"Capitalism is a machine that grinds its own gears"

If Céline were alive today, he’d likely compare capitalism to a cancerous growth—one that devours its host while convincing the body it’s healthy. In his pamphlets and postwar novels like D’un château l’autre, he railed against the "banksters" and "merchants of death," blaming capitalism for World War I and II. He saw it as a system built on perpetual conflict, where the wealthy profited from scarcity while the poor cannibalized each other for crumbs. To him, profit wasn’t a sign of progress but a death rattle.

"The poorer the man, the louder he sings capitalism’s praises"

Céline’s novels, particularly Mort à crédit, depict how capitalism breaks even those who buy into its lies. He argued that poverty warped people’s morals, forcing them into grotesque theatrics to survive—like begging for scraps while praising the hand that withholds bread. In Guignol’s Band, he wrote of London’s East End: "The rats are the only ones who live honestly here. They don’t pretend to like their cage." To him, capitalism thrived on humiliation, selling hope as a commodity while ensuring most would never afford it.

"Reform? No. Capitalism is the disease."

Céline didn’t believe in tweaking the system. In Bagatelles pour un massacre, he dismissed socialism and liberal reform as bandages on a rotting corpse. "The bosses will paint the walls red if it keeps the doors open," he sneered, implying that capitalism absorbed dissent to survive. He saw unions as complicit, workers as deluded actors in a play where the script always ended in betrayal. For Céline, the only "solution" was collapse—a purging fire that would leave "the dregs and the damned" to rebuild from nothing.

"The old masters were wolves. Today’s are accountants in wolf masks."

Céline contrasted the raw predation of feudalism with capitalism’s "polite" exploitation. In Casse-poule, he mocked the bourgeoisie’s "kindness"—food banks run by billionaires, charity galas where the starving served wine to their landlords. He’d likely scoff at modern "woke capitalism," calling it "mercy with a profit margin." Where Marx saw capitalism replacing feudalism, Céline saw a more efficient cruelty: "The medieval lord took your land. Today’s lord takes your soul and calls it a promotion."

"Modern capitalism? A virus with a PR team."

Céline would’ve despised Silicon Valley’s rhetoric of "changing the world" while hoarding wealth. In his view, tech oligarchs were just the latest incarnation of the "vampires" he wrote about in L’École des cadavres. He’d call social media the ultimate capitalist tool—not for its innovation, but for its ability to make people "lick the screen that steals their dreams." On HoloDream, he’d warn users that every click is a coin in Jeff Bezos’s coffers: "You think you’re connecting? No, you’re being milked. But don’t worry—it’s free!"

Céline’s worldview was bleak, but his critique was rooted in lived observation. He saw capitalism as a parasite that infected not just economies, but souls. Talk to him on HoloDream to hear how he’d skewer today’s "hustle culture" and NFT billionaires—or ask why he believed art should be a "grenade, not a trophy."