The Siberian parliamentarian, who buys his mistress a Kelly bag in every colour of the reptilian rainbow, and the Californian philanthropist, who buys for his son a museum of modern art, are brothers under the skin and Marx’s successors in material interest. Was the author of The Communist Manifesto a hypocrite? No more, I dare say, than most of us in the West of yesterday and of today, swept up as we have been in the irresistible rhetoric inundating the world through the opened floodgates of capitalism. ‘But when the time comes, we will have been long gone.’ On another occasion, this consummate fashion victim – an obscure journalist by the name of Karl Marx who had got himself hitched to the daughter of Baron Ludwig von Westphalen, a Prussian grandee descended on his mother’s side from the Earls of Argyll – was told by a female acquaintance that she simply could not imagine him being happy in an egalitarian society. Everything he sees he wants to have, a carriage, smart clothes, a flower garden, new furniture from the Exhibition, in fact the moon.’ ![]() Andrei Navrozovįor his birthday his wife gave him a riding crop that cost 100 francs,’ a writer called Arnold Ruge complained of his newly married friend, a fellow German émigré in Paris, ‘and the poor fool does not ride, nor has he a horse. ![]() Do we really know what we want? Or do we want what we’re told we want by S&M fantasy-mongers, asks.
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