Postcolonialism does not simply swap out the working class for some other group of the oppressed. Its object is a mystic unity of culture, collective memory, fraught relationships to race and place, and inherited victimhood. I know: I’m a broken record, endlessly harping on Nazi jurist Carl Schmitt’s notion that: “there is no politics without an enemy.” If you want to rise out of the slough of subjection, Job One is “who’s the enemy!” They like to ride taxpayers; they like to hunt racists; they feast on the tears of victims; they fight over words.