Tuesday, 23 January 2018

The Avocado Smash Socialist

I was recently sent this wonderful post dissecting Champagne Socialists on ''Instagram''. The piece is from a blog called ''House of the West''......

 My job is pretty easy, so I can’t envy people who have worked hard and made something of themselves. I have it easy, so I don’t get much in return for my work. This is a temporary arrangement that leaves me with plenty of time to go to the gym, write and study and it will probably be over by next Spring. I’m enjoying it while I still can. I do not envy the people I will go on to write about, or wish to take anything from them. They no doubt deserve their success, the issue I will take is with their worldview alone.

Instagram has a whole range of success stories throughout the world who frequently share images of the incredible opulence which they have either inherited or earned for themselves. For a while I got caught up in the online world of food photography, instagram serves a range of established celebrity chefs and potential stars, sharing their culinary adventures, and upper caste indulgences, with the world. We are given a glimpse into what it is like to live in an apartment overlooking a Venetian canal, award winning photos of loaves of freshly baked bread beside a single origin espresso that exude warmth and comfort. When you’re commuting at 6.30am, your surroundings once dull and industrial, now dull and lacking any particular character, the visuals provided by instagram food photographers are a welcome distraction.

Of course, mere mortals can play at food photography too. I can get a decent shot of the shakshuka I had for lunch. I can throw in a few hashtags to speed up circulation and get a few likes, even on my meager wages. Foodies are quick to follow one another. But the masters of this art, they occupy a social station above the amateurs and this is reflected occasionally in their free and easy, cosmopolitan worldview and lifestyle. The two seem to well compliment each other.

They belong to a club, whose thinking operates within certain perimeters. Working class leftists follow where these masters of establishment thought lead. Think sipping an horchata de almendra, bathing in warmth of a South European sunrise as you decry the stupidity of brexit. Don’t they know whats good for them? They first and foremost resent the kind of people who have Union Jacks or cartoon bulldogs as their profile picture. The forgotten and dispossessed working class who are held to account for their own abandonment.

The avacado-smash socialist became apparent to me as a kind of distinct upper middle class cultural phenomena almost as soon as I installed instagram.

If I think of the world they occupy, it is fragrant, warm and no luxury cannot be afforded. An intimate seven seater sushi bar in London, sashimi cut by masters, a ten year old Daruma Masamune flowing freely. Or perhaps a basket full of organic vegetables, some you’ve never heard of. Or a psychedelic array of purple sprouting broccoli and bold orange squashes. A photo of miso coated pork belly on somen noodle broth, with something in the description about a womans place being in the ‘resistance’. Resistance to what? The forces that wish to limit these peoples freedom to globe-trot and experiment with Harissa?

Politically speaking, the world they cheerlead for brings an inner city KFC that requires African security guards to keep criminality at bay to mind. Multiethnic, homogeneity is a synonym for dull for these people. Homogenous means the absence of culture, frozen pancakes and own brand cereals, not sichuan style deep fried lobster.

Strange, however, for those who seem to be so concerned with austerity, taxes and other such dismal leftist subjects, you could expect a degree of restraint and frugality would follow. Like communist despots who’d dress as though they’re ready to take to the production line or field after writing some tedious pamphlet about working conditions. This is not so. They are more of the belief the beauty and splendor of their world can be expanded far beyond the middle and upper classes. With the right political measures, and a bit more kindness, we will have the descendent’s of Somali goatherds sharing filtered shots of frozen matcha lattes from the latest Shoreditch popup coffee bar. If we could just tackle these damned Tory cuts and get working class Britons to appreciate the finer points of state imposed mass multiracialism.

There’s only one race, the human race. The fact some people will wake up to a ten hour shift packaging frozen chicken before returning to their bedsit above a halal kebab take away in Luton, whilst others will be sampling rural Vietnamese cuisine before flying back to talk marketing with their graphic design agency is neither here nor there. Only we are effected by the constant flow of cheap labour into this country. So they will never challenge it, not at the risk of their popularity and social standing.

We live the social experiment that is seeing all of our resources and institutions put under unprecedented pressure by state imposed mass immigration. When barriers are placed around Christmas markets throughout Britain, we are not keeping anti-remain militants at arms length. We are not putting armed police on high streets to look out for people who want more austerity. The most immediate threat we are presented with has been issued forth and excused at every turn by the kind of people who blame us for the rotten state of working class Britain.

Simply put, a food photographer in the employ of the Guardian will never live in a predominantly non-European environment. They may slum it and attend some public tantrum organised by the Socialist Worker Party once a year in Khans London. They may feel enriched by a visit to some Caribbean food market in Hackney.

From their perspective it must be difficult to understand why we would stand against immigration. Why would dislike people who simply look different to us. They must find it especially difficult to understand why any large section of humanity would not want to participate in the accumulation of wealth and trinkets if provided the opportunity to do so, what could be of greater importance than comfort and happiness? And surely that’s all immigrants want, as that is all the food photographer wants.

When they say we are all equal, they simply admit they cannot understand how any large group of people could be motivated towards a different end than liberal democracy. And they will overlook those who do work to a different end in the name of their superficial values, at the expense of Europes children.

We see the reality, that millions would gladly sit by or participate in the destruction, as thousands of years of Western Civilisation comes to its end with every institution we have issued forth going up in flames. We live with this reality. Kindness, the more generous redistribution of wealth and protests against the latest ism or phobia will do nothing to change this reality. Casting more black television presenters, or wildly overrepresenting mixed raced couples in adverts won’t change a thing either. There is no appeal that will suffice to those who hate us.

They tell us we’re not thinking correctly, whilst they will never have to take public transport through Brixton on a Friday night. We can see instead that they are preparing bean to bar chocolate in South America, photographing a plate of Takoyaki topped with truffle ponzu or promoting a new cookbook centered on the many possibilities of jackfruit. We are too tired to cook and had to suffer a mob of African children sharing their obnoxious hip hop music with other passengers on the bus coming home. Or perhaps they were white and had just come to follow the dominant, degenerate example laid down by their African classmates. It’s all equally depressing.

I resent them for having contributed to making this nightmarish world a reality, but I’m at least temporarily distracted in looking up what some instagram celebrity had for brunch, at least somebody got to pop over to Goa to try the masala dosa.

We have to take the little to no good with the abundance of bad, anything less would be hateful. Perhaps if I was born into wealth or accumulated enough of it to be out of touch with the reality of the afro-asiatic slums of working class Britain, I too might lean towards feeling good about myself by deriding the Tories, as opposed to putting my career on the line by questioning the current dominant political narrative.

So long as they don’t have to give anything up along the way, they can freely attack the silly, misled working class Britons who voted against internationalism in the EU referendum. They can defend an endless influx of migrants, knowing they’ll be likely to provide a source of cheap labour to their own children and competition to ours. Such is their compassion.

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