The important thing here is that no matter who rules, the foundations of the extravagant capitalist economy are not seriously altered, so inequalities can deepen because there is a large middle class that is more than enough for its needs. It is better for them to live more tightly, fearing what will happen to them if they do not adapt. The neoliberal shoe is so narrow that it is sometimes appropriate to cut off your toes to be comfortable in it. And it’s about the taxpayers cutting them off without having to go to the State podiatrists who are immersed in the design of the feet of the future.
That’s what Cinderella’s half-sisters do to get into glass shoes: mutilate her lower extremities. It seems incredible that in such an old tale this metaphor of the need to adapt members to the social mold has already emerged. Another striking example is the innkeeper of Greek mythology, Procrustes, cutting off the limbs of guests whose hotel beds were too small, and stretching them for those that were too large. In the stories of both Cinderella and Procrustes, we are told about the rigidity of the system represented by the shoe and the bed. What they’ve come to tell us is that we should be the ones adopting the size and shape of the State (the situation, after all), because the State is made of inflexible materials: if you touch it, it breaks.
For example, psychology and psychiatry clinics flourish in the shadow of this increasing rigidity expressed by the phrase “Brussels said it” (which Brussels said goes to the audience). With a misfit child today, the first thing that is far from respecting this rarity, or even raising it, is to take him to a psychologist. If you’re mentally fit when you’re young, you’ll avoid getting your toes or knees amputated when you grow up, depending on whether you fell into the prince’s capitalist shoe or the neoliberal bed. Procrusteans.
Anyway.