Down at the bottom are the proles. The proletariat are those who rely entirely on the sale of their labor-power for survival–the “working class”. Those who cannot, will not, or do not succeed in finding a way to sell their time off into labor are called the lumpenproletariat, and in a modernized world they just find ways to die, instead of survive.

The whole point of life, to those who would urge you to “lead, follow, or get the hell out of the way”, is to ascend from the lowly proletariat into becoming something more bougie, probably by going to the very ‘best’ college you can get into, and leveraging your education into something that helps you climb the social ladder.

Originally, bourgeoisie just meant someone who was neither a peasant nor an aristocrat–most likely a merchant, maybe an entrepreneurial craftsman of some kind; a barber or a blacksmith. This “middle” class still sold its labor in a way, but not to a lord, or an ’employer’.

Today we would call these ‘semi-autonomous peasants’ the petit or lesser bourgeoisie, in contrast to the much richer haute bourgeoisie who run the culture, the show, and the whole world, and we assume that continuing to climb socially, from prole to petit to haute to aristocrat is again the whole point of life.

The Lenin of 1917 believed that democracy was bullshit because it always ended up being what he called “the dictatorship of the bourgeoisie”, which describes the situation in America in 2023 precisely.

If voting changed anything, they’d make it illegal. –Emma Goldman

The bourgeoisie may squabble endlessly amongst themselves about fetus-killing or why exactly Trump Is Bad or what pronouns go with which bathrooms. But when push comes to shove, any bouge will line up mechanically, hand over heart as they sing the Anthem in a cultish drone, and cheer for whatever invasion, regime change, genocide, or other atrocity will advance “our interests” in Europe or the Middle East or the Taiwan straits.

Lenin wanted instead a “dictatorship of the proletariat”, but led of course by a vanguard of “professional revolutionaries” like himself. Nothing could have horrified the bourgeoisie more than the idea that, having spent their whole life force climbing up out of the prole swamp, they would end up ruled by the opinions and interest of their own cleaning ladies and manicurists. (We the People my ass, bitches.)

One of the penalties for refusing to participate in politics is that you end up being governed by your inferiors. –Plato

This is why you should run far and fast from anyone who yells at you about you duty, your right, your privilege, your responsibility to vote. Old Yeller is a bouge who has benefited from the long dark dictatorship of its own class, just as Lenin said, and they don’t want things to change, though the more thoughtful among them will tell you that although Our System isn’t perfect, it is a more perfect, and a perfectible union, and that you should vote, and either lead or follow within it, or you ain’t shit, Jack, so get the hell out of the path of the march of progress. Especially if the state you live in might swing. Old Yeller pledges allegiance to a flag and isn’t the least bit troubled by the ironies embedded in the stars, or the stripes.

Our modern lives began in a world where the ever-just and godly dictatorship of the bougies was pitted in death struggle with the devolved and degraded champions of the nominal revolution of the proles. It was called the Cold War, and lots of proles died in it: Korea, Vietnam, Iraq 1.0, and less spectacularly in a thousand other holes and weed fields.

The Wall came down and the bouges declared themselves the victors of history and everything, except watch out for those wily Japanese, Chinese, whatever … they look poised to beat us at our very own game, the bastards.

Now we have hot war: Ukraine, Gaza; and they’re always looking for the next place. The only sure bet is that they will find it and send billions at it, along with less fortunate children to die in it.

“You can join the Air Force, or join the Corps, if you can’t make it here any more.” —James McMurtry

Make it on up that ladder to a better class of person, ennit.

We’ll have a bake sale for you if you come back missing a limb or two. Thank you for your servicing of us.

***

To be a proper borjois, or burgher, you have to live in the big town, at least until you can afford to escape the masses and live on your own island, or Connecticut, or Sausalito.

I live in a tiny raggedy interstate village with no Walmart or Starbucks; empty storefronts around the square and I don’t have a job, except this.

So I’m definitely a prole, and pretty damn lumpen at that.

Just to answer the titular question, as an aside to all my viciously literate expostulation on how this world really in fact works.