Dialectical Conditioning

A blog about a spectre of a kink, which barely exists at all.

[river-observer]

[dialecticalconditioning]

1984 would have been better if it was written by a horny trans woman

[yuriartillery]

i need a m1895 or maybe a makarov

[historyandchill]

Best 90 dollars I’ve spent, Ckeka/OGPU (basically secret police it’s the earlier days of the NVKD) leather visor cap

[fidelcastrated]

LENIN LENIN LENIN LENIN LENIN LENIN LENIN LENIN LENIN LENIN LENIN LENIN

I LOVE LENIN

[dialecticalconditioning]

Internal Security

Ever since you were tapped to join the Party Internal Safety Committee's Combat Unit, you've been under the wing of your mentor. She has been your guide, your source of purpose in the struggle against reaction, and your shining light of clarity. You spend every day at her side, investigating the enemies of the Revolution, leading the soldiers into furious battle against the thugs of reaction. And you're winning. Battle after battle, raid after raid, the revolution passes across the land. The pace of victory quickened with every step forward, with every dead fascist, and with every inch of blood-soaked land as red as the flag you carry into battle. When you heard that the enemy had finally been defeated, their disgusting bourgeoise puppet masters captured, and the final victory over capitalism and reaction at hand, you rejoiced. You thought peace was near. That the bloodshed would finally be over. That the construction of the new, happy world you had all strived for, bled for, and killed for was soon to begin. It was only the beginning of a new struggle. The struggle against opportunism, adventurism, revisionism, anarchism. Against falsifiers, deniers, modernizers, crypto-fascists, social fascists, and the neverending list of criminal distortions of the Immortal Doctrine of the Party. Only she helped you see the sense in it. Only she helped you put on your cap every day you went to interrogate another group of "dissidents". Only she helped you when you couldn't do the job you had to do. And now, she was helping you again. You hesitated to give the order. They were just a group of striking workers! They didn't deserve to be executed! What crimes could they have possibly committed? But orders were orders, and-*click* You felt cold steel pressing into the nape of your head. Your CO leaned in from behind you, and whispered, "The Party is a circle of accountability, my dear. If you won't execute a traitor, then I will." Suddenly, all of your doubts vanish from your mind.

You give the order to the firing squad to shoot. And your soul is forever stained with their blood. She's always so good to you.

[dialecticalconditioning]

Uniforms & The State

Uniforms are hot. There's no need to prove it, it's pretty much an axiom, honestly. A good chunk of it is that uniforms represent the giving up of individuality, which is perfectly understandable. However, something I feel doesn't get spoken of enough is what exactly one replaces their individual identity with through the uniform. The act of wearing a uniform is inherently connected with the assumption of a group identity.

When the group is the state, and especially a state which demands total obedience and ideological compliance, the uniform becomes a symbol of submission to these demands. And moreover, it transforms one from a mere individual into a component of that state. In other words, in putting on the uniform of the secret police officer, one simultaneously attains communion with their secular deity, the State, and manifests as a living embodiment of their god's will on earth. An enforcer of their truth. The avatar of the only real god that exists in our world. The monopoly on violence.