If not contradictions, then what? Just beneath the iconic slogan “Workers of the world, unite!” engraved on the grave of German philosopher Karl Marx, was a Labubu doll, carefully placed, reveals a now-viral post on X. Labubus — a symbol of capitalism — of the world can unite, but not at the grave of the father of Communist philosophy.
The photo of the odd pairing went viral, racking up over 10 million views in just five days. While some adored the quirky contrast, others were far less amused.
As one user said, “Labubu could be one of the most anti-Marx things ever”.
The designer toy, arguably a peak symbol of late-stage consumerism, which the philosopher had long warned against, resting on the grave of the man whose socio-economic theories laid the foundation for anti-capitalist thought in the modern world, felt nothing short of ironic, and yet, undeniably cute.
While some people offered an “awww”, what truly stood out was a handwritten letter by a Chinese student placed next to the Labubu doll, amid other tokens of tribute left for Marx.
In the letter, the student, having claimed to study theories at length, hailed Marx’s ideas for transforming China’s destiny, which were, honestly, far more heartfelt and endearing. But in the capitalist world, who’s really stopping to read that?
“People clowning on the Labubu but the letter itself is very heartfelt,” a person wrote.
LABUBU DOLLS AND COMPULSIVE CONSUMERISM
Labubu dolls, part of Pop Mart’s “The Monsters” collection, are the brainchild of Hong Kong artist Kasing Lung. These snaggle-toothed, elf-like figures have become a global sensation among the GenZ. Its marketing model has thrived on scarcity and surprise. Sold in blind boxes, buyers don’t know which doll they’ll get until they open it — a tactic that mirrors gambling mechanics and drives compulsive collecting.
With limited-edition figures reselling for hundreds or even thousands of dollars, Labubus, to me at least, epitomises the artificial desire Marx critiqued in his warnings about capitalism’s commodification of human wants.
The dolls, often flaunted by influencers like Rihanna and Dua Lipa, have gone from being toys to status symbols for Gen Zs, and now, even gripped the late millennials.
The toys dangling from luxury handbags as badges have become symbols of affluence.
Authentic Labubu dolls range from $15–$30 for standard figures and keychains, up to $960 for large editions. Rare 1.2-metre pieces fetching up to $170,000 at auctions. In India, prices start at Rs 2,000 for authentic pieces, but in flea markets, one can find counterfeit ones for as low as Rs 200.
LABUBUS ARE WHAT MARX HAD WARNED OF
The manufactured hype, where value stems from market frenzy rather than utility, is what late-stage consumerism is, Marx foresaw. It is a system where desire is engineered, and consumption is an identity.
The internet’s reaction to the Labubu on Marx’s grave was a mix of hilarity and biting commentary.
“Icon of modern consumerism on his grave. He would have hated you,” one person wrote. And fair enough, given the dissonance of a capitalist trinket adorning the resting place of Communism’s champion.
Another person observed, “There’s something deeply poetic and unhinged about a collectable capitalist gremlin sitting on the grave of the man who critiqued capitalism itself. Peak irony”.
With the question of who placed the doll still unanswered, the safest guesses remain a playful tourist, a cheeky critic, or an unwitting fan. But the sentiment online was clear: “Capitalism wins again”, as one person declared, though perhaps they missed the fall of the Berlin Wall.
STUDENT’S LETTER AND BOILED POTATOES FOR MARX
With the viral buzz on, the Chinese student’s letter offered a counterpoint. Written by one Liu Yuhae, the letter was full of deep gratitude for Marx’s influence on contemporary socialist thought in China.
“I have always wanted to write you a letter,” the student began, admitting their struggle to fully grasp his complex works, like The Communist Manifesto and The Critique of the Gotha Programme.
With a heartfelt touch, the student joked about looking like a potato and dreaming of cooking them for Marx in the afterlife.
Marx, after all, in his The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte (1852), likened the French peasantry to a sack of potatoes, lumped together by condition but scattered in spirit, incapable of collective action without a binding force.
DOES IT NEED A LABUBU DOLL TO REMIND THE WORLD OF MARX?
This letter carried, if not less, far more substance, more weight and thoughtfulness, the kind of note that truly belonged there.
Who knows how many such letters lie unread at Marx’s grave? But in a world dominated by capitalism, it took a Labubu doll for the post to go viral.
The combined appearance of the sincere letter and the Labubu doll in northern London, where the philosopher spent the last decades of his life after fleeing political persecution in continental Europe, is nothing short of magic realism.
Labubus and their fans of the world may well unite and are uniting, but preferably not at Karl Marx’s grave. True admirers of such marketed and ornamented trends would be better off finding more appreciative company elsewhere.
The presence of the Labubu doll at Marx’s grave, however, is a reminder of capitalism’s uncanny ability to repackage things as a marketable aesthetic. Let the dolls gather elsewhere, and leave Marx’s to inspire, at least until the workers of the world unite. If they really ever do.
– Ends
