could reshape the region, while others warn that eliminating leaders rarely produces political transformation and often strengthens nationalist resistance instead.
From a critical geopolitical perspective, the key question is not whether the Iranian government is authoritarian — many states are condemned or tolerated depending on strategic alignment — but why regime change becomes a policy option only in certain countries. The answer usually lies in power, regional influence, military positioning, and economic interests rather than purely humanitarian concerns.
This is where selective narratives appear. Some justify intervention in the name of freedom, while others oppose Western intervention yet ignore the imperial ambitions of rival states. Both positions risk missing the deeper pattern: regime change is less about liberation and more about restructuring geopolitical balance.
The hard lesson of recent history — Iraq, Libya, and other interventions — is that removing a government does not automatically create stability, democracy, or peace. Power vacuums, civil conflict, and long-term instability often follow, while ordinary people carry the social and economic consequences for generations.
A serious discussion therefore requires intellectual honesty. Supporting or opposing a particular government is not the same as supporting foreign-engineered political transformation. The real issue is whether external military power can ever impose genuine self-determination — or whether it simply replaces one form of domination with another.

[Roberto]

The article reflects an idea that is becoming increasingly common: that technology by itself will solve humanity’s fundamental problems. However, history shows that technical development has never automatically eliminated social scarcity. The capacity to produce abundance already exists in many parts of the world, yet millions of people still live in conditions of deprivation. The problem, therefore, does not appear to be technological but social.
If artificial intelligence and robotics come to produce everything necessary for life, the decisive question will not be how much machines can produce, but who controls that production and according to what principles it is distributed. As long as goods continue to be produced as commodities and access depends on income, even enormous abundance could coexist with inequality and exclusion.
The idea that work will disappear also raises an important contradiction: in a society where most people depend on employment to live, massive automation does not automatically liberate individuals; it can instead increase economic insecurity. True liberation from forced work would not arise simply from more advanced robots, but from a conscious change in how society organizes production and access to wealth.
Technology has the potential to reduce the human effort required to sustain life, but only a social transformation based on cooperation and common access to resources could turn that possibility into a genuinely human reality rather than a merely technical one.

[Roberto]

What strikes me about this article is not whether the claim is true or false, but how easily geopolitical conflicts are framed as moral dramas between nations rather than as struggles driven by competing state interests. Governments on all sides appeal to fear, especially nuclear fear, because fear unifies populations behind policies they would otherwise question.
Ordinary people in every country have little real control over these decisions, yet they are the ones expected to bear the risks — economic hardship, insecurity, and potentially catastrophic war. The language of national defense often hides the fact that states act primarily to preserve power, influence, and strategic advantage.
Instead of asking which side is more righteous, it may be more useful to ask why humanity still organizes itself into rival power blocs capable of destroying each other, and why democratic control over foreign policy and military escalation remains so limited. Until people begin to see their interests as shared across borders rather than divided by them, cycles of tension and propaganda will likely continue.

[Roberto]

Thanks — I really appreciate that. I’m just trying to contribute to the discussion and learn from everyone else’s perspectives as well. Glad the comment resonated.

[Roberto]

It may seem off-topic at first, but culture has always been one of the places where contradictions within society become visible. Films and music produced under capitalism are commodities, yet they can still carry meanings that go beyond profit — expressions of resistance, memory, and collective feeling that audiences interpret in their own way. Blues itself emerged from hardship, exploitation, and survival, transforming suffering into creativity and shared humanity.
That is why a film like Sinners can resonate politically without being a political manifesto. Art often reveals truths indirectly: joy existing alongside oppression, rebellion hidden inside entertainment, and history echoing through rhythm and storytelling. Even when created within a commercial industry, cultural works can challenge authority, question tradition, or give voice to those usually unheard.
Enjoying such films does not distract from social awareness; it reminds us that people are not only workers or consumers but creators of meaning. The “last dance” you mention captures something important — the idea that celebration itself can be defiant. Sometimes the most subversive act is not a speech or a theory, but reclaiming emotion, memory, and imagination from a system that tries to package everything as a product.
So perhaps it is not off-topic at all. Culture shows that even within existing social limits, humans continue to create spaces of freedom, however temporary — and those moments help us imagine a world where creativity is no longer constrained by profit.

[Roberto]

Building on this, it’s important to note that the effects of tariffs and protectionist measures are uneven, often creating winners and losers within the working class itself. For example, while steel producers may gain temporary relief, manufacturing workers reliant on imported components may see reduced employment or higher costs, and consumers inevitably face higher prices. These policies rarely challenge the extraction of surplus value; they only redistribute it.
Automation adds another layer. Even if industry “returns” to the U.S., technological advancement means fewer workers produce more output, concentrating profits in capital owners’ hands. This underscores a persistent truth: human labor is the source of surplus value, and no policy can alter that fundamental economic relationship.
Moreover, leftist campaigns often overemphasize specific reforms—tariffs, taxes, or opposition to wars—without addressing the systemic roots. These struggles, while socially and politically visible, do not eliminate exploitation; they only mitigate some effects temporarily. Without linking these campaigns to a broader understanding of class and collective control of production, workers risk being misled by short-term gains or political slogans.
Historical patterns show that the global economy and trade relations continually adapt. Alliances, treaties, and tariffs shift, yet the underlying logic of profit and competition remains unchanged. Workers’ real power lies in collective organization and the democratic management of production, rather than reliance on state interventions that inevitably favor capitalist interests.
In essence, discussions of trade policy and industrial revival are internal debates within capitalism. Real change requires confronting the structure itself—abolishing wage labor, ending private ownership of production, and creating a society organized around human needs rather than temporary protectionist advantages. Only then can the working class move from managing the consequences of capitalism to controlling the means of production itself.

[Roberto]

What often disappears from discussions about debt and dependency is not only who lends, but how the global economic system itself reproduces dependence regardless of ideology or political alignment.
Today, formal colonial rule no longer exists, yet economic pressure operates through financial mechanisms rather than direct administration. Developing countries collectively hold around $31 trillion in public debt, and in 2024 alone they paid nearly $921 billion just in interest payments, resources that could otherwise fund health, education, or infrastructure.

This creates a structural cycle: governments refinance old obligations with new loans, negotiate moratoriums, or pay interest without reducing principal. The result is not simply foreign domination, but a system where national economies must prioritize debt servicing over social needs. Austerity policies are therefore not accidental political choices but economic requirements imposed by participation in global markets.
Attempts to replace Western financial influence have often reproduced similar relations. PetroCaribe, for example, offered oil under preferential credit terms, but still tied recipient economies to long-term payment obligations denominated in commodities and state agreements. Likewise, alternative institutions such as Banco del Sur aimed to challenge existing financial structures, yet they operated within the same logic of credit, repayment, and accumulation.
What changed from the old “banana republic” period is not the existence of exploitation, but its form. Instead of monocrop plantations owned directly by foreign corporations, economies are now integrated into global production chains — exporting minerals, agricultural goods, or manufactured components — while surplus value continues to flow through trade, finance, and debt mechanisms.
In this sense, dependency today is less visible but more systemic: no single empire governs it, yet all states must compete within the same global capitalist framework. The question is therefore not whether dependency exists, but why it persists even when governments change ideology, alliances, or geopolitical partners.

[Roberto]

Thank you — I really appreciate that.
I’m just trying to contribute to a discussion that helps clarify ideas rather than win arguments. If the comment encouraged reflection or opened space for further thinking, then it already served its purpose.

[Roberto]

The video helps us understand why socialism cannot be confined to a single country and why its realization must be worldwide. Capitalism is not a collection of separate national systems; it is a global network of production, trade, and competition. Every country is tied to the world market, and survival within that system requires competing for profits, investment, and economic advantage.
Because of this, any attempt to build socialism in one country alone would be forced to operate under capitalist pressures. It would have to maintain wages, compete in international markets, and prioritize economic survival over human need. Step by step, the original goal of a cooperative and democratic society would be pushed aside by the demands of global competition. History shows that isolation does not abolish capitalism — it reshapes it under new management.
Socialism, therefore, is not a national project but a human one. The working majority everywhere shares the same condition: we produce the wealth of the world yet remain dependent on wages and subject to economic insecurity. Our struggle is not against other nations or peoples, but against a system that divides humanity while relying on our collective labor.
The necessary conclusion is clear: real emancipation requires conscious, democratic action on a global scale. When people understand their shared interests beyond borders, they can replace production for profit with production for use, competition with cooperation, and economic domination with genuine human freedom. Socialism is not merely an ideal — it is the logical and practical next step in the struggle for a world organized by and for humanity itself

[Roberto]

What is often missed in discussions about “banana republics” is that the decisive transformation was not simply political independence but the globalization of capital itself. In the past, domination appeared visible because it was concentrated in a single corporation or foreign power controlling land, labour, and government institutions directly. Today, control is more diffuse and therefore less obvious. No single company needs to govern a country when financial markets, credit systems, trade dependence, and technological monopolies can discipline entire economies.
Modern states are not passive victims; they actively compete to attract investment, secure export markets, and integrate into global production networks. This creates a situation where governments formally exercise sovereignty while simultaneously adapting policies to maintain competitiveness within the world market. The pressure no longer comes from a colonial administrator but from capital mobility itself — investment can simply move elsewhere.
This helps explain why countries with very different political ideologies often pursue similar economic strategies. Whether governments describe themselves as left, right, nationalist, or progressive, they must operate within the same global framework of profitability, productivity, and trade balance constraints.
In this sense, the historical “banana republic” has not returned, but neither has dependency disappeared. What has emerged instead is a system in which economic power operates structurally rather than territorially. The question today is not who rules directly, but how global economic relations limit the range of choices available to every nation-state.

[Roberto]

Not exactly a return to classical colonialism. Today’s global dynamics reflect capitalist expansion through economic dependence rather than formal political control. Trade between China and Latin America exceeded $500 billion in 2024, with major infrastructure projects — megaports, railways, and energy plants — financed by Chinese investment as part of the Belt and Road Initiative. China processes over 90 % of rare earths and more than 40 % of global copper, while Chile supplies more than 70 % of its copper to China.
Canada’s bilateral trade with China reached CAD 64 billion in the first half of 2025, including energy products and minerals. Meanwhile, U.S. influence persists through strategic financing, like the $20 billion Treasury loan to Argentina, but countries increasingly balance between Washington, Beijing, and other global partners.
This illustrates global economic dependence: independent states negotiate deals, but their economies are constrained by the demands of powerful states and global capital. Unlike classical colonialism, there is no formal political domination, yet populations remain subject to exploitation through markets and resources.
In sum, capitalism today produces subordination without colonies, reinforcing economic inequality and dependence, showing that while the methods have changed, the underlying system of global exploitation persists.

[Roberto]

Lenin described imperialism as the “highest stage of capitalism,” focusing largely on early 20th-century European powers and their colonies. This framework implied that only certain nations could behave as imperialists while others were subordinate. Yet the current global economy reveals that capitalist exploitation and dominance are not confined to specific countries. Today, nations such as China exert massive economic influence worldwide, engaging in trade, infrastructure investment, and control of critical supply chains.
For example, Canada’s trade with China exceeded CAD 64 billion in the first half of 2025, with strong demand for energy products and minerals such as copper and iron ores. Canada and China also signed a preliminary trade agreement in early 2026 reducing tariffs on electric vehicles and agricultural products. Across Latin America, trade with China surpassed $500 billion in 2024, with major infrastructure projects, from megaports to railways, financed through Chinese investment under the Belt and Road Initiative. Countries such as Chile, Peru, Ecuador, and Nicaragua have signed free-trade agreements, diversifying away from traditional patterns. In global supply chains, China processed over 90 % of rare earths and more than 40 % of global copper in 2023, consolidating a central position in strategic industries.
These shifts illustrate that geopolitical influence today operates through economic integration and global supply chains, not only through traditional alliances. From this perspective, imperialist behavior emerges wherever private profit drives accumulation and control over labor and resources, regardless of the national identity of the state. Lenin’s focus on a few “imperialist nations” obscures this systemic reality. Exploitation is built into capitalism itself, whether in Europe, North America, Latin America, or Asia.
True economic democracy requires recognition that the logic of profit, not national identity, underlies domination. Any society seeking to transcend these patterns must prioritize democratic ownership and control of production globally, rather than assuming some states are inherently anti-imperialist.

[Author]

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