Why I’m a Hoxaist - and why you should be too.

The Marxist-leninists have it wrong. Their so-called “soviet councils” and “centralized economies” are highly vulnerable to outside assaults - pragmatism can’t save you from opportunism - only the five foot thick wall of concrete that is ideological purity can. When you open your mind to new ideals, it becomes dangerously weak. The more you spread your ideology thin through the integration of disparate thought processes, the more it becomes nearly impossible to achieve your vision. You can’t praxis if you’re trying to praxis a thousand different little things. But if your mind was set on one, beautiful, Albanian man…

Written by Claire Blair | Edited by Jaiden Steven

The Marxist-leninists have it wrong. Their so-called “soviet councils” and “centralized economies” are highly vulnerable to outside assaults - pragmatism can’t save you from opportunism - only the five foot thick wall of concrete that is ideological purity can. When you open your mind to new ideals, it becomes dangerously weak. The more you spread your ideology thin through the integration of disparate thought processes, the more it becomes nearly impossible to achieve your vision. You can’t praxis if you’re trying to praxis a thousand different little things. But if your mind was set on one, beautiful, Albanian man…

I fucking love holes.

Ever since I was a kid, I was enamored with that one book where they dug for onions or whatever. It reminded me of the good old days - when I was just a wee elementary schooler, plagued with visions of revolution and class inequality, as all communists are during their infancy. I swear I could have tasted those sweet videlias myself. Also, have you ever seen the Lord of the Rings? Doesn’t the shire look so cottagecore aesthetic tradwifey? I used to dream of growing my own pumpkins and mogging Frodo myself after he got back from his quest to Mount Doom. My entire life I’ve had fantasies of one day living in the ground. I’m white - my ancestors came from the muck and bogs, and damn it I’m going back one of these days.

My entire life flipped upside down when I learned about the extended intellectual works of Enver Hoxha. I used to be a proud, pseudo-anracholiberal marxist-bidenist with Vaushian characteristics. My days used to consist of hours spent virtue signaling on instagram and moral policing on twitter. The toxicity that crept into my life because of my overly capricious ideology ruined me. My polycule dissolved, and I lost my job publishing zines on recycled paper for trade with my local commune. I was broken beyond repair. The CHAZ wouldn’t have treated me like this - but I suppose all good things must come to an end. My luck turned around the day I decided to step foot into a public library for the first time in my life. It was almost biblical, and although I don’t align myself with theists, for the first time ever I felt called by a higher power. Or, more specifically, a lower power. A disembodied voice seemed to pour from deep underground, his masculine beckonings echoing against metaphysical concrete as his thick Albanian accent made my spine tingle and my loins clutch. I was led to a dusty tome, and on its spine was written one word. Hoxha. I quickly pocketed it and ran out of the library, as I refuse to interface with liberal institutions. The second I got home, I let out a short breath of excitement as I thumbed through its pages. The more I read, the more I understood. My mind was weak. My body was weak. But concrete is oh, so strong.

For the ignorant and uninformed, Enver Hoxha is the preeminent marxist thinker of the 21st century. Despite this, followers of his contemporaries fail to show him proper respect, as jealous pseudo-intellectuals are vehement in claims that he “single handedly crashed his economy with the nation-wide construction of military bunkers,” or “granted docking rights to his allies so he could steal their naval forces,” or other forms of mindless drivel. To reduce Hoxha’s actions to mere tangible economic policy is not only stupid, but dangerous. The beauty of Hoxhist theory transcends economics; it is a creed. It is a doctrine. It is more than just a psycho-economic policy - it is a way of life. The bunkers built by Hoxha are more than mere tactical outposts - they are meta-symbolic principles of praxis. To be Hoxha (or a Hoxhist), one’s mind must become a bunker. Through the ritualistic construction of an underground safehouse, one can achieve a higher level of marxist enlightenment. Through entering a bunker, you enter the mind of the mad Albanian who flew too close to the sun - and by sealing your mind around echoes of his theory, you truly become Enver Hoxha.

To metamorphosize into a conduit of ideology is the purest form of marxist thought. Not to join a hivemind per se, but to become a member of a global community of pure thinkers. As those who writhe above ground struggle within the borders of collapsing countries, those of us who live in the concrete labyrinth of global bunker freedom know the truth. We lay in wait until the topsoil settles and the seeds of revolution may be planted. On that day we will emerge from our bunkers, tills in hand, ready to sow a new global system. One of pure Marxist alignment, sustained by the power of our mighty bunkerlord, Enver Hoxha.

Claire Blair is the premier Marxist critic of the 21st century. Her critically acclaimed scholastic works have hitherto only been published in print and can be accessed at your local library.

Jaiden Steven is the Editor in Chief of the Weekly Rose.