The Balding Uncle's Fiery Debate
A balding uncle without a single hair on top is a pretty important guy. How do you know the world isn't spinning right? It's not something you can see with your eyes—it's something you feel. And that feeling comes straight from life itself. Just look at the people shuffling down the streets, and you'll know.
Is this world running properly? If someone asked me that, my answer would be obvious!
"I don't think so. This world is seriously fucked up. It's the stacked-up structure! That's the problem!"
"Hold on!"
Someone cut off my speech. A stranger—not an Iskra member. He looked pretty well-dressed at first glance, but his suit was threadbare. A guy with a massive bald spot right in the middle of his head and a neatly trimmed beard.
"I've got a question."
"Fire away."
"Your words assume way too idealistic a scenario."
"Idealistic... Yeah, you might be right."
In this world right now, talking about a government run by the masses would just get you laughed off as a lunatic. Most people think ruling others is something only the permitted elite can do. But why the hell can't the majority—who make up most of the population—form their own government?
"What kind of government could the laboring masses even create?"
"So you think it's impossible?"
"Not impossible, but highly likely to veer into biased territory."
Biased. Reeds bend with the wind. They don't decide which way it blows, but they sway in its direction anyway.
"Do you think an ideal government could rise after a revolution?"
"No. That's impossible."
"Same here. The only thing I agree on is the chaos that'll follow the revolution."
He crossed his arms, rejecting my take. His head was as empty on top as it seemed inside.
"Then let me ask: what kind of government should we build?"
"A government by the majority would be fantastic, of course. But shouldn't it be led by the collective?"
"Collective leadership, huh."
Full-on red flavor there. Everyone knows where that red-flavored government ends up: collapse. Ignore human individuality and desire entirely, and you're doomed to crumble.
"If the collective distributes according to need and shares it all, we'd get something truly new."
"That's not a government system. That's just economics."
"And managing that is the government's job."
"Sure, I think so too, but how far should the management go?"
"All means of production, obviously."
"Sounds great. Who handles it?"
"People elected by the collective, dedicated to the task."
I couldn't help but chuckle. From a historical perspective, sure, that's the line to push. These folks are all-in on seizing the means of production and divvying up the wealth equally—it's their life's blood.
But hasn't history proven it? Economics and politics are tangled tight.
"What happens when people cause problems?"
"Problems with people?"
"You're talking like the collective has people maintaining it and working for it, but no one's getting screwed over by it."
"Who would that be?"
"Everyone not in it—us included."
I'd slipped and assumed the worst without thinking. The balding guy shot to his feet but didn't storm out. Looked like he just wanted to keep arguing. Fine by me—I always welcome a good scrap.
"A collective system unifies human direction into one."
"Sure does."
"Everyone marching toward a single goal—who could possibly break out of that?"
"Hmm..."
"Those types have different ideas from the start."
Can collective leadership be perfect? Hell no. Can everyone really march in lockstep? Some might want to head backward, others glance sideways. Forcing one direction? Unrealistic.
"Revolutions are the same—historical inevitability."
"Agreed."
"Anyone not joining that inevitability? The current upper crust! Nobles or bourgeois, take your pick."
"Speaking of bourgeois and nobles, I've got something to say."
The balding uncle nodded, arms still crossed. The biggest flaws in collective leadership boil down to two, I'd say.
"First: post-revolution, monopolize the means of production, and poof—no more nobles or bourgeois. Right?"
"Correct."
"Then a managing body emerges, and the government controls everything. Right?"
"Correct."
"So isn't this collective just nobles or bourgeois with a new name? Same shit, different label?"
"No! The government owns it all."
"Exactly—so the ones managing it all are just unified into one elite bloc. Nothing changes."
"No! They're all approved by the collective, with proper qualifications..."
Gotcha. Proper qualifications. That's what I wanted to nail him on. Isn't that the exact class logic we were trying to smash?
"Who decides who's 'properly qualified'? Why do qualifications even matter?"
"It goes to everyone who joined the historically inevitable revolution."
"That's a class. Like divvying up fiefdoms when the first states formed."
Just postwar spoils with no real meaning. If the class-smashers start reimposing classes, the revolution's a flop.
"Second: human direction can't be unified. That's not a mission—it's a fantasy."
"Sounds like you're ignoring the historical inevitability of revolution."
"Not ignoring. Denying people their humanity is ignoring inevitability."
"Why? Isn't the direction toward revolution the same for all?"
That direction might feel inevitable. If everyone's suffering and dreaming of shared happiness, it points one way. But that's where it fractures—people who won't go along. The moment a new government forms post-revolution, that's when you sink into the mud.
"We call it dialectics. Thesis, antithesis, synthesis—new answers from the clash."
"You're talking historical flow."
"Humans too. If someone's pushing a thesis, you need antithesis, leading to synthesis."
Same after revolution. Crystal clear now: nobles or bourgeois form today's society, so workers are the antithesis. Revolution heads toward synthesis. But dialectics doesn't stop—new antithesis arises right away.
"Only people can provide that antithesis. Sharing ideas, debating—that's the society I envision post-revolution!"
"Explain. What the hell does that even look like?"
Simple: democracy. Could be one-party rule or multi-party. What I want? Straightforward. Red flavor or not, we're not dumb enough to repeat old mistakes.
"Let's make a parliament! Universal suffrage for all. Rule by law."
"Parliament..."
"Not one collective leading—constant struggle. Don't delude yourself it's the right path; always chase better!"
The words flowed easy. But the balding guy wouldn't buy it fully. The debate wrapped quick—my next turn was coming, and I got the hint to wrap it up.
Still, not bad. Satisfied me.
"Aw, man, I barely got half my prep out."
"Still good though."
"Right? Starlina. If not for that balding uncle, I could've gone way longer."
"Phew... You held your own fine."
"Held my own? I crushed it."
For real. Didn't even touch historical inevitability or revolution's obviousness—they already know that shit.
"Anyway, solid today. Beer?"
"Hell yeah. Just us?"
"Obviously with the crowd~"
"Eh, fine. Whatever."
Beer it is. Internationale. Sounds badass no matter how you slice it.
First one, so who knows if there'll be a next. Other speeches rolled on, and the inaugural Internationale wrapped quick. No real conclusions—just rallying cry for revolution.
"Wait, wait! Teacher Max!"
I bolted from the beer hall. Fredrik flagged me down urgently as people filed out. The balding uncle stood beside him.
"This gentleman's dying to chat with you."
"Ugh, pass on the uncle..."
The balding dude offered a handshake first. Hands were cold. I shook back—solid grip.
"Hey. Max."
"Loved your speech. Spot on. You know your revolution."
"Eh, stumbled into it."
"If there were more like you, things'd be easier for me. Haha!"
Uncomfortable vibe. What the hell's with this guy?
"Oh, late on intros. I'm Vladimir."
"Pardon?"
"Vladimir... Vladimir Le..."
Oh, shit—