This is the definition of class hatred
Death appears as the harsh victory of the law of our ancestors
over the dimension of our becoming. It is a fact that, as
productivity increases, each succeeding generation becomes
smaller. The defeat of our fathers is revisited upon us as the limits
of our world. Yes, structure is human, it is the monumentalization
of congealed sweat, sweat squeezed from old exploitation and
represented as nature, the world we inhabit, the objective ground.
We do not, in our busy insect-like comings and goings, make the
immediate world in which we live, we do not make a contribution,
on the contrary we are set in motion by it; a generation will pass
before what we have done as an exploited class will seep through
as an effect of objectivity. (Our wealth is laid down in heaven.)
The structure of the world was built by the dead, they were paid in
wages, and when the wages were spent and they were dead in the
ground, what they had made continued to exist, these cities, roads
and factories are their calcified bones.
The had nothing but their wages to show for what they had done
and after their deaths what they did and who they were has been
canceled out. But what they made continued into our present,
their burial and decay is our present.
This is the definition of class hatred. We are no closer to rest,
to freedom, to communism than they were, their sacrifice has
brought us nothing, what they did counted for nothing, we have
inherited nothing, we work as they worked, we makes as they
made, we are paid as they were paid. We do not possess either
our acts or the world that conditions us, just as they owned nothing
of their lives.
Yes they produced value, they made the world in which we now
live. The world that now weighs down upon us is constructed from
the wealth they made, wealth that was taken from them as soon as
they were paid their wage, taken and owned by someone else,
owned and used to define the nature of ownership and the class
domination that preserves it.