Dialectical Materialism and Logical Empiricism to combat theological and Racial Hegemony of Semitic Faiths.
Marxist economics has failed, and the evidence is not buried in dusty archives but in the living societies of our age. The Soviet Union, which once claimed to embody the triumph of planning over markets, collapsed in corruption and decay. Its people lined up for bread while its leaders drowned in luxury. Its vaunted economic model was revealed as a bureaucratic shell, incapable of competing with the very capitalism it despised. China, meanwhile, flies the red flag, chants the slogans of socialism, and rules by a Communist Party, yet the engine of its prosperity is the free market—factories owned by capitalists, entrepreneurs making fortunes, corporations listed on global exchanges. Vietnam has followed the same path, turning from collectivism to a hybrid that is more capitalist than socialist in practice. The conclusion is undeniable: Marxist economics is dead. Even those who mouth allegiance to it in speeches abandon it in policy. What remains, what survives beyond the wreckage, is not Marx’s flawed economics but his deeper philosophical arsenal: dialectical materialism, the method by which reality and history are understood through the clash of contradictions. If the failure of communism shows that Marx’s economics cannot liberate us, his philosophy still can.
But dialectical materialism does not stand alone. It is joined, reinforced, and sharpened by its sibling, logical empiricism. Together, these two outlooks constitute the only credible revolutionary worldview in our time. One dissects the illusions of revelation, the other explains the material processes of history. One guards the frontiers of knowledge against metaphysics and superstition, the other shows the movement of society without gods. Both are indispensable for those who want to liberate humanity from the oldest, deepest, and most vulgar form of slavery: theological imperialism. For let us be clear—religion, especially the Abrahamic faiths, is not spirituality, not culture, not harmless tradition. It is empire. It is control. It is slavery disguised as salvation.
Let me define these terms plainly for those who are not accustomed to philosophical jargon. Dialectical materialism is the view that reality is material, not divine, and that everything—nature, history, society—moves through contradictions. Nothing is eternal, nothing is unchanging. Empires rise and fall, ideas clash, new forms emerge out of old conflicts. Religion itself is not eternal.
Judaism was the tribal theology of ancient Israel, forged in battles with neighboring peoples. Christianity was the child of a decaying Roman Empire, stitching together slave morality and imperial ambition. Islam was born in the deserts of Arabia, hardened by Bedouin raids and tribal wars. All are products of material conditions, not divine commands. Dialectical materialism liberates us because it strips away the pretense of eternity and exposes revelation as history. The moment you understand that Moses, Jesus, Muhammad were not cosmic messengers but historical men, you step into freedom.
Logical empiricism, meanwhile, is the principle that knowledge must be tested, observed, verified. What cannot be checked against experience is not knowledge but fantasy. It is the refusal to grant prophecy or revelation any epistemic privilege. If Muhammad says God dictated verses in a cave, we ask: where is the evidence? If Paul says Jesus rose from the dead, we ask: how can this be verified? If Moses says he heard God’s voice on a mountain, we ask: why should we believe without proof? Logical empiricism is freedom because it dethrones the tyrant of revelation. It demands evidence, not authority. It refuses to bow to voices no one else can hear. The world was shackled for centuries by scholasticism, where theologians debated how many angels could dance on a pin. It was only when empiricism arose in the Renaissance and enlightenment—Galileo pointing his telescope, Bacon formulating induction, Hume dismantling miracles—that the chains began to break. Logical empiricism was the blade that severed the church’s hold on the mind. Dialectical materialism is the hammer that smashes theology’s grip on history. Together they form the only reliable weapons of liberation.
For what is theological imperialism if not slavery? The Abrahamic religions are built on one premise: exclusive revelation. One prophet, one book, one law. Moses and the Torah. Jesus and the Gospel. Muhammad and the Quran. They declare that truth belongs only to them, that salvation is impossible outside their walls, that those who resist must be conquered, converted, or annihilated. This is not spirituality; it is conquest. This is not morality; it is empire. The Crusades, the Inquisition, the Jihad, the pogrom—these are not aberrations but logical consequences. When you believe truth is monopolized by one prophet, everyone else is the enemy. And so for centuries humanity has been butchered in the name of God, enslaved to prophets, crushed under holy law. The most vulgar empire is not the British Raj or the Ottoman Turks. It is the empire of the book, the tyranny of revelation.
And yet even now, in the twenty-first century, we still bow to this empire because we confuse religion with ethnicity. We say Iranian when we mean Muslim, as if Persians were born with the Quran in their blood. We say Turk when we mean Muslim, as if Ottoman conquest erased pre-Islamic identity. We say Italian when we mean Catholic, as if Rome itself had not once been pagan. We say Russian when we mean Orthodox, as if Orthodoxy defines Slavic blood. And worst of all, we say Hindu when we mean Hindu religion, when in truth Hindu is nothing more than Indian, an ethnicity, a civilization. Hinduism is not a religion in the sense of Judaism, Christianity, or Islam. It has no one book, no one prophet, no exclusive revelation. It is a civilization of philosophies, gods, rituals, contradictions. To reduce it to “a religion” is to grant it the same false category as Abrahamic dogmas. I reject Hinduism as a religion, but I embrace Hinduism as ethnicity, as Indian civilization, just as Greek does not mean Greek Orthodoxy, and Persian does not mean Islam.
Freedom requires this separation. If you mistake blood for belief, you make religion hereditary, a prison passed down by birth. And once religion is mistaken for ethnicity, it becomes impossible to reject without being accused of treason. To reject Christianity would be to betray “the West.” To reject Islam would be to betray “the East.” To reject Hinduism would be to betray “India.” But this is a lie. Religion is not blood. Religion is ideology, a set of doctrines. It is not who you are but what you are told to believe. To reject theological fantasies is not treason, it is freedom.
That is why the revolutionary today must be both a dialectical materialist and a logical empiricist. Dialectical materialism shows that religions are born in history, thrive on conquest, and collapse under contradiction. Logical empiricism shows that their claims to revelation and miracle cannot withstand the simplest demand for evidence. When Islam proclaims itself the final revelation, we answer: prove it. When Christianity proclaims resurrection, we answer: test it. When Judaism proclaims chosen people, we answer: by what measure? The answers do not come, because there are none.
The tragedy of human history is that we still kneel to books that cannot answer our questions. For centuries, theology strangled reason in Europe. The church smothered inquiry under dogma, deciding not only what people should believe but what they were allowed to think. The scholastics of the Middle Ages wasted generations arguing whether the Eucharist transubstantiated “in substance” or “in accidents,” while real knowledge—astronomy, medicine, physics—lay dormant. What finally broke the spell was not another revelation, not another prophet, but empiricism. Galileo aimed his telescope and saw moons orbiting Jupiter, shattering the claim that all heavenly bodies revolved around Earth. Bacon argued that knowledge must begin with observation, not scripture. Newton revealed universal laws of motion that applied everywhere, without need of angels or miracles. Hume declared that miracles have no basis if testimony contradicts experience. This was the birth of freedom, the emancipation of reason from revelation. The theologians screamed heresy, but their authority could not survive the telescope, the experiment, the calculation. Logical empiricism won, and with it came the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, the scientific revolution. The world was liberated not by saints but by skeptics.
Yet just as Europe was freeing itself from the chains of revelation, new chains were being fastened elsewhere. Islam had already perfected the imperial theology: one prophet, one book, one law. It spread by conquest from Arabia to Spain, from Central Asia to India. Wherever it went, it carried Sharia, a legal system that claimed divine sanction, a code where human freedom bent before revelation. The irony is that Islam borrowed from Greek philosophy, Indian mathematics, Persian administration, yet it crushed the very roots of inquiry by insisting that the Quran was final, infallible, eternal. What could not be reconciled with the book was cast aside. Rationalism was tolerated only as long as it served theology. When it threatened to eclipse revelation, it was snuffed out. Averroes was exiled, philosophy was denounced, the gates of ijtihad—the right of independent reasoning—were declared closed. Islam’s empire thrived not on reason but on submission.
Christianity’s empire was no different. The same faith that preached “love thy neighbor” unleashed crusades on the Middle East, conquistadors on the Americas, and missionaries on Africa and Asia. Theological imperialism does not build civilizations by persuasion but by coercion. It was Christianity that rationalized slavery, declaring that Africans were cursed descendants of Ham. It was Christianity that sanctified conquest, blessing the enslavement and extermination of indigenous peoples. The Jesuits who carried Bibles into India and China did not bring liberation; they brought submission. They demanded that Hindus and Buddhists abandon millennia of philosophy and bow to one prophet. They demanded that civilizations older and richer than Christianity erase themselves for a tribal revelation from the Levant. The arrogance is breathtaking, but it is the natural consequence of exclusive revelation: if your book is the only truth, everyone else must be wrong.
That is why I call it the most vulgar form of imperialism. The British colonized for resources, the Ottomans for tribute, the Romans for territory. But Abrahamic religions colonize the mind. They tell you not just how to live but who you are, what you must believe, whom you must worship. They demand submission not only of lands but of souls. And once submission is secured, they declare it eternal, binding forever, beyond question. This is slavery in its purest form: slavery that convinces the slave he is free because he has chosen his master.
Freedom begins when you refuse this lie. Freedom begins when you realize that religion is not blood. To be Persian is an ethnicity; to be Muslim is a creed. To be Russian is an ethnicity; to be Orthodox is a faith. To be Italian is an ethnicity; to be Catholic is a doctrine. They are not the same. And yet theological imperialism thrives by confusing them, by claiming that rejecting the religion is betraying the people. Reject Islam, and you are told you are no longer truly Iranian or Arab. Reject Christianity, and you are told you have turned your back on the West. Reject Hinduism as a religion, and you are told you have betrayed India. This is the cruelest trick: turning ethnicity into a prison, chaining people to religions they did not choose, forcing them to inherit dogma as though it were DNA.
This is why I say: Hinduism is not a religion but an ethnicity, an Indian inheritance, a civilizational identity. India was never united by a prophet or a book. It was united by a civilization that tolerated gods and philosophies, rituals and atheism, logic and myth. To call it a religion in the Abrahamic sense is to misunderstand it entirely. Hinduism is not exclusive revelation; it is multiplicity. It has no single founder, no final scripture, no closing of debate. It is an ethnicity, a civilization, a way of life. To reduce it to a “religion” is to mislabel it, to force it into the same category as the Abrahamic faiths, where truth is monopoly and heresy is punishable by death. Hinduism as ethnicity is a cultural inheritance; Hinduism as religion is a falsehood imposed by colonizers and missionaries. To believe otherwise is to surrender India’s civilizational uniqueness to the categories of its enemies.
The same mistake is made everywhere. Turks are Muslims, we are told, as if their pre-Islamic history never existed. Persians are Muslims, as if Zoroaster and Cyrus are erased by Muhammad. Italians are Catholics, as if Rome’s paganism never mattered. Russians are Orthodox, as if their Slavic roots had no meaning before Byzantine priests arrived. This is the tyranny of religion disguised as ethnicity. And it is a tyranny we must smash, because so long as people believe religion is in their blood, they will never free themselves. They will cling to their chains as heritage. They will defend their slavery as identity.
Dialectical materialism explains this trick. It shows how religions appropriate ethnicity to secure power, how they merge themselves with identity so that rejecting them feels like treason. It shows that this is not eternal but historical, a strategy of survival for imperial faiths. Logical empiricism, meanwhile, exposes the falsity of the underlying claims. It demands evidence for the miracles, revelations, prophecies that supposedly justify the imperial control. And when the evidence does not come—as it never does—faith collapses. The combination of the two is lethal to theological imperialism: dialectics unmasks the empire, empiricism demolishes its myths. Together, they free both the body and the mind.
And this is precisely why every revolutionary today must wield both. To fight Abrahamic faiths with another faith is folly; you only replace one master with another. To fight revelation with counter-revelation is pointless; you only trade one prophet for another. The true revolution is to reject revelation altogether, to declare that no book is eternal, no prophet infallible, no God unquestionable. That is the liberation of the mind. And once the mind is free, the empire crumbles in breaking theological imperialism once and for all.
We live today in an age where the empires of God still demand our submission. The armies are weaker, but the myths are stronger than ever. Politicians swear on Bibles. Monarchs claim to rule by divine right. Jihadists blow themselves up for a promised paradise. Missionaries flood poor nations with food in one hand and a Bible in the other. Theocracy strangles Iran. Wahhabism poisons Arabia. Evangelicals turn the United States into a theater of biblical literalism. Everywhere, religion remains the greatest engine of irrationality, violence, and division. And still we are told to “respect” it, to treat it as untouchable, to grant it immunity from criticism. But respect is slavery if what you are asked to respect is a chain around your neck. Tolerance becomes surrender when what you are asked to tolerate is your own subjugation.
This is why freedom demands not just reform but rejection. Reform within theology is meaningless, because theology itself is the cage. When you say, “This book is inspired but not infallible,” you are still granting the book authority it never earned. When you say, “This prophet was wise but not divine,” you are still kneeling to a man who claimed to speak for God. When you say, “This miracle is metaphor, not fact,” you are still shackling reason to fantasy. The true revolutionary act is to declare that no prophet, no book, no miracle deserves belief without evidence. To strip revelation of its privilege. To treat prophets as men, scriptures as literature, miracles as myths. That is freedom. That is emancipation. That is revolution.
Islam illustrates the stakes most vividly. It is the most perfected form of theological imperialism. It claims finality: Muhammad is the “seal of the prophets,” the Quran the eternal word, Sharia the unchanging law. This structure is totalitarian in its very design. It allows no exit, no dissent, no reinterpretation. To leave Islam is apostasy. To question Muhammad is blasphemy. To doubt the Quran is heresy. The penalty is death, exile, or ostracism. This is not faith; this is slavery enforced at sword’s edge. And yet Islam is not unique—only more consistent. Christianity once enforced the same punishments. Judaism once demanded the stoning of heretics. Islam merely perfected the model of revelation as empire. It is a system of obedience masquerading as salvation.
But here is the deeper truth: the chains are not only external, they are internal. The worst slavery is when the slave defends the master, when the prisoner polishes his cage, when the believer proclaims that his bondage is freedom. Billions today identify themselves not by culture, not by reason, not by choice, but by religion. They say “I am Muslim,” “I am Christian,” “I am Jew,” as though this were who they are, not what they believe. They mistake theology for ethnicity. They mistake ideology for blood. This is the lie that sustains the empire of God. It convinces Persians that rejecting Islam is rejecting Persia, that Italians who leave Catholicism are betraying Italy, that Russians who doubt Orthodoxy are betraying Russia, that Indians who reject Hinduism are betraying India. This is how religion colonizes identity. This is how it survives: by fusing itself to ethnicity, by claiming that apostasy is treason.
Dialectical materialism unmasks this fraud. It shows that religion is historical, not hereditary. It is born of material conditions, of tribal wars, imperial ambitions, economic struggles. It is not in your blood, it is in your history. You can change history. You cannot change blood. Logical empiricism finishes the task by demanding evidence for every revelation, every miracle, every prophecy. And when the evidence fails—as it always fails—the claim collapses. Together, these philosophies tear religion from identity, idea from ethnicity, myth from truth. Together, they open the gates of freedom.
Consider what this means for the future. A world governed by dialectical materialism and logical empiricism would still have cultures, traditions, arts, identities. Persians would still be Persian, Italians still Italian, Indians still Indian. But they would no longer be enslaved by revelations. They would no longer bow to prophets. They would no longer kill or die for books written in deserts millennia ago. They would be free to shape their lives by reason, by experience, by contradiction and change. That is not a utopia. It is simply humanity stripped of its chains.
And let us be blunt: without this liberation, there will be no peace. The Abrahamic faiths cannot coexist peacefully because they are built on exclusive revelation. If only one prophet is true, then all others are false. If only one book is final, then all others are frauds. If only one law is eternal, then all others must be abolished. Jews, Christians, Muslims will never reconcile as long as they remain Jews, Christians, and Muslims, because their very doctrines demand the delegitimization of the others. The only path to peace is to reject the premise altogether, to refuse exclusive revelation, to walk away from the monopoly of truth. Peace does not come from dialogue between prophets. It comes from rejecting prophets. It does not come from ecumenical councils or interfaith seminars. It comes from the recognition that revelation itself is false, that truth is universal, not monopolized by desert tribes.
This is why I insist: the true revolutionary of our time is not the Marxist economist, not the nationalist agitator, not the populist demagogue. The true revolutionary is the one who dares to say that the emperor has no clothes, that revelation has no evidence, that prophets are men, that gods are fantasies. The true revolutionary is the dialectical materialist who unmasks the historical roots of religion, and the logical empiricist who demands evidence for every claim. Between them, the spell is broken. Between them, the chains fall. Between them, humanity can finally step into freedom.
Theological imperialism is the oldest slavery, but it is not invincible. It survives only as long as people confuse faith with blood, revelation with truth, obedience with identity. The moment we refuse the confusion, the moment we demand evidence, the moment we insist that history is material, not divine, the empire collapses. Moses becomes a tribal leader, not a lawgiver from heaven. Jesus becomes a wandering preacher, not a risen god. Muhammad becomes a Bedouin politician, not the seal of prophecy. Their books become literature, not scripture. Their miracles become myths, not facts. Their laws become historical codes, not eternal commands. And once that happens, we are free.
Free to think without fear. Free to live without submission. Free to be Persian without being Muslim, Italian without being Catholic, Russian without being Orthodox, Indian without being Hindu. Free to inherit culture without inheriting dogma. Free to embrace ethnicity without embracing theology. Free to be human without being slave.
This is the revolution that matters. Not the revolution of flags and slogans, but the revolution of thought. Not the overthrow of governments, but the overthrow of gods. Not the storming of palaces, but the storming of heavens. To be a dialectical materialist and a logical empiricist is to refuse the empire of God and to embrace the empire of reason. It is to reject revelation and embrace reality. It is to smash chains and to stand upright. And only when humanity does this—only when it throws prophets, books, and revelations onto the ash heap of history—will it finally be free.
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