C. McDade
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cmcdade.bsky.social
C. McDade
@cmcdade.bsky.social
230 followers 330 following 1.8K posts
A person, take them for all in all. They/Them I don't quit because I love myself.
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Marx hints at what exactly are our tools of liberation, the "written histories of civil society, of commerce and industry". It is not enough to just write history though, we must read it as well.
Science, in a magical world can be both useful and positive. I enjoy this magical world as much as the next person, but in order to continue living the magic we need to produce the means to satisfy our material needs, and it's the tools of socio-economic science that can facilitate this production.
Though I myself have my own opinions on the nature of consciousness, I agree with Marx that the process of development under definite conditions is where positive science begins.
Social being and social consciousness. Marx chooses to flip Descartes' words on their head, "I think, therefore I am" becomes, "I am, therefore I think."
All the evolving forms of social and economic organization that Marx touches lightly upon in his writing on the division of labor and form of property detail many differences evidence through history, but it is the commonalities as referenced in the next section title that Marx draws attention to.
Up close the Chieftain sees just how many soldiers there are, at least one man for every villager in his loving care. An unfamiliar emotion wells up in the pit of his stomach. The soldiers and son break into double time towards the Chieftain. Soon enough the Chieftain's son reaches him.
The four boys watching the scene while digging their father and uncle's trench see big brother has come to take the Chieftain's land, the village, and all 193 people.
No matter, there is no time. The Chieftain leaves to meet his son on the road. Once outside the soldiers are now close enough for the Chieftain to see it is in fact his son at the head.
Back in his house, full of rage and empty of breath the Chieftain struggles to get on his bronze breastplate. The bronze stress fractures with only a little battering from the Chieftain. The Chieftain spits, "Garbage bronze made from garbage copper bought from a garbage merchant in damnable Ur!"
What an ungrateful son of a . . . No time to waste. The Chieftain resolves to meet his bastard son as an equal before these fools from Ur arrive. The Chieftain rumbles back to his house, he'll show his son real bronze!
Numerous foot-falls land in formation, bronze armor glimmers in the sun, spear points reach into the blue sky. Soldiers. At the head of the column, a lone soul. The Chieftain cannot make out who, but he can guess.
No sooner does this thought enter the world through the Chieftain that the noise of heavy feet approaching catches the Chieftain's ear, and he turns to see something moving towards him on the road from Ur that abuts his field there on the river.
The Chieftain's younger brother hurries away as quick as he came, and the Chieftain puffs out his chest. 193 people, the Chieftain is master to the lives of 193 people! He is the god of this domain, no one else!
The Chieftain's brother slumps forward, "If you will not speak to your people, I will. May the gods have mercy on you with what comes next."
The Chieftain's brother pleads, "My brother, please come back to the village. The rumors alone, given your reputation. . ."

"My reputation?" The Chieftain sputtered, "What do all those ungrateful takers have to complain about? They still eat! Do they think my oldest son will do different for them?"
That poor second on second cousin grew sick following that splendid feast, dying a few weeks later. The Chieftain had already seen fit to inherit the now vacant estate. His sons and nephews now expand the irrigation and fields for that estate.
The Chieftain's poor cousin even chewed the food for his elderly parents in their last days. Absolutely disgusting the Chieftain thought.
The Chieftain had, in his magnanimous glory, hosted a feast for the entire village, and had even invited his second cousin twice removed, a man the Chieftain loathed. His cousin mismanaged his estate, giving freely to foreigner and kin alike, rarely extracting the real value through proper barter.
The Chieftain spits into his soil, "So what if the boy comes home? I'll show him all over again why he left in the first place!"

It had been a fight.
"Straight to business! How's the day? What of your daughter? I know your sons are well."

The Chieftain's brother doesn't bother to catch his breath, "There's trouble. Rumor has it your eldest son is on his way home, a note he sent in advance says he means to visit. The hungrier villagers are. . ."
The noise of heavy feet approaching catches the Chieftain's ear, and he turns to see his younger brother making double time towards himself. Soon enough the Chieftain's brother reaches him.

"The village needs your attention." The Chieftain's brother greets him.
If only he could have some of the more choice lands closer to Ur, there Ninurta is kind enough to irrigate the croplands himself.
The Chieftain's eyes pass over the edges of his cultivated lands where his second and third sons, along with two of their cousins dig a trench to extend his fields further into more marginal lands.
Sure, the Chieftain could spare more from his fields, but the silver and goods his crops fetch from Ur are just too good.