Ironically, my two favorite Plato-adjacent thinkers remind me of the wretched of the earth as well in their “love of one’s own”. For Land, the love of England, for Dugin, the love of Russia. This is no different from any other human subspecies’ inability to understand the good above their own particular place of identity. With the Irish it’s the love of Ireland, even if it led to that obnoxious degenerate James Joyce, and for Jews, well, they led to the present West because they loved their people so much they’d never change. “They led to the present West? What’s so wrong with that?” If you have to ask that question it’s already over for you. You don’t love the good-in-itself, you align with the particular historical manifestation of our time out of convenience, you’re so easy to see through, it isn’t even funny.