Political Correctness: From Marxist Control to Modern-Day Censorship

Did you know that political correctness is a Marxist term?

It didn’t come from Hollywood. It wasn’t born on Tumblr. It originated in Communist circles—used explicitly to enforce ideological obedience and suppress dissent.

Let’s walk through how we got from Stalin’s gulags to DEI seminars and cancel culture. Because this isn’t about kindness. It’s about control.

Political correctness began as a tool of authoritarian control.

In the 1920s and 1930s, the term “politically correct” was used by Marxist-Leninist factions in the Soviet Union. But unlike today’s sanitized HR-friendly version, this was no polite suggestion. It was an accusation—one that could get you imprisoned, disappeared, or executed.

To be “politically correct” meant to be ideologically pure according to the Communist Party line. It didn’t mean you avoided offending someone’s feelings—it meant you avoided contradicting the regime. Deviating from the party’s doctrine wasn’t a social faux pas—it was treason.

That’s where the term was born: in a system where speech and thought were criminalized if they didn’t serve the state’s version of truth.

In the 1970s, it resurfaced in American academia—ironically.

Fast forward to post-1960s America. Amid civil rights movements and anti-war protests, U.S. universities became hotbeds for radical leftist ideologies. It’s here that the term “politically correct” made a comeback—this time among professors and activists.

At first, it was used sarcastically. Leftist academics would joke that certain views were “not politically correct,” as a way of poking fun at rigid ideological orthodoxy.

But irony has a short shelf life when ideology becomes dogma. That half-joke hardened into a full-blown moral framework. And soon, that framework stopped being funny—and started being enforced.

By the 1980s, the sarcasm disappeared—and the rules hardened.

Universities began implementing speech codes. Books were revised or removed. Classrooms became battlegrounds of language reform and ideological allegiance. Even literature and philosophy were filtered through a new lens: race, gender, identity, oppression.

Words like “manpower” or “founding fathers” were flagged. Professors were reprimanded for using outdated terms. Students were encouraged—sometimes required—to report violations of “inclusive language” policies.

What began as a cultural critique turned into institutional censorship. And it wasn't limited to what you said—it became about what you thought. Dissent wasn’t debate anymore. It was danger.

1987: Allan Bloom publishes The Closing of the American Mind.

Bloom, a University of Chicago professor, saw it coming. His book wasn’t a conservative manifesto—it was a cultural autopsy. He argued that American universities were no longer places of intellectual exploration but of ideological indoctrination.

He warned that by abandoning truth in favor of relativism, and reason in favor of emotion, we were gutting the purpose of education. Students weren’t learning to think—they were being trained to conform.

It was one of the first serious alarms about the ideological capture of academia. But most people ignored it—or mocked it. The results are now playing out in real time.

1989–1991: “Political correctness” enters the mainstream—and gets messy.

Suddenly, the culture wars left the campus and entered the national conversation. Media outlets like The New York Times, Newsweek, and The Atlantic began covering the absurdities of campus culture.

Students were punished for making off-color jokes. Professors lost jobs for questioning orthodoxy. Public figures were slammed for using terms that were fine five years earlier.

And so began the era of weaponized sensitivity—where language, once used to communicate, was now used to control. Every word was a potential landmine. Every statement a litmus test.

1990: Enter Andrew Dice Clay—first casualty of PC pop culture.

Dice Clay was raw, raunchy, unapologetically offensive—and wildly popular. But he became the first major entertainer to be publicly punished for violating the new speech codes.

MTV banned him. SNL cast members refused to share the stage. Critics labeled him “toxic” and “dangerous.”

He was a comedian, not a policymaker. But in a society slipping into ideological rigidity, laughter itself became a threat. Because the politically correct cannot afford to be mocked. They need total submission—even from jesters.

1991: Bill Maher launches Politically Incorrect.

Maher’s show was a middle finger to the rising tide of speech policing. It welcomed controversial voices, encouraged uncomfortable conversations, and didn’t shy away from offending viewers.

It was proof that even mainstream entertainers could see the walls closing in. And while Maher’s politics were left-of-center, his concern was universal: a society that can’t handle dissent is headed toward collapse.

Meanwhile, the language shift trickled into daily life.

The new rules didn’t stop at campuses and comedy clubs. They seeped into job descriptions, government documents, and newsrooms.

“Fireman” became “firefighter.”“Mailman” became “mail carrier.”“Chairman” became “chairperson.”

These changes were framed as “inclusive.” But they were part of a much broader trend: language was being edited to erase anything deemed problematic, no matter how benign its original intent.

And when you can control language, you control what people are allowed to think. Orwell called it Newspeak. We called it progress.

And that was always the goal.

Let’s be clear: political correctness was never about empathy or inclusion.

It was about obedience.

It installed a mental checkpoint between your thoughts and your mouth—a filter that asks, “Is this allowed?” before you speak. And over time, that question doesn’t just change what you say—it rewires what you think.

You learn to silence yourself. You internalize the punishment.And eventually, you forget what freedom of speech even felt like.

What began as a Communist tool of control became a Western social religion.

In the Soviet Union, the state silenced you. In the West, we learned to silence each other.

Today, you don’t need government censors when HR departments, social media mobs, and anonymous tip lines will do the job for free.

The new blasphemy laws aren’t written in law books. They’re written in hashtags, corporate diversity policies, and TikTok videos.

The result is the same: fear replaces thought.

So here we are—2025.

We rewrite classic books to avoid “harmful stereotypes.”We fire employees over screenshots and 8-year-old tweets.We tell children their biology is offensive and truth is subjective.We make everyone walk on eggshells so no one steps on reality.

And anyone who questions it?They’re labeled dangerous, hateful, extreme—even if they’re just telling the truth.

But here’s the real danger:

A society that punishes honesty, censors dissent, and weaponizes language cannot survive.

It cannot innovate. It cannot laugh. It cannot grow.Because a culture afraid of offending cannot tell the truth—and without truth, nothing holds.

Political correctness pretends to protect.But what it really does is erode the foundations of free society.

And the people pushing it the hardest?They know exactly where it came from.

Final Thoughts

Political correctness isn’t a glitch in the system. It is the system.

It’s not about respect. It’s about submission.

And if we don’t challenge it—if we don’t defend speech, even when it’s uncomfortable—then we’re not just giving up jokes and pronouns.We’re giving up the right to think freely at all.