Welcome to Red Spectre Writings

Justice J.J. Tarai1 Comment

A spectre is haunting our world—the spectre of Communism. All the powers of the old world have united in a holy alliance to exorcise this spectre. The capitalist imperialists, the bourgeois reactionaries, the fascists, the pork-chop nationalists, the social opportunists, the academic post-structuralists, the radical liberals and the philistine eclectics.

In an era of capitalist decay, in which the contradictions that plague society intensify day-by-day, there is an ever greater need to harness scientific socialism—i.e. Marxism—in its highest and most up-to-date form, which is Marxism-Leninism-Maoism. In a period during which revolutionaries in the Global South have made great progress in their individual protracted people’s wars whereas communists in the Global North have disintegrated under the iron heel of tailing the labour aristocracy, abandoning the communist objective to seize class power by all means necessary and succumbing to idealist metaphysics, there is a greater need of bringing everyone—communists and those who are not yet communists—to a qualitatively higher stage of consciousness, to finally understand what needs to be done. Red Spectre Writings is a blog that hopes to play a positive, albeit humble, role in catering to these needs.

Granted, the real struggle exists beyond the virtual. In order to struggle towards greater unity, we are bound to organise—to struggle, to polemicize, and to unite as a result of conscious struggle—in the material world, i.e. that what cannot be reduced to keyboard activism. With all that being said, being a communist online or disseminating communist critique and analysis through the internet are not without merit. We should just not lie to ourselves that our online activities are ‘enough’ on their own. Nevertheless, I do sincerely hope that this blog will positively contribute to our collective journey of broadening yet deepening our understanding of Marxism-Leninism-Maoism.

This blog has three goals:

  1. To help those new or unfamiliar to Marxism-Leninism-Maoism understand certain concepts or historical circumstances integral to scientific socialism and its development throughout time and space.
  2. To address or discuss various issues or questions from a scientific socialist perspective. This can range from matters pertaining physics and biology to matters pertaining history, ethics and philosophy.
  3. To contribute towards a communist, or at least pro-communist progressive, culture. This goal has two aspects: to analyse and criticize previous works of communist art or works of art that insist on embodying “radical leftism”; and the creation of new stories that aspire to embody the revolutionary class struggle or communist principles in a sincere yet conscious manner.

This will not be an easy task, for sure. However, I do believe that this will, at the very least, make the most out of this blog. To those who have certain questions with regards to Marxism, feel free to contact me through contact@redspectrewritings.com, and perhaps I will be able to answer your questions in future blog posts or essays. To other Marxist-Leninist-Maoists out there, if you are interested in contributing to this blog—whether by submitting an essay or short story—feel free to contact me as well.

Unfortunately, I must end this article on a rather cautious note. Personal circumstances might impede me from writing for this blog on a consistent basis, so I cannot promise I will be writing for this blog on a consistent schedule anytime soon. I will try to keep everyone informed about new updates and articles through social media, so do not forget to follow Red Spectre Writings on Facebook and Twitter.

Image: Smirnov, Jenya. Communism Wallpaper, Deviantart, 19 Feb. 2012, www.deviantart.com/jenissimo/art/Communism-wallpaper-285822675.

For Chelsea, My Dearest

Justice J.J. TaraiLeave a comment

This is an elegy, a piece of writing in which I both mourn and reflect upon the loss of my canine companion, Chelsea, my dearest best friend in the whole universe. This was written to commemorate the 10th anniversary of me meeting Chelsea, effectively the moment she entered my life. While I technically met her for the first time on 14 November, 2015, she did not become part of my day-to-day life until 16 November, 2015.

In memory of my dearest best friend in the whole universe. Thank you for making me realise my own kindness, and for showing me the beauty of the world you and I are part of.

Chelsea (10 September 2015 – 18 September 2023)

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My Dearest Chelsea,

You were welcomed to this world on September 10, 2015, brown, small and precious
You became officially part of my life on November 16, 2015, your cuteness was infectious

Ten years have passed since we met, I do recall
A red fawn-coated Dogue de Bordeaux, you were so small

You were to be raised by my mother, our meeting was not my decision
A task entrusted by her dog breeding lover, to whom I only felt suspicion

He gave you your birth name, one I would not wish upon the bourgeoisie
It was unbefitting for a canine dame, thus I decided to call you Chelsea

You were delivered to us with collar and crate, you felt alone and sad
All your nightly yelping was not great, so I let you out and shared my bed

Days and nights went by, my responsibilities towards you undoubtedly increased
Mother made excuses but could not deny, she mainly provided you only the feast

That being said, despite her giving me all the dirty work, I must also admit
She helped me a lot that time you completely covered yourself in shit

Back then, walks and scooping poop, getting pulled by your weight, I did not miss
Now, alone in my thoughts, without a group struggling against the state, I reminisce

I am ashamed to admit, while taking walks with you I could be rather clumsy and reckless
Those few times you crossed the road, my heart skipped a beat, but you remained totally speckless

I am recalling another incident, due to my actions mischievous and unjustified, the neighbor got mad
When he would enter our house to clear things up, you snarled at him, which made me feel glad

Not because of seeking retaliation or conflict, but because it felt you were trying to protect me
An overwhelming feeling blossomed inside my heart, I fell in love with you, my dearest Chelsea

You would gnaw on and damage my belongings, my Nintendo 3DS and external hard drive included
But looking at your cute face would quickly alleviate any sense of anger and frustration, I concluded

You became my best friend, my favourite roommate, my cuddly teddybear
The thought of people abducting you or of cars hitting you, filled me with despair

Roughly a year later, we also raised a puppy named Didi, to her you were like a big sister
When mother decided to live with her partner, my new father, she took you with her

Pressured between a distant place or my hometown, I made my decision
My future, my social life and potential romances were here, that was my conviction

Despite these changes, we would continue spending time on a frequent basis
Yet I could not help but notice you, surrounded by trees and fences, living in relative stasis

Raised as a pet, a member of the household, only to live inside a building separate from my parents’, it was rather isolated and sad
It was a kennel, with prison cells and all, seeing you jump against the bars and bark for my attention, internally I felt a little dead.

Hanging out with other dogs, off leash, living in the Dutch equivalent of the boonies, gated and secure
I would repeatedly visit to give you hugs and kisses, pets and bellyrubs, only to spend hours scooping up dog manure.

Most dogs there were born and raised on my stepfather’s property, they did not know of a world outside
You could do your sanitary businesses whenever you wanted to, but perhaps you missed the city night

Sometimes there would be a fight between the dogs, and you were one of its main participants, far from uninvolved
Whether it required me to throw buckets of water or kick around to keep everyone apart, I would have these brawls dissolved

At my parents’ place, spending time with you, you were my sanctuary
Away from their vitriol, their casual racism and sexism, if only temporary

We could have lived together, just the two of us, if I was not financially restricted
Instead I had to swallow my discomforts in order to see you, I felt conflicted

As you got older, your disposition became increasingly calm, sweet and gentle
You were kind and relaxed towards puppies and pregnant dogs, no longer temperamental

Yet age was also unkind, you would deal with all sorts of unfortunate health complications
Seeing you suffer from hot spots, dry eyes and increasing blindness, I felt guilty for all your physical limitations

While my parents kept you warm and fed, you were rather unkempt
Seeing your lengthy nails untrimmed, only made me feel contempt

Seeing you gradually wither away, perpetually itching and scratching, bearing eyes blinded by discharge
Despite having been legally and monetarily limited, I struggle to forgive myself, I should have taken charge

All things considered, it could have been much worse, your life was relatively free from strife
Regardless of you living in relative comfort, I wished for you the greatest quality of life

Despite all the aforementioned problems, you were undoubtedly brimming with life
Whether it was jumping on me in order to greet me, or possessing a great appetite

Whenever you got the opportunity to be inside the house, you would beg for my plate
Thanks to my mother, you got to live the last few years inside, that was pretty great

During those last years, most of your days were spent enjoying relative tranquility, eating and sleeping
But considering how you had given birth multiple times, those were the privileges you ought to be reaping

Whether as a sweet endearing puppy, as a feisty adult, or as an old lady, you were certainly not devoid of personality
You were far from an easy one, and you were not always affectionate, but that only reinforced your individuality

During your last birthday, I showered you with gifts and kisses, never enough
I bathed you, attempted to trim your nails, and walked with you outside, these acts of love

When was the last time you wore a collar and walked on a leash, I wondered
The last time you lived the full housedog experience was before our family unit sundered

Only eight days following your birthday, I checked my messages and felt shocked
Reading from my mother that you were severely ill, that your appetite fully stopped

Uncertain how to act, I resumed working those last few hours of my day, I now heavily deplore
I should have left in order to see you immediately, without delay, knowing you were at death’s door

Even so, I rushed to the bus as if my life depended on it, if only I could reach the speed of light
When I finally arrived, I saw you lying on the ground, slowly wagging your tail with remaining might

You were happy to see me, I wish to believe, that night I stayed by your side
To witness you falling apart broke my heart in innumerable pieces, what a painful sight

Increasingly realising this was it, our final time together, I could not withhold my cries
Seeing my dearest companion, my sweetest girl, my best friend, die before my eyes

That night and the following day I bore witness to your corpse, I cried immensely
You no longer breathing or being conscious in any sense of the word, I grieved intensely

You were the light during a period of my adulthood marked by turbulent uncertainty and insecurity
Providing me warmth and love while inadvertently boosting my sense of responsibility and maturity

Reflecting on the eight years of your life, my thoughts routinely make me feel restless
What is to be done, should I kneel down in self-reproach or grant myself forgiveness

Though I must admit to myself, despite your presence giving my life so much colour
I was persistently yearning and searching for a chance at romance, to find the perfect lover

Frustrated, lonely, tired and sad, my desire comparable to an unfillable bowl filled with holes
Whether it was looking for comrades, kindred spirits, or the woman of my dreams, no animal could ever fulfill such roles.

Even so, knowing you could never be the embodiment of my hopes and dreams, my ultimate desire
You were a love, precious and special for I never asked for you to be in my life, yet your death made me an inconsolable crier.

Perhaps in another world, we would be Crimson Justices, truly my perfect dream
As heroes of justice, being together forever, we would be the greatest team

Encountering the love of my life, introducing her to you, and you meeting my friends and comrades too, all part of my ultimate fantasy
Unfortunately such hopes and dreams are unable to transcend the world of fiction, never becoming an actual reality

Things could have always been better, I suppose, that is an undeniable fact, yes
These lingering feelings of guilt and shame are part of my neverending mourning, I confess

It feels wrong to admit, despite your death making me utterly sad and debilitated
My parents no longer having my greatest emotional anchor, makes me feel liberated

Town or city, family or friends, I no longer need to make that recurring conflicted choice
Alas all these pictures and stuffed animals inside my house make me yearn to hear your voice

Repeatedly, I find myself scrolling through hundreds of our selfies, without you I feel unwhole
A broken heart, scarred and wanting ceaselessly, our bond forever engraved in my soul

My memories of you becoming foggier as time goes on, I hate to admit
Writing about you, looking at pictures and videos depicting you, I refuse to submit

The texture of your fur, the sound of your voice, your ways of eating, walking, and showing affection
All of this and more, now and until my end, is my failed attempt at full recollection

Despite many of my reminiscences characterised by self-reproach, yearning and regret 
The years, months, weeks, days, and hours we spent together, whether good or bad, I do not want to forget

Do not worry about me, my dear, I got friends, good company and entertainment, please be at rest
Even if it pains me not having you by my side, or to be at your side, I need to fulfill my lifelong quest

The future is distant and uncertain, what will I accomplish
The oppression of humanity is what I hope to abolish

Will I live to answer the revolution’s call
To become its hero or to only end up facing the wall

Perhaps living a dog’s life in relative peace saved you from a grim fate
Untouched and unharmed by aggressors and agents of the bourgeois state

To me, emotionally forever and always, of this world you were its greatest light
With that said, I can only thank you for reminding me why it is worth the fight.

I doubt I will bear witness to world communism’s victory becoming gloriously true
Even so, I can take solace knowing that living under capitalism led me to meeting you

Detractors might dismiss you as simple and replaceable, just a dog
But I do not care, I will talk and write about you, even on my blog

I want to honour our bond, your name, your life and existence
So I keep writing stories, reflections, and elegies to mourn your non-existence

Regardless of me ever having another dog or animal entering my life, no matter how long we will be apart
Even if it is a separation eternal and infinite, with you irretrievably gone, you will forever have a place in my heart

It pains me to admit, despite me yearning for all people to be free
My greatest wish would be to be by your side again, my sweetest Chelsea

Forever and ever, I will treasure our emotional connection
Around you, I could express unbridled tenderness and affection

Throughout the years of our friendship, you made me realise my own kindness, it was all thanks to you
By taking care of someone and loving them with all my heart, I became a much better man, all brand new

These feelings of love and appreciation shall last a neverending eternity
Even if, in the absence of miracles, our reunion will never become a reality

As this elegy comes to a close, this piece of writing reaching its very end
I must say adios, I love you forever and always my dearest friend

Forever and always, I love you

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Post-Publication Notes

  • 16 November, 2025: Added a set of two lines to the elegy, namely “I am … totally speckless.“
  • 17 November, 2025: Made a couple readjustments to improve the consistency and flow of the writing, such as replacing a few prepositions, adding a few words, correcting a couple typos, and removing most contractions; added three sets of two lines each to the elegy, namely “That being … in shit” , “Forever and … and affection“, and “Throughout the … to you“. Additionally, I also reworked a set that was originally “Perhaps in another world, we would be Crimson Justices, heroes fighting evil, exploring the world, being together forever, that would be the perfect reality. Surrounded by friends and comrades, meeting the love of my life and introducing her to you, unfortunately forever consigned to the world of dreams, the ultimate fantasy” into two sets of two lines each. Made another attempt at improving the distance between the lines and sets. Also, I altered a set of two lines that was initially “During those last years, most of your time was spent enjoying relative tranquility, eating and sleeping. But considering how you gave birth to puppies thrice, those were the privileges you ought to be reaping.” Also, I altered a line that was initially “At least you could do your sanitary businesses whenever you wanted to, or did you miss the city night?” Also, I altered a set of two lines that was initially “Seeing you gradually wither away, perpetually itching and eyes blinded by discharge. Even if I was legally and monetarily limited, I cannot forgive myself, I should have taken charge“. Also, I altered a set of two lines that was initially “Town or city, family or friends, I no longer need to make that conflicted choice. Alas all these pictures and stuffed animals make me yearn to hear your voice.“

Justice’s Best Friend: Reminiscences

Justice J.J. TaraiLeave a comment

Multi-part story that takes place in the World of Crimson Justice, also known as the Crimson Justice Stories. Written and published on the same day, 10 September, 2025, though parts of the story were already written and planned on 23 August, 2025.

In memory of my dearest best friend in the whole universe. Thank you for making me realise my own kindness, and for showing me the beauty of the world you and I are part of.

Chelsea (2015 – 2023)

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It began as a rather typical day for me, one that consisted of me surveying universes, neutralising hostile forces from beyond, and lending a helping hand to whoever was in need. As I walked through the meadow, I checked my smartphone to see what the current date and time was. Not all universes were necessarily in sync with one another in terms of date and time, which meant there were worlds experiencing the early 21st Century whereas others could be in the middle ages or the distant future. I swiped one of my fingers against the screen while thinking to myself what day it was in my original universe. The screen nigh-instanteously changed the data, showing me a year that was clearly past my world’s expiration date but it was not the year that interested me, but the day and month: 10 September. That date reminded me of someone familiar, someone very near and dear to me. I could visualise it nigh-perfectly: her floppy ears, her eyes droopy and discoloured, a white patch of fur on her chest contrasting her reddish-brown coat, loose skin that bore the marks and signs of age and multiple pregnancies, a rhythmic motion produced by heavy panting, and nails that were a bit too lengthy and curvy—regrettably so. This mental image stirred mixed feelings inside of me, ones characterised by regrets and longing, wishing things could have turned out different—numerous what-ifs that would forever remain in the realm of speculation—accompanied with sensations that made me feel at home, loved, and cherished.

She was also something I had in common with many of my alternates across the endless macrocosm. She was someone we were reminded of whenever we saw a dog passing by, or whenever we looked at a specific series of pictures and photographs. Some of the alternates carried one of said pictures around in memory lockets, which could be in various shapes and styles; and others opted to carry some printed photos around in their pockets, which could also make for useful bookmarks; most of us had the pictures stored in our mobile handheld devices or in physical folders; and some did all of the above. The content of these pictures varied—some depicting a young man, or in the case of alternates of the opposite sex they depicted a young woman, or in the case of more fortunate alternates they depicted a couple or even a whole family, or in plenty of instances depicted other dogs—but they all shared one, universal constant: a reddish brown mastiff, a female Dogue de Bordeaux named Chelsea.

Throughout most realities she was part of, Chelsea was born in the mid 2010s and would live for several years—in some universes her life was tragically cut short either due to accident or disease, and in other universes she would live past the average life expectancy of a French Mastiff, but in most worlds she lived for less than a decade regardless of circumstances, which would not be surprising given a Bordeauxdog’s average life expectancy between 8 and 10 years. In my original world’s case, she died ten days after her 8th birthday. She was the light of my life during a period that felt increasingly turbulent and insecure—when I was still struggling to forge my own path, whether personally or politico-ideologically, only to be severely restricted due to my financial, social, and emotional reliance on others. Despite these limitations, I managed to spend a lot of time with Chelsea, especially in her early years before I decided to live elsewhere. I met her when she was roughly 8 or 10 weeks old, and I acted as her primary caregiver. It was a quite ironic circumstance, I thought to myself. For many years I voiced the desire of wanting a dog, yet I only got to take care of one by the time I had already made peace with the idea that my family would never get a dog. This was something I had in common with many of my alternates as well. Whether our primary caretaker was our mother or father, Chelsea as a puppy was introduced to us by an outsider who was in a relationship with our parent. Some of my alternates experienced a heartbroken scenario in which they could no longer see Chelsea due to their primary parent breaking up with their partner, though ultimately most of them were still able to see Chelsea afterwards due to certain agreements or arrangements they made with their parent’s ex-partner. Fortunately for me, I never had to experience such a scenario though the fear was real. Even before she passed away, I was afraid of losing her, whether as a result of my updated family breaking up, or Chelsea getting potentially stolen by dognappers, or Chelsea suffering from something fatal like getting gastric dilatation volvulus. Me worrying about Chelsea’s well-being never ceased.

But why? Why was I so worried about that dog, I asked myself sometimes. “She’s just a dog!” People, including certain comrades, would tell me. It was difficult to say. Even if I were to say that Chelsea made me feel safe and appreciated, and how I would never be afraid of her saying anything racist or queerphobic, those characteristics could never be exclusively attributed to Chelsea. Under different circumstances, I would have met another dog or a cat or some other animal that could make me feel safe, wanted, and in touch with my own affectionate expressions. But is that not how love works? Love is irreducible to any attempt of rational reasoning. Something always escapes the definition. Something always transcends the boundaries of our own words and conscious thoughts. Towards Chelsea I could only feel a sense of nigh-indescribable gratitude, appreciation for her being present in my life. Even if she slept throughout most of the day only to wake up for food and to give the family and me some hugs and kisses, her presence and actions meant the world to me. Some people would have perhaps described my younger self prior to meeting Chelsea as “attentive”, “sweet”, “kind”, and “gentle”, but it was only after meeting Chelsea and spending time with her that I not only became aware of my own tenderness but that I recognised deep value in it. Even in the current day, as I am facing the horrors of a world countless eons removed from my original reality, I refuse to relinquish the sentimental aspects of my personality. It was a kindness, which I always attributed to her being in my life regardless of whether that was true or not, I insisted on upholding it in order to keep her memory alive. Besides the myriad of photographs featuring her or the numerous journal entries containing mentions of her existence, this was the best way to honour her existence, I thought.

However, Chelsea was not just a thought or a memory from a distant past, she was a potential as well. As long as she was part of the ‘cycle of souls’, subjected to rematerialisations of an indeterminate yet limited amount, I could reunite with her, I reminded myself. Rematerialisation affected animals as well, especially animals that shared an emotional bond with a human in a past life, and still I had yet to sense Chelsea’s presence across the macrocosm despite all these years of hoping, wishing, yearning to see her again. Plenty of my alternates have met their Chelseas rematerialised in this multiverse, so what prevented her from being rematerialised? Granted, while there were means to actively invoke someone else’s rematerialisation, it still did not guarantee success. Interesting, I thought to myself. Even in a world in which the life of a human individual was no longer restricted to that of a single mortal life, the possibilities of life and death were still far from infinite and unlimited. But here was an important question: did I want to see Chelsea again? Was that in her best interests, I wondered. Ever since I rematerialised into this new reality, I have more or less abandoned everything that defined my past, defined me before becoming a full-time Crimson Justice.

Of course, that choice was completely voluntary on my part. As a Crimson Justice, I aspired to become a hero of justice, a symbol of hope, a shield against the nefarious and ethereal forces affecting this world. In a life committed to fighting relentless darkness, seemingly neverending, where would be a time and space for comfort and serenity? In my moments of weakness, I would descend to the Abyss, an ever-expanding and ever-evolving cosmological structure that existed ‘below’ the material world. There I would observe worlds, including universes that no longer exist, and moments of time and space reduced to mere fictions and phantasms divorced from the chain of causality that defines the self-transcending Material—i.e. The future becomes the present, the present becomes the past, and the past ceases to be only to remain as a phantasm that we express deference to on our own terms. At least, that was how other Crimson Justices tried to explain to me the way this reality operated. In the Abyss, I could descend to my original universe, when it still existed, and furthermore to a point in time when Chelsea was still alive. Despite everything about that world having been reduced to that of a mirage, I could sense it was my world, I could sense it was her, and I could sense that the man petting her was a ‘me’ that bore my existence yet did not exist on the same level as I did. This had its consequences, namely that I could not breathe the world’s oxygen or walk on the planet’s surface because these phenomena were just apparitions. I had to use the power of Exceediation to maintain my existence in the Abyss lest I wanted to be pulled back into the Material. Every time, I would try to approach Chelsea, no matter which point of the timeline, and pet her—or hug her, or give her kisses, or tell her how much I love her—only for her and the entire world, nay the entirety of the Abyss, to collapse and disappear only to be nigh-instantaneously recreated by a force beyond myself—the Transcending Void, most likely.

I suppose these little visits to the Abyss show that I am not that different from many of my alternates. Sure, not all of them visited the Abyss to see their versions of Chelsea, but they would either visit the Abyss for other matters or try to achieve all their wants and desires in the Material. Many of my alternates aspired to ‘having it all’, meaning that most of us wanted to play hero while simultaneously fostering a wide and dynamic personal life characterised by maintaining lots of friendships, having long-term relationships, nurturing time-intensive passions, or even raising whole families. In practice, however, our lives were incestuous in more-or-less every sense of the word: if we were not dating our alternates, we would date with someone else within the organisations and groups we would be involved in, and if that did not yield any results many would opt for casual hook-ups or become customers of professional ladies and gentlemen of the night. Same applied for friendships as well. Even if we were to look past our active movements, we would still look for ideological comrades in our potential friends rather than friendships for their own sake. In my previous life, I would have been more conflicted about this especially when interacting with communists in my country could make for a mentally agonising experience, but you know—living in an infinite multiverse helps with avoiding the insufferable ones. And as for keeping and raising pets which, while allowed, could get in the way when it came time to partake in certain missions and duties, especially if these entailed life-or-death situations or being constantly on the move. Would Chelsea be okay getting taken care of by multiple variations of myself? Would she not be confused by it all, I thought to myself. There would also be the option of having a pet tag-along and even use for combat purposes, considering the fact non-human animals could also harness the power of Exceediation especially when they share a strong connection with people. I shook my head as I thought about the negative consequences of such an endeavour. My heart would descend further than the infinite depths of the Abyss if something bad were to happen to Chelsea.

Ultimately, I could not deny this lingering desire to see her again, to hug her again. There were plenty of bordeaux dogs out there, including various alternates of my Chelsea, but I did not want any other Chelsea—I wanted my Chelsea, the Chelsea of my world. I checked my surroundings to see if anyone was in immediate need of help. No. I raised my left arm, imagining it become a blade that could cut through the fabric of reality itself. In one strike, my slashing arm created a man-sized tear in the air in front of me. The tear showcased a forest with a grassy landscape not all too different from my current location, but this new location had one critical and distinctive characteristic: it contained a path leading to a city, one of several headquarters of the League of Crimson Justices (LCJ) that housed many Crimson Justices, many of my alternates included. Hopefully, one of the searchers had already found her by now, I thought to myself. I walked into the gate, entering another world as I left the previous one.

Chelsea, I am not sure when we will see each other again. I am also unsure if this is the best decision, but in my heart of hearts I cannot abandon the hope of seeing you again knowing how this reunion is truly possible. In this brand new world, you and I could go on wonderful adventures, meet marvelous people, and overcome incredible odds. After being separated from you well for over a lifetime, I want to believe in this possibility.

As those thoughts ran across my mind, I took a deep breath and walked towards the city where my comrades are.

The Future of This Blog

Justice J.J. TaraiLeave a comment

Happy International Workers’ Day, everyone! I hope everyone had a splendid and invigorating day filled with revolutionary fervour and internationalist zeal. Unfortunately, I was unable to enjoy the most of May Day due to fatigue-induced procrastination. That also seems to be a recurring trend with regards to my blogging activity, or lack thereof. While the oppressive presence of lethargy and procrastination were key factors as to why I could not write and publish the various works I aspired to do, there were also other factors such as managing various aspects of my personal and on-ground political life. Looking back on it, it also did not help that my personal circumstances were rather precarious and that my political self-education lacked a much needed degree of diligence and consistency.

However, I can only hope that this will change in the near future. Last month, I published a short story titled The Next Justice, which arguably deviated from the type of work I was initially set out to write. While the Red Spectre Writings as a blog was always going to have a place for media and culture, I was not sure to what extent said media and culture should have fidelity to communist ideology or meet the requirements of ‘serious communist cultural analysis and production’. At this point, after much contemplation and soul-searching, I have come to the conclusion that I do not wish to restrict Red Spectre Writings to any given idea or format. While neither my deep interest in the International Communist Movement, in its numerous years of both theory and practice, nor my personal creativity and curiosities can be fully separated from one another, I felt that I was pressuring myself in creating a prim and proper communist blog at the detriment of not allowing my writing to bring me where I would feel at my most passionate, at my most driven. Especially given certain political and personal developments I underwent the past few years, I have become convinced that I am not cut out to be a proper, orthodox Marxist-Leninist—or Maoist for that matter. While this does not mean I have resigned myself to willful ecclecticism, I do believe I straight-jacketed myself into this mindset of appealing to a certain audience that does not resonate with my own sensibilities, my own thoughts and feelings.

Even so, Red Spectre Writings will not lose its character as communist blog. It will, however, make room for topics and types of writings that cannot be necessarily contained or reduced to one specific category. This blog will be a representation of my own, for lack of better words, ‘internal multiplicity’ that can neither be reduced as a reductive one-ness or single identity nor as a dualism of multiple, separate identities. My aims with this blog go beyond simply elucidating and contemplating Marxism and, likewise, my aims with this blog go beyond writing short stories of a magical communist exploring the macrocosm. It is in this void of freedom that I push for my own voice in the hope that I start ‘doing’ things as opposed to worrying about whether I am doing the ‘doing’ correctly or incorrectly.

Unfortunately, I cannot provide a timeline for when my next work or essay gets published, but I can only hope that recent personal developments, along with me writing and publishing the debut of Crimson Justice as a literary character, are pushing me into writing both fictional and non-fictional works on a consistent basis. At the very least, I can say that I hope to give this website a proper theme as soon as possible. It just look very unappealing to me, but due to neglecting this blog for a long time I lost access to my original website layout. Besides making the website visually appealing, I also hope to rewrite the “Welcome to Red Spectre Writings” post because neither does it fully reflect the overall aspirations of the blog nor does it reflect my current politico-ideological perspective. While I have not renounced the revolutionary contributions of the Chinese Communist movement, I do no longer subscribe to Maoism or Marxism-Leninism-Maoism. At this time of writing, I would more or less consider myself a Marxist-Leninist that is sympathetic to the ideological critique and discourse generated by the Movement for Reconstitution (MxR). I hope to elaborate on their positions and works in the near future, but for now I will simply share with you a link to the Committee for Reconstitution’s (CxR) most recent statement, which was published on this very same day, 1 May, 2025.

Long live proletarian internationalism, everyone!

Justice J.J. Tarai

The Next Justice

Justice J.J. TaraiLeave a comment

First story that officially marks the debut of the character ‘Crimson Justice’. Written and published on the same day, April 1, 2025.

———————————————————————————————

It all started when I woke up in a tall grassfield on the outskirts of a city in the Netherlands. Having my senses being alerted by an all-too familiar voice shouting “We have found another one!” felt rather surreal. Because I did not remember the last time I heard someone talk. When was the last time I saw the sun or touched grass? As my eyes got accustomed to the sunlight, I saw an elderly man dressed in red reaching his hand to me. I accepted his gesture and he pulled me off the ground. The man’s outfit consisted of a red shirt that displayed the yellow outline of a five-pointed star in the centre, which was partially obscured by the red woollen overcoat; a pair of black gloves, which covered the skin that the overcoat’s sleeves failed to cover; black combat trousers, which were held together by a leather black belt with a black-coloured frame-style belt buckle; a black utility belt that carried a couple black pouches and a scabbard containing a sword; black tactical boots; and a red skipper’s cap that brandished a yellow-trimmed red star in the middle. The cap reminded me of the type of hats working class people wore during the early 20th Century, but it also looked similar to the cap of a certain fictional plumber-turned-superhero. When I looked behind the man’s shoulder I noticed a group of people who also wore the man’s outfit heading our way. Are they part of an organisation, I asked myself.

“Are you alright? Do you remember anything?” Despite the man’s eyes obscured by a pair of sunglasses I felt warmed by a warm yet gentle gaze. I tried recalling anything but beyond recalling basic concepts, clothing articles, and old video game characters, my memory remained clouded. I shook my head.

“Sorry, it’s foggy.”

“Short-term memory loss. Give it some time and you will remember the rest—or at the very least, most of your memories.”

As I was taking a deep breath to gather my thoughts, I felt something akin to a jolt slicing and piercing through my brain. Memories, dozens—nay, hundreds were flooding. That older man’s voice, that intriguing mixture of red and black clothing, multiple people wearing the same outfit no less—of course, this is all so familiar to me! While trying to make sense of all this information, my breathing grew heavier. My heart was beating faster and what little stability remained in my head disintegrated.

“Crimson Justice?!” I gasped.

“Whoa, take it easy!” Before I could collapse and fall headface into the grassy field, the man caught me in his arms. The pain lasted for a few seconds even though it felt like minutes. I pulled away from the man and walked a few steps away from him and his acquaintances. I started touching my face, arms, and neck. Nothing out of the ordinary, except why was my body not wrinkly. I grabbed hold of some strands of my hair, and I noticed it was black as opposed to it being grey. It initially did not register that I was wearing black clothing from top to bottom. I brushed my hands across my shirt to see if the fabric was real. Yes, it was.

“Don’t worry, you were already wearing clothes when we discovered you here. After all, you strongly value your privacy,” the older man said, brandishing a faint smile. I took another deep breath; I redirected my gaze towards the man.

“I died. This is not what I looked like when I died.” The man nodded.

“Of course, this is who you want to look like. Though it is a bit surprising you already rematerialised into a younger version of yourself as opposed to restructuring your physical composition afterwards. When I rematerialised, I looked only a few years younger than how I currently look like. Then again, I don’t need youthfulness externally to feel it internally.” The man shrugged. His smile lacked any hint of subtlety.

“Excuse me, rematerialised? Why do you sound like me?”

“I think you already know the answer.” The man took off his sunglasses and looked me in the eyes. I shook my head wildly.

“This has to be a dream.”

“Unfortunately, it is your new reality.”

“I have so many questions though.”

“And you will receive the answers in due time.”

I inspected the group of people that surrounded me and the older man. I did not immediately take notice of their physical features due to all the red and black, but few of the men looked very much like me or the older man. As for the women, some of them had similar hair and skin complexion. I could not discern their eye colours due to the shades they were wearing, but at this rate I could only assume we all shared the same eye colour. The older man extended his arm before me.

“Welcome to this brave new world, Justice.”

********************

The old man brought me to his apartment in Amsterdam. It was a rather sizable living space with the usual assembling of rooms and facilities–bathroom, toilet, bedroom–though both his living room and study room were adorned with all kinds of books and manuscripts.

“How did you manage to buy this place?” I asked the man.

“My comrades and I sold a bunch of gold we took from a universe that no longer needed it,” he told me, his expression not changing one bit. As we were heading to his place, he told me that there is a whole multiverse—a great totality of realities and worlds, big and small, alive and dead—one can explore. And here I thought the theories surrounding many worlds were largely hogwash and wishful thinking.

“Wouldn’t that ruin this world’s economy?” The old man shrugged.

“Probably, but this world is bound to get thrown into chaos once more people are figuring out how to use the power of exceediation.” Another strange word.

“First ‘rematerialisation’, then multiverses and now ‘exceediation’,” I said, sighing, “Can you please explain what is going on here?” The old man took a deep breath and nodded.

“I was waiting for you to feel a bit more acclimated being all, you know, alive again—but sure, I can tell you what is the deal here. However, I think it would be better for you to start talking. You seem to know about Crimson Justice, but I have this strong feeling that what you know diverges a lot from what is happening here.” I grabbed one of the chairs near the old man’s desk and proceeded to sit.

“Alright. Before I died, I wrote this manga-inspired comic about a superhero that travelled the cosmos. His name? Crimson Justice. He is part of this supernatural paramilitary organisation known as the Crimson Force. They all wear uniforms that are strikingly similar to the clothes you and your comrades wear, although I don’t recall adding a certain plumber’s cap to the design.” The old man groaned.

“Jesus Christ, that is a skipper’s cap. It’s a reference or homage to the type of hats workers and revolutionary working class figures wore in the first half of the 20th Century. Although, I suppose it also looks a bit like those hats Mao’s Red Guards wore, but the ones we wear are a tad less puffy.” I furrowed my brow as I rolled my eyes listening to his defenses.

“Anyhow, Crimson Justice and his comrades wore these really cool helmets. They were masked warriors of justice, fighting fascists and empowering workers across the vast multiverse.”

“But the word ‘exceediation’ doesn’t ring a bell?” The man asked. I shook my head.

“Interesting.”

“Are you going to explain things to me now?” The old man nodded.

“However, I hope you don’t mind that I will provide you with a summarised version of what I’m about to tell you. Because I could easily turn this into a lecture, but we don’t have that much time. It’s only a matter of time before they show up and we’re far from fully settled here.”

“They?” I asked. The man glanced at me. I sighed; I gestured that he could proceed talking.

“Basically, you and I—along with thousands upon thousands of others—have been dead for countless years. Until recently, we did not exist whatsoever. There was no physical mark of our existence to be found in the macrocosm. So how did we come ‘back from the dead’ if we ceased to exist?”

“I guess our souls—”

“But that is the thing though, there is no such unit as a ‘soul’. The only way we can even talk about subjective consciousnesses having a material manifestation in the soul is because the very source of power that granted us existence allows us to have a soul, or something akin to a soul to keep our existence together.”

“You’re speaking gibberish.”

“Maybe. It is all very strange and I am basing it partially on how I understand this based on how I conceived of Crimson Justice and his world before I died in the first place. Let’s say there is this higher layer of reality, except it exceeds the very totality of all material existence—and let’s call it the Transcending Void. The Transcending Void is essentially the void transcending itself, it is where nothing becomes something and that something can escape the restrictions that come with being. It grants the power of miracles, and it is this miraculous realm that is capable of rendering a feat like rematerialisation real.”

“So it is a super special afterlife or something?”

“Calling it an afterlife would not be proper because it is neither hell nor heaven. It is void, nothingness, the end of the living conscious subject. Yet it is void that gives what has become nothing the means to become something. This quality of the Transcending Void, is known as exceediation.” A glowing, translucent blade of energy appeared next to the old man. The sudden appearance of the sword almost caused me to fall off my chair.

“You see this blade? While it doesn’t come without some risks or sacrifices, this is a manifestation of the Transcending Void. By tapping into that reality, we can affect the material world in ways that would make a mockery of the field of physics. This includes rematerialisation, which entails the recreation of a human individual without breaking the continuation of their premortem consciousness, and travelling between worlds. Without the power of exceediation there may not have even been a whole multiverse because the Transcending Void has a major influence on the structure and restructuring of the macrocosm’s cosmology—”

“I thought you were giving me a summarised version?!” I shouted. The glowing sword disappeared.

“This is the summarised version!” The man loudly responded.

“This doesn’t even answer all my questions!”

We were interrupted by the noise of a loud roar coming from the centre of the city. I saw the man’s eyes widening before he narrowed his gaze. He took a couple steps towards one of the walls; he unsheathed his blade. With a single slash, the man created a ghastly rift. It did not seem to affect the wall whatsoever yet one could basically see a slash across the wall—or was it a slash across my own vision?

“Where are you going?”

“It is probably a Phantom; I must neutralise it before it could harm any people.” I rose up from the chair and walked towards him.

“Then take me with you. I want to see what Crimson Justice is capable of doing.” The old man chuckled and then nodded. We entered the portal the man created with his sword, transporting us to Dam Square, the central hub of the city. When we entered this area of Amsterdam, we noticed a large draconic, ethereal entity attacking the Royal Palace with one of its large, fierce claws. A famous building that has been part of the city for centuries, reduced to bricks and rubble. The dragon-like being sprouted additional heads which proceeded to fire blasts of light towards the National Moment, a large white pillar that has been used to commemorate the casualties of World War II and subsequent armed conflicts for many years. The attack was blocked by a wall of flying blades of light that manifested themselves between the blast and the monument. After deflecting the energy blast, the blades proceeded to rain down upon the enemy except one planting itself next to me.

“Take it,” the man said. I furrowed my brow.

“Excuse me? I don’t know how to even use it.”
“Just take it and entrust yourself to it.” I looked the man straight into the eye, but it seemed there was no point in arguing. Sighing, I grabbed hold of the blade. A surge of energy flowed through my body. It was not simply power being added to my being—knowledge, memories, skills. These were not mine yet they have become part of humanity’s legacy I am now fully inheriting. In less than an instant, my clothing transformed into the outfit the old man was wearing except instead of a red cap adorning my head, a red helmet with a golden three-horned crest covered my face.

“This boost is only temporary, so I will still have to teach you the basics soon enough. Are you ready?” The old man asked. I nodded.

“Yes, comrade”. The old man grinned and materialised a pair of sunglasses before his eyes.

“Alright, let’s do this!”

Blades in hand, we rushed towards the Phantom. The draconic entity sprouted thousands of tendrils, lunging them at us at lightning speed. Everything looked so hazy and surreal yet clear at the same time. The people that were screaming and running about looked as if they were frozen in time while the tendrils were approaching us at snail’s pace. We jumped upwards while slashing through the various tentacles and dragon heads attempting to assault us. The light that our blades emitted grew fiercer as we deprived the entity of its numerous appendages.

“Justice!” The old man shouted, “We must hit this Phantom with a decisive, concentrated strike. Only then can we neutralise this being.”

“I’ll follow your lead, Crimson!” I nodded. As we began to land on the ground, several dragon heads and tentacles lunged at us from all directions. Before they could hit us they were pierced by a storm of blades from above. The old man’s comrades arrived at the scene.

“We’ll create a path for you two! Just go all out!” One of the female comrades shouted at us. More swords rained down from above, creating a pathway that separated the main head from its various extensions. I grabbed my sword with both my hands, focusing all my thoughts and feelings—envisioning my blade as a great lightning bolt that could strike through the very heavens itself. Glowing wings of energy sprouted from the old man’s back, enabling the man to accelerate towards the target. I pulled off an overhead slash with the towering blade of light, bisecting the Phantom. The old man jumped upwards and dealt a series of slashes against the Phantom, resembling a ‘J’. The dragon’s main head bellowed a great roar before fading away, ceasing to be part of the material world once again. The sword in my hand faded away and all my sharpness and focus loosened.

“What was that?”

“That was a Phantom. Despair manifested. Conventional weaponry has no effect on these entities. They exist outside the laws of reality and transcend the totality of our material existence,” the old man explained.

“So the only way to stop them is using these exceediation powers?”

“Bingo.” The man nodded, “The Phantoms are made of the same ‘stuff’ as the Transcending Void, so the only thing that can subdue or neutralise them is the very source these creatures come from.”

“Interesting.”

“So what do you think? Are you willing to join us?”

“You want me to join you lot?”

“Of course! After all, you are my Alternate. Our ideas and experiences might diverge, but we both have a passionate beating heart that burns for justice.” The old man reached his hand to me.

“What do you say—do you want to join our cause across the endless macrocosm, Crimson Justice?” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My mind is clear. I accepted his hand with mine. This world I have awakened in is strange, very surreal indeed. However, perhaps this allows me to become the person I always wanted to be, the person I never succeeded in becoming—a hero of communist justice.

“Alright, let’s do this. It’s revolution time!”

Status Update (1 April, 2023)

Justice J.J. TaraiLeave a comment

Comradely salutations, everyone! It has been a while since my latest blog post, which received quite the positive traction on Twitter. Regarding the Sison article, I am still planning to write a follow-up article but my external hard drive that contains the unedited 3 to 4 hour footage of my interview with Comrade Joma remains lost. It should be lying around somewhere, but alas, I have not found it thus far. In this status update post, I would like to address a couple things regarding the overall developments surrounding this blog Red Spectre Writings.

The Missing Sison Remark

Unfortunately, roughly a month ago, I realised that I completely forgot to recall one insightful remark Joma made during my interview with him back in January 2020. That remark should have been part of the article, but I am not sure to what extent it is considered appropriate to re-edit an already published article, especially one that is several weeks old by now.

However, it is for that reason that I have decided to either produce a small article in which I give the missing Sison remark its appropriate spotlight or to simply save that remark for the follow-up article though it might take quite a while before I finally rediscover my lost external hard drive. It would just not feel right to simply elaborate on something I forgot mentioning regarding an old conversation between Sison and I in a status update post. That being said, I can already mention that it was one of his concluding remarks he made as we were bringing the interview to a close. It is a remark that, while obvious, says something about how one should look at their dedication to the communist cause. Again, this topic deserves an article separate from the status update, so I will not elaborate any further.

What happened to the website?

In case you have visited Red Spectre Writings before March 2023, you will notice that the layout of the website has significantly changed. You will also notice that the blog’s URL is now ‘redspectrewritings.wordpress.com’ instead of ‘redspectrewritings.com’. Both of these changes are the result of financial difficulties, which leave the blog in a somewhat precarious predicament. Hopefully, the site will return to its previous appearance once I can afford paying the required subscription, though I did manage to safely secure and extend the domain name for another year. Is it not strange that you can only extend the duration of a domain name up to a year? I was hoping to find an option to secure the domain for the next couple years, but I digress.

What have you been up to?

Honestly, I have just been preoccupied with all sorts of matters outside of Red Spectre Writings. I will occasionally reach out to comrades and like-minded people through social media—mainly on my Twitter account @red_writings—but even then I try not to go overboard with my online activities. It is obviously easier for me to engage with other people in a series of tweets as opposed to writing lengthy articles on Red Spectre Writings, but Twitter is not the best place for nuanced discourse and elaborate analyses and critiques. Facebook and Reddit are not ideal places for discussions either, of course, but political exchanges via Twitter can get easily lost in the nigh-endless stream of content. There is still a great deal of merit of having a blog such as Red Spectre Writings which provides a proper place for lengthy articles and potential discussions associated with those very articles.

Unfortunately, all sorts of real life issues kept me from giving adequate attention and energy into this blog, but I still intend to revitalise Red Spectre Writings. Despite not working on the website for over a year, there have been numerous attempts of me writing articles and essays, but even at times when real life itself did not pose the primary obstacle it would just be perfectionism or other insecurities keeping me from finishing and publishing something. For instance, I have yet to publish my political review of the video game Tonight We Riot. Will it eventually be published? That is the intention, of course, but real life matters such as political activities and making sure I keep a roof over my head take priority over updating the blog on a consistent basis. Nevertheless, I realise I need to strike a balance between my real life activities and my aspirations for Red Spectre Writings.

Once again, what are your aspirations?

Initially, Red Spectre Writings was intended to be a political blog focused on Marxism-Leninism-Maoism. Fundamentally speaking, that has not changed but I must admit that I want to use the blog as a platform for articles, essays but also stories that are not directly concerned with revolutionary Marxist theory or the history of Marxism. If I do become more proactive when it comes to maintaining and updating this blog, you can expect the occasional reviews of popular works and ramblings on a wide array of topics that go beyond Marxism itself. One of the reasons I want to expand the type of content permissible on Red Spectre Writings is because I have occasionally found myself fretting over whether a certain article or short story ‘was Marxist enough’, whether it ‘sufficiently applied dialectical materialism’, or whether it was ‘politically relevant enough’—and these hesitations only exacerbated my perfectionism and bouts of procrastination.

Ultimately, Red Spectre Writings is a blog about exploration and investigation with a self-admitted bias towards Marxism-Leninism-Maoism—whether that takes the form of elaborate essays, personal commentaries, literature reviews, or short stories. To me, the blog is a tool to improve my skills as a writer, but I also firmly believe it can be a platform that not only advocates for revolutionary Marxism but that also elaborates on or addresses various matters that deserve their fair share of nuance and critique. Of course, I am still open towards using the blog as a platform to co-operate with fellow Marxist-Leninist-Maoists. Perhaps we can all share insights with one another and in turn generate articles that address important concerns of the International Communist Movement. If you are interested, feel free to reach out to me.

What is in the works?

Besides the political review of Tonight We Riot and the follow-up article to my interview with Comrade Joma, there are quite a bunch of articles I have in store for the blog. Some articles are almost 50% done, and others remain in the conceptual phase. For those who are interested, here is a brief overview of the articles I have tried to publish over the last two years:

  • Small biographies on British Marxists, mainly Christopher Caudwell, George Derwent Thomson, and William “Bill” Ash;
  • Reader’s Notes on Georges Politzer’s Elementary Principles of Philosophy;
  • Reader’s Notes on George Thomson’s From Marx to Mao Tse-tung: A study in revolutionary dialectics;
  • Analysis and Critique of Struggle Sessions’ Theory and History of the US Maoist Movement;
  • Historical Overview of the Maoist Movement in the Netherlands;
  • An Historical and Epistemological Comparison between the Marxist Women’s Movement and Feminism;
  • On Capitalist Mythology;
  • On Voting, Electoralism, and Reformism;
  • Preliminary Meditations on the Bystander Effect;
  • Critique on the Redistribution of Wealth as the main objective of Marxism;
  • Critique on the Perverted Understanding of Power Dynamics;
  • The Problem of Moralising Practices Under Capitalism.

Admittedly, I was playing around with more topics and ideas in my head than that I could adequately write about in my spare time, but feel free to tell me if any of these topics sound interesting—or for that matter, if there are other topics you would like me to write an article about. While I am unable to provide any concrete estimates as to when I will publish the next article, I hope that this status update post reaffirms my intention to use Red Spectre Writings as a mainly Marxist-Leninist-Maoist platform for investigation, analysis, critique, and expression.

Until victory, always!

In Memoriam, Jose Maria Sison

Justice J.J. TaraiLeave a comment

On 16 December 2022, exactly one month ago, Jose Maria Canlas Sison, known by the International Communist Movement as ‘Comrade Joma’, passed away. Passing away at the age of 83, Joma has experienced the numerous challenges, trials and tribulations, which encapsulate the life of a revolutionary party militant. As a young adult, he immersed himself in the theory of Marxism-Leninism and joined the original Communist Party of the Philippines—the Partido Komunista ng Pilipinas (PKP)—only to break away from it and reconstitute the Communist Party after criticising and exposing the revisionist and nepotist leadership of the PKP. Founding the Communist Party of the Philippines (CPP) on 26 December 1968, Joma championed the Maoist dictum of how it is right to rebel—to rebel against the military dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos, to rebel against imperialism and the capitalist system as a whole, and to rebel against the many forms of revisionism and reformism that deter the masses from waging class struggle and seizing power. The life history of Joma is one that deserves an article, if not a book, on its own. Other Communists organisations and individuals have already provided more elaborate obituaries that chronicle Joma’s life and overall achievements, so it is neither this article’s intention nor its scope to address all these matters.1

While I was not all too familiar with Joma personally, I interviewed him for an extrapolitical assignment three years ago. During this interview I had the privilege to ask him an assortment of questions, ranging from questions concerning his childhood to questions concerning how he experienced the trials and tribulations of a revolutionary party militant. Unfortunately, as a result of extenuating circumstances, I am not able to locate the actual external hard drive that contains the three-to-four hour footage of my interview with Joma. That being said, I do vividly recall certain moments in which Joma expressed insightful remarks, which I love to share with others.

The Revolutionary Persona

When I conducted my interview with Joma, I more or less intended to just have him talk about his personal youth, how he became acquainted with the Marxist ideology, and how it all led to him being where he was at the time—a revolutionary in exile who maintained an active relationship with the communist movement in the Philippines while living in Utrecht, the Netherlands. That being said, there were definitely moments in his life that intrigued me and led me to inquire further on those aspects. At a young age, he was already perceptive of the fact how communism was demonised by the ruling establishment yet it was communism that provided a solution to the oppressive and exploitative conditions that kept the Philippines restricted and subordinated to the interests of imperialism. He participated in mass work as a Communist during a time that it was not only illegal to be a Communist, but that it was also punishable by death.

Despite living in increasingly repressive circumstances, Joma was not undeterred to form a lasting romantic relationship with his lifelong comrade Julie de Lima and form a family in the process. In terms of his experience as a revolutionary who had to navigate both a revolutionary and an interpersonal life, he told me that there was this saying that if you have a lot of strength and knowledge in something that you should share it or give part of that strength to those lacking. This applies not only to romantic relationships but also relationships involving comrades and friends. In other words, if you are in a relationship with someone in which they are rather lacking in political strength, that should motivate you even more to share your strength and knowledge with them. It is a process that requires patience and understanding, and to not conflate contradictions and misunderstandings with what is incorrigible. It is definitely the best route to support others in the process of being on a comparable political level, to share your insight and strengthen one another, and—to some extent—set yourself up as an example for others to follow or be inspired and motivated by. Evidently, Comrades Joma and Julie strengthened one another in terms of politics and knowledge as can be seen in the fact that Joma’s writings were always the result of comradely team effort. Those who aspire to be revolutionaries themselves occasionally ask themselves to what extent they need to make individual sacrifices in the name of the revolution. The typical answer to such a question tends to be one that borders on ‘lifestylism’ in which the aspiring revolutionary constructs a ‘revolutionary persona’ deprived of individuality and personal desires but one dedicated to the struggle. Historically, revolutionaries tend not to be this type of revolutionary person—and Joma is not an exception. In fact, throughout the interview, it became clear to me that Joma’s revolutionary persona was one that loved life with delight and enthusiasm yet at the same time recognised political necessities. As both the repressiveness of the Philippines’s state apparatus and the advancement of the revolutionary movement intensified, Joma accepted the reality of living underground as a revolutionary party militant. This not only meant abandoning his house and breaking off contact with various friends and family members, but it also meant that he had to have his children taken care of by comrades living in China in order to protect them from Marcos’s repressive machinations.

When I asked him if he was ever afraid of torture or death given the repressive circumstances he was active in, he told me that what he experienced was not fear but rather “cautiousness, carefulness” or “vigilance”. He was not unfamiliar with the sensation of fear, but when it came to facing the risks and dangers of being an underground revolutionary, he articulated his cautiousness in the sense of needing to be more vigilant, “to exercise prudence“. Joma was strongly aware of the dangers that a revolutionary could face but he did not experience this awareness in a paralysing sense, which is truly admiring. We Communists, especially those living in the imperialist countries who have yet to face the full brunt of the bourgeois state’s repressiveness, take revolutionary courage for granted. It is not the absence of fear, cautiousness, or vigilance, but rather it is the conscious recognition of these dangers yet marching onwards undeterred. “If you are afraid of death then you may need to reconsider a different career“, Joma told me laughing. When inquiring his experiences as an underground revolutionary, he told me that when it comes to recruiting new people, especially from dangerous areas or enemy occupations such as the military, it is better to leave the recruitment process up to cadre who are more familiar with those scenes. He admitted that there is always a level of risk no matter how small. According to him, a revolutionary party must always try to minimise the risks and dangers—preferably, one must try to have a plan B and plan C in case the initial plan fails. Reflecting on the events that led to his capture in 1977, he told me that it is important to always be on your guard, to not get careless, and to stick to party protocol. One of the reasons Joma ended up getting raided and captured by the military police was because he compromised his vigilance and went against party protocol by not concealing his face with a helmet or mask. It also did not help that when the military police raided his safe house, Joma and Julie were in a compromised position, i.e. they were unarmed and lacked immediate means to escape. In the end, however, as revolutionary you just have to place trust in your comrades. You must be capable of trusting them, placing your faith in them, he stressed.

Additionally, Joma shared the fact that he was subjected to torture by Marcos’s men. I recall feeling uncomfortable inquiring further regarding this traumatic ordeal, but Joma himself was rather open and lucid in terms of sharing his thoughts and memories. He told me that his tormentors were essentially ‘all bark and no bite’ given the fact that they avoided hitting his face, meaning they would never go to the fullest length in terms of inflicting physical torture. Even so, according to Joma, the physical torture he experienced was nothing compared to the protracted psychological torture he experienced in the form of solitary confinement. When I asked him if it ever crossed his mind to give in to the torture, he told me that the worriedness he felt towards his comrades—especially the potential consequences if he were to provide information to the enemy under duress—was much stronger than the pain and torment he constantly had to bear. Indeed, given the possible consequences of ‘spilling the beans’, relenting was not an option to Joma.

The Revolutionary Optimist

Ka Joma on Revolutionary Optimism (with captions) @Ka Joma Lives (Youtube)

Most importantly, however, Joma told me that “there is fun in making revolution. Those are the more overwhelming things; rather than fear, prudence, or the fear of death“. What was the most important for a revolutionary, according to him, was to “[act] according to conviction, [having] a just cause and having fun. It is fun to have good comrades“. When he shared with me that optimistic and rather endearing perspective, I felt taken aback. This is usually not something you hear people talking about within serious and battle-hardened revolutionary discourse, yet here I had before me someone who had faced repression and death numerous times, who had lost innumerably comrades and loved ones in the process, yet to him the life and struggle of the revolutionary was not only one of unrelenting trials and tribulations but also one of memories and bonds that are to be cherished. Perhaps it was his communist morale in light of the moments he cherished the most, in which he struggled and shared both adventures and misadventures with his comrades, that pushed him to carry on the fight.

When looking back on the various enemies he had to face—whether they were Filipino dictators, Western imperialists, or revisionists—it was not a bitter sense of anger that dwelt in his heart, but rather an ironic sense of ‘gratitude’, which is not too different from how Mao Zedong would talk about his enemies at times. Joma thanked his enemies for pushing him further into the proletarian camp because of the immense challenges and sufferings he had to face throughout his life, which only further sharpened his understanding that there can be no peaceful coexistence between the bourgeoisie and the oppressed and exploited people of the world. His various hardships only made it clearer to him that US imperialism and the Filipino national comprador bourgeoisie were vile and rotten to the core.

The last thing I can recall is asking Sison what his final advice would be for aspiring revolutionaries. Fortunately, I managed to write down his advice: “The biggest challenge is you can get killed. But, you know, what is the communist spirit, you know? You may not see the victory of one battle—in the first battle, you might get finished off. But of course, if you have a good collective, a good movement going on, with correct ideology and political line—political military line, then it does not matter, you know. […] If you are not willing to die, you cannot engage in armed revolution. But it does not mean that you are going to ask for it. You have to do everything [in order] that you will be the one who will finish up your enemy instead of them finishing you up.”

Unfortunately, that was the last time I would meet and interact with Joma alive. While I can take solace in the fact that he imparted various messages in the books I purchased from him and his comrades of the National Democratic Front of the Philippines (NDFP)—notwithstanding the fact that he signed one of my copies of Quotations From Chairman Mao Tse-Tung—I would rather talk to him one last time. There are still so many questions I have, so many insights I wish I could receive from him. Oral history writing is extremely valuable to the International Communist Movement, I would say. Even if people’s ideas are never truly lost but instead find continuation in the revolutionary movement that inherits the struggles of the past, it definitely feels like we are deprived of the rich experiences and insights of our veteran comrades whenever they depart the realm of the living and enter the great void. Thus, while I wish I could inquire and directly learn more from Joma, I am already grateful for the first and only interview I conducted with him.

Hopefully, in the near future, I might be able to locate the hard drive and subsequently provide more interesting information that I ascertained through interviewing him. In the meantime, I wish everyone the best of luck in their revolutionary endeavours, wherever you might be.

Red salute to the great proletarian leader of the revolutionary cause in the Philippines!

Ka Joma Lives!

Until victory, always!

References

  1. If one is more interested in a comprehensive assessment of Joma’s life and contributions in light of the International Communist Movement, I would direct them to the statements and obituaries written by the Communist Party of the Philippines, the Communist Party of India (Maoist), the International Communist League, Revolutionaire Eenheid, and Joshua Moufawad-Paul,

Happy International Workers Day, Everyone!

Justice J.J. TaraiLeave a comment

Salutations, everyone! I will spare the apologies concerning my absence and not meeting the promised deadlines, but I want to wish everyone a Happy International Workers Day. May this day be a yearly reminder of the working class’ struggle against the myriad of injustices imposed upon them, which are both indirectly and directly in the interest of bourgeois class power and the continuation of the Azathothian “God” known as Capital.

While the global pandemic continues, it is truly inspiring to witness numerous people still going out on the street to stand up for justice, dignity, equality, respect—and above all to push for the definitive victory of the exploited and oppressed people of the world, which ultimately necessitates the need to wage struggle in the public sphere. As we have witnessed last year—in places such as the United States of America, the headquarters of Western capitalist-imperialism—the desire for justice and the rage towards ongoing injustices are too strong to be dulled by the bourgeoisie’s desperate and semi-conscious attempts to control the pandemic and prevent the world-system from rupturing once more as a result of inevitable crises that have only been accelerated as a result of this pandemic.

Hopefully, I will have my review of Tonight We Riot finished within the next fortnight because I am rather eager to write about many other issues on this blog.

Until victory, always!

Image: Fibonacci Blue. International Workers Day March for Immigrant and Workers Rights, Flickr, Minneapolis, 26 Apr. 2016, www.flickr.com/photos/fibonacciblue/26627332332. This image is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0) license.

Status Update (April 16, 2021)

Justice J.J. TaraiLeave a comment

Hello everyone, how is life? Ideally, I wanted to have graced this blog with three or four additional articles or blog entries by now, but I am afraid I have nothing substantial to submit. On a more positive note, I am still alive, so there is yet no need for my comrades to posthumously publish all the interesting articles and short stories I have in mind for this blog.

Nevertheless, I can confidently announce that I revisited Tonight We Riot and reflected on my thoughts and gripes concerning the game on a much deeper level. I still hope to finalize my political analysis–or “Maoist review”–of Tonight We Riot by the end of this month. While I initially mentioned that I want to keep reviews, especially reviews with regards to video games, at an utmost minimum, this might change. Hopefully, I can expand on my plans to read and review a plethora of communist fiction or stories written by communists during the revolutionary periods of the Soviet Union and China at a later date. While it is Red Spectre Writings‘ aim to prioritize, or at the very least emphasize, the investigation and elucidation of matters pertaining Marxism-Leninism-Maoism, it will also be a platform for culture–to be more specific concerning the latter: reviews, short stories, and novels that I wish to write. Given that my politics are omnipresent in both my scholarly and creative endeavours, I do not believe it would be all too inappropriate for this blog to also house personally written stories that deal with revolutionary subject matter.

Of course, I am curious to your feedback on whether this is a balanced or faulty approach. Should this blog exclusively be a platform of education and digging deeper into revolutionary Marxism, or should this be the second-coming of MIM’s Maoist reviews albeit slightly more self-aware? Please, by all means, email me or contact me through social media what you would like me to write about, investigate, or explain. And once again, if you are a fellow Marxist-Leninist-Maoist and are interested in contributing to this platform, feel free to contact me if there is something you wish to write about for this blog.

Until victory, always!

Image: 龔 月強. Suburban District Buildings Decorated with Hammer and Sickle Emblem, Pexels, 16 Nov. 2019, www.pexels.com/photo/suburban-district-buildings-decorated-with-hammer-and-sickle-emblem-3233924/.

Tonight We Riot Podcast at Xator Nova’s Twitch Channel

Justice J.J. TaraiLeave a comment

Thanks to those for having attended the livestream of the podcast in which Xator Nova and I discussed our thoughts on the video game Tonight We Riot, a “revolutionary crowd brawler about worker liberation” developed by Pixel Pushers Union 512 and published by Means Interactive.

Those who failed to attend the Twitch livestream yet wish to watch the podcast can do so by clicking on the following link.

While I believe the podcast went relatively successful, I cannot help but feel a bit dissatisfied with my comments on the game. Hopefully, I will be able to submit a more elaborate critique regarding Tonight We Riot on Red Spectre Writings within the next week or so. While I wish to keep video game reviews at a minimum on this website, I do believe that Tonight We Riot can be used as a good case example of media that reinforces or reflects the political eclecticism and tendency to understand political struggle in an oversimplified and non-historical fashion that are prevalent among the ‘political left’, especially in the Global North. When art fails to contribute to the elevation of our political consciousness, then it is up to proper analysis and critique to make an attempt.

Image: Xator Nova. Podcast – Tonight We Riot (w/ Justice).

Video: CrimsonFlash1996. Podcast – Tonight We Riot (w/ Justice), Twitch, 21 Mar. 2021, www.twitch.tv/videos/958066708.

And… We are Live! + Tonight We Riot

Justice J.J. TaraiLeave a comment

My apologies for the slight delay, but this website should now be accessible to the public. This is why the first blog post Welcome to Red Spectre Writings is a day older than the launch of the blog itself. Oh well, c’est la vie.

As for any further updates, I will be partaking in a podcast with Xator Nova, who is an independent video game and cinema critic, that will be streamed live via Twitch on Sunday 2021/03/21 at 3 pm EST / 7 pm GMT / 8 pm CET. The podcast episode’s subject matter will revolve around the indie videogame Tonight We Riot, developed by Pixel Pushers Union 512 and published by Means Interactive.

You can watch the livestream by clicking on the link above. For those who are interested, Xator Nova’s blog can be visited here. While our tastes and opinions on video games and cinema are far from the same, I do believe they provide an interesting perspective on popular media that is sometimes under-criticized or criticized for the wrong reasons.

Image: Photogoddle. “The Marx Engels Monument at Schloßplatz, Berlin, Germany (Full View) as It Is during the Works for the Extension of the U5 Line. Marx Sitting, Engels Standing.” File:Marx-Engels Monument Berlin.jpg, Wikimedia, Berlin, 31 July 2018, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Marx-Engels_monument_Berlin.jpg. This image is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.