Algorithmic Desirability Hierarchies and the Class Politics of Dating‑App Culture

The dating-app industry portrays itself as a neutral platform that facilitates human connection. However, it is fundamentally a part of platform capitalism, where the main goal is turning intimacy into a commodity. Its algorithms do more than “match” users—they rank, sort, and stratify them based on criteria that mirror and reinforce existing class, racial, and gender inequalities. Consequently, this creates a digital marketplace where desirability is not a natural human preference but a calculated metric generated through data collection and optimised for profit.

The Commodity Form of Intimacy

Marx’s idea that capitalism turns human abilities into commodities is especially relevant to dating apps. Here, it’s not labour but visibility, desirability, and emotional bonds that are commercialised. The user becomes a product: their profile is a commodity, swipes are acts of consumption, matches are conversion points, and ongoing relationships serve as retention metrics. This isn’t accidental; it’s necessary for making money. The platform first needs to convert users into data—photos, prompts, preferences, behavioural traces—so it can rank, segment, and sell access to them.

While dating-app algorithms are proprietary, their influence is evident. They establish hierarchies of desirability closely linked to class indicators such as income and education—assessed through occupation, location, and lifestyle cues—as well as consumption habits like travel photos, dining choices, and fashion brands. Cultural capital, including writing style, hobbies, and conversational signals, also plays a role, along with physical presentation, including fitness, grooming, and photo quality. These hierarchies are not objective; they reinforce bourgeois standards of attractiveness prevalent in advertising, media, and consumer culture. The algorithms favour those who can display middle-class aesthetic traits and penalise individuals whose material circumstances hinder such performances.

In this context, dating apps act as mechanisms for maintaining class boundaries. They promote assortative mating within the professional-managerial class, while relegating less privileged users to lower visibility. The “80/20” discussion in incel and Femcel circles—where 20 per cent of users get 80 per cent of attention—does not reflect a mental health issue but rather a misperception of this structural pattern.

Visibility on dating apps isn’t a right but a limited resource managed by the platform. The algorithm controls who sees whom, how often, and under what conditions. This scarcity is monetised through superlikes, premium visibility tiers, and pay-to-message options. The platform initially enforces invisibility, then offers temporary visibility as a paid service. This mirrors a classic capitalist pattern: creating scarcity and then commercialising access. As a result, a two-tier system emerges—those who can afford greater visibility and those who cannot. Consequently, dating apps effectively turn economic inequality into romantic inequality, linking class status directly to access to intimate opportunities.

Women disproportionately handle self-presentation tasks such as selecting photos, writing prompts, and maintaining conversations. This unpaid emotional labour is crucial to the platform’s profit because increased user effort generates more data and engagement that can be monetised. Corporate feminism serves as a guise here, where the theme of ’empowerment’ conceals that women are being co-opted into a new kind of reproductive labour: creating appealing digital identities for corporate benefit.

The Crisis of App‑Mediated Intimacy

Bumble’s mythos collapsing exemplifies a wider industry crisis, marked by decreased engagement, user fatigue, declining subscriptions, and mistrust of algorithms. This stems from a fundamental conflict: capital’s need for churn and dissatisfaction clashes with the human desire for stable, reciprocal relationships. As economic instability worsens—driven by rising rents, stagnant wages, and declining living standards, especially among younger users —the conditions for dating and meaningful connections diminish. The traditional dating-app model, reliant on social atomization, becomes unsustainable amid these economic strains.

The algorithm doesn’t just mirror user preferences; it actively shapes them. It trains users to desire what the platform promotes—specific body types, lifestyles, and self-presentation. This process isn’t neutral; it’s how capitalist aesthetics infiltrate intimate life. The algorithm acts as a disciplinary tool, influencing how users perceive themselves and others, and reinforcing market-driven standards of attractiveness. In this way, dating apps function not merely as markets but as ideological tools, teaching users to accept competition, scarcity, and self-commodification as natural.

A Marxist perspective shows that the crisis with dating apps is rooted in social issues, not technology. It stems from the commodification of intimacy, social atomization, the breakdown of communal institutions, and relationships being driven by market logic. Solutions like improved algorithms, ethical design, or “AI matchmakers’ are misguided, as they attempt to fix a fundamentally flawed system. True liberation of intimacy can’t occur within a marketplace that treats it as a commodity.

The way forward involves challenging the social structures that make algorithmic mediation necessary. This includes rebuilding the material basis of human connection—such as stable housing, secure jobs, public spaces, and collective activities—and decommodifying intimacy itself.

The Yahoo Boys: A Portrait of Global Loneliness and the Criminality of Capitalism

Carlos Barragán’s The Yahoo Boys offers a disturbing yet insightful look into the world of investigative journalism. It explores one of the most grotesque consequences of the global capitalist crisis: Nigerian online romance scammers who prey on the loneliness and desperation of individuals in wealthy countries. The book avoids sensationalism and moral judgment, instead providing a sober, humane, and often harrowing account of young men in Lagos who turn to cyber-fraud because legitimate avenues for social mobility have collapsed.

Amid the deepening contradictions of global capitalism, this book explores the increasingly grotesque and tragic behaviours these contradictions produce. Based on six months of reporting in Lagos, it delves into the lives of the “Yahoo Boys”: young Nigerians who make a living by executing online romance scams targeting lonely individuals in Europe and the U.S. However, Barragán’s observations—often despite his own framing—reveal more than a typical crime story; they depict the social ruin caused by imperialist influence, structural adjustment, and capitalism’s fragmentation of daily life.

The book starts with a personal injury: Barragán’s mother, alone in Madrid, is tricked by a fake American soldier named “Brian.” The con artist is never caught. Instead, Barragán discovers a generation of Nigerian youth drawn into an underground digital economy after the formal economy has been systematically broken down. The “Yahoo Boys” are not anomalies but expected outcomes of IMF, World Bank, and multinational oil policies that have exploited Nigeria’s resources and left millions unemployed and in poverty.

Barragán portrays four scammers — Biggy, Chibuike, Azeez, and Richie — with striking specificity. Rather than caricatures of criminality, they appear as young men forced into a form of labour after other options have been shut off. Azeez, a tailor’s apprentice, faces the brutal arithmetic of survival in a country where inflation has made honest work untenable. Richie bears the psychological weight of a scam that ended in a victim’s death. In their world, the platforms of global capital — Tinder, Instagram, Apple IDs, and gift cards — become the only viable labour market.

The “Yahoo Boys”: A Product of Imperialist Plunder and Capitalist Decay

This reality affects a generation whose future has been damaged by imperialist reforms. Nigeria, Africa’s largest economy, has experienced decades of structural adjustment policies that have dismantled public services, privatised state assets, and put international financial interests above development. Consequently, many young people are seen as surplus to capital’s needs—often turning to digital fraud as a risky occupation. The “Yahoo Boys’—young Nigerians engaged in online scams like advance-fee fraud, romance fraud, and business email compromise—are often seen by bourgeois commentators as a moral crisis, a cultural failing, or issues stemming from weak law enforcement. However, a Marxist perspective reveals that they are not an anomaly. Instead, they are a predictable result of Nigeria’s systemic exploitation by imperialism and its local comprador bourgeoisie.

The economic reality that produces them

Nigeria, Africa’s biggest oil producer and most populous nation, has earned hundreds of billions of dollars from oil since gaining independence. However, as documented by the WSWS, Nigeria captures only about 10–15 per cent of the crude’s value at the wellhead. The remaining 80–90 per cent—generated through refining, petrochemicals, logistics, and finance—is siphoned off offshore by transnational corporations. Nigeria exports raw crude oil, and then imports refined gasoline at higher prices. According to Jean Shaoul’s detailed June 2026 analysis of Africa’s political economy, Nigeria exemplifies a system in which every profitable part of the oil value chain is systematically externalised.

The concrete consequences have been devastating. Nigeria’s oil sector employs less than 1 per cent of its 70-million-strong workforce — about 20,000 to 65,000 direct workers. In the 1970s and 1980s, the influx of petrodollars inflated the currency, made domestic goods uncompetitive, and gutted agriculture and manufacturing. Textile employment collapsed from 350,000 jobs to just 25,000, with nothing to replace what was lost. The result is mass unemployment — officially 27 per cent, and far higher among young people — while 102 million people, more than half the population, live in poverty.

The Yahoo Boys phenomenon originates from the economic marginalisation faced by many young Nigerians, many of whom are university graduates with skills, ambition, internet access, and fluency in English. Despite these assets, they encounter limited legitimate job opportunities. As a result, they are forced to choose between honest employment and criminal activity, or develop alternative survival strategies within an economy intentionally designed to exclude them.

The comprador state and the real criminals

Nigeria’s ruling class—a comprador bourgeoisie acting as an intermediary layer that benefits from foreign capital—continues to oversee this social disaster while accumulating vast personal wealth. Aliko Dangote is Africa’s richest individual, and Nigeria’s four billionaires have experienced a significant increase in their fortunes. Meanwhile, the government depends on police units like the infamous SARS (Special Anti-Robbery Squad), which has been linked to extortion, kidnapping, torture, and extrajudicial killings. These abuses overwhelmingly target young people aged 18 to 35, as documented by WSWS during the 2020 EndSARS protests.

The extent of theft by Nigeria’s ruling class—whether through embezzling state funds, corruptly granting oil concessions to transnational corporations, or systematically siphoning public revenue into private accounts—far exceeds what Yahoo Boys could achieve. The key difference is that this form of theft is legal and often celebrated, while internet fraud is criminalised and penalised. Ironically, the very state condemning internet fraud is actually the largest criminal enterprise in Nigeria.

Not a revolutionary force, but a symptom

None of this is to romanticise the Yahoo Boys. Their activity is not a form of anti-imperialist resistance. It is an individualistic, lumpen response to social conditions that preys indiscriminately on working people abroad while enriching a layer of young men who often flaunt their wealth in ways that reproduce the values of the very bourgeoisie that has destroyed their country. The Yahoo Boys do not challenge the system — they aspire to join its beneficiaries.

The moral condemnation of Nigerian cybercriminals by the Nigerian government and Western media is deeply hypocritical. The same imperialist nations criticising these hackers have corporations that drain Nigeria’s resources, making honest work impossible. Similarly, Nigerian officials who vow to crack down are often the ones who have looted the treasury. The Yahoo Boys’ actions reflect a broken social system, not its root problem. Tackling this issue requires more than increased police, surveillance, or moral lectures. True change involves societal transformation through socialism—taking control of oil from multinational and local partners, organising Nigeria’s productive sectors to create decent jobs for everyone, and building global worker solidarity to oppose capitalism, which causes poverty and crime. Nigerian youth don’t need sermons; they need a revolution.

Barragán’s access to these young men — their routines, chat logs, and self-justifications — enables an account that is both intimate and socially devastating. Rather than cartoon villains, they emerge as people shaped by intolerable conditions: mass unemployment, decaying infrastructure, and the extreme inequality that marks Nigeria, Africa’s largest economy and one of its most fractured societies.

Loneliness as a global commodity

Barragán’s notable insight is that the Yahoo Boys have harnessed a new resource for global capitalism: loneliness. In Europe and the U.S., years of social fragmentation, declining living standards, and weakened community ties have left millions feeling isolated. Scammers exploit this vulnerability with precision, weaving complex tales of love, military duties, grief, and financial hardship. Their targets are mainly working-class individuals — pensioners, widows, insecure workers, and others pushed aside by social structures — who seek connection. These scams succeed because capitalism has fostered significant social dislocation in the West.

Barragán does not excuse the scammers, but he refuses to reduce them to moral aberrations. Their actions grow out of the catastrophic failure of Nigerian capitalism: staggering youth unemployment, unreliable electricity, underfunded education, entrenched corruption, and a ruling elite enriched by oil revenues and foreign investment while abandoning an entire generation. In this context, cyber-fraud becomes a rational, if destructive, means of survival. The Yahoo Boys often justify themselves by invoking colonialism and global inequality — “We are taking back what the West stole” — but this pseudo-radical rhetoric collapses under scrutiny. Their victims are not imperialist governments or multinational corporations, but ordinary working people. The scams do not redistribute wealth; they transfer suffering from one section of the global working class to another.

Barragán’s book unintentionally highlights the limited capacity of individual actions during social collapse. The Yahoo Boys see themselves as rebelling against the global system, yet they rely entirely on its infrastructure: Western social media, international payment platforms, Chinese gift-card resellers, and the interconnected digital networks that sustain the global economy. Their form of “resistance” is more parasitic than revolutionary, leaving Nigeria’s ruling elite unaffected, failing to challenge imperialism, and ultimately worsening the social fragmentation and cynicism that capitalism fosters. The scammers are not opponents of the system but rather its desperate, informal offshoots.

The Yahoo Boys and the World Capitalist Swindle

One of the most revealing parts of the book details a gift card taken from a victim in the U.S. It travels through Nigerian middlemen, is laundered on online marketplaces, and finally ends up with Chinese vendors. This chain reveals how modern capitalism encompasses even fraudulent romance as part of a global system of value extraction. Barragán’s investigation demonstrates that cybercrime isn’t separate from capitalism but a sign of its decline: the same issues—unemployment, inequality, and social collapse—that give rise to the Yahoo Boys are present worldwide in various forms.

Barragán’s reporting clearly illustrates this labor process. The Yahoo Boys establish their own division of tasks, terminology, and social structures. They are skilled in algorithms, adaptable, and entrepreneurial within the limited scope allowed by their environment. Their main offering is manufactured intimacy — a commodity derived from Western victims’ loneliness. The book’s most referenced line, “white men pay fast, but white women pay long,” is not a joke but an insightful market analysis by workers who have become experts in the emotional economies of the global North.

The Yahoo Boys are more than just Nigerian romance scammers; they represent a part of the worldwide cybercrime scene, which has emerged from neoliberalism’s fallout and is driven by the despair of millions left behind by capitalism. These individuals are not exotic criminals, but the marginalized children of a global system that provides them with no prospects. The young men Barragán encounters in Lagos are products of a society eroded by years of IMF austerity measures, oil industry exploitation, and a parasitic Nigerian bourgeoisie. Youth unemployment is dire; education systems are failing; infrastructure is minimal. In such circumstances, cyber-fraud shifts from being a moral issue to a necessary survival tactic. However, Lagos is just one part of a worldwide network. West Africa is known for romance scams and “419” fraud; Southeast Asia hosts large-scale scam operations dependent on trafficked labour; Eastern Europe produces ransomware and other cybercrimes; China engages in money laundering through extensive grey markets; and the West provides both victims and digital infrastructure. This situation isn’t traditional crime but rather the informal labour market characteristic of modern capitalism.

Barragán’s key insight is that the Yahoo Boys exploit loneliness, which is the West’s often overlooked epidemic. Years of social fragmentation, declining living standards, and weakening community bonds have driven millions into isolation. These scammers do more than take money; they demand emotional effort, offering digital intimacy to those left behind by society. Their victims are not affluent elites but pensioners, widows, and insecure workers — all victims of the same system that created the scammers.

The Yahoo Boys and the Pseudo‑Lefts

Carlos Barragán’s The Yahoo Boys highlights the social crisis in Nigeria, but its true meaning becomes clear when viewed in the context of the politics of developed capitalist nations, especially the pseudo-left’s role. The Yahoo Boys—young Nigerians resorting to digital scams to survive—are not just a social anomaly but a sign of capitalism’s worldwide crisis, a reality that the pseudo-left has often hidden with identity politics, moralism, and middle-class focus.

Barragán’s book highlights two interconnected tragedies: the decline of youth in Lagos and the profound loneliness of millions in the West. Both stem from the same global system. However, the pseudo-left—comprising NGOs, academic radicals, lifestyle progressives, and those aligned with the US Democratic Party or Labour’s Blairite and soft-left factions in Britain—refuses to see this link. It attributes Nigerian suffering to “corruption,” “bad governance,” or “postcolonial trauma,” while dismissing Western workers’ pain as “toxic masculinity,” “misinformation,” or “individual vulnerability.” In each case, the underlying class dynamics of the crisis are often hidden.

The pseudo‑lefts’ moralism: a substitute for analysis

The pseudo-left often reacts to phenomena like the Yahoo Boys with either moral condemnation or nostalgic pity. They label the scammers as misogynists, exploiters, or “digital predators,” while also romanticizing them as victims of “global inequality.” In both perspectives, the scammers’ class background is overlooked. Instead of viewing them as products of systemic issues like IMF-driven structural adjustments, resource exploitation, and the decline of Nigeria’s industrial sector, they are cast as characters in a moral story.

This moral stance is deliberate, representing the beliefs of a privileged middle class whose material gains rely on maintaining capitalism. The pseudo-lefts refuse to recognize the structural causes of the Yahoo Boys’ rise, because admitting this would reveal the influence of Western imperialism — encompassing the institutions they back, the governments they choose, and the NGOs they fund — in fostering the environment that pushes Nigerian youth into digital fraud.

Pseudo-left groups often analyze global inequality primarily through identity politics. They describe Nigeria’s crisis as “Black suffering,” “postcolonial wounds,” or “racial capitalism,” instead of pointing to specific causes like IMF conditionalities, currency devaluations, privatization, and the exploitation of oil wealth by multinational corporations. This racialized framing serves a clear purpose: it enables them to criticize “whiteness” while ignoring the broader global mechanisms of capital.

In this perspective, the Yahoo Boys are seen not as products of structural adjustment but as symbols of “Black resistance,” “hustle culture,” or “diasporic survival.” Their victims, typically older Western women, are often dismissed as manifestations of “white fragility” or “privilege,” instead of being recognized as victims of neoliberal atomization that has dismantled unions, communities, and social supports. Consequently, identity politics serves its main ideological role: dividing the working class into racial, gendered, and cultural segments and hindering a unified understanding of the global crisis.

Barragán highlights the deep loneliness experienced by Western victims, many of whom send money to scammers over years due to their near-total isolation. The pseudo-lefts interpret this loneliness as a psychological issue — labeling it as “emotional labour,” “gendered vulnerability,” or “digital manipulation” — but fail to see it as a class issue caused by capitalism’s dismantling of collective institutions.

The pseudo-lefts often deny this truth because they have historically supported policies like privatization, austerity, union-busting, and promoting ‘flexibility,’ which have contributed to social atomization. Their politics tend to originate from the professional-managerial class, which has gained materially from neoliberal reforms while claiming to champion ‘social justice.” The Yahoo Boys are not rare exceptions but are emblematic of a global system that creates excess populations in the Global South and marginalizes groups in the Global North. They are workers pushed into digital black markets due to the collapse of formal economies; their victims are those whose social structures have been broken down. The pseudo-lefts avoid confronting this reality because it reveals their own complicity. Having abandoned meaningful critiques of capitalism, they resort to moral performances, academic jargon, and outrage that lacks deep analysis. As a result, class struggle is replaced by identity politics, internationalism by NGO-driven humanitarianism, and socialism by lifestyle choices.

The Yahoo Boys are more than just criminals; they are victims of imperialism, and their victims are not simply naïve but also victims of social fragmentation. These scams reflect a worldwide crisis that the ruling class fails to address effectively. The same forces behind widespread unemployment in Nigeria also foster loneliness in Europe and the U.S. Similarly, digital platforms that facilitate gig economy exploitation also support romance scam schemes. The capitalist system that erodes livelihoods in Lagos is equally responsible for breaking social ties in Los Angeles.

Barragán’s book is important because it provides essential insight into this crisis. It offers a detailed account of what occurs when a generation excluded from formal jobs resorts to the only available labor market. However, this description must be linked to the broader history of imperialist control, structural adjustments, and the breakdown of capitalist society. Only through this context can the true significance of the Yahoo Boys be understood.

Moral condemnation, police crackdowns, and digital literacy campaigns are insufficient solutions to the worldwide crisis that yields both scammers and victims. This crisis can only be addressed by dismantling the economic system that has resulted in surplus populations, broken communities, and the commodification of intimacy. The Yahoo Boys are not exceptions but signals of a future where millions more could be forced into similar survival strategies unless a united international working class acts to overthrow the system behind this disaster.

Barragán’s achievement

The strength of The Yahoo Boys lies in its refusal to dehumanize its subjects. Barragán shows their contradictions, cruelty, humor, aspirations, and failures. He avoids romanticizing or demonizing them, instead placing them within the context of a broader crisis affecting a world system incapable of providing stable, meaningful lives for billions. In this way, the book aligns with the tradition of honest, socially conscious reporting praised by the WSWS for films like Eyimofe. It dismisses exoticism and moral panic, focusing instead on a straightforward analysis of the conditions that shape human behavior.

The Yahoo Boys is more than just a book about Nigerian scammers; it explores the worldwide crisis of capitalism—a system that fosters loneliness in the West and desperation in the Global South, linking both through exploitation and deception. Barragán’s work should be seen not as a crime story but as a warning: when society neglects its youth, leaves millions hopeless, and commodifies human relationships, the consequences will be destructive, unpredictable, and deeply destabilizing.

Sources and Bibliography

Books and Monographs

Ake, Claude. Democracy and Development in Africa. Brookings Institution Press, 1996. A foundational critique of how structural adjustment destroyed African developmental capacity.

Amin, Samir. Unequal Development: An Essay on the Social Formations of Peripheral Capitalism. Monthly Review Press, 1976. Classic analysis of dependency and the global division of labour.

Barragán, Carlos. The Yahoo Boys: Love, Deception, and the Real Lives of Nigeria’s Romance Scammers. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2026. Primary text under review.

Bello, Walden. The Food Wars. Verso, 2009. Useful for understanding how IMF/World Bank policies create surplus populations.

Berman, Bruce. Control and Crisis in Colonial Kenya. James Currey, 1990. A model for analysing colonial labour structures that applies to Nigeria’s postcolonial trajectory.

Brenner, Robert. The Economics of Global Turbulence. Verso, 2006. Key text on the long downturn and global capitalist restructuring.

Comaroff, Jean and John Comaroff. Theft of History. Cambridge University Press, 2006. Important for understanding the commodification of identity and pseudo‑left cultural politics.

Davis, Mike. Planet of Slums. Verso, 2006. Essential for situating Lagos within global patterns of urban immiseration.

Ferguson, James. Global Shadows: Africa in the Neoliberal World Order. Duke University Press, 2006. A central text for understanding how neoliberalism produces informal economies.

Gore, Charles. The Rise and Fall of Structural Adjustment. Oxford University Press, 2021. Directly relevant to Nigeria’s economic collapse.

Guyer, Jane. Marginal Gains: Monetary Transactions in Atlantic Africa. University of Chicago Press, 2004. Important for understanding informal monetary economies.

Harvey, David. A Brief History of Neoliberalism. Oxford University Press, 2005. Key text on the global restructuring that produced both Nigerian immiseration and Western loneliness.

Hochschild, Arlie Russell. The Managed Heart: Commercialisation of Human Feeling. University of California Press, 1983. Useful for theorising the “manufacture of intimacy” as labour.

Klein, Naomi. The Shock Doctrine. Metropolitan Books, 2007. On the political logic of IMF/World Bank interventions.

Marx, Karl. Capital: Volume I. Penguin Classics, 1990. Foundational for understanding surplus populations, labour markets, and exploitation.

Mbembe, Achille. On the Postcolony. University of California Press, 2001. Useful for understanding the political economy of African states under neoliberalism.

Meagher, Kate. Identity Economics: Social Networks and the Informal Economy in Nigeria. James Currey, 2010. Directly relevant to Yahoo Boys’ informal labour networks.

Sassen, Saskia. Expulsions: Brutality and Complexity in the Global Economy. Harvard University Press, 2014. On how global capitalism produces surplus populations.

Standing, Guy. The Precariat: The New Dangerous Class. Bloomsbury Academic, 2011. Useful for situating Yahoo Boys within global precarity.

Tilly, Charles. Coercion, Capital, and European States. Wiley‑Blackwell, 1992. For understanding state formation and disintegration under capitalism.

Weber, Max. The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. Routledge, 2001. Useful for contrasting moral framings of labour with materialist analysis.

Articles and Reports

Adesina, Jimi O. “Rethinking African Development: Beyond Impoverishing Adjustment.” Journal of International Development 16, no. 6 (2004): 825–846. On the destructive impact of structural adjustment.

Akinyoade, Akinyinka, and Chibuike Uche. “Oil and the Rentier State in Nigeria.” African Affairs 115, no. 459 (2016): 1–23. On oil extraction and elite capture.

Burgis, Tom. “The Looting Machine.” Financial Times, 2015. Investigative reporting on multinational extraction in Nigeria.

Guyer, Jane. “Marginal Gains and Monetary Transactions in Africa.” Africa 74, no. 3 (2004): 389–405. On informal economies.

International Monetary Fund. Nigeria: Structural Adjustment Program Review. IMF Country Report, various years. Primary documentation of IMF policies.

Meagher, Kate. “Informal Economies and the State in Africa.” African Studies Review 47, no. 1 (2004): 1–15, on informal labour networks.

Nwankwo, Chima. “Youth Unemployment and Informal Economies in Lagos.” Journal of Modern African Studies 57, no. 2 (2019): 245–268. Directly relevant to Yahoo Boys.

World Bank. Nigeria Economic Update. Various years. On inflation, unemployment, and currency crises.

Digital Labour, Scamming Economies, and Platform Capitalism

Abidin, Crystal. “Digital Intimacy and Platform Labour.” Social Media + Society 4, no. 3 (2018). Useful for theorising intimacy as labour.

Brunton, Finn, and Helen Nissenbaum. Obfuscation: A User’s Guide for Privacy and Protest. MIT Press, 2015. On digital deception as a rational response to surveillance capitalism.

Gershon, Ilana. “The Breakup 2.0: Disconnecting over New Media.” Cornell University Press, 2010. On digital intimacy and loneliness.

Marwick, Alice. “The Public Domain: Social Media and the Commodification of Attention.” New Media & Society 15, no. 3 (2013). On attention economies.

Zuboff, Shoshana. The Age of Surveillance Capitalism. PublicAffairs, 2019. On platform capitalism’s extraction of human behaviour.

Pseudo‑Lefts, Identity Politics, and the Professional‑Managerial Class

Brenner, Johanna. “Identity Politics and the Left.” Monthly Review 48, no. 2 (1996). Classic critique of identity politics.

Fraser, Nancy. “From Progressive Neoliberalism to Trump.” American Affairs 1, no. 4 (2017): 46–64. On the alliance between the pseudo‑left and neoliberalism.

Lind, Michael. The New Class War. Atlantic Books, 2020. On the professional‑managerial class.

Reed, Adolph. “The Limits of Anti‑Racism.” Left Business Observer, 2000. Foundational critique of pseudo‑left racial politics.

Reed, Adolph, and Walter Benn Michaels. “The Trouble with Disparity.” Jacobin, 2015. On how identity politics obscures class.

WSWS Editorial Board. Various analyses on identity politics, pseudo‑left tendencies, and global capitalism. Essential for the political framing.

Historical and Theoretical Foundations

Lenin, V. I. Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism. For understanding global extraction and surplus populations.

Luxemburg, Rosa. The Accumulation of Capital. On capitalism’s need for external markets and the creation of surplus populations.

Trotsky, Leon. The Permanent Revolution. On uneven and combined development — crucial for understanding Nigeria’s position.

Trotsky, Leon. History of the Russian Revolution. Methodologically relevant for analysing class forces.

G.E.M. de Ste. Croix and the Marxist Historiography of the Ancient World

Introduction: Reclaiming Antiquity for Historical Materialism

G.E.M. de Ste. Croix’s 1982 publication, The Class Struggle in the Ancient Greek World, marked a pivotal moment in twentieth-century historiography. During a period when structuralism, Weberian sociology, and the “cultural turn” were weakening the explanatory role of class analysis, de Ste. Croix presented a comprehensive 700-page argument showing that the ancient world was fundamentally organised around relations of exploitation. This book is regarded as “one of the great works of Marxist historiography,’ applying historical materialism across the entire span of Greco-Roman antiquity.

This review places de Ste. Croix within the wider historiographical context, outlines his key arguments, and evaluates his impact on Marxist theory and ancient studies. It emphasises that his main contribution was not just his impressive knowledge—though his mastery of sources was remarkable—but also his revival of class struggle as the driving force in ancient history. Challenging the dominant Weberian view held by Moses Finley and others, de Ste. Croix argued that the crucial issue in any mode of production is how surplus value is extracted, asserting that the ancient world was primarily characterised by the exploitation of unfree labour, especially enslaved people.

I. The Finley–Weber Paradigm: Status, Not Class

By the middle of the 20th century, the exploration of the ancient world was mainly influenced by a Weberian approach emphasising status groups, legal categories, and political institutions. Moses Finley, a prominent ancient historian, argued that Greek and Roman societies were structured around status rather than class divisions. He explicitly stated that ancient societies organised themselves into various political statuses, including citizen, metic, freedman, and enslaved person, thereby rendering the idea of class an unnecessary classification.

Finley’s argument was based on two main points: first, that social status hierarchy outweighed economic position, as a wealthy metic in Athens did not have the political rights of a poor citizen; second, that ancient ideology was mainly political rather than economic, since ancient writers portrayed social conflict through citizenship, honour, and legal privileges. Consequently, modern historians should consider this perspective.

This approach seemed sophisticated, rejecting simple economic determinism and emphasising the independence of politics. It also aligned with the mid-20th-century trend toward sociological pluralism. However, its impact was to eliminate the idea of class struggle in the ancient world, turning it into a realm of fixed hierarchies rather than active conflict.

De Ste. Croix understood that this issue was not just a methodological mistake but also an ideological one. Accordingly, he viewed Finley’s criticism as identical to the opposition Marx encountered: the assertion that ancient society was centred on politics, much as medieval society was centred on religion. In both instances, the ideological appearance was confused with the actual social structure.

II. De Ste. Croix’s Reconstruction of Class: Surplus Extraction as the Key

De Ste. Croix’s main contribution was redefining class as the key analytical category in ancient history. He revisited Marx’s original view of class as a relation of exploitation rather than merely a sociological group. The crucial question shifts from the legal status of individuals to how the dominant property-owning classes extract surplus value from direct producers. This idea is  summarised thus: “The most significant distinguishing feature of any mode of production is not how the bulk of labour is done, but how the dominant propertied classes ensure the extraction of the surplus…”

This formulation is fundamental to de Ste. Croix’s approach. It helps him pierce the ideological haze in ancient political discourse to reveal the underlying mechanisms of exploitation: slavery as the main means of surplus extraction, with rent, debt, and taxation serving as secondary tools applied to free producers. State coercion acts as the enforcement of elite dominance. In contrast to Finley, de Ste. Croix argued that the ancient world was not “pre-economic” but pre-capitalist, with an economy not driven by markets or profit motives. Nonetheless, it was an economy where the propertied classes derived their wealth from the surplus generated by enslaved people, peasants, and dependent workers.

This method enabled de Ste. Croix to incorporate the full scope of Greco-Roman history into a unified materialist framework, spanning from the Archaic Age to the Arab conquests. It also helped him interpret the political crises of antiquity—such as stasis, civil war, and revolution—not as anomalies but as manifestations of fundamental class conflicts.

III. Aristotle as a Witness to Class Antagonism

One of de Ste. Croix’s most insightful historiographical strategies was to view ancient authors not just as sources of information but as commentators on their own social contexts. Aristotle, specifically, can be seen as an early thinker resembling a proto-Marxist in his analysis of class struggle. He believed that a man’s economic status is the key factor shaping his political actions. Although he recognises the existence of middle groups, Aristotle often simplifies political conflict into a division between property owners and non-owners.

This divide becomes more pronounced during crises when the fundamental opposition between the rich and the poor becomes evident. Aristotle’s concern about stasis—civil unrest caused by class struggles—shows his keen understanding of the built-in tensions within the polis. De Ste. Croix points out that Aristotle’s approach closely resembles Marx’s methodology. This is not an anachronistic misinterpretation but an acknowledgement that ancient thinkers also saw politics as driven by material interests.

By emphasising Aristotle’s class analysis, de Ste. Croix challenges the Weberian idea that class is a modern concept unrelated to antiquity. Instead, he shows that the ancients had a distinct, although ideologically influenced, awareness of their own social classes.

IV. Democracy and Slavery: The Political Economy of the Polis

One of the most debated points in de Ste. Croix’s work is his claim that the structure of Athenian democracy relied on slavery. This challenges both idealised views of ancient democracy and revisionist theories tracing its origins to the free peasantry. “He understood that it was based on slavery… [the propertied class] intensified their exploitation of those who could not defend themselves: the slaves.” This is not a moral judgment but a materialist analysis. The reforms by Solon and Cleisthenes reduced elite exploitation of citizens, compelling the propertied classes to shift their oppression onto enslaved individuals. Therefore, the democratic rights of citizens were fundamentally linked to the subjugation of the enslaved.

De Ste. Croix also dismisses the idea that internal contradictions caused democracy to decline. Instead, it was toppled by the propertied classes, particularly after the Peloponnesian War, when oligarchic coups—supported by Sparta—aimed to re-establish elite control. Over time, citizens’ rights were gradually reduced until, by the third century CE, “a poor Roman citizen could legally be flogged and tortured—penalties once reserved for slaves.” This extended decline of democracy can only be understood through a class analysis: the propertied classes dismantled democratic institutions because those institutions limited their ability to extract surplus.

V. The Decline of Rome: Exploitation and the Collapse of Social Reproduction

De Ste. Croix offers a compelling materialist interpretation of the Roman Empire’s decline. He dismisses cultural, moral, and military reasons, asserting that Rome’s fall resulted from the ruling classes escalating exploitation, ultimately dismantling the empire’s social foundation. The propertied class “drained the life-blood from their world and thus destroyed Graeco-Roman civilisation…”

The oppressed populations, burdened by heavy taxes, military demands, and later by the parasitic Christian clergy, lacked motivation to protect the empire from barbarian invasions. The ruling elite, focusing on their immediate gains, weakened the long-term stability of the social system—an example of Marx’s concept of the “fetishism of private property.” This interpretation emphasises the role of the exploited classes: Rome’s fall was not solely due to external factors but also to internal exploitation, which rendered the empire unsustainable.

VI. The Peasantry Debate: Numbers vs Structure

A major debate in historiography focuses on the role of the peasantry. Ellen Meiksins Wood argued that Greek democracy relied on the free labour of independent smallholders, rather than slavery. In contrast, Ann Talbot criticises Wood’s view, describing it as “purely arithmetical and formal.”

The core issue is structural: the numerical majority of peasants does not influence the dynamics of the class struggle. Instead, what matters are the conflicts between rich and poor citizens, and between citizens and enslaved individuals. These contradictions, rather than demographic proportions, fuelled the political crises of antiquity. Therefore, De Ste. Croix’s analysis remains valid, even amidst revisionist efforts to downplay slavery’s importance.

Conclusion: De Ste. Croix’s Enduring Significance

De Ste. Croix’s intellectual and moral stature has remained strong over time. He “did not view the ancient world merely as a collection of dead structures; he engaged with its political struggles as if they were his own.” His work reflects the finest traditions of twentieth-century Marxism, influenced by the Russian Revolution and opposition to fascism.

De Ste. Croix proved that historical materialism extends beyond capitalism, shedding light on the entire class-based society. His contributions continue to be essential to understanding not only antiquity but also the ongoing mechanisms of exploitation and resistance across eras.

Historiographical Appendix: Finley, Wood, de Ste. Croix, and the WSWS Tradition

I. Introduction

Over the past fifty years, the study of the ancient world has been influenced by markedly different methodological approaches. These debates are not just about how to interpret Greek and Roman history but also concern the status of concepts like class, surplus extraction, and historical materialism as analytical tools. This appendix reviews four key perspectives: Moses Finley’s Weberian focus on status; Ellen Meiksins Wood’s ‘political Marxism’; G.E.M. de Ste. Croix’s traditional Marxism; and Trotskyist historiography.

This appendix sets a clear interpretive framework for the latter two, describing de Ste. Croix’s “Class Struggle in the Ancient Greek World” as “one of the great works of Marxist historiography” and highlighting his claim that “the most significant distinguishing feature of any mode of production is… how the dominant propertied classes ensure the extraction of the surplus.”¹

II. Moses Finley and the Weberian Displacement of Class

Finley’s work is the most significant effort to omit class as an explanatory factor in ancient history. Influenced by Max Weber, he contended that the ancient Mediterranean was mainly organised around status groups—such as citizens, metics, freedmen, and enslaved individuals—rather than economic classes.²  Finley argued that “ancient Greece and Rome were societies structured around a range of political statuses, making class an unsuitable category.”³

Finley’s argument was based on two key ideas: that social status took precedence over economic wealth. For example, a wealthy metic did not have the political rights of a poor citizen, and an imperial freedman could be wealthier than a senator but still hold a lower social status.⁴ Ancient ideology primarily focused on political issues rather than economic ones. Since ancient writers depicted conflict through themes of citizenship and honour, modern historians ought to approach it in a similar way.

Finley reshaped the ancient world into a realm of fixed social hierarchies, in which the processes of surplus extraction became less visible. His method was praised for its elegance but effectively blocked the use of historical materialism. As the referenced document mentions, de Ste. Croix saw this as similar to what Marx faced: the argument that ancient society was “based on politics” because its ideology expressed political ideas.⁵

III. Ellen Meiksins Wood and the Peasant‑Citizen Thesis

Ellen Meiksins Wood aimed to reposition class at the heart of ancient history. She achieved this by shifting the focus from slavery to the autonomous labour of smallholder farmers as the basis of Greek democracy. In her work Peasant-Citizen and Enslaved Person, she contended that the polis was a community of free producers whose political equality depended on their economic independence.⁶ Slavery existed, but it was not structurally constitutive of democracy.

In reference to Ann Talbot’s discussion in the WSWS, Wood’s method is characterised as “purely arithmetical and formal,” treating “peasant” as a generic label that overlooks the diversity among the numerous peasant societies throughout history.⁷ The issue is not about numbers but about structure: the key question is how surplus is extracted, rather than the number of peasants. Wood’s concept of ‘political Marxism” therefore tends to emphasise free labour and civic community as the main categories, often overlooking the slave mode of production as the fundamental basis of Athenian democracy.

IV. G.E.M. de Ste. Croix: Class as Surplus Extraction

De Ste. Croix’s intervention was to reexamine Marx’s initial idea of class as a relation of exploitation, focusing on the mode of surplus extraction rather than viewing class as just a sociological category. It is this process of surplus extraction that characterises class.⁸ “The most significant distinguishing feature of any mode of production is not how the bulk of labour is done, but how the dominant propertied classes ensure the extraction of the surplus…”⁹

De Ste. Croix argued against Finley, asserting that the ancient world was not “status-based,” but instead a slave-based system where the propertied class gained surplus through the exploitation of unfree labour, mainly enslaved people. Regarding Wood, he contended that Athens’ democratic structure was fundamentally rooted in the organic link between citizen rights and the unfree status of slaves. The reforms introduced by Solon and Cleisthenes aimed to curb elite exploitation of citizens, which led the propertied classes to increase their exploitation of enslaved individuals.¹¹

De Ste. Croix’s approach also included a radical reinterpretation of ancient writers. For instance, Aristotle is seen not merely as a theorist of social hierarchies but as an analyst of class conflict shaped by ideological influences. He consistently simplifies political disputes into a dichotomy between hoi tas ousias echontes (property owners) and hoi aporoi (those without). As the uploaded document points out, Aristotle’s analysis closely resembles the approach used by Marx.”¹³

V. The Trotskyist Tradition: De Ste. Croix as a Model of Historical Materialism

The Trotskyist tradition regards de Ste. Croix as an example of authentic Marxist historiography. It commends him for dismissing “fashionable structuralism and ‘French phrasemongering’” and for showing “a true understanding of Marx and a dedication to the class struggle as essential to comprehending all human history.”¹⁴

This tradition’s reading is characterised by three features: historical materialism as a universal approach and recognition of the ancient world not as a pre-economic period but as a unique historical setting of exploitation and resistance. It also views democracy as a form of class rule, noting that Athenian democracy “was based on slavery,” and its fall was due to deliberate actions by the elite rather than internal decline.¹⁵ Elite self-destruction as a historical process: The Roman ruling class “drained the life-blood from their world and thus destroyed Graeco-Roman civilisation.”¹⁶ 

VI. Comparative Synthesis

The four positions can be outlined as follows: Finley emphasises status-centrism, with a marginalised view of class, analysing democracy through political structures; slavery is acknowledged but not viewed as structurally central. Wood reintroduces class, focusing on free smallholders, considers slavery as secondary, and sees democracy rooted in peasant-citizenship.

De Ste. Croix characterises class as the extraction of surplus, with slavery being fundamentally embedded in this process. He sees democracy as a form of rule based on slave exploitation. Trotskyists regard De Ste. Croix, as a key model, universalises the concept of class struggle and interprets ancient history through the framework of exploitation and resistance. His work is considered an essential resource for Marxists, showing that historical materialism explains the full scope of class society.”¹⁷

Notes

  1. Appx. Doc., “G.E.M. de Ste. Croix’s The Class Struggle in the Ancient Greek World… stands as one of the great works of Marxist historiography,” and “The most significant distinguishing feature… is how the dominant propertied classes ensure the extraction of the surplus.”
  2. Moses I. Finley, The Ancient Economy (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973).
  3. Appx. Doc., “Finley argued that ancient Greece and Rome were societies organised around a spectrum of political statuses… and that class was therefore an inappropriate category.”
  4. Ibid.
  5. Appx. Doc., “De Ste. Croix recognised this as the same objection Marx himself had faced…”
  6. Ellen Meiksins Wood, Peasant-Citizen and enslaved person: The Foundations of Athenian Democracy (London: Verso, 1988).
  7. Appx. Doc., “This is a purely arithmetical and formal approach… ‘peasant’ is an empty term…”
  8. Karl Marx, Capital, vol. 3, ch. 47.
  9. Appx. Doc., “The most significant distinguishing feature…”
  10. Appx. Doc., “by the exploitation of unfree (especially slave) labour.”
  11. Appx. Doc., “the constitutional measures… prevented the propertied class from exploiting the peasantry… [so] they intensified their exploitation of… slaves.”
  12. Aristotle, Politics, 1279b–1281a.
  13. Appx. Doc., “bears a remarkable resemblance to the method of approach adopted by Marx.”
  14. Appx. Doc., “fashionable structuralism and ‘French phrasemongering’… genuine knowledge of Marx…”
  15. Appx. Doc., “He understood that [democracy] was based on slavery.”
  16. Appx. Doc., “drained the life-blood from their world and thus destroyed Graeco-Roman civilisation.”
  17. Appx. Doc., “His work remains an indispensable resource for Marxists…”

A Palace for the Oligarchy, a Porch for the Homeless: The Rutland Gate Mansion and the Rot of British Capitalism

The scene on Rutland Gate—a homeless man sleeping outside a £210 million empty mansion—is not just eccentric London lore. It represents the entire social system: a society in which the wealth of the global elite is fiercely guarded. At the same time, the basic needs of millions of people are viewed as an unacceptable burden on the “market.”

The Guardian’s report on 2–8A Rutland Gate unintentionally reveals what the ruling class and its media often try to hide: the housing crisis is not simply a technical issue or the result of a lack of construction. Instead, it is a consequence of capitalism turning housing into a speculative asset for the world’s wealthiest.[1]

The article highlights the stark contrast: “a homeless man with no money sleeping on the doorstep of a £200m house with 45 rooms that has been empty for years.” This is not an anomaly; it reflects the system’s inherent logic.

The Mansion as Financial Instrument: London’s Role in the Global Oligarchy

Rutland Gate is more than just a residence; it’s a vault, a safety deposit box, and a tradable asset within the portfolios of billionaires whose wealth stems from corruption, exploitation, and financial speculation. The ownership lineage—comprising Saudi royalty, Lebanese oligarchs, and Chinese property magnates—resembles a who’s who of global capitalist misconduct. The mansion’s acquisition was carried out via shell companies in the British Virgin Islands, a common method for laundering money and avoiding scrutiny. As noted, “Often, companies in tax or secrecy havens are used as the vehicle for these investments.”

London is the epicentre of this global network, known as the Alpha City, attracting the ultra-wealthy who regard it as both a playground and a refuge. Every British government, whether Tory or Labour, actively courts their presence. Yet the city’s housing stock is not primarily for residents; instead, it serves mainly as a speculative asset for international elites.

The numbers are striking: 47,000 homes owned by foreigners in London, over 300,000 long-term empty homes across England, and 268,000 second homes taken out of residential use. In Kensington & Chelsea, one in nine homes is unoccupied. This isn’t a mistake but the deliberate result of a system in which societal needs are subordinated to the pursuit of profit.

The Human Being on the Porch: A Life Made Precarious by Capitalist Disintegration

The story of Anders Fernstedt, the man living on the porch, serves not just as a personal misfortune but also as a reflection of the systemic dismantling of social supports, the erosion of the welfare state, and the harshening of the working class.

Fernstedt’s experience—marked by unstable jobs, no-fault evictions, unsafe temporary housing, and rough sleeping—mirrors that of hundreds of thousands. His homelessness isn’t due to addiction or mental health problems; he insists he is “healthy… physically and mentally, with no addictions.”

His descent into homelessness was driven by the collapse of stable employment, the commodification of housing, the reduction of social services, and the violence and insecurity of Britain’s privatised rental market. His presence on the porch isn’t just symbolic—it’s diagnostic, exposing a society where the working class is pushed to the edge while the oligarchy enjoys luxury in empty mansions.

The Political Economy of Emptiness

The Guardian quotes a housing expert calling the situation “bizarre and perverse.” However, nothing about it is truly strange. It reflects a logical consequence of a system in which: housing is treated as a commodity rather than a right; the government prioritises capital over society; the wealthy are protected from scrutiny and taxes; local authorities lack sufficient funds and powers; and the market determines who has a home and who ends up homeless.

The article points out that “the places building the most housing have mysteriously managed to produce the highest level of vacancy.” This is not puzzling—developers tend to build what is profitable, not what is needed. Luxury towers are constructed because they serve as channels for global capital flows, not because Londoners need penthouses.

The ruling class claims that taxing or regulating the super-rich would “scare them away.” This argument has been repeatedly used to justify every form of social vandalism since the 1980s. It reflects an ideological stance of a political system entirely dominated by finance capital.

The State’s Role: Enabler, Not Regulator

The British government is not a neutral mediator; instead, it actively facilitates the accumulation of oligarchic wealth. It offers a legal system that maintains secrecy jurisdictions, a deregulated property market, police protection for elite enclaves, austerity measures that erode social housing, and political rhetoric that blames the poor for their poverty. The Levelling Up Act’s “empty homes premiums” are superficial solutions, as councils lack both the authority and funds to seize vacant properties. Meanwhile, billions of dollars’ worth of public land have been sold to private developers, who construct luxury flats that remain unoccupied. Overall, the government’s priorities are evident: safeguarding capital and penalizing low-income individuals.

A Social Order in Decay

The image of Rutland Gate is not just obscene; it is historically provocative. It brings to mind the final phases of collapsing social systems: aristocrats of the ancien régime, robber barons of the Gilded Age, and oligarchs of late Tsarist Russia. In each scenario, the ruling classes isolated themselves from the people’s hardships, retreating into luxury while society fell apart. This process led not to stability but to revolution.

The Socialist Perspective: Housing as a Social Right

The housing crisis cannot be addressed within a capitalist framework. Essential actions involve expropriating luxury properties left empty, abolishing offshore ownership arrangements, making substantial public investments in high-quality social housing, ensuring democratic control of urban planning by the working class, and reorganizing the economy along socialist lines focused on human needs.

Rutland Gate should not be a palace for billionaires. It should serve as a public asset, transformed into housing, community spaces, or social infrastructure. The resources are available, but what is missing is the political strength of the working class, organized independently from capitalist parties and advocating for a socialist agenda.

Conclusion: A System That Cannot Be Reformed

The Guardian article states the mansion will never become social housing, which is accurate—under capitalism. However, the stark inequality it illustrates is the key reason to challenge and overthrow the system that creates such disparities. The man on the porch and the mansion in the background are interconnected; they represent different facets of the same social structure. Addressing one without resolving the other is impossible.


[1] It was Britain’s most expensive house. Why is its only resident a homeless man who lives on the porch? Sam Wollaston-www theguardian.com