I’m gonna say this plainly, because there’s no point in softening it: seeing some online leftists—especially in American spaces—cheer this kind of thing on feels like a slap in the face to what leftism is supposed to be about.
And before anyone jumps in with the usual response, let me be clear about something upfront. I am not saying we should treat thinkers like Karl Marx or Friedrich Engels as unquestionable authorities. They were human beings. They were shaped by their time, their context, their limitations. The world they lived in is not the world we live in now. We shouldn’t blindly follow anyone from the 1800s like they had everything figured out for 2026.
That’s not the point.
The point is this: even back then—even in a completely different era, under completely different conditions—people were already warning about this exact kind of behavior. They were already identifying the danger of individuals hijacking broader struggles with reckless, attention-seeking actions. They were already saying, “Hey, this kind of thing doesn’t help—it actually hurts.”
So if people today are cheering on the very thing that was criticized back then, what does that say about us?
What does it say about how we understand the movements we claim to be part of?
Because leftism—at its core, in all its different forms—is supposed to be about people. About workers. About improving material conditions. About solidarity, community, and lifting each other up. It’s supposed to be rooted in care, in collective well-being, in the idea that we don’t sacrifice each other for some abstract goal.
That’s the foundation.
And when I see people cheering on arson attacks—fires that could hurt workers, destroy livelihoods, spread out of control, and devastate entire communities—it feels like that foundation is being completely ignored.
Or worse, replaced.
Replaced with something that’s more about aesthetics than substance. More about looking radical than actually being effective. More about the feeling of resistance than the reality of what resistance should accomplish.
Because let’s be honest about something uncomfortable: there’s a difference between wanting change and wanting to feel like you’re part of something dramatic.
And sometimes, those two things get mixed up.
There’s a kind of online culture—especially in certain political spaces—where extreme actions get elevated, where spectacle gets attention, where the loudest, most shocking thing becomes the focal point. And in that environment, it becomes very easy for people to lose sight of consequences.
It becomes easy to cheer something on from a distance without fully grappling with what it actually means.
But reality doesn’t work like that.
Reality is messy. Reality has stakes. Reality involves real people who can get hurt, lose their jobs, lose their homes, or worse. And when actions like arson are treated like some kind of symbolic victory, it creates a disconnect between the conversation and the consequences.
And that disconnect is dangerous.
Because it strips away the human element—the very thing leftism is supposed to center.
It turns workers into abstractions. It turns workplaces into symbols. It turns communities into collateral damage in a narrative that’s more about ideology than people.
And that’s where it starts to feel like a betrayal.
Not of any specific thinker, not of any specific doctrine—but of the spirit of what these movements are supposed to stand for.
You don’t have to agree with every idea from Marx or Engels or anyone else to recognize that they were trying to analyze how systems affect people, and how change can happen in a way that actually improves lives. And part of that analysis included recognizing behaviors that derail that goal.
So when people today ignore those warnings—not because they’ve thoughtfully rejected them, but because they’re caught up in the moment, in the spectacle, in the emotional rush of seeing something “anti-system”—it raises a serious question:
Are we actually learning from the past, or are we just repeating its mistakes in a louder, more chaotic way?
Because cheering on something that can harm workers is not progress.
It’s regression.
And I think part of what makes this so frustrating is the cognitive dissonance. The same people who will talk passionately about worker exploitation, about inequality, about the need for systemic change—some of them will turn around and support or excuse actions that directly harm workers.
That contradiction should be impossible.
And yet, here we are.
It’s like the label has become detached from the substance. Like “leftism” for some people has turned into an identity or an aesthetic, rather than a set of principles grounded in real-world outcomes.
And when that happens, anything that feels oppositional can get swept up under that label, even if it contradicts the very values it’s supposed to represent.
That’s how you end up with people cheering on fires that could put workers in danger.
That’s how you end up with people defending actions that destroy workplaces and livelihoods.
That’s how you end up with a movement that starts to lose its moral clarity.
And look, I get the anger. I really do. The system can be frustrating, unfair, and exhausting. People feel unheard, pushed to the edge, like nothing changes no matter what they do.
But anger alone isn’t enough.
If anything, anger without direction—without grounding—can be easily manipulated, easily redirected, easily turned into something destructive.
And that’s why it’s so important to stay anchored in principles.
If you say you care about workers, then your actions—and the actions you support—should reflect that.
If you say you care about people, then you should be able to draw a clear line when something puts people at risk.
If you say you want change, then you have to think about whether what you’re supporting actually moves things forward—or just creates more chaos.
Because at the end of the day, this isn’t about being “pure” or ideologically perfect.
It’s about being consistent.
It’s about making sure that the things you support align with the outcomes you want to see.
And when I see people cheering this kind of thing on, it doesn’t feel consistent.
It feels like something has gone off track.
It feels like the conversation has drifted away from real people and into something more abstract, more performative, more disconnected.
And yeah—that feels like a slap in the face.
Not because I think there’s one “correct” version of leftism, but because there are certain basic principles—like valuing human life, like protecting workers—that should not be up for debate.
Those should be the baseline.
So when those baselines start to erode, when they start to get blurred or ignored, it’s worth asking:
What are we actually doing here?
What are we actually standing for?
Because if the answer includes cheering on actions that can harm the very people we claim to care about, then something has gone seriously wrong.
And it needs to be called out.
Not out of spite. Not out of opposition. But out of a genuine concern that the movement is losing sight of itself.