I hate capitalism, am I alone?
Perhaps you should take a look at things from a different perspective. Here is a personal account of life inside the Soviet Union that you might get something out of: <a href="https:&#x2F;&#x2F;archive.org&#x2F;details&#x2F;ViktorSuvorovTheLiberatorsMyLifeInThebOk.xyz&#x2F;page&#x2F;n6&#x2F;mode&#x2F;1up" rel="nofollow">https:&#x2F;&#x2F;archive.org&#x2F;details&#x2F;ViktorSuvorovTheLiberatorsMyLife...</a><p>It’s a little on the long side, but I’ll quote from near the end of the introduction:<p><pre><code>    Towards evening, we finished the job. Everyone took delivery of
    his final load of [fertilizer], but this time no one carried it
    off to the river, but instead to his own kolkhoz. It was then
    relayed to Moscow that everything was going well and that this
    year&#x27;s harvest would be a record, thanks to the Regional
    Committee&#x27;s First Secretary. Moscow promptly replied with a
    congratulatory telegram to the First Secretary and to all workers
    of the Region. And that was that.

    Late that night, I delivered one and a half tons of the fertilizer
    to the kolkhoz and reported to the Chairman that I had fulfilled
    the task ahead of time. He thanked me but did not go into
    detail. Everything had been clear to him from the very
    beginning. He had long been accustomed to the fact that, whenever
    the Communist Party issues instructions, these invariably end in a
    way no one wishes to remember.

    &#x27;Where shall I put this one and a half tons?&#x27; I asked.

    &#x27;Keep them yourself! If necessary, I could produce record harvests
    without fertilizers. But what&#x27;s the point?&#x27;

    And that was that. I poured the liquid over my own tiny private
    plot. It proved an unpardonable mistake. Apparently, there was too
    much fertilizer for my tiny area of ground and I applied it at the
    wrong time. In May, when all the neighbouring kitchen gardens were
    producing strong shoots mine was barren. I was horrified. What
    would I eat during the winter? I was not going to become a soldier
    until the following spring: so how was I to live until then? The
    money I would receive for my work at the kolkhoz would be hardly
    enough for two months of very frugal existence. The peasant&#x27;s only
    hope is his private plot which is not much bigger than the palm of
    his hand. And if nothing grows on that - what then?

    I had to make some urgent decisions. But what? I could not run
    away from the kolkhoz: under socialism a peasant has no right to a
    passport, although everybody else has an internal passport. As a
    result of this simple restriction, a peasant cannot live in a
    town, cannot marry a town girl or stay in a hotel. Travelling on a
    plane is also forbidden. Who will let you board an aircraft
    without a passport?  Maybe you are a criminal?

    Don&#x27;t think it is just a Soviet communist caprice, either. It is a
    vital necessity. If you are trying to establish material equality
    among the inhabitants of any country, you must introduce similar
    measures against the peasants. If you make all people equal, there
    will be mass migration of peasants into towns, where the working
    day is limited, where one need not work on rest days and holidays,
    and where one can have a holiday in summer. But, if all the
    peasants go to live in towns, your state of universal equality
    will perish from hunger. And, in order to prevent that state of
    affairs, you will be obliged to revert to the free market system,
    that is to capitalism, or else keep the peasants in their villages
    by force, by barbed wire, guard-dogs, threats and the introduction
    of special anti-peasant legislation.

    I was a convinced supporter of the material equality of all
    mankind and therefore was prepared to spend all my life without an
    internal passport, which means never flying in an aircraft, never
    staying at an hotel and never marrying a town girl. But, in
    compensation, we would have equality. There would be no
    exploitation of man by man and we would have no rich and no poor!

    That bloody fertilizer which ruined my harvest also ruined all my
    plans and forced me to look for some new way of life. The choice
    was not great: I could land up in jail, where the food is free, or
    I could become an officer, where the food is also free. Taking
    into consideration the fact that it is not difficult to land in
    jail, I decided to exploit this possibility only if I did not
    succeed in becoming an officer. And that didn&#x27;t turn out to be
    particularly simple!

    In order to become an officer, I had to become a citizen of my
    country, in other words somehow or other obtain a passport. They
    say that, in the USSR, the acquisition of a passport for going
    abroad is so difficult that it sometimes takes a man&#x27;s whole life
    to achieve. But, for anyone not entitled to receive one, to obtain
    an internal passport is an altogether more difficult task. If you
    have an internal passport and are trying to obtain one allowing
    you to go abroad, theoretically the law is on your side. You can
    protest, go on hunger-strike or write letters to Brezhnev. In the
    end, if you persist, you may well be successful. But how to obtain
    an internal passport if you are not entitled to one by law? If you
    are just a Soviet peasant and if the law is against you and if you
    live in a country but are not considered a citizen of that country
    but only its peasant? If you have no right to any form of defense?
    If you are born simply to work, simply as an integral part of the
    agricultural work force, then what do you do? What can one do if
    one does not represent a legal entity, just like for instance, a
    horse or a pig, which also has no right to an internal passport
    (let alone one for going abroad) and which is similarly forbidden
    to stay in hotels or to travel by air?

    To all intents I, like any other Soviet peasant, was an
    outlaw. And yet, in spite of everything, I managed to get a
    passport. It is a very long story indeed which I take no pleasure
    in recalling. I had to blackmail the kolkhoz Chairman, deceive the
    Chairman of the village Soviet, bribe a village Soviet Secretary
    as well as an employee of the Military Commissariat: there was no
    other way.

    And, after all that, my passport was still not quite legal. At any
    moment, it could have been proved that, even though I had been
    born in the USSR of Soviet parents, whose ancestors down several
    hundred years had never crossed any frontier or had any contact
    whatsoever with foreigners, I had illegally appropriated the name
    of a USSR citizen. So, as a matter of urgency, I had to change my
    half-legal passport for another officially-issued document in my
    name. And, to achieve that, I entered the Kharkov Guards Tank
    Command School. They took my passport and I was given a new red
    &#x27;military Card&#x27; in its place. Now nobody on earth could send me
    back to the kolkhoz. There is no way back from the Soviet Army.
</code></pre>
You may not appreciate being graded on how much profit you can make, but Suvorov makes the point that there are jobs that people do not do voluntarily. Maybe there are enough people who enjoy farming enough to raise enough food to feed everyone in the world, but even they would lose their appetite for the work if you took away all the rewards of the job. Later in the book he has a similar conversation with someone about modern sewers replacing latrines. Even once sewer systems are built everywhere, somebody will still have to maintain them. Even if they aren’t emptying out latrines with shovels and wheelbarrows, it will still not be a desirable job. The benefit of capitalism is that it rewards people who get things done, whether that is hard work or clever work.<p>There are, of course, alternatives that don’t get brought up much these days. I believe that it is still possible to sell your belongings and join a monastery. By doing this you could free yourself from material concerns, and devote yourself to a lifetime of study, contemplation, and spiritual growth. Of course, monks must eat, so someone must peel the vegetables and clear the drains. Monks must bathe, so someone must clean the bathrooms. But at least you will be doing it for yourself, and for people you know and trust, rather than for a salary.<p>And yet, most people don’t bother to go to that extreme. There is far more “material equality” in America than there ever was in the Soviet Union. Farmers here do not lack televisions, telephones, or the freedom to fly in an airplane any time they choose. The civil engineers who maintain our sewer systems are rewarded well enough that they voluntarily enter that profession.<p>Maybe in the future we’ll have something better, but whatever it is it will definitely still reward people for their labor.