To be a Leninist today is to be an anachronism. So why Marxism? What even is Marxism?
To be a Marxist today is to recognize the structural violence of the global economic system and to want to change it. The problem, however, is the same is in our time as it was in Vladimir Lenin’s time- What is to be Done?
Many today are fed up with the democratic system, and believe it can never deliver the promises of a better society. They believe that without changing the fundamentals of the economic system, our society will perpetuate inequality and violence. It is tempting therefore to view the entire concept of democracy itself as suspect, a bourgeois ideal, and nothing more.
It is this Marxian orthodoxy of the 19th century that we should reject, along with the concept of the dictatorship of the proleteriat. We must own up to the fact that the legacy of 20th century communism was one of abject failure.
The pundits on Fox News like to say the “Left” are dictator apologists, from Nicolas Maduro to King Jong Un, while forgetting to mention that the US currently backs dictatorial regimes and war criminals around the world such as the Saudi kingdom and Rodrigo Duterte in the Philippines. It is tempting to go the route of “naive realpolitik” and believe, like Henry Kissinger does, that democracy is just a word, and believe that the ideal of democracy is in practice unattainable, because the majority of society can decide to democratically oppress the minority, as was the case in Hitler’s Germany.
Therefore, I have to argue against some of the claims made by Zizek himself in his book Did Someone Say Totalitarianism? Zizek is admirable for pointing out the hypocrisy of the West, particularly America, in claiming to support freedom and democracy, while maintaining always that 20th century communism was a miserable failure. However, in this book, he makes to many concessions to actually-existing socialism, such as the argument that the Communist bloc in Eastern Europe lived a decent life except for lack of political freedom, etc. Of course I am somewhat oversimplifying his argument here, but I find it strange that Zizek seems to oscillate between outright defense of the Soviet Union and Maoist China and complete and total anti-Stalinism. This article he wrote on Tibet illustrates what is wrong with his conception of the reality under actually-existing socialism:
In this article, Zizek repeats the old adage that Tibet was a feudal economy probably better off under China anyway, and that most of the violence that occurred in Tibet derived from Tibetans themselves. This falls in line with his narrative that one should stay away from Orientalism and “dreams of utopia” if we want to get closer to the truth.
The reality is much more complicated. This empirically false statement exemplifies what is wrong with Zizek’s critique:
“The Cultural Revolution which ravaged the Tibetan monasteries in the 1960s was not imported by the Chinese. Fewer than a hundred of the Red Guards came to Tibet with the revolution, and the young mobs burning the monasteries were almost exclusively Tibetan”.
It is sad to see Zizek himself fall to such obvious Maoist propaganda, when he see is so deft in seeing through Stalinist propaganda. Elsewhere, Zizek is critical of Mao Zedong, and believes its problematic to view “Eastern communism” or “Latin American communism” or Third World communism in general in a kind of fetishized way. Therefore, it is doubly surprising he didn’t fact-check this story, also given his consistent critiques of the Khmer Rouge, another Communist regime that oppressed and committed genocide against a majority Buddhist populous.
The reality is, as actual scholars of Tibetan history have pointed out time and again, that most of the monasteries were destroyed directly by the PLA during the initial invasion, as demonstrated by forensic evidence from the mass graves. It is here worth quoting Tsering Shakya, author of “Blood in the Snows”, at length for the actual historical evidence:
“Wang’s assertion that most of the destruction in Tibet took place during the Cultural Revolution also fails to tally with the historical record. As he himself admits, the monasteries and temples had been emptied long before, and ‘the PLA had bombed them as it re-established control’ after the 1959 Rebellion. In fact, the destruction of religious sites in Eastern Tibet—outside the TAR—had begun in 1956, under the guise of suppressing local uprisings in Gansu, Qinghai, Yunnan and Sichuan. In May 1962, the Panchen Rinpoche submitted a long memorandum to the Party Central Committee, detailing the terrible failures of Chinese government policies throughout the entire Tibetan region. Two passages prove categorically that much of Tibet’s cultural heritage had already been destroyed. The Panchen Rinpoche writes:
Our Han cadres produced a plan, our Tibetan cadres mobilized, and some people among the activists who did not understand reason played the part of executors of the plan. They usurped the name of the masses, they put on the mask [mianju] of the masses, and stirred up a great flood of waves to eliminate statues of the Buddha, scriptures and stupas [reliquaries]. They burned countless statues of the Buddha, scriptures and stupas, threw them into the water, threw them onto the ground, broke them and melted them. Recklessly, they carried out a wild and hasty [fengxiang chuangru] destruction of monasteries, halls, ‘mani’ walls and stupas, and stole many ornaments from the statues and precious things from the stupas.
Referring only to the area within the boundaries of the TAR when he speaks of ‘Tibet’—the situation was probably worse in other Tibetan districts—the Panchen Rinpoche goes on:
Before democratic reform, there were more than 2,500 large, medium and small monasteries in Tibet. After democratic reform, only 70 or so monasteries were kept in existence by the government. This was a reduction of more than 97 per cent. Because there were no people living in most of the monasteries, there was no-one to look after their Great Prayer Halls [da jing tang] and other divine halls, or the lodgings of the monks. There was great damage and destruction, both by man and otherwise, and they were reduced to the point of collapse, or beyond. 
This memorandum to the Central Committee was written four years before the Cultural Revolution.
There is no need to resort to the kind of cheap psychological analysis Wang adduces to explain why Tibetans turned against the sacred symbols of their religion during the Cultural Revolution. The real reasons are far more straightforward. One of these lay in the Party’s need to restrict the inter-factional struggle in an area which, as we have seen, was highly sensitive militarily. As soon as things looked like getting out of hand the Central Committee issued an order that, in these zones, the struggle should not be formulated as a fight between the ‘two lines’. Such conflict was thus essentially confined to the towns, especially Lhasa. The result was that, in most rural areas of Tibet, the ferocity of the Cultural Revolution was shifted away from the battle between the two factions and directed instead towards an attack on tradition, under the call to smash ‘The Four Olds’. In this effort, no stone was left unturned. The Red Guards may not have entered far into the countryside but CCP rule penetrated every crevice of the vast Himalayan landscape. The Party’s hegemony was so deeply entrenched at this time that even the way a peasant slept was said to indicate ideological orientation—someone who lay with their head towards the west was accused of turning away from Chairman Mao, since he was ‘the Sun that rises in the East’. One of the crimes of which the Panchen Rinpoche was accused during his trial by Red Guards in Beijing was of having anti-Party and reactionary dreams. (The Red Guards here, it should be noted, were not Tibetans but Chinese students.)
It is Zizek who here demonstrates his own implicit bias against traditional societies, believing the only thing about Tibetan society that is true was that it was a virtual hell on Earth. This is obviously a different kind of Orientalism, but Zizek, in his infinite wisdom about how we should dispel all illusions, has obviously never talked with an actual survivor of the Tibetan diaspora, or talked with actual Tibetan scholars.
It is inconceivable to him that the Dalai Lama legitimately inspires people around the world, or that Buddhist spirituality is deeply felt by believers and native Tibetans. He can only conceive of it in gross orthodox Marxist sense of “false consciousness”.
So the question continues to be, still, why Marxism?
If Marxism can embrace a truly non-violent spirit, and forget its ideology of “the ends justifying the means”, then maybe true structural violence can be eliminated in a peaceful way. Given Zizek’s embrace of redefining Marxism, revolution, and old Marxist lexicon, it is surprising and painful that he does not apply the same standard to Maoist China. 20th century communism failed to protect ethnic minorities, failed to protect political freedom, and in general failed to deliver to the utopia of equality it promised. If we are to change our economic system for the betterment of humanity, we must not allow demagogues and strongmen to lead us down the road of repressive regimes like the USSR, North Korea, and China, where currently they have almost abandoned any pretense of creating economic equality. I continue to argue Tibet is the theoretical cornerstone of realizing the problem with 20th century Communism.