Showing posts with label capitalism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label capitalism. Show all posts
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Myths about Communism and Capitalism
Someone sent me this article, and I think it's worth a read. I believe I have raised some or many of these points in my blog; however, it is nice to get them from someone who can write more eloquently than I can.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
The Sanctity of Small Businesses
I have written previously about the concept of the “middle class” and how it is strategically used by politicians to create divisions and distort reality. The concept of the “small business” works in a very similar way, and I think it is important to highlight its function in political rhetoric. This is on my mind particularly because pretty much every political discussion I have heard lately has had some sort of appeal to the effects of various proposals on small businesses.
If anyone were unfamiliar with American society, a few hours watching any cable news channel would be enough to show them the great reverence in which small businesses are held. In fact, it seems that the most effective attack one can launch on any proposed policy or regulation is to demonstrate its negative impact on small businesses. One would think that small businesses must be the engine of the American economy.
They are not. Of course, it is not hard to see why everyone likes small businesses: they are the exemplars of entrepreneurialism, individualism, and free market laissez-faire capitalism. They stand in opposition to the corruption, human rights abuses, and political finagling of large corporations. Even the most die-hard capitalist apologists have a hard time defending those evil multinational corporations who ship American jobs overseas. Thank goodness there are small businesses to salvage the ideals of capitalism.
So part of the political usefulness of the concept of small business lies in its very appeal. People see capitalist virtue embodied in small business. The “small business” is a loaded ideological symbol which, as a discursive element, conjures up associations with cherished values and some old-timey nostalgia to boot. This can be compared to the appeal of the “middle class,” though the latter also draws its discursive power from the fact that most everyone identifies themselves as members of the middle class.
However, like the concept of “middle class,” the notion of the “small business” serves an important ideological purpose in addition to those more immediate and practical ends. The constant references to small businesses bolster false images of capitalism. It counters the reality that capitalism’s nature is to increasingly centralize capital, to nourish monopolies, to exploit and dominate. It discounts the importance of mega-conglomerates in economic, political, and social spheres. Moreover, it reroutes conversations away from analyses of the ways in which corporations secure their wealth and manipulate social structures, and focuses discussion instead on misguided notions about the inherent conflict between government and business.
The truth is, that capitalism has been the greatest threat to free markets and small businesses.
If anyone were unfamiliar with American society, a few hours watching any cable news channel would be enough to show them the great reverence in which small businesses are held. In fact, it seems that the most effective attack one can launch on any proposed policy or regulation is to demonstrate its negative impact on small businesses. One would think that small businesses must be the engine of the American economy.
They are not. Of course, it is not hard to see why everyone likes small businesses: they are the exemplars of entrepreneurialism, individualism, and free market laissez-faire capitalism. They stand in opposition to the corruption, human rights abuses, and political finagling of large corporations. Even the most die-hard capitalist apologists have a hard time defending those evil multinational corporations who ship American jobs overseas. Thank goodness there are small businesses to salvage the ideals of capitalism.
So part of the political usefulness of the concept of small business lies in its very appeal. People see capitalist virtue embodied in small business. The “small business” is a loaded ideological symbol which, as a discursive element, conjures up associations with cherished values and some old-timey nostalgia to boot. This can be compared to the appeal of the “middle class,” though the latter also draws its discursive power from the fact that most everyone identifies themselves as members of the middle class.
However, like the concept of “middle class,” the notion of the “small business” serves an important ideological purpose in addition to those more immediate and practical ends. The constant references to small businesses bolster false images of capitalism. It counters the reality that capitalism’s nature is to increasingly centralize capital, to nourish monopolies, to exploit and dominate. It discounts the importance of mega-conglomerates in economic, political, and social spheres. Moreover, it reroutes conversations away from analyses of the ways in which corporations secure their wealth and manipulate social structures, and focuses discussion instead on misguided notions about the inherent conflict between government and business.
The truth is, that capitalism has been the greatest threat to free markets and small businesses.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Border Control: Conflict or Symbiosis?
It occurred to me that immigration/border security is an entire domain that I have only touched on lightly and indirectly. This is as good a time as any to go into more detail, particularly with the recent discussions about immigration reform. Obviously, I could tackle this from the perspective of nationalism and xenophobia/racism, as that is certainly an important aspect of the situation. However, I am most interested in some of the contradictions that are entailed by the concept of “border security” and its surrounding activities.
The first contradiction has been fairly well observed and commented on. In theory, capitalism entails a constant circulation of capital, and this includes labor (in essence, human bodies) as a form of capital. Any impediments to the movement of labor in response to market needs would be an infringement on the functioning of the capitalist system. In this way, the assertion of sovereignty in the control of populations appears to run against the grain of the capitalist system (as capitalism always appears to be in conflict with the state). More radically, in its ideological construction, capitalism is premised on the free market, whether that is the market of products, raw materials, or labor. Of course, in reality capitalism has nothing to do with free markets, and historically has necessitated more state involvement and a more rapidly growing concentration of capital among fewer competitors than any other system. Capitalism has limited the freedom of markets more than anything else, and capitalism and the state are not in inherent conflict. In many ways, then, this contradiction is a matter of ideology versus reality.
But not entirely. It is true that the cheap and grueling labor supplied by migrant workers is highly profitable for many industries – especially agriculture in the United States. In fact, many farmers have discovered to their dismay that their labor reserve dried up when the immigrants were chased away. This stems from the fact that, although in many ways symbiotic, capitalists and the bureaucratic apparatus of the state do act independently, and this may result in friction. The basic problem is this: state sovereignty and nationalism often have a life of their own and work toward insular, self-reinforcing ends, even while they are under the control of (and wielded by) capitalist interests. How can this be? I have never heard a satisfactory explanation, and I do not have one myself. However, since control of the movement of people and objects across borders is one of the primary manifestations of state sovereignty, the identity of the state and the very existence of sovereignty itself have come to depend on the acts of defining citizenship and managing immigration.
Or maybe there really is a definite economic interest underlying the expressions of state sovereignty. One very recent development in immigration/border policy is the placement of the whole enterprise within the framework of domestic security and the “War on Terror.” One interesting effect of this rebranding is that it has allowed for the creation of another “parallel military” (in terms of its structure, power, funding, and equipment, the Department of Homeland Security now acts as much like a shadow military as the CIA), as well as a new area for the fusion of the domains of military, intelligence, criminal justice, and industry. The boundaries among these four groups are steadily eroding. The activities of police, FBI, and CBP constantly interlace. Furthermore, the increased securitization of the border control issue is a boon to arms and military equipment manufacturers, who happily peddle their latest products at security conferences.
Could this be a case of certain groups of capitalists becoming empowered and benefiting at the expense of others (those who rely on migrant labor)? In fact, it’s even possible that the manufacturers who profit off of the securitization of borders simultaneously avail themselves of cheap immigrant labor (knowing, perhaps, that border security will never been 100% successful). It’s possible. Capitalism is always contradictory.
One could take the economic argument even further and suggest that all of the money spent on border security is actually another emergence of military Keynesianism. For example, Doug Noland argues that an illusory economic recovery is currently developing by means of a “government finance bubble,” which includes increased government spending on arms and security. What this would mean, if true, is that it is not just certain groups of capitalists who stand to benefit from the expenditures, but the entire system, in the erroneous perception of the dominant classes, or at least those members of dominant groups who have reached the absolutely influential consensus that the financing of border security (and other such activities) will serve all of their interests by protecting the base conditions necessary for the maintenance of the capitalist system.
The bureaucratic processes and nationalist ethos of the state may conflict with the needs of the capitalist class, but they often work seamlessly together. The interests of particular capitalists may conflict with each other, yet capitalists often collaborate to secure their common aims. It is hard to tell which of these situations is reflected in the securitization of our borders.
However, there is a final contradiction that goes right to the heart of the nature of capitalism, and while in many ways more interesting than those outlined above, is a bit more straightforward. Capitalism is an inherently centrifugal system that is completely global in its extent. Yet, it simultaneously requires various sorts of inequality (uneven development), including those of geography that strict border enforcement helps to maintain. The classic example is the simultaneous development of the West and impoverishment of the Third World. To this end, it is interesting to note that securitization makes borders more impermeable to some people while at the same time it eradicates those boundaries for others. People with “medium skin” (as the classification goes) find it more difficult to cross borders without being detained and abused. On the other hand, border enforcement requires cooperation between neighboring states, and in this way securitization entails a much freer flow of officials, equipment, and information across national boundaries. Border patrol officers are able to work on both sides of the line with more ease. Drones and other surveillance technology roam without restriction. And information sharing agreements may soon allow for the unimpeded transfer of biometric and other personal data between states. In essence, a securer border means greater disparities in the ability to cross boundaries. Organizations imbued with authority (corporations, state officials, etc.) more freely transgress borders while people as mere individuals, especially disadvantaged and "medium-skinned" people, are spatially, geographically contained.
The big question, then, is the implications of all of these changes. That, too, is difficult to answer. However, I can’t help but wonder how the military-prison-industrial trinity (involving intelligence and security agencies and the criminal justice system) can continue to grow and cohere into a violent capitalist juggernaut without some sort of very obvious and overtly unpalatable police state emerging.
The first contradiction has been fairly well observed and commented on. In theory, capitalism entails a constant circulation of capital, and this includes labor (in essence, human bodies) as a form of capital. Any impediments to the movement of labor in response to market needs would be an infringement on the functioning of the capitalist system. In this way, the assertion of sovereignty in the control of populations appears to run against the grain of the capitalist system (as capitalism always appears to be in conflict with the state). More radically, in its ideological construction, capitalism is premised on the free market, whether that is the market of products, raw materials, or labor. Of course, in reality capitalism has nothing to do with free markets, and historically has necessitated more state involvement and a more rapidly growing concentration of capital among fewer competitors than any other system. Capitalism has limited the freedom of markets more than anything else, and capitalism and the state are not in inherent conflict. In many ways, then, this contradiction is a matter of ideology versus reality.
But not entirely. It is true that the cheap and grueling labor supplied by migrant workers is highly profitable for many industries – especially agriculture in the United States. In fact, many farmers have discovered to their dismay that their labor reserve dried up when the immigrants were chased away. This stems from the fact that, although in many ways symbiotic, capitalists and the bureaucratic apparatus of the state do act independently, and this may result in friction. The basic problem is this: state sovereignty and nationalism often have a life of their own and work toward insular, self-reinforcing ends, even while they are under the control of (and wielded by) capitalist interests. How can this be? I have never heard a satisfactory explanation, and I do not have one myself. However, since control of the movement of people and objects across borders is one of the primary manifestations of state sovereignty, the identity of the state and the very existence of sovereignty itself have come to depend on the acts of defining citizenship and managing immigration.
Or maybe there really is a definite economic interest underlying the expressions of state sovereignty. One very recent development in immigration/border policy is the placement of the whole enterprise within the framework of domestic security and the “War on Terror.” One interesting effect of this rebranding is that it has allowed for the creation of another “parallel military” (in terms of its structure, power, funding, and equipment, the Department of Homeland Security now acts as much like a shadow military as the CIA), as well as a new area for the fusion of the domains of military, intelligence, criminal justice, and industry. The boundaries among these four groups are steadily eroding. The activities of police, FBI, and CBP constantly interlace. Furthermore, the increased securitization of the border control issue is a boon to arms and military equipment manufacturers, who happily peddle their latest products at security conferences.
Could this be a case of certain groups of capitalists becoming empowered and benefiting at the expense of others (those who rely on migrant labor)? In fact, it’s even possible that the manufacturers who profit off of the securitization of borders simultaneously avail themselves of cheap immigrant labor (knowing, perhaps, that border security will never been 100% successful). It’s possible. Capitalism is always contradictory.
One could take the economic argument even further and suggest that all of the money spent on border security is actually another emergence of military Keynesianism. For example, Doug Noland argues that an illusory economic recovery is currently developing by means of a “government finance bubble,” which includes increased government spending on arms and security. What this would mean, if true, is that it is not just certain groups of capitalists who stand to benefit from the expenditures, but the entire system, in the erroneous perception of the dominant classes, or at least those members of dominant groups who have reached the absolutely influential consensus that the financing of border security (and other such activities) will serve all of their interests by protecting the base conditions necessary for the maintenance of the capitalist system.
The bureaucratic processes and nationalist ethos of the state may conflict with the needs of the capitalist class, but they often work seamlessly together. The interests of particular capitalists may conflict with each other, yet capitalists often collaborate to secure their common aims. It is hard to tell which of these situations is reflected in the securitization of our borders.
However, there is a final contradiction that goes right to the heart of the nature of capitalism, and while in many ways more interesting than those outlined above, is a bit more straightforward. Capitalism is an inherently centrifugal system that is completely global in its extent. Yet, it simultaneously requires various sorts of inequality (uneven development), including those of geography that strict border enforcement helps to maintain. The classic example is the simultaneous development of the West and impoverishment of the Third World. To this end, it is interesting to note that securitization makes borders more impermeable to some people while at the same time it eradicates those boundaries for others. People with “medium skin” (as the classification goes) find it more difficult to cross borders without being detained and abused. On the other hand, border enforcement requires cooperation between neighboring states, and in this way securitization entails a much freer flow of officials, equipment, and information across national boundaries. Border patrol officers are able to work on both sides of the line with more ease. Drones and other surveillance technology roam without restriction. And information sharing agreements may soon allow for the unimpeded transfer of biometric and other personal data between states. In essence, a securer border means greater disparities in the ability to cross boundaries. Organizations imbued with authority (corporations, state officials, etc.) more freely transgress borders while people as mere individuals, especially disadvantaged and "medium-skinned" people, are spatially, geographically contained.
The big question, then, is the implications of all of these changes. That, too, is difficult to answer. However, I can’t help but wonder how the military-prison-industrial trinity (involving intelligence and security agencies and the criminal justice system) can continue to grow and cohere into a violent capitalist juggernaut without some sort of very obvious and overtly unpalatable police state emerging.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Independence Day
Today I have been and will continue to be bombarded by emotional displays of patriotism. I will hear "God bless America" more times than I can count. The people around me will discuss their appreciation for democratic values and the freedom that we enjoy.
Freedom is a loaded word - that is, a word that is employed more for the purpose of stirring up emotional reactions than to denote any meaningful reality. What does "freedom" actually mean? In the case of the U.S., freedom is generally synonymous with representative democracy and capitalism. However, representative democracy is a form of oligarchy, and capitalism runs on slavery and exploitation. If one looks at material reality, the conditions to which the term "freedom" are generally applied render the word absolutely meaningless. We're dealing with Orwellian linguistics here.
But, we have freedom of the press! Yes, anyone has the ability to publish official narratives and mainstream viewpoints, without impediment. Of course, there are many issues (particularly related to global affairs) where you will only find one perspective in any American media source. Alternate points of view are nowhere to be found... except in foreign newspapers. And try to publish anything that the Powers That Be find truly threatening - say, start a site called WikiLeaks - and you will be hunted down like Osama Bin Laden.
But, we do not jail and torture dissidents! Or.... do we? Arbitrary detention of U.S. citizens is permissible by law, and torture does not seem to be beneath us either. Heck, we can just send a drone over to annihilate someone who is saying things that bother us.
But we have freedom of religion! No one is forcing me to pray, or go to church, or wear a veil. Now, if you happen to be Muslim, you just have to put up with a little surveillance here and there, and probably should plan to always be detained at the airport. And you may be ridiculed and called a terrorist by everyone around you. No big deal.
Well, at least the state isn't telling us what to buy and where to work. Good point. The small number of mega-conglomerates who control the production and distribution of most consumer goods tell us what to buy and where to work. That is so much better than the state.
Well goshdarnit, at least I don't have any King George telling me what to do and making me pay taxes on my tea. If only power were vested in a single individual. Revolution would be SO MUCH easier! Get rid of the King, and restore power to the people! But that is not how it worked in 1776, and that is not how it works now. The King is a symbol, and democracy is a symbol, both used to legitimate what is actually an oligarchic social reality.
The American Revolution was NOT a case of people rebelling against a tyrant and fighting for their freedom. It is a case of structural transformations and adjustments, spearheaded by capitalist interests, for the benefit of capitalist interests, and to the detriment of every common person. You don't even need to look at Canada to realize that the Revolution was of little consequence. It followed from the internal logic of the capitalist system - the birthing pains of the emerging world order.
Now, I will not be waving any American flags today. Not because I hate America. (I generally do not direct my emotions toward symbolic, intangible objects.) But because patriotism is simply a euphemism for nationalism, and nationalism is a form of state manipulation of emotions, which is often paired with racism/xenophobia.
I would prefer to celebrate universal, trans-national values. Peace, tolerance, equity.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Capitalism and the War On Drugs
I just read this article, and it got me thinking again about law, drugs, capitalism. Have I talked about drugs yet?
There is so much more that can be said about this topic than I could ever write. I know I am biting off more than I can chew. And really, the whole thing is still something that I'm trying to make sense of. This post, then, mostly revolves around some unanswered questions.
The biggest mystery is WHY any drugs are illegal. The fact that prohibition is totally ineffective and promotes the formation of black markets and organized crime leads one to believe that social welfare is not the primary objective, else this strategy would have been rejected (like it was in the case of alcohol). Then, of course, there is the fact that some drugs (e.g. marijuana) are relatively harmless compared to others. There does not seem to be any logic undergirding this system.
In opposition to the idealistic "social welfare" explanation of drug policy, there are a number of conspiratorial explanations.
1. Targeted enforcement of users allows for the imprisonment and control of certain populations (e.g. poor, young African Americans)
2. The formation of black markets and crime rings creates markets for arms manufacturers
3. The formation of black markets allows for redistribution of wealth (further drains money from the poor - the population that is most associated with drug use); furthermore, accumulated capital from the drug trade exists "outside" of the system and leads to the formation of spaces free from laws of taxation, etc.
In regard, particularly, to number 3, it is important to remember that law is not a set of rules but a constitutive practice of modern social formations. The act of making something "illegal" does not put it "out of bounds." Notions of legality/illegality are, rather, means of creating different spheres of action which are required to maintain the inequalities that fuel capitalist accumulation.
All three of the above theories are plausible and to some extent supported by evidence. However, it seems unlikely that any one of the three in itself could be held entirely responsible the whole global War On Drugs, nor is it particularly easy to see how they might fit together (even including an actual concern for social welfare, which is at least slightly plausible as well).
Any ideas?
There is so much more that can be said about this topic than I could ever write. I know I am biting off more than I can chew. And really, the whole thing is still something that I'm trying to make sense of. This post, then, mostly revolves around some unanswered questions.
The biggest mystery is WHY any drugs are illegal. The fact that prohibition is totally ineffective and promotes the formation of black markets and organized crime leads one to believe that social welfare is not the primary objective, else this strategy would have been rejected (like it was in the case of alcohol). Then, of course, there is the fact that some drugs (e.g. marijuana) are relatively harmless compared to others. There does not seem to be any logic undergirding this system.
In opposition to the idealistic "social welfare" explanation of drug policy, there are a number of conspiratorial explanations.
1. Targeted enforcement of users allows for the imprisonment and control of certain populations (e.g. poor, young African Americans)
2. The formation of black markets and crime rings creates markets for arms manufacturers
3. The formation of black markets allows for redistribution of wealth (further drains money from the poor - the population that is most associated with drug use); furthermore, accumulated capital from the drug trade exists "outside" of the system and leads to the formation of spaces free from laws of taxation, etc.
In regard, particularly, to number 3, it is important to remember that law is not a set of rules but a constitutive practice of modern social formations. The act of making something "illegal" does not put it "out of bounds." Notions of legality/illegality are, rather, means of creating different spheres of action which are required to maintain the inequalities that fuel capitalist accumulation.
All three of the above theories are plausible and to some extent supported by evidence. However, it seems unlikely that any one of the three in itself could be held entirely responsible the whole global War On Drugs, nor is it particularly easy to see how they might fit together (even including an actual concern for social welfare, which is at least slightly plausible as well).
Any ideas?
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Book Review: Fordlandia
...The Rise and Fall of Henry Ford's Forgotten Jungle City
This account of Henry Ford’s ill-fated Amazonian rubber plantation also provides some history of the rubber and auto industries as well as the life and work of Henry Ford himself. I enjoyed it, mainly because I thought it was well-written and just plain interesting. Sometimes it’s nice to have a break from philosophical gymnastics and pedantic intellectualism, to just enjoy a story.
Yet the story was not without a point. The author, Greg Grandin, clearly emphasized the impossibility of controlling the negative effects of capitalism and the naivety of technocratic idealism. Henry Ford served as a symbol of the Ideology of Progress, the hope that science and technology can perfect society.
In fact, from a philosophical standpoint, what I found most interesting about the book was the way it illustrated the relationship between capitalism and government (the impulse to rationally control society). Henry Ford embodied these two forces better than anyone else. As such, he serves as a good entry point for an examination of the ways in which these phenomena both mutually reinforce and undercut each other, how they can spring from disparate ideals yet still be manipulated by the same dominant groups.
Common ways of construing the relationship between capitalism and government are simplistic. The two are seen only as opposing forces. Government interferes with capitalism; such interference may be viewed as beneficial, to the extent that one acknowledges any shortcomings of capitalism. To this end, capitalism and government are seen as the province of independent entities, the latter generally of the state.
I have already argued that government originates and extends beyond the state, in contrast to the view that the two are synonymous. On the other hand, it is also overly reductive to assume that capitalism and government work seamlessly together, managed by an elite conspiratorial cabal. A capitalist may be interested in social engineering, but may also come into conflict with the state, transnational organizations, nonprofits, community groups, and other capitalists, any of which may also be interested in the same governmental projects.
Henry Ford was motivated by profit. No doubt. Yet he was also an idealist, who sometimes let his drive for profit take a backseat to his quest for a better society. Unlike the stereotypical capitalist, Ford was interested in conservation, cared about the lifestyle and wellbeing of his employees, and vehemently opposed war. He expended a considerable amount of money developing a "sociology department" (which kept tabs on the habits of his employees) as well as providing quality healthcare, and in some cases (for example, Fordlandia) housing and meals. Ford bought into the promises of the Ideology of Progress - that technology could liberate humans from hard labor and dependence on the whims of nature; that capitalism could effectively regulate the distribution of resources and labor; that wage labor could build moral character and generate prosperity; that modernization could have a "civilizing" effect around the globe. Thus, Henry Ford was compelled to act in certain ways purely due to his belief that people should be healthy, productive, and morally upright. He was interested in people in their own right, and not just as forms of capital.
Yet he also opposed projects of other organizations that were motivated by the same concerns. He fought against state intervention (even when it mimicked his own projects) and despised FDR's New Deal programs. He pioneered the Five Dollar Day (a high wage at the time) and provisioned health care, but he was ruthless in his treatment of unions.
There is, I think, a better way of understanding the complex relationship between capitalism and government. It is true that individual capitalists (and others in positions of dominance) are able to wield disproportionate control over the distrinbution of resources, organization of production, and other aspects of social reality, even if they are only able to do so by virtue of the existing social structure, based as it is on inequality. However, one must not assume that they are all working together, or that there is some master plan. Of course everyone looks after their own self-interest. This necessarily leads capitalists into conflict with each other, because every individual succeeds at the expense of many of the others.
Yet, there are some general conditions which are necessary for the capitalist system to function, and this forms a base of shared interests. The state is one important arena in which shared interests are negotiated and protected. Even here, though, there is not total coordination among the members of the supposed capitalist "class." Many cannot connect all the dots and are unaware of the necessity of these general conditions - possibly because their understanding is distorted by ideology - while some are so concerned with short-term personal gain that the long-term prospects of the system itself are of no consequence to them. It is this fact, more than any other, that accounts for "politics" (as opposed to, say, the harmonious coordination and brainwash-based consent of the world of 1984).
But I must take better account of ideology in this scenario. It is true that ideology derives from and often works to support the system (and in that way furthers capitalist aims). It is also true that it may be strategically employed in a disingenous way. Yet it is not just a "lie" used to brainwash the masses (once again, a la 1984). Ideology fundamentally shapes the consciousness of many, many people from all levels of the social hierarchy. As such, when ideology is embraced by capitalists, it may hinder an awareness of what is really necessary for the system to function, and it may even cause a capitalist to knowingly act contrary to the profit motive. Henry Ford demonstrates both of these cases. For example, he did not realize that his refusal to cooperate with unions would result in dramatically increased worker unrest. It was not until a series of violent episodes and the success of a sit-down strike that he realized the necessity of cooperation as a general condition. And Fordlandia is the ultimate example of ideology before profit. Fordlandia was a drain on Ford's resources, and yet he continued to invest in the operation, with the rationale that it was a "civilizing mission."
Ideology, like profit, represents both shared and conflicting interests among the capitalist class. Most accept the set of ideologies associated with modernity (as these represent a dominant mode of thought overall). At the same time, some may emphasize different aspects over others, or hold different opinions regarding how best to achieve these ideals.
It may be said, given all of the above discussion, that the "forces of dominance" in our world are less individual people, and more the complete assemblage of social artifacts (social structure, physical infrastructure, ideas, discourses, modes of communication etc.) that has accrued throughout the entire human history of production and interaction. We are really, in a sense, slaves to our own creations - and the "our" here includes our ancestors.
This account of Henry Ford’s ill-fated Amazonian rubber plantation also provides some history of the rubber and auto industries as well as the life and work of Henry Ford himself. I enjoyed it, mainly because I thought it was well-written and just plain interesting. Sometimes it’s nice to have a break from philosophical gymnastics and pedantic intellectualism, to just enjoy a story.
Yet the story was not without a point. The author, Greg Grandin, clearly emphasized the impossibility of controlling the negative effects of capitalism and the naivety of technocratic idealism. Henry Ford served as a symbol of the Ideology of Progress, the hope that science and technology can perfect society.
In fact, from a philosophical standpoint, what I found most interesting about the book was the way it illustrated the relationship between capitalism and government (the impulse to rationally control society). Henry Ford embodied these two forces better than anyone else. As such, he serves as a good entry point for an examination of the ways in which these phenomena both mutually reinforce and undercut each other, how they can spring from disparate ideals yet still be manipulated by the same dominant groups.
Common ways of construing the relationship between capitalism and government are simplistic. The two are seen only as opposing forces. Government interferes with capitalism; such interference may be viewed as beneficial, to the extent that one acknowledges any shortcomings of capitalism. To this end, capitalism and government are seen as the province of independent entities, the latter generally of the state.
I have already argued that government originates and extends beyond the state, in contrast to the view that the two are synonymous. On the other hand, it is also overly reductive to assume that capitalism and government work seamlessly together, managed by an elite conspiratorial cabal. A capitalist may be interested in social engineering, but may also come into conflict with the state, transnational organizations, nonprofits, community groups, and other capitalists, any of which may also be interested in the same governmental projects.
Henry Ford was motivated by profit. No doubt. Yet he was also an idealist, who sometimes let his drive for profit take a backseat to his quest for a better society. Unlike the stereotypical capitalist, Ford was interested in conservation, cared about the lifestyle and wellbeing of his employees, and vehemently opposed war. He expended a considerable amount of money developing a "sociology department" (which kept tabs on the habits of his employees) as well as providing quality healthcare, and in some cases (for example, Fordlandia) housing and meals. Ford bought into the promises of the Ideology of Progress - that technology could liberate humans from hard labor and dependence on the whims of nature; that capitalism could effectively regulate the distribution of resources and labor; that wage labor could build moral character and generate prosperity; that modernization could have a "civilizing" effect around the globe. Thus, Henry Ford was compelled to act in certain ways purely due to his belief that people should be healthy, productive, and morally upright. He was interested in people in their own right, and not just as forms of capital.
Yet he also opposed projects of other organizations that were motivated by the same concerns. He fought against state intervention (even when it mimicked his own projects) and despised FDR's New Deal programs. He pioneered the Five Dollar Day (a high wage at the time) and provisioned health care, but he was ruthless in his treatment of unions.
There is, I think, a better way of understanding the complex relationship between capitalism and government. It is true that individual capitalists (and others in positions of dominance) are able to wield disproportionate control over the distrinbution of resources, organization of production, and other aspects of social reality, even if they are only able to do so by virtue of the existing social structure, based as it is on inequality. However, one must not assume that they are all working together, or that there is some master plan. Of course everyone looks after their own self-interest. This necessarily leads capitalists into conflict with each other, because every individual succeeds at the expense of many of the others.
Yet, there are some general conditions which are necessary for the capitalist system to function, and this forms a base of shared interests. The state is one important arena in which shared interests are negotiated and protected. Even here, though, there is not total coordination among the members of the supposed capitalist "class." Many cannot connect all the dots and are unaware of the necessity of these general conditions - possibly because their understanding is distorted by ideology - while some are so concerned with short-term personal gain that the long-term prospects of the system itself are of no consequence to them. It is this fact, more than any other, that accounts for "politics" (as opposed to, say, the harmonious coordination and brainwash-based consent of the world of 1984).
But I must take better account of ideology in this scenario. It is true that ideology derives from and often works to support the system (and in that way furthers capitalist aims). It is also true that it may be strategically employed in a disingenous way. Yet it is not just a "lie" used to brainwash the masses (once again, a la 1984). Ideology fundamentally shapes the consciousness of many, many people from all levels of the social hierarchy. As such, when ideology is embraced by capitalists, it may hinder an awareness of what is really necessary for the system to function, and it may even cause a capitalist to knowingly act contrary to the profit motive. Henry Ford demonstrates both of these cases. For example, he did not realize that his refusal to cooperate with unions would result in dramatically increased worker unrest. It was not until a series of violent episodes and the success of a sit-down strike that he realized the necessity of cooperation as a general condition. And Fordlandia is the ultimate example of ideology before profit. Fordlandia was a drain on Ford's resources, and yet he continued to invest in the operation, with the rationale that it was a "civilizing mission."
Ideology, like profit, represents both shared and conflicting interests among the capitalist class. Most accept the set of ideologies associated with modernity (as these represent a dominant mode of thought overall). At the same time, some may emphasize different aspects over others, or hold different opinions regarding how best to achieve these ideals.
It may be said, given all of the above discussion, that the "forces of dominance" in our world are less individual people, and more the complete assemblage of social artifacts (social structure, physical infrastructure, ideas, discourses, modes of communication etc.) that has accrued throughout the entire human history of production and interaction. We are really, in a sense, slaves to our own creations - and the "our" here includes our ancestors.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Sustainable Development
Now that I have written an introductory post on loaded words, there are so many I want to devote attention to. But, one day at a time; and today I was triggered when I came across the term “sustainable development” multiple times in the news.
Oh, sustainable development.
I spend much of my day in a location where I am prone to overhearing scientists’ conversations. Sometimes I hear them talking (/pleading) to someone from whom they are trying to score a grant, and in those cases I always hear the words “sustainability,” “local buy-in,” etc. You see, the grant application process is really about throwing together the right combination of buzz words. Form over substance.
And of course, everyone knows that the key to the future is “sustainable development.” But… what does that really mean? In a sense, “sustainable development” means that we continue to accumulate lots of wealth and technology through capitalist relations of production, but without destroying the environment. I don’t know about you, but to me that sounds utopian enough to qualify as the next verse in Imagine.
“Sustainable development” is nothing more than a pacifier for those who are whining about global warming. Don’t worry. We can perfect the world with technology. We will figure out a way to save the earth. Don’t question capitalism. Why don’t you go shopping to calm your nerves? We’ll give you a re-usable bag.
“Sustainable development” is an oxymoron because “development” (meaning, as an economic term, economic growth via industrialization and the capitalist mode of production) is inherently unsustainable. It is unsustainable as a system, as its logic embodies a number of contradictions which limit the possibilities for profit and ultimately undermine the entire system. It is also unsustainable in terms of the stress it places on the majority of the human population. It entails exploitation and poverty on a scale never before seen in human history. And, finally, it necessitates a level of consumerism that could never, even with all the technological advances in the world, be reconciled with the health of the environment.
Those who praise “sustainable development” are also the ones who put personal gain before the common (present and future) good. “Sustainable development” is a trendy term, and I never trust trends.
Oh, sustainable development.
I spend much of my day in a location where I am prone to overhearing scientists’ conversations. Sometimes I hear them talking (/pleading) to someone from whom they are trying to score a grant, and in those cases I always hear the words “sustainability,” “local buy-in,” etc. You see, the grant application process is really about throwing together the right combination of buzz words. Form over substance.
And of course, everyone knows that the key to the future is “sustainable development.” But… what does that really mean? In a sense, “sustainable development” means that we continue to accumulate lots of wealth and technology through capitalist relations of production, but without destroying the environment. I don’t know about you, but to me that sounds utopian enough to qualify as the next verse in Imagine.
“Sustainable development” is nothing more than a pacifier for those who are whining about global warming. Don’t worry. We can perfect the world with technology. We will figure out a way to save the earth. Don’t question capitalism. Why don’t you go shopping to calm your nerves? We’ll give you a re-usable bag.
“Sustainable development” is an oxymoron because “development” (meaning, as an economic term, economic growth via industrialization and the capitalist mode of production) is inherently unsustainable. It is unsustainable as a system, as its logic embodies a number of contradictions which limit the possibilities for profit and ultimately undermine the entire system. It is also unsustainable in terms of the stress it places on the majority of the human population. It entails exploitation and poverty on a scale never before seen in human history. And, finally, it necessitates a level of consumerism that could never, even with all the technological advances in the world, be reconciled with the health of the environment.
Those who praise “sustainable development” are also the ones who put personal gain before the common (present and future) good. “Sustainable development” is a trendy term, and I never trust trends.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Democracy and Capitalism
The title of this post is also the title of a recent On Point episode. It begins by questioning: "Is Democracy up to the challenges of this century? Is Capitalism? We’ll look at two great pillars, and the questions now around them."
As the episode began, I was excited to hear a mainstream news outlet actually addressing these questions. However, as things progressed, particularly when Gideon Rose began to speak, it was clear that no one was willing to really question the taken-for-granted ideas about our political economic system. It became the same old line about "our system is really great, or at least the best we can hope for, but we just need to make some tweaks to make it work better." Yawn.
Gideon Rose asserted that, if we could just somehow get things to work the way the did in the Good Old Days (1950s and 60s) then more wealth would be generated and it could be spread around to level inequality and alleviate poverty in the U.S. This line of reasoning very well demonstrates the myopia and Americentrism that pervades the thought of most economists. Things may have been going well in the U.S. (and the other industrialized powers) in the post-WW2 period, but that does not mean that capitalism was creating and spreading wealth on a global scale! In fact, the rest of the world (even if one excludes the communist world) was mired in poverty as a direct result of the global relationships that enabled expansion in the industrialized centers. Income inequality was much more polarized on a global scale. So yes, the 1950s-60s were great times... if you ignore the rest of the world.
In this vein, Rose and Kupchan both seem to think that globalization is a recent phenomenon. It may be more visibly now in the first world, as corporations have moved their manufacturing operations to other parts of the world in order to exploit cheap labor and resources. People in the U.S. and Western Europe are suddenly angry that "their" jobs are being sent elsewhere. But, capitalism has always been a global system. In the post-WW2 era and earlier, manufacturing in the U.S. and Western Europe depended on the cheap raw material inputs from other parts of the world, which were obtained under conditions of colonial/neo-colonial exploitation. The citizens of the first world, furthermore, depended for their high standard of living on the unequal global exchange relationships that allowed them to purchase, with money representing a small fraction of their own labor hours, commodities whose actual production required a far greater number of someone else's labor hours.
Furthermore, Rose and Kupchan never seem to consider why the Great Capitalism of the post-WW2 era didn't last for more than a couple decades. Was it just that people got bored and wanted to try something new, as if an economy were a pair of shoes? If this form of capitalism was so great, why was it not preserved? In truth, the conditions of the post-WW2 era could not be sustained because of the inherent contradictions of capitalism, that transformed a period of great economic expansion, through the the workings of its fundamental logic, into a period of great economic stagnation. Specifically, the revolutions in production (assembly line technology, mechanization, transnational organization), which are responsible for the economic boom enjoyed by a fraction of the world's population, also laid the groundwork for its own demise. Production was proceeding at a scale that far outstripped actual human needs, and profitability plummeted. Everyone became Keynesians and tried to manufacture demand to keep up with the unnecessarily ballooning supply. Result: increased consumerism, accelerated cycles of production (i.e. things become obsolete much more quickly so that people are constantly having to buy new stuff), private and public indebtedness, bombardment by advertisements and corporate sponsorships... As it turned out, trying to artificially manufacture demand never solved the problem of overproduction; profitability was never restored and now everyone is saddled with massive debts.
Precisely for this reason I would say, contrary to Rose and Kupchan, that capitalism does not come in different forms. It comes in one form (whose basis is wage labor and generalized commodity production), with varying levels of state involvement and approaches to social welfare depending on ever-fluctuating circumstances determined by capitalism's underlying and unchanging logic. The state is an instrument of the capitalist class, and so it is used strategically to respond to changing environments and maintain the general conditions that are necessary for capitalism to function.
Rose says that, among the members of the Occupy Wall Street movement, it is the smart ones who want to return to the capitalism of the 1950s-60s. I can only find that statement arrogant and offensive. Wouldn't the smart ones be those who are able to think outside the bounds of dominant ideology?
As the episode began, I was excited to hear a mainstream news outlet actually addressing these questions. However, as things progressed, particularly when Gideon Rose began to speak, it was clear that no one was willing to really question the taken-for-granted ideas about our political economic system. It became the same old line about "our system is really great, or at least the best we can hope for, but we just need to make some tweaks to make it work better." Yawn.
Gideon Rose asserted that, if we could just somehow get things to work the way the did in the Good Old Days (1950s and 60s) then more wealth would be generated and it could be spread around to level inequality and alleviate poverty in the U.S. This line of reasoning very well demonstrates the myopia and Americentrism that pervades the thought of most economists. Things may have been going well in the U.S. (and the other industrialized powers) in the post-WW2 period, but that does not mean that capitalism was creating and spreading wealth on a global scale! In fact, the rest of the world (even if one excludes the communist world) was mired in poverty as a direct result of the global relationships that enabled expansion in the industrialized centers. Income inequality was much more polarized on a global scale. So yes, the 1950s-60s were great times... if you ignore the rest of the world.
In this vein, Rose and Kupchan both seem to think that globalization is a recent phenomenon. It may be more visibly now in the first world, as corporations have moved their manufacturing operations to other parts of the world in order to exploit cheap labor and resources. People in the U.S. and Western Europe are suddenly angry that "their" jobs are being sent elsewhere. But, capitalism has always been a global system. In the post-WW2 era and earlier, manufacturing in the U.S. and Western Europe depended on the cheap raw material inputs from other parts of the world, which were obtained under conditions of colonial/neo-colonial exploitation. The citizens of the first world, furthermore, depended for their high standard of living on the unequal global exchange relationships that allowed them to purchase, with money representing a small fraction of their own labor hours, commodities whose actual production required a far greater number of someone else's labor hours.
Furthermore, Rose and Kupchan never seem to consider why the Great Capitalism of the post-WW2 era didn't last for more than a couple decades. Was it just that people got bored and wanted to try something new, as if an economy were a pair of shoes? If this form of capitalism was so great, why was it not preserved? In truth, the conditions of the post-WW2 era could not be sustained because of the inherent contradictions of capitalism, that transformed a period of great economic expansion, through the the workings of its fundamental logic, into a period of great economic stagnation. Specifically, the revolutions in production (assembly line technology, mechanization, transnational organization), which are responsible for the economic boom enjoyed by a fraction of the world's population, also laid the groundwork for its own demise. Production was proceeding at a scale that far outstripped actual human needs, and profitability plummeted. Everyone became Keynesians and tried to manufacture demand to keep up with the unnecessarily ballooning supply. Result: increased consumerism, accelerated cycles of production (i.e. things become obsolete much more quickly so that people are constantly having to buy new stuff), private and public indebtedness, bombardment by advertisements and corporate sponsorships... As it turned out, trying to artificially manufacture demand never solved the problem of overproduction; profitability was never restored and now everyone is saddled with massive debts.
Precisely for this reason I would say, contrary to Rose and Kupchan, that capitalism does not come in different forms. It comes in one form (whose basis is wage labor and generalized commodity production), with varying levels of state involvement and approaches to social welfare depending on ever-fluctuating circumstances determined by capitalism's underlying and unchanging logic. The state is an instrument of the capitalist class, and so it is used strategically to respond to changing environments and maintain the general conditions that are necessary for capitalism to function.
Rose says that, among the members of the Occupy Wall Street movement, it is the smart ones who want to return to the capitalism of the 1950s-60s. I can only find that statement arrogant and offensive. Wouldn't the smart ones be those who are able to think outside the bounds of dominant ideology?
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The Contradictions Of Christmas
In the essay I posted a week or so ago, I argued that modernity generates its own contradictions (e.g. religion and secularism; globalization and nationalism; representative democracy and totalitarianism; neoliberal ideology and increasing centralization of capital). Christmas, in particular the ritual of gift exchange and the figure of Santa Claus, serves as a great point of entry for examining some of these simultaneously generated contradictions.
One of the most important phenomena which shaped the modern American version of Christmas was the construction, in the early 19th century, of the concept of "childhood." Quite a bit has been written on this topic, and many have argued that it arose from the necessities of capitalism (the creation of a new demographic market and products). One may note that the construction of the "teenager" also occured during similar a period of economic expansion in the post-WW2 era. Both of these events also opened up new domains for academic and popular psychology (the Queen of the human sciences associated with governmental power). Christmas reflects the psychologizing of childhood, which emphasizes children's need for love, affection, and fantasy. Gifts, in particular, satifisy the need for love and affection, while Santa Claus indulges children's imaginations.
Of course, there is more going on here. First, there are contradictory attitudes toward the demands of capitalism. The early images of Santa Claus as a craftsman with his own workshop (to eventually be replaced by the elven sweatshop) valorized pre-capitalist forms of production. The pampering of children itself was a reaction against child labor, which was heavily used in many industries. Today, many Christmas movies feature The Prodigal Son, returning from the Big City, where s/he lived a souless/loveless existence (often employed in banking or business), to resume life in the Small Town, rekindle family bonds, and finally find love.
On the other hand, Christmas has been heavily promoted and elaborated by commercial interests - especially department stores (who are responsible for many aspects of the Santa narrative, including the story of Rudloph the Red Nose Reindeer). American Christmas was overtly commercial from the very beginning and has been serving capitalist interests for over two centuries. It is important to note that the image of Santa Clause which eventually became dominant was, in the time of its origin, a portrait of a wealthy industrialist (a sort of "robber baron" philanthropist). In this way, practices/discourses associated with Christmas embody at the same time an acquiesance to - or even embrace of - consumerism and conspicuous wealth, as well as a skepticism toward industrial labor and urban living.
Christmas also serves as a medium for indirect commentary on secularism, science, and religion, most importantly through the figure of Santa Claus. Not only does Santa Claus fulfill a perceived need for fantasy in healthy child development, but from His inception He has been one instantiation of a broader Romantic critique of modernity. For example, in a famous 19th century editorial, belief in Santa Claus was held as an antedote to the excessive skepticism of the modern era and the concomitant loss of a sense of wonder. One can see that this concern is still salient in many contemporary Christmas movies, even when not driven by any specifically relgious concerns (and thus complicating the modern binary of secular/religious). In fact, many religious Christians are more ambivalent toward the figure of Santa Claus, as they view it as a "secularization" of a Christian saint. This is a great example of how reactions against scientism (the belief that science is the only pathway to "truth") need not always be religious. One could argue that the antipathetic stance toward scientism by default imbues this treatment of Santa Claus with something of a religious nature. But only if one is to alter the definition of "religion" to contain everything opposed to scientism (which, of course, is circular reasoning), and that would entail the lumping together of very disparate phenomena, which, on the whole, always tends to obscure more than it clarifies.
American Christmas is a creation of capitalism that also expresses disastisfaction with manifestations of capitalism. And "Santa Claus" entails the "secularization" of a religious narrative (the disentanglement of morality/charity from religion), which simultaneously challenges secular attitudes toward progress and truth.
Every creation of modernity entails the creation of an oppositional force.
One of the most important phenomena which shaped the modern American version of Christmas was the construction, in the early 19th century, of the concept of "childhood." Quite a bit has been written on this topic, and many have argued that it arose from the necessities of capitalism (the creation of a new demographic market and products). One may note that the construction of the "teenager" also occured during similar a period of economic expansion in the post-WW2 era. Both of these events also opened up new domains for academic and popular psychology (the Queen of the human sciences associated with governmental power). Christmas reflects the psychologizing of childhood, which emphasizes children's need for love, affection, and fantasy. Gifts, in particular, satifisy the need for love and affection, while Santa Claus indulges children's imaginations.
Of course, there is more going on here. First, there are contradictory attitudes toward the demands of capitalism. The early images of Santa Claus as a craftsman with his own workshop (to eventually be replaced by the elven sweatshop) valorized pre-capitalist forms of production. The pampering of children itself was a reaction against child labor, which was heavily used in many industries. Today, many Christmas movies feature The Prodigal Son, returning from the Big City, where s/he lived a souless/loveless existence (often employed in banking or business), to resume life in the Small Town, rekindle family bonds, and finally find love.
On the other hand, Christmas has been heavily promoted and elaborated by commercial interests - especially department stores (who are responsible for many aspects of the Santa narrative, including the story of Rudloph the Red Nose Reindeer). American Christmas was overtly commercial from the very beginning and has been serving capitalist interests for over two centuries. It is important to note that the image of Santa Clause which eventually became dominant was, in the time of its origin, a portrait of a wealthy industrialist (a sort of "robber baron" philanthropist). In this way, practices/discourses associated with Christmas embody at the same time an acquiesance to - or even embrace of - consumerism and conspicuous wealth, as well as a skepticism toward industrial labor and urban living.
Christmas also serves as a medium for indirect commentary on secularism, science, and religion, most importantly through the figure of Santa Claus. Not only does Santa Claus fulfill a perceived need for fantasy in healthy child development, but from His inception He has been one instantiation of a broader Romantic critique of modernity. For example, in a famous 19th century editorial, belief in Santa Claus was held as an antedote to the excessive skepticism of the modern era and the concomitant loss of a sense of wonder. One can see that this concern is still salient in many contemporary Christmas movies, even when not driven by any specifically relgious concerns (and thus complicating the modern binary of secular/religious). In fact, many religious Christians are more ambivalent toward the figure of Santa Claus, as they view it as a "secularization" of a Christian saint. This is a great example of how reactions against scientism (the belief that science is the only pathway to "truth") need not always be religious. One could argue that the antipathetic stance toward scientism by default imbues this treatment of Santa Claus with something of a religious nature. But only if one is to alter the definition of "religion" to contain everything opposed to scientism (which, of course, is circular reasoning), and that would entail the lumping together of very disparate phenomena, which, on the whole, always tends to obscure more than it clarifies.
American Christmas is a creation of capitalism that also expresses disastisfaction with manifestations of capitalism. And "Santa Claus" entails the "secularization" of a religious narrative (the disentanglement of morality/charity from religion), which simultaneously challenges secular attitudes toward progress and truth.
Every creation of modernity entails the creation of an oppositional force.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Modernity And Its Contradictions
I came across an essay I wrote not too long ago, in which I attempt to analyze the meaning of "modernity." I think it is a nice way to conclude my series of posts about religion, and it also clarifies some of the attitudes I have expressed about religion and science. So I paste an extract of the essay here:
At its heart, modernity may be described as a particular set of relations (among people, institutions, discourses, practices, and objects), forged through global interactions, imbued with centrifugal inertia, and undergirded by an ideology of progress that simultaneously creates modernity’s Other. This last point, in particular, warrants emphasis: while modernity involves the creation of certain sorts of relations, it also entails the production of its own contradictions and oppositional forces. I could employ the language of physics and muse that every action is enabled by an opposite reaction; or I could invoke Foucault and note that where there is power there is resistance (and modernity is, indeed, an active, dominating force). However, the situation is more complex than that.
Perhaps a more effective way to employ Foucault at this point is to recall his contention that one may find, by examining differences and disjunctures, that they are sustained at a “deeper” level (using his archaeological metaphor) by a common logic or rule of dispersion. For the relations and discourses that constitute modernity, this rule is activated by the notion of the subject, which developed (at least according to Foucault) as a result of the Protestant Reformation, which, incidentally, also provided an opening for the reconfiguration of institutions and domains of authority from which modernity ultimately emerged.
The idea of the subject made possible epistemological, ontological, and social-moral frameworks that serve as rules of dispersion for particular institutional and discursive domains. For example, the epistemological logic of the subject-object divide specifies a set of positions that one can take as to how this divide may be mediated (i.e. how one can know). The delimitation of these positions, in turn, was part and parcel of the shaping of separate institutional domains for science and religion: scientists established their legitimacy and independence from religion by laying claim to a distinct mode of knowing in which personal experience is made subject to a set of extra-individual, impersonal constraints; the Church, for its part, was able to counter-assert and maintain the relevance of its own authority by rebuilding itself on complementary epistemological ground – privileging a propositional type of “belief,” yet in reference to a different set of objects left to it by science (the “supernatural”) and by recourse to tradition or personal revelation, the epistemological alternatives to scientific method. In a general sense, the epistemological basis of science has been imputed with modernity to a greater extent than either of these alternatives, but more importantly, it is considered modern to wholly distinguish between these modes of knowing along with their appropriate realms of application (“nature” for scientific method, “supernatural” for tradition and intuition). Thus, a modern, rational religion (Christianity, deism) is one that recognizes its own limits, whereas any nonscientific belief or practice that intrudes on the territory of science is derided as “magic” or “superstition,” the truly pre-modern. It is, then, a single epistemological rule of dispersion that allows science and religion to coexist, on complementary epistemological grounds, even as these grounds interact and come into ever-changing articulations with each other, continually calling their boundaries into question (witness Creation Science), and likewise a single epistemological framework that simultaneously creates modern reason and pre-modern superstition.
Ontologically, the existence of the subject enabled formulations of human nature, will, and consciousness, which in turn specified several modes of being as a human. Enlightenment philosophers delineated a way of being human that is characterized by the social contract, in which individual goals are pursued, yet checked and ultimately subordinated to the collective good. The philosophers argued that this mode of existence was preferable, in particular, to one alternative: a state of nature, which is marked by unrestrained self-interest and violence. Later social theorists outlined another type of human existence that Durkheim termed the collective conscious, where individual thought and will derive from and are subordinated to the group. Although Durkheim and his followers valorized and romanticized the collective conscious to a certain extent, others viewed it as coercive and patriarchal. Regardless of these different attitudes, however, this mode of existence, as well as the “state of nature,” were unanimously held as representatives of the pre-modern, while only the social contract has been deemed modern. The modern state (and its associated mode of governance) is assumed to operate under the social contract, protecting human rights and promoting the general welfare of the population. This contrasts with the pre-modern tyranny of chiefs and kings, as well as the “mechanical solidarity” of ethnic groups and tribes. Here, as with the epistemological framework, these ontological juxtapositions are derived from a single rule of dispersion, while the positions, in practice, cannot so easily be separated from one another. On the one hand, the phenomenon of the nation-state and nationalism demonstrates how group loyalties and sentiments may be utilized by state governmental apparatus. On the other hand, we have Agamben’s contention that human rights discourses and biopower (a derivative of governmentality) further solidify the basis of sovereignty (rather than making it irrelevant) by allowing it to intrude on life itself. The foundations of genocide and terrorism are just as modern as constitutional law.
Finally, a related social-moral logic, which posits a fundamental tension between individual and collective ends, specifies several possible relations between social organization and resource distribution. According to the demands of progress, it is modern to recognize that resources flow most efficiently and fairly via competition and freedom of choice, while the pre-modern alternatives are “primitive communism” at one end and unequal distribution of wealth sustained by inheritance or other non-market-driven mechanisms at the other. The latter was first represented by the aristocracy, to which the emerging bourgeois was opposed, and later by monopolies and corporate “corruption.” The opposition of the former to the modern, competitive free market has been largely construed as a division between socialism/communism and capitalism. Again, these alternatives are the possibilities derived from a single social-moral framework, and again, their boundaries are not discrete in practice. Capitalism, while driven by competition, is also sustained by state regulation and social welfare programs (without which it would have collapsed), is inherently monopolistic (controlling and coordinating differential parts of the production process, for example) and generates massive global inequalities without allowing the “losers” a fair competition.
We have seen, then, how the concept of the subject served as an organizing principle, which shaped as it was simultaneously shaped by newly emerging institutional and discursive domains: namely, science and the associated notions of reason and rationality; governmentality and discourses about human nature, individuals, and rights; global capitalism and the ideology of competition and choice; as well as their pre-modern Others which these movements generated, and which helped to sustain them. Like the boundaries among various points of dispersion, or between modernity and its Other, the limits of these institutional and discursive zones are blurry, overlapping, and continually shifting. Science, for example, is subject to market forces, dependent on corporate resources, funded by the state, and employed in the service of governmentality and state sponsored violence. These, then, are not distinct domains, as much as they are types of relations that mobilize overlapping sets of people, resources, practices, and ideas. Yet the separation of these relations into discrete categories, and the upholding of an ideal of purity - fearing the dangers of admixture (for example, science tainted by politics or corporate interests, the market manipulated by the state) – is nevertheless fundamental to the way in which modernity and the ideology of progress are constructed.
Might it be effective at this point to invoke Latour’s notions of hybridity and purification? Latour asserts that the defining characteristic of the “modern Constitution” is an ideological purification of objects into the categories of “nature” and “society” with a concomitant, albeit unrecognized, increase in the production of hybrids of these categories. Perhaps one could add to or substitute for “nature” and “society” the categories of “science,” “religion,” “politics,” and “economics.” Certainly, the preceding discussion has demonstrated the way in which these “modern institutions” are, in fact, hybridized, while sustained ideologically as separate categories through the work of purification. However, one could argue, a la Kant or Durkheim, that categorization is a universally necessary means of ordering and interpreting the world, and that purification and hybridity are essential components of that process. In other words, everyone “purifies” an inherently “hybrid” reality according to a set of categories, whatever those categories may be. This is not distinctly new or “modern.”
Yet, for Latour, the categories of “nature” and “society” are not incidental. Rather, he contends that they possess a particular efficacy. For example, transferring insights from physics about mass and forces into political realm resulted in a powerful strategy of domination. However, the nature-society divide may be viewed as one aspect of the broader distinction between pre-modern and modern, in that “nature” is generally used to index origins, primitive beginnings, that from which modernity is to be distinguished (natural versus technological, man-made; state of nature versus the social contract, nature versus cities, industrialized cores), while “society” is perceived to be the vehicle for cultural evolution that has come to replace biological evolution in the human species. The efficacy of this distinction, then, lies in the fact that it upholds and makes possible an ideology of progress, which is foundational to the dominating impulses of modernity. Furthermore, one may argue that to speak of transfers or hybrids complicates an understanding of the ontology of these categories, whereas from the perspective adopted above, in which the categories are viewed as types of relations, the particular efficacy noted by Latour may be explained in terms of the way in which different relations of power sustain and reinforce one another.
Having established key institutional/discursive domains of modernity, such as science, governmentality, and capitalism, as types of relationships among people, practices, objects, and discourses, one can view the emergence of a “modern” order in terms of a reordering of such relations that Europeans initiated both locally and abroad. However, this statement needs to be qualified. Relations are never one-sided, and those that are constitutive of modernity were created through the mutual interaction of landlords, peasants, merchants, and statesmen, as well as of plantation owners, indigenous leaders and laborers, slaves, administrators, and middlemen. Everyone participated in the construction of the relations that lie at the heart of modernity, even if a minority ultimately benefited. Therefore, while modernity may have involved the development of something new and different, European men cannot be given all the credit (if credit is to be given).
If the relations constitutive of governmentality, science, and capitalism, among other “modern” forms, resulted from processes that involved nearly everyone, how, exactly, are they related to the project of global imperialism? Certainly, a governmental form of power, inherently diffuse, is easier to administer at a distance than one based solely on sovereignty, which is centered upon the personal authority of the sovereign and more territorially contingent. As such, the development of governmental institutions and power relations would have supported the colonial agenda. Capitalism, for its part, actually extended the aims of this project (from accumulation of wealth to the creation of markets and dependency relationships) and increased its inertia. Products of scientific research were also instrumental in the success of European conquest; naval transportation, weapons, cartography, and ethnographic descriptions of native culture, for example, were absolutely essential.
At the same time that these pillars of modernity provided the institutional and material support necessary for colonial expansion, their ideological components (ideas about rationality, human rights, competition), operating as a seamlessly integrated whole, provided a moral justification for the exploitative enterprise. Together, these ideological elements composed a master ideology of progress, which held that humans (some humans, at least) were continually improving their lot and gradually approaching a state of perfect happiness, efficiency, and universal knowledge.
In order to sustain the illusion of progress, it was necessary to simultaneously create its opposite – to create the pre-modern and traditional in order to produce a visible teleology. Thus, the ideology of progress involved the construction of a binary opposition (rational, efficient, principled modernity versus the superstitious, emotional, perpetual conformity of the primitive) and the concomitant assignment of real human populations to either side of this division. This occurred across spatial as well as social dimensions: modern Europe (Western Europe, to be more specific) was opposed to the traditional, conformist Orient (or, really, every other part of the world); white was opposed to nonwhite, wealthy to poor, adult to child, man to woman. Hence, the visible teleology could be constructed on virtually every level of scale, at home and abroad, with the added benefit that only a select group of people (white, upper-class, men) could claim the mantel of modernity, with all that it entailed.
The power of the ideology of progress lies in the fact that it legitimates the social order (inequality is the natural result of the “race to the top”) at the same time that it provides a license for those at “the top” to exploit everyone else (in the name of further progress). In this way, colonialism could be viewed as a necessary and natural extension of human progress, a benevolent endeavor to enlighten and uplift all of humankind, while at the same time, the ability to colonize served as incontrovertible proof of Europeans’ advancement over others.
Not only did the relations, institutional structures, and ideologies constituting enterprises like science, governmentality, and capitalism enable the colonial project, but they also possessed an inherent universalizing logic and centrifugal inertia that was served by colonization. Scientists strove for a complete, total knowledge of the world that required unfettered access to other environments and other groups of people. The development of industrial centers required the creation of supply areas for cheap raw materials and markets for manufactured goods across the globe. The ideals of human rights, rational thought, and economic liberalism are premised on a notion of universal, natural capacities of humankind and are accordingly posited as ends to which all human life should be directed, the universal keys to humanity’s liberation from the shackles of tradition. Therefore, the particular relations of discourses, institutions, people and materials that constitute modernity are characterized by a centrifugal inertia that both legitimizes as well as incites expansion and global consolidation. Fitting, considering that this relational constellation was forged in the course of new global encounters and the construction of new transcontinental networks.
We have seen, then, that the development of modern relationships, institutions, and ideologies cannot be separated from the colonial enterprise; that the ideology of progress, in particular, serves as its consolidating logic; and that the separation of the world into modern and pre-modern components is the primary means by which the ideology of progress is sustained. However, in addition to serving as a condition of possibility for the ideology of progress, the “pre-modern” spaces that modernity generates within itself are also utilized as grounds for challenging the ideological and material impulses of modernity. An understanding of this situation requires a treatment of modernity, not as a unified ethos or a monolithic structure, but as a configuration of relations that are constantly being reproduced and reworked. The relations are not stable and the actors involved try to redirect them toward their own purposes, on varying levels of scale. Thus, it should be no surprise that religious fundamentalism, nationalism, terrorism, demonstrations of state sovereignty, anti-colonial and leftist revolutionary movements, and reassertions of territoriality find fertile ground in a “modern” world. Nevertheless, as anthropologists and other social scientists focus their analytic lenses more directly on problems of modernity, they tend to confine themselves to “modernity” as one end of the pre-modern/modern divide (looking in particular at science, bureaucracy, governmentality, and the political economic implications of global capitalism), while many of these seemingly “pre-modern” areas of resistance are in need of more thorough research (particularly religious fundamentalism, terrorism, and territoriality).
Sunday, November 20, 2011
The State and Science are Tools of Capitalism
I have argued quite a few times now that, in order to launch a full-scale attack on capitalism, one must include all interrelated structures of the modern world. This is an important point, and commonly neglected, as many Marxists continue to look for solutions in the state, socialism, or even a type of socialist world government.
The state is, at its most basic level, a means of violence, which, via ideological manipulations, is construed as somehow "legitimate," even necessary. Usually this legitimacy is derived from social contract ideology, which posits that a certain degree of coersion is necessary to maintain social order. Despite the fact that there is evidence to the contrary (and in fact, state violence often exacerbates violence of all kinds), this "fact" is rarely questioned. But more than that, the modern state is a tool of the capitalist class, and is therefore a weapon of violence inflicted upon the masses by the ruling elite.
As an arm of the state, the justice system is one of the primary means by which this violence occurs. In addition to capital punishment and all the manifold forms of violence employed on a daily basis by the police (witness, for example, the response to the "Occupy" protests), there is also the gigantic prison-industrial complex, which also serves as a playground for capitalist interests with a sadistic bent. The term "justice system" is an oxymoron, as the system is inherently unjust and inherently violent. Once again, this truth is cloaked behind ideological rhetoric and popular imagery: notions of "human rights," for example (of which it is supposedly the duty of the law to uphold), layers of bureaucratic procedure, and the persona of the lawyer, who grounds the integrity of the justice system in the infallibility of human logic and reason.
Capitalist interests use state violence to uphold the limits to competition that are requisite for profitability (for example, regulation of the labor market), and to maintain neocolonial control over other nations (or in the case of underdeveloped nations, to resist neocolonial control to the benefit of local bourgeoisie). It has even been argued that the prison system functions essentially as a sort of "plantation" on which young African American males once again find themselves providing free labor. (The primary lesson here is that progress is an illusion: if you try to abolish something, they will find another way to reconstruct it. This is why comprehensive systemic transformation is necessary.)
Of course, capitalists have expanded the role of the state to include other functions as well. First and foremost, it is used to ensure the general conditions necessary for the existence capitalism. Maintaining the limits to competition (by patroling borders, regulating citizenship, enforcing copyrights, creating regional disparaties via monetary policy, etc.) falls under this umbrella. So does the protection of property rights, and the provision of infrastructure. It has also become increasingly important to diffuse (subsidize) the costs of labor and investment (including research and development): the latter, in particular, has been growing at an unmanageable rate, such that it now requires a LOT of capital to start and maintain an enterprise, making it both difficult and exceedingly risky.
There is an illusion that the state provides a social safety net. Don't be fooled. Partially, the "safety net" is a means of subsidizing the costs of labor (i.e. the state pays for certain things in lieu of the employer, thus forcing the working population to contribute). When this is not the case, it is a means of pacifying and controlling labor. Certain concessions are made to suppress discontent and unrest, to make the workers more or less agreeable to the conditions of their oppression. People who would actively change the system are encouraged to work in state agencies, subtly maintaining the status quo and all the while believing they are "making a difference." Furthermore, state agencies, in concert with their partners in crime - the nonprofit sector and institutions of medical and social science - collect copious amounts of personal information ("data") and work tirelessly to manage the populations under their jurisdiction: to quell unrest; to homogenize and induce "desired" behaviors (often through educational campaigns and strategic use of the law); and, in a contrary move, to reinforce social categories (every survey inquires about race and gender) and maintain the social division of labor based thereupon.
Which is a perfect lead in to a discussion of how science fits into the picture. Science is not neutral. It is not a matter of "truth." It is not independent of the state, capitalism, or human social relationships in general. In fact, the institutional development of modern science occurred, not in a void, but amid a shifting world order in which the authority and role of different institutions (religious, political, economic) were being redefined in relation to one another. As such, science is an indispensible component of the capitalist world system that eventually emerged. For a number of reasons, including:
1) Historically, science has been instrumentally involved in the social construction of race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality... all that comprises the social division of labor which is necessary for capitalism. Even seemingly "neutral" scientific ideas (such as Linnean classification) have been fundamentally shaped by these cultural assumptions.
2) Science is the ground on which "nature" is defined (and redefined). I plan to elaborate in future posts, but the concept of "nature" (not a universal concept, and not equivalent to the concept of "reality") helped constitute a new terrain on which the authority and power structures intrinsic to the modern world system are premised. The idea of "human nature" and "man in a state of nature" provides a rationale for the authority of the modern state; social contract ideology, after all, is the chief legitimizing rhetoric of the secular state. With the concept of "nature" comes a new perspective on what it means to be "human," and therefore what can be protected by the state and, conversely (and more importantly), subject to its violence. To be fully human, one must be cut free from other social relations (which are relegated to secondary importance) and be constituted in one's primary being as a citizen of a particular nation-state, thus creating the atomized, calculating individual who can function as a consumer and wage laborer within the capitalist mode of production.
The concept of "nature" is also an important component in the construction of what is "normal." "Natural" and "normal" function together to judge, act upon, and limit certain types of behavior. They define the "deviant" and "pathological" and provide ground for managing such illicit behavior. Scientific rhetoric has undergirded appraisals of sexual preferences, bodily functioning and appearance, illegal and destructive actions, and nonconformity in general. Thanks to scientific definitions of "nature," when one contravenes social norms, one's essence as a human being is called into question (thus priming one to be a recipient of state-sponsored or condoned violence).
The driving goal of many social and biological sciences has been the decisive disentanglement of the "natural" from the "cultural": the determination of what separates humans from animals. This is not merely an intellectual exercise. It is an ongoing political necessity.
3) There is no clear, distinct boundary between science and industry, and there never has been. Without the technologies that result from the practices of science, capitalism would not be possible. Technological innovation is a necessary component of the capitalist system. I would also be willing to guarantee that the money for "research and development" follows lines of political and economic interest (i.e. military technology). In that vein it is important to note that, not only is technology a double-edged sword (a lot of bad comes with the good: pollution, weapons of mass destruction, undesirable prolongation of life, car and machine-related accidents, assembly line drudgery, etc.), but as new technologies proliferate, the requirements for existence become increasingly more expensive (making it that much more difficult for many to survive - just witness the ballooning costs of healthcare) and technological benefits become concentrated into the hands of fewer and fewer people. Most people in the world cannot enjoy new technologies; in fact, their own poverty increases as a direct result of the system it sustains. In that sense, one should really question whether technology represents "progress."
4) Scientific practices, know-how, and technology are also indispensable for (in fact, form the crux of) the operation of governmental power. Demography and statistics allow for the management of populations, as well as the reinforcement of social categories and ideologies. Technological developments enable more effective surveillance techniques (it is now a contentious issue whether police should be able to use GPS tracking without a search warrant, for example). Personal information disclosed over the internet (I'm looking at you, facebook) is used by corporations for marketing purposes. Twitter and google have been used to track the spread of epidemics.
In addition, representatives of sociology and psychology have found their way into pretty much every institution in the modern world: business (marketing, human resources, and training); criminal justice and law in general; religion; education, the family, and the entire child care industry; public health; military, intelligence, and defense; department of state and economic development agencies; social work; urban planning; and the list goes on... (and includes all the nonprofit organizations dedicated to these and other causes). Psychology, in particular, is the modus operandi of governmental power, in its attempt to use universal, objective laws to penetrate and shape individual subjectivity.
What implications do I think should be drawn from all of this? 1. No authority should be beyond questioning or criticism; 2. Nothing is sacred; 3. The roots of the current world system run deep and wide; and 4. Nothing short of complete systemic transformation will solve the real problems of injustice, inequality, and exploitation.
The state is, at its most basic level, a means of violence, which, via ideological manipulations, is construed as somehow "legitimate," even necessary. Usually this legitimacy is derived from social contract ideology, which posits that a certain degree of coersion is necessary to maintain social order. Despite the fact that there is evidence to the contrary (and in fact, state violence often exacerbates violence of all kinds), this "fact" is rarely questioned. But more than that, the modern state is a tool of the capitalist class, and is therefore a weapon of violence inflicted upon the masses by the ruling elite.
As an arm of the state, the justice system is one of the primary means by which this violence occurs. In addition to capital punishment and all the manifold forms of violence employed on a daily basis by the police (witness, for example, the response to the "Occupy" protests), there is also the gigantic prison-industrial complex, which also serves as a playground for capitalist interests with a sadistic bent. The term "justice system" is an oxymoron, as the system is inherently unjust and inherently violent. Once again, this truth is cloaked behind ideological rhetoric and popular imagery: notions of "human rights," for example (of which it is supposedly the duty of the law to uphold), layers of bureaucratic procedure, and the persona of the lawyer, who grounds the integrity of the justice system in the infallibility of human logic and reason.
Capitalist interests use state violence to uphold the limits to competition that are requisite for profitability (for example, regulation of the labor market), and to maintain neocolonial control over other nations (or in the case of underdeveloped nations, to resist neocolonial control to the benefit of local bourgeoisie). It has even been argued that the prison system functions essentially as a sort of "plantation" on which young African American males once again find themselves providing free labor. (The primary lesson here is that progress is an illusion: if you try to abolish something, they will find another way to reconstruct it. This is why comprehensive systemic transformation is necessary.)
Of course, capitalists have expanded the role of the state to include other functions as well. First and foremost, it is used to ensure the general conditions necessary for the existence capitalism. Maintaining the limits to competition (by patroling borders, regulating citizenship, enforcing copyrights, creating regional disparaties via monetary policy, etc.) falls under this umbrella. So does the protection of property rights, and the provision of infrastructure. It has also become increasingly important to diffuse (subsidize) the costs of labor and investment (including research and development): the latter, in particular, has been growing at an unmanageable rate, such that it now requires a LOT of capital to start and maintain an enterprise, making it both difficult and exceedingly risky.
There is an illusion that the state provides a social safety net. Don't be fooled. Partially, the "safety net" is a means of subsidizing the costs of labor (i.e. the state pays for certain things in lieu of the employer, thus forcing the working population to contribute). When this is not the case, it is a means of pacifying and controlling labor. Certain concessions are made to suppress discontent and unrest, to make the workers more or less agreeable to the conditions of their oppression. People who would actively change the system are encouraged to work in state agencies, subtly maintaining the status quo and all the while believing they are "making a difference." Furthermore, state agencies, in concert with their partners in crime - the nonprofit sector and institutions of medical and social science - collect copious amounts of personal information ("data") and work tirelessly to manage the populations under their jurisdiction: to quell unrest; to homogenize and induce "desired" behaviors (often through educational campaigns and strategic use of the law); and, in a contrary move, to reinforce social categories (every survey inquires about race and gender) and maintain the social division of labor based thereupon.
Which is a perfect lead in to a discussion of how science fits into the picture. Science is not neutral. It is not a matter of "truth." It is not independent of the state, capitalism, or human social relationships in general. In fact, the institutional development of modern science occurred, not in a void, but amid a shifting world order in which the authority and role of different institutions (religious, political, economic) were being redefined in relation to one another. As such, science is an indispensible component of the capitalist world system that eventually emerged. For a number of reasons, including:
1) Historically, science has been instrumentally involved in the social construction of race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality... all that comprises the social division of labor which is necessary for capitalism. Even seemingly "neutral" scientific ideas (such as Linnean classification) have been fundamentally shaped by these cultural assumptions.
2) Science is the ground on which "nature" is defined (and redefined). I plan to elaborate in future posts, but the concept of "nature" (not a universal concept, and not equivalent to the concept of "reality") helped constitute a new terrain on which the authority and power structures intrinsic to the modern world system are premised. The idea of "human nature" and "man in a state of nature" provides a rationale for the authority of the modern state; social contract ideology, after all, is the chief legitimizing rhetoric of the secular state. With the concept of "nature" comes a new perspective on what it means to be "human," and therefore what can be protected by the state and, conversely (and more importantly), subject to its violence. To be fully human, one must be cut free from other social relations (which are relegated to secondary importance) and be constituted in one's primary being as a citizen of a particular nation-state, thus creating the atomized, calculating individual who can function as a consumer and wage laborer within the capitalist mode of production.
The concept of "nature" is also an important component in the construction of what is "normal." "Natural" and "normal" function together to judge, act upon, and limit certain types of behavior. They define the "deviant" and "pathological" and provide ground for managing such illicit behavior. Scientific rhetoric has undergirded appraisals of sexual preferences, bodily functioning and appearance, illegal and destructive actions, and nonconformity in general. Thanks to scientific definitions of "nature," when one contravenes social norms, one's essence as a human being is called into question (thus priming one to be a recipient of state-sponsored or condoned violence).
The driving goal of many social and biological sciences has been the decisive disentanglement of the "natural" from the "cultural": the determination of what separates humans from animals. This is not merely an intellectual exercise. It is an ongoing political necessity.
3) There is no clear, distinct boundary between science and industry, and there never has been. Without the technologies that result from the practices of science, capitalism would not be possible. Technological innovation is a necessary component of the capitalist system. I would also be willing to guarantee that the money for "research and development" follows lines of political and economic interest (i.e. military technology). In that vein it is important to note that, not only is technology a double-edged sword (a lot of bad comes with the good: pollution, weapons of mass destruction, undesirable prolongation of life, car and machine-related accidents, assembly line drudgery, etc.), but as new technologies proliferate, the requirements for existence become increasingly more expensive (making it that much more difficult for many to survive - just witness the ballooning costs of healthcare) and technological benefits become concentrated into the hands of fewer and fewer people. Most people in the world cannot enjoy new technologies; in fact, their own poverty increases as a direct result of the system it sustains. In that sense, one should really question whether technology represents "progress."
4) Scientific practices, know-how, and technology are also indispensable for (in fact, form the crux of) the operation of governmental power. Demography and statistics allow for the management of populations, as well as the reinforcement of social categories and ideologies. Technological developments enable more effective surveillance techniques (it is now a contentious issue whether police should be able to use GPS tracking without a search warrant, for example). Personal information disclosed over the internet (I'm looking at you, facebook) is used by corporations for marketing purposes. Twitter and google have been used to track the spread of epidemics.
In addition, representatives of sociology and psychology have found their way into pretty much every institution in the modern world: business (marketing, human resources, and training); criminal justice and law in general; religion; education, the family, and the entire child care industry; public health; military, intelligence, and defense; department of state and economic development agencies; social work; urban planning; and the list goes on... (and includes all the nonprofit organizations dedicated to these and other causes). Psychology, in particular, is the modus operandi of governmental power, in its attempt to use universal, objective laws to penetrate and shape individual subjectivity.
What implications do I think should be drawn from all of this? 1. No authority should be beyond questioning or criticism; 2. Nothing is sacred; 3. The roots of the current world system run deep and wide; and 4. Nothing short of complete systemic transformation will solve the real problems of injustice, inequality, and exploitation.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
The Goals of "Occupy"
Although I wrote in a previous post that I disagree with the major criticisms of the "Occupy" movement, I do have one to level of my own. I think it is okay that they are not necessarily "for" anything, and I think it is fantastic that they are not (as of yet) working through the political process. The problem, as I see it, is how they have defined what they are against.
The name "Occupy Wall Street" says it all. The movement is targeted foremost at the "financial sector," as well as at large corporations, and thus the problem is framed in terms of "corporate greed" coupled with the government's inability to impose regulations and make everyone pay their fair share (to the contrary, offering large bail-outs). This, of course, is a worthy cause. However, I also believe it is myopic, in much the same way that I argued was the view espoused by Inside Job.
The inherent contradictions of capitalism (the drive to decrease wages and simultaneously increase demand; the negative effects of investments in technology on the rate of profit) have caused a decades-long period of economic stagnation - via a crisis of overproduction - of which the entire financial crisis is a mere symptom. All the while, the normal laws of capitalist production continue to redistribute wealth upward. The problem, then, is not greedy corporations per se, or the unregulated financial sector, but the very nature of the capitalist sytem.
The "Occupy" movement could easily turn into a critique of capitalism, although I highly doubt it will. The ideological work of turning capitalism into a sacred cow has been pretty successfully managed up to this point.
But even if "Occupy" was elevated to a critique of capitalism, its scope could be broader still. Capitalism is more than an economic principle. It is a way of organizing social relations. To that end, if one desires real change, a comprehensive critique of society, including all of its interlinked institutions, ideologies, and practices, is necessary. For everything is interrelated, and together comprises a system that is in its very nature exploitative. One should start to question the nature of the state, the justice system, the media, the family, science, the medical establishment (with its associated industries), and so forth, as well as highlight the ways in which racism, sexism, xenophobia, homophobia, and all other forms of discrimination emerge from the exigencies of these institutions.
Occupying Wall Street is nice, but there's a whole world to occupy!
The name "Occupy Wall Street" says it all. The movement is targeted foremost at the "financial sector," as well as at large corporations, and thus the problem is framed in terms of "corporate greed" coupled with the government's inability to impose regulations and make everyone pay their fair share (to the contrary, offering large bail-outs). This, of course, is a worthy cause. However, I also believe it is myopic, in much the same way that I argued was the view espoused by Inside Job.
The inherent contradictions of capitalism (the drive to decrease wages and simultaneously increase demand; the negative effects of investments in technology on the rate of profit) have caused a decades-long period of economic stagnation - via a crisis of overproduction - of which the entire financial crisis is a mere symptom. All the while, the normal laws of capitalist production continue to redistribute wealth upward. The problem, then, is not greedy corporations per se, or the unregulated financial sector, but the very nature of the capitalist sytem.
The "Occupy" movement could easily turn into a critique of capitalism, although I highly doubt it will. The ideological work of turning capitalism into a sacred cow has been pretty successfully managed up to this point.
But even if "Occupy" was elevated to a critique of capitalism, its scope could be broader still. Capitalism is more than an economic principle. It is a way of organizing social relations. To that end, if one desires real change, a comprehensive critique of society, including all of its interlinked institutions, ideologies, and practices, is necessary. For everything is interrelated, and together comprises a system that is in its very nature exploitative. One should start to question the nature of the state, the justice system, the media, the family, science, the medical establishment (with its associated industries), and so forth, as well as highlight the ways in which racism, sexism, xenophobia, homophobia, and all other forms of discrimination emerge from the exigencies of these institutions.
Occupying Wall Street is nice, but there's a whole world to occupy!
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
What Other World Is Possible?
This was supposed to be a lazy, cut-and-paste from an email, post. I just realized I was too lazy to even mention that it is an email that I wrote to someone
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That is the question, isn't it? I think it boils down to the problem you formulated in our last phone coversation: have we reached a terminal point, beyond which no change is possible, or is there still possibility for structural transformation?
I have been reading someone who argues in favor of regionalization, at least as a positive direction to head in. It seems possible that this could occur, if shifting geopolitical alignments and general chaos in the interstate system were to someday intensify to the point of destroying the international apparatus of governance. Though regionalization in and of itself does not guarantee that the relations of production will be significantly altered. I could even imagine an infinite oscillation between the wax and wane of global integration.
One COULD look for the evolutionary regression that Marx expected: a sort of resurrection of the peasant industry, where production is organized more locally and communally, yet with all the benefit of new technology, and coincident with the dissolution of transnational and national forms of governance.
But the question still remains: what would it take to dismantle all of the current power structures? As you noted, the "technologies" - and I don't know if you meant it this broadly, but I would include all of the pertinent physical, institutional, and ideological infrastructure - have grown like weeds and stretched their tentacles into every aspect of life. It is not as simple as targeting corporations, or any single institution, regime, or set of policies. For one thing, the institutional basis of modern power relations is vast. Not only is "the state" very large and lacking definite boundaries (e.g. all the "private" contractors), but there is all the beaurocratic administration that pervades both the public and private sectors (as if there is a difference between the two); the stores of personal records culled from various sources, and to which corporations and banks, in particular, seem to have unfettered access; everything associated with our system of "justice," including the prison-industrial complex and all the suveillance capabilities of the police; the educational institutions and media outlets that often function as propoganda machines; the various foundations, nonprofit organizations, and research centers that attempt to manage populations based, in part, on the collection of copious amounts of individual data; the institutions of public health and medicine that have become less of a public "service" and more of a crusade to influence personal habits, augmented by their newly acquired abilities to define when life begins and ends; and, of course, science itself has become more than a delusional quest to master nature, as human beings and social processes are brought under its aegis (as a form of "nature").
But even then, one must not look solely at the institutions themselves, as they produce an extensive body of rhetoric, concepts, and values (which have in many cases taken on a life of their own) that instill habits, shape consciousness, and legitimize the interests that propogate them. There is the entire corpus of secular doctrine, which enshrines "the individual" as a sacred deity, and promotes vague and elusive values like "liberty" and "democracy," and, of course, "individual rights." As a corollary, there is the neoliberal ideology that equates capitalism with free markets, competition, and private enterprise (although quite the opposite is the case). Most important is the neoliberal myth that the system is just and anyone can be rich if they just try hard enough (with associated value that wealth is the greatest thing to aspire to, as well as a measure of a person's worth). There is also the secular ideology of progress, which views technology and scientific advancements as the only thing that makes life worth living; which would prolong life as long as physically possible; which insists that knowledge and wisdom are not possible without institutions of higher education; and which constantly strives to "reform" rather than to radically question. In addition to various manifestations of secularism, there are all the "isms" that serve to create false unities and enemies: nationalism, racism, xenophobia, etc. These are aided by the attitudes toward violence and war that are nurtured by popular entertainment and public imagery.
It seems that changing the system would entail: getting rid of the entire web of institutions that structure most of human social life, as well as actually altering everyone's consciousness. I guess that would qualify as a tall order.
So, then, to return to the question from which this all started: does this mean we're stuck?
-------------------------------------
That is the question, isn't it? I think it boils down to the problem you formulated in our last phone coversation: have we reached a terminal point, beyond which no change is possible, or is there still possibility for structural transformation?
I have been reading someone who argues in favor of regionalization, at least as a positive direction to head in. It seems possible that this could occur, if shifting geopolitical alignments and general chaos in the interstate system were to someday intensify to the point of destroying the international apparatus of governance. Though regionalization in and of itself does not guarantee that the relations of production will be significantly altered. I could even imagine an infinite oscillation between the wax and wane of global integration.
One COULD look for the evolutionary regression that Marx expected: a sort of resurrection of the peasant industry, where production is organized more locally and communally, yet with all the benefit of new technology, and coincident with the dissolution of transnational and national forms of governance.
But the question still remains: what would it take to dismantle all of the current power structures? As you noted, the "technologies" - and I don't know if you meant it this broadly, but I would include all of the pertinent physical, institutional, and ideological infrastructure - have grown like weeds and stretched their tentacles into every aspect of life. It is not as simple as targeting corporations, or any single institution, regime, or set of policies. For one thing, the institutional basis of modern power relations is vast. Not only is "the state" very large and lacking definite boundaries (e.g. all the "private" contractors), but there is all the beaurocratic administration that pervades both the public and private sectors (as if there is a difference between the two); the stores of personal records culled from various sources, and to which corporations and banks, in particular, seem to have unfettered access; everything associated with our system of "justice," including the prison-industrial complex and all the suveillance capabilities of the police; the educational institutions and media outlets that often function as propoganda machines; the various foundations, nonprofit organizations, and research centers that attempt to manage populations based, in part, on the collection of copious amounts of individual data; the institutions of public health and medicine that have become less of a public "service" and more of a crusade to influence personal habits, augmented by their newly acquired abilities to define when life begins and ends; and, of course, science itself has become more than a delusional quest to master nature, as human beings and social processes are brought under its aegis (as a form of "nature").
But even then, one must not look solely at the institutions themselves, as they produce an extensive body of rhetoric, concepts, and values (which have in many cases taken on a life of their own) that instill habits, shape consciousness, and legitimize the interests that propogate them. There is the entire corpus of secular doctrine, which enshrines "the individual" as a sacred deity, and promotes vague and elusive values like "liberty" and "democracy," and, of course, "individual rights." As a corollary, there is the neoliberal ideology that equates capitalism with free markets, competition, and private enterprise (although quite the opposite is the case). Most important is the neoliberal myth that the system is just and anyone can be rich if they just try hard enough (with associated value that wealth is the greatest thing to aspire to, as well as a measure of a person's worth). There is also the secular ideology of progress, which views technology and scientific advancements as the only thing that makes life worth living; which would prolong life as long as physically possible; which insists that knowledge and wisdom are not possible without institutions of higher education; and which constantly strives to "reform" rather than to radically question. In addition to various manifestations of secularism, there are all the "isms" that serve to create false unities and enemies: nationalism, racism, xenophobia, etc. These are aided by the attitudes toward violence and war that are nurtured by popular entertainment and public imagery.
It seems that changing the system would entail: getting rid of the entire web of institutions that structure most of human social life, as well as actually altering everyone's consciousness. I guess that would qualify as a tall order.
So, then, to return to the question from which this all started: does this mean we're stuck?
Friday, September 23, 2011
Jobs Cannot Be Simply Created
One thing that is a near constant in all discussions regarding the current economic situation is that they entirely neglect consideration of ultimate causes and instead focus on particular manifestations of the underlying problem. The result, of course, is always failure.
Take recent discussions about jobs. It has not, at any point, been off of people's minds the past couple years or so, and president Obama just released a new jobs plan. The common belief is that a few policy decisions - a tweak here, a tweak there - can "create" more jobs. And then the economy will get better. The end.
Everyone ignores the relationships and tensions between employment levels, wages, productivity, and profitability. For example, the fact that under capitalism there is a necessary ("natural") level of unemployment, without which the system would cease to function. Or the fact that new jobs will ultimately be superfluous if the system lacks the general conditions necessary to sustain the profitability of capitalist enterprises: conditions that relate more to the current organization and scale of production than to simple considerations of supply and demand.
One popular idea is that the government should make it less expensive for employers to hire new people (e.g. by reducing the payroll tax). This is yet another move in the several-decades-long trend toward shifting the costs of labor more onto the laborers themselves. If the government makes it less expensive for employers to hire people, what they are doing, in essence, is further subsidizing the cost of labor. Instead of employers bearing all the burden of the costs of the labor from which they derive their profits, the responsibility is pooled with other employers and all of the laborers themselves. And since some major corporations and wealthy individuals get away with paying practically no taxes at all, that is quite a large shift in burden.
Capitalist enterprises have become far less profitable over the past few decades. Capitalists respond to this situation, not by addressing the structural problems that are ultimately responsible, but by trying to reduce the costs of labor bit by bit in order to keep turning out a profit. Of course this is unsustainable in the long run (for one thing it reduces demand), but capitalists do not think about the long run (particularly when the long run does not look good for them either way). They think about how much money they can milk out of the system here and now, even as they watch it collapse.
So, we focus on making it "easier" for capitalists to hire. And easier for capitalists to hire also means easier for capitalists to skim off the last bit of profits before everything falls apart.
If you want to talk about jobs and capitalism, consider this: capitalism was only able to develop as a result of unemployment. If there were no mass of landless, unemployed peasants, capitalism as we know it would not exist. Clearly, seeing everyone employed is not a capitalist's top priority.
The best way to keep everyone employed is to get rid of capitalism.
Take recent discussions about jobs. It has not, at any point, been off of people's minds the past couple years or so, and president Obama just released a new jobs plan. The common belief is that a few policy decisions - a tweak here, a tweak there - can "create" more jobs. And then the economy will get better. The end.
Everyone ignores the relationships and tensions between employment levels, wages, productivity, and profitability. For example, the fact that under capitalism there is a necessary ("natural") level of unemployment, without which the system would cease to function. Or the fact that new jobs will ultimately be superfluous if the system lacks the general conditions necessary to sustain the profitability of capitalist enterprises: conditions that relate more to the current organization and scale of production than to simple considerations of supply and demand.
One popular idea is that the government should make it less expensive for employers to hire new people (e.g. by reducing the payroll tax). This is yet another move in the several-decades-long trend toward shifting the costs of labor more onto the laborers themselves. If the government makes it less expensive for employers to hire people, what they are doing, in essence, is further subsidizing the cost of labor. Instead of employers bearing all the burden of the costs of the labor from which they derive their profits, the responsibility is pooled with other employers and all of the laborers themselves. And since some major corporations and wealthy individuals get away with paying practically no taxes at all, that is quite a large shift in burden.
Capitalist enterprises have become far less profitable over the past few decades. Capitalists respond to this situation, not by addressing the structural problems that are ultimately responsible, but by trying to reduce the costs of labor bit by bit in order to keep turning out a profit. Of course this is unsustainable in the long run (for one thing it reduces demand), but capitalists do not think about the long run (particularly when the long run does not look good for them either way). They think about how much money they can milk out of the system here and now, even as they watch it collapse.
So, we focus on making it "easier" for capitalists to hire. And easier for capitalists to hire also means easier for capitalists to skim off the last bit of profits before everything falls apart.
If you want to talk about jobs and capitalism, consider this: capitalism was only able to develop as a result of unemployment. If there were no mass of landless, unemployed peasants, capitalism as we know it would not exist. Clearly, seeing everyone employed is not a capitalist's top priority.
The best way to keep everyone employed is to get rid of capitalism.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
The History of U.S. Cities
I happen to have a personal interest in U.S. urban history, so I decided to write this post on a whim.
I really love U.S. cities, and among a number of reasons is the fact that, given the period of their existence, it is possible to see the progressive unfolding of (in many cases) about two centuries worth of history sedimented in its spatial organization, architecture, and demographic patterns. And this history also happens to be the history of capitalism. There is no greater visual historical map of capitalism than the typical U.S. city.
Beginnings
Many cities in the eastern half of the U.S. were founded during the birthing period of capitalism (18th to early 19th century). The settlement patterns at this point were, in general, much the same as they had always been for a good part of human history. Namely, that they were determined by the location of waterways, which supported the primary form of human and commodity transport. Nascent U.S. cities tended to be small, both in land area and population, as the country as a whole was sparsely populated (it was still a frontier country). Downtown cores sat adjacent to seas and rivers, with industrial zones extending along the waterways. Generally, the wealthy elite either resided in central downtown areas (usually a main street), or owned large plantations in the vicinity and frequented the downtown for its services. The working class populated the rest of the downtown and the industrial zones. The outskirts of town were rural/agricultural.
Transportation Transformation
The first depression of capitalism in the 1840s was largely overcome through investment in the railroad industry. The rapid construction of railroad lines in the U.S. was a boon for British investors, and also facilitated a wave of European immigration (cheap labor). The growth of U.S. cities in the mid to late 19th century proceeded according to the following patterns:
1. Expansion of industrial zones and working class neighborhoods along railroad lines.
2. Influx of European immigrants and, in northern cities, free blacks; consequent population growth
3. Movement of white middle and upper classes away from the downtown core, facilitated by the construction of streetcare lines.
4. Deterioration and overcrowding in the downtown area.
Second Stage of Capitalism and First Wave of Urban Revitalization
Capitalism experienced its second major depression, on a larger scale than the first, in the later 19th century. However, with some reorganization on a global scale (entailing more imperialism), the era that followed was a Belle Opaque for the industrial centers, with transformed energy sources in the form of automated engines and electricity. The automobile industry accelerated growth in many cities. In keeping with these changes, the early 20th century saw a number of developments:
1. Urban renewal projects (following the "City Beautiful" movement)
2. Building boom, modernist architecture (including skyscrapers in some cities)
3. Further movement of upper classes spurred by automobiles, development of suburbs
4. Solidification of segregation, often enforced through neighborhood restrictions based on race/ethnicity
Late Capitalism and Suburbanization
After the depression of the 1930s, capitalism entered its third and current stage. The transition to this phase was marked not so much by technological changes (although automation of the entire production process via assembly line techniques and the like was an important factor), but moreso by organizational changes, including but not limited to the rise of transnational corporations, increasing vertical and horizontal integration, and the movement of manufacturing plants into the suburbs and overseas (to take advantage of lower costs).
During the economic upswing of this period, which lasted from the end of WW2 until about 1970, these organizational changes were accompanied by escalating racial tensions. Accordingly, many U.S. cities at this time experienced:
1. Race riots
2. Civil rights organizing
3. White flight
4. Manufacturing/population shift to the suburbs
5. The beginnings of urban decline
Racial tensions were fueled in part by population increases following WW2, northern migration of African Americans, and the movement of wealth and resources out of the cities (for example, manufacturing plants and offices were an important source of tax revenue) with the concomitant containment of blacks within. To make matters worse, black people were often prevented from owning their own property and were subject to exploitative rents and food prices charged by the suburban-dwelling property owners. However, riots only accelerated the process of white flight and further strained the dwindling resources of many cities.
Economic Stagnation and Urban Decay
By the 1970s, many U.S. cities were bereft of resources and political power, serving essentially as "garbage bins" for the nation's most impoverished people, and abandoned and neglected by everyone else. At this time, the global economy had entered into the period of stagnation which continues to characterize the economy today. Adding insult to injury, the conditions within cities began to deteriorate even further. For the next two decades, city dwellers faced problems of urban blight, a crack epidemic (and consequent imprisonment of a large portion of the young African American male population), and various "revitalization" projects that seemed to uproot, disturb, and harm local communities more than they "revitalized" anything.
Gentrification
When a large bubble was manufactured within the U.S. economy by the mid 90s, young professionals and new (often internet/tech-related) companies began to move back into cities to take advantage of the lower rents and property values. Furthermore, rapidly declining crime rates made these locations more attractive. The combination of temporary (and limited) economic growth along with the new migrations back into the city led to gentrification in circumscrbed neighborhoods, and in some cases, revitalization of entire cities (Washington, D.C. being a prime example).
However, this has been a heterogenous process and it is too early to tell what the lasting effects will be, particularly as the global economy still has not emerged from its longstanding period of stagnation. Stagnation generally ends with a transformation of the foundations of the economy, which in turns shapes the dynamics of city life. It is even possible that the old distinctions - urban/rural/suburban - may not be salient anymore as the spatial organization of economic processes undergoes yet another metamorphosis.
I really love U.S. cities, and among a number of reasons is the fact that, given the period of their existence, it is possible to see the progressive unfolding of (in many cases) about two centuries worth of history sedimented in its spatial organization, architecture, and demographic patterns. And this history also happens to be the history of capitalism. There is no greater visual historical map of capitalism than the typical U.S. city.
Beginnings
Many cities in the eastern half of the U.S. were founded during the birthing period of capitalism (18th to early 19th century). The settlement patterns at this point were, in general, much the same as they had always been for a good part of human history. Namely, that they were determined by the location of waterways, which supported the primary form of human and commodity transport. Nascent U.S. cities tended to be small, both in land area and population, as the country as a whole was sparsely populated (it was still a frontier country). Downtown cores sat adjacent to seas and rivers, with industrial zones extending along the waterways. Generally, the wealthy elite either resided in central downtown areas (usually a main street), or owned large plantations in the vicinity and frequented the downtown for its services. The working class populated the rest of the downtown and the industrial zones. The outskirts of town were rural/agricultural.
Transportation Transformation
The first depression of capitalism in the 1840s was largely overcome through investment in the railroad industry. The rapid construction of railroad lines in the U.S. was a boon for British investors, and also facilitated a wave of European immigration (cheap labor). The growth of U.S. cities in the mid to late 19th century proceeded according to the following patterns:
1. Expansion of industrial zones and working class neighborhoods along railroad lines.
2. Influx of European immigrants and, in northern cities, free blacks; consequent population growth
3. Movement of white middle and upper classes away from the downtown core, facilitated by the construction of streetcare lines.
4. Deterioration and overcrowding in the downtown area.
Second Stage of Capitalism and First Wave of Urban Revitalization
Capitalism experienced its second major depression, on a larger scale than the first, in the later 19th century. However, with some reorganization on a global scale (entailing more imperialism), the era that followed was a Belle Opaque for the industrial centers, with transformed energy sources in the form of automated engines and electricity. The automobile industry accelerated growth in many cities. In keeping with these changes, the early 20th century saw a number of developments:
1. Urban renewal projects (following the "City Beautiful" movement)
2. Building boom, modernist architecture (including skyscrapers in some cities)
3. Further movement of upper classes spurred by automobiles, development of suburbs
4. Solidification of segregation, often enforced through neighborhood restrictions based on race/ethnicity
Late Capitalism and Suburbanization
After the depression of the 1930s, capitalism entered its third and current stage. The transition to this phase was marked not so much by technological changes (although automation of the entire production process via assembly line techniques and the like was an important factor), but moreso by organizational changes, including but not limited to the rise of transnational corporations, increasing vertical and horizontal integration, and the movement of manufacturing plants into the suburbs and overseas (to take advantage of lower costs).
During the economic upswing of this period, which lasted from the end of WW2 until about 1970, these organizational changes were accompanied by escalating racial tensions. Accordingly, many U.S. cities at this time experienced:
1. Race riots
2. Civil rights organizing
3. White flight
4. Manufacturing/population shift to the suburbs
5. The beginnings of urban decline
Racial tensions were fueled in part by population increases following WW2, northern migration of African Americans, and the movement of wealth and resources out of the cities (for example, manufacturing plants and offices were an important source of tax revenue) with the concomitant containment of blacks within. To make matters worse, black people were often prevented from owning their own property and were subject to exploitative rents and food prices charged by the suburban-dwelling property owners. However, riots only accelerated the process of white flight and further strained the dwindling resources of many cities.
Economic Stagnation and Urban Decay
By the 1970s, many U.S. cities were bereft of resources and political power, serving essentially as "garbage bins" for the nation's most impoverished people, and abandoned and neglected by everyone else. At this time, the global economy had entered into the period of stagnation which continues to characterize the economy today. Adding insult to injury, the conditions within cities began to deteriorate even further. For the next two decades, city dwellers faced problems of urban blight, a crack epidemic (and consequent imprisonment of a large portion of the young African American male population), and various "revitalization" projects that seemed to uproot, disturb, and harm local communities more than they "revitalized" anything.
Gentrification
When a large bubble was manufactured within the U.S. economy by the mid 90s, young professionals and new (often internet/tech-related) companies began to move back into cities to take advantage of the lower rents and property values. Furthermore, rapidly declining crime rates made these locations more attractive. The combination of temporary (and limited) economic growth along with the new migrations back into the city led to gentrification in circumscrbed neighborhoods, and in some cases, revitalization of entire cities (Washington, D.C. being a prime example).
However, this has been a heterogenous process and it is too early to tell what the lasting effects will be, particularly as the global economy still has not emerged from its longstanding period of stagnation. Stagnation generally ends with a transformation of the foundations of the economy, which in turns shapes the dynamics of city life. It is even possible that the old distinctions - urban/rural/suburban - may not be salient anymore as the spatial organization of economic processes undergoes yet another metamorphosis.
Monday, May 16, 2011
The IMF is for Losers
I can't help but get a little bit of pleasure out of the news that the head of the IMF, Dominique Strauss-Kahn, is being charged for sexual assault. Don't get me wrong, I feel sorry for the maid, and sexual assault is not something to take lightly. But part of me delights in any sort of bad press for the IMF.
The fact that Strauss-Kahn was both the head of the IMF (one of the most powerful instruments of global capitalism) and such a key figure within the French socialist party further proves that socialism is just another form of capitalism.
The fact that Strauss-Kahn was both the head of the IMF (one of the most powerful instruments of global capitalism) and such a key figure within the French socialist party further proves that socialism is just another form of capitalism.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Book Review: 1984 by George Orwell
I decided some time ago that I wanted to review this book on my blog, simply because it is such an iconic portrayal of the political and economic issues that dominate the contemporary world. In some ways, this work is incredibly prescient. To be sure, it is probably one of the most frequently quoted works of literature of the twentieth century. At the same time, this novel embodies some fundamental misunderstandings and creates a number of false oppositions which I believe deserve some discussion, as they have attained the status of taken-for-granted dogma. In particular, Orwell ascribes some characteristics to totalitarian/socialist states which, rather than being the end point of some slippery slope away from capitalism/democracy, are actually endemic to capitalism/democracy.
Disclaimer: it has been a while since I read the book, and it is fairly long, so this is not a comprehensive evaluation of the work, by any means!
Let me start by acknowledging the strong points of 1984. There are two areas, in particular, where I believe Orwell hit the nail on the head. Most significantly, his concept of a "permanent war" was incredibly predictive of the rise of the military-industrial complex and the use of military interventions and military spending as a means to increase demand and facilitate economic growth. According to Orwell, large-scale production for the arms industry allows those in power to keep the working class busy, without having to create demand for what is produced (i.e. allowing the workers to buy more and raise their standard of living) since all that is produced is eventually destroyed. The working class becomes more productive but still makes do with the bare necessities. Ernest Mandel, in Late Capitalism, made a similar argument regarding the role of the permanent arms economy that has developed following WW2. Mandel, however, sees the rationale less in any direct concern for the conditions of the working class (lower wages/standard of living is only advantageous in so far as it raises profits margins for the capitalists), but rather in capitalists' need to find another outlet for investment if they are to maintain profitability. Remember the general principle that continued investment in a profitable enterprise decreases its profitability. The advantage of the new investment in the armament industry is that it creates demand by forcing the working class to finance it through tax dollars. Thus, even in this case, Orwell overlooked the way in which the "permanent war" derived from the inherent principles of capitalism itself.
A second strength of 1984 is the way in which it demonstrates the power of language, and in particular, the relationship between thought and language. This is a topic that has been endlessly pondered and debated among linguists, anthropologists, linguistic anthropologists, philosophers, and literary critics. Although there are widely diverging opinions on this subject, most would agree that language is neither neutral nor natural. It is not natural because it is an arbitrary social convention: for example, the word "tree" could just as easily mean "rock" if we decided it was so. There is nothing about the sound "tree" that is inherently connected to the physical object to which it refers. Language is not neutral because the words one chooses always convey a point of view. The existence of words themselves entail a specific way of categorizing the world which is never the only means of doing so. How one categorizes the world (the language one uses) will, then, affect how one views and interpret the world.
Orwell is absolutely correct that relationships of power involve strategic use of language to influence consciousness and generate consent. Yet, Orwell also misses the mark here. First, even while he acknowledges the political use of language, he still seems to uphold a naturalist perspective of language, in which there are "correct" and "distorted" uses of words. For example, Orwell assumes that the word "peace" has one "correct" referent in the real world, regardless of social usage (he doesn't seem to countenance the idea that meanings are arbitrary and can shift and change). If conventional use of the word "peace," however, changes or broadens to include circumstances that previously would not be accorded such a label, it is not the original concept itself that is disturbed, but merely the word, the symbol. The real question is, if a concept has no word to refer to it (through shifts in language use) does that concept suddenly cease to exist, and can it never be brought back into existence?
Because he does not allow for the fluidity of meaning, Orwell's view on the politics of language amounts to something like absolute control: the powers that be essentially brainwash people by forcing them to adopt new forms of language use. In reality, however, meaning can never be controlled and manipulated that effectively; one cannot prevent the multiple interpretations, misunderstandings, and resignifications that make resistance a perennial counterpart to power. Most problematically, Orwell seems to think that the "manipulations" of language he describes are a problem endemic only to totalitarian states. Yet, one need only look at the United States to find examples of Orwellian abbreviations (CENCOM, USSTRATCOM, etc.) as well as the application of words to circumstances that contradict their own meaning (the "free market").
This last point is illustrative of two major weaknesses of Orwell's work. First, the book is premised on certain fundamental oppositions between socialism and capitalism, democracy and totalitarianism, which I have already argued are false distinctions (follow the links to see those discussions). It is clear that many of the trends Orwell describes are already present in the capitalist, democratic world, and it is much more due to the inherent nature of these systems themselves, than in any movement toward anything else.
Second, Orwell's fallacious construction of the relationship between language and power is symptomatic of his more general mischaracterization of the nature of power, the state, and government (once again, follow links to view my previous discussions of these issues). Orwell presumes that power is centralized in a single person (Big Brother) or group of people (the Party), and in a single institution (the state). This contradicts the principle that power is without a unified center or source, and is most certainly NOT monopolized by the state. Just look at the criticism leveled at Facebook and Apple for their invasions of privacy! If anything, a non-unified group of corporations has become our "Big Brother." More radically, using these technologies we have all become each other's "Big Brother."
To this end, Orwell also misunderstands the way in which power works. He views power primarily in terms of direct, coercive and restrictive force, while overlooking the more subtle, consent-based and productive strategies that can achieve more spectacular results. Power relationships have extended their reach not primarily through the use of police, surveillance, imprisonment, and torture. To the contrary, power relationships have extended themselves inward, penetrating consciousness in a manner that allows the subject to act freely. Strategies of power encourage behaviors, and they do so without force. (Following from my last series of posts, consider how images and discourses about "health" promote consumption of diet products, gym memberships, and pharmaceuticals, just as they more generally shape personal eating habits and behaviors.) Recall my argument that the difference between dictatorship and democracy is the extent to which democracies are able to use wealth and other resources to build phsyical and ideological infrastructure to reduce reliance on coercive mechanisms of control. Coersion is less effective, and if this were the sole base of power, as in the world of 1984, there would most surely be an uprising. (Just witness events in MENA right now.)
However, Orwell justifies the scenario by portraying the workers as too uneducated and ignorant to recognize their own interests and challenge the system. This is a third weakness in his work. Orwell severely underestimates the capabilities and consciousness of the working class, even when denied an education and saturated with propaganda. One need only look at historical and anthropological evidence to see that this hypothetical scenario has no empirical justification. Nationalism and propaganda do work, but only to a certain extent. At some point, when conditions become harsh enough, a breaking point will be reached.
Orwell's neglect of the most common mechanisms of power also prevents him from foreseeing the type of imperialism that eventually emerged in the post-WW2 era. It is not, as in the past, an imperialism based primarily on military violence and direct force, though this is the nature of Orwell's "permanent war." In contrast, imperialism today is more often a matter of manipulating social and economic polices via transnational lending organizations, multinational coporations, and foreign development aid programs. The generation of consent through the spread of neoliberal ideology, and the creation of a guise of "humanitarian" motives, have become extremely effective ways of maintaining control without violence or coersion (although the latter do still have their place, and may also appear under the guise of "humanitarian" motives!).
Thus, the most harmful aspect of 1984 is the way in which it encourages us to look for power in places where it does not reside ("Big Brother," particular forms of government) and to ignore all the relationships of power in which we ARE enmeshed, in increasingly subtle ways.
Disclaimer: it has been a while since I read the book, and it is fairly long, so this is not a comprehensive evaluation of the work, by any means!
Let me start by acknowledging the strong points of 1984. There are two areas, in particular, where I believe Orwell hit the nail on the head. Most significantly, his concept of a "permanent war" was incredibly predictive of the rise of the military-industrial complex and the use of military interventions and military spending as a means to increase demand and facilitate economic growth. According to Orwell, large-scale production for the arms industry allows those in power to keep the working class busy, without having to create demand for what is produced (i.e. allowing the workers to buy more and raise their standard of living) since all that is produced is eventually destroyed. The working class becomes more productive but still makes do with the bare necessities. Ernest Mandel, in Late Capitalism, made a similar argument regarding the role of the permanent arms economy that has developed following WW2. Mandel, however, sees the rationale less in any direct concern for the conditions of the working class (lower wages/standard of living is only advantageous in so far as it raises profits margins for the capitalists), but rather in capitalists' need to find another outlet for investment if they are to maintain profitability. Remember the general principle that continued investment in a profitable enterprise decreases its profitability. The advantage of the new investment in the armament industry is that it creates demand by forcing the working class to finance it through tax dollars. Thus, even in this case, Orwell overlooked the way in which the "permanent war" derived from the inherent principles of capitalism itself.
A second strength of 1984 is the way in which it demonstrates the power of language, and in particular, the relationship between thought and language. This is a topic that has been endlessly pondered and debated among linguists, anthropologists, linguistic anthropologists, philosophers, and literary critics. Although there are widely diverging opinions on this subject, most would agree that language is neither neutral nor natural. It is not natural because it is an arbitrary social convention: for example, the word "tree" could just as easily mean "rock" if we decided it was so. There is nothing about the sound "tree" that is inherently connected to the physical object to which it refers. Language is not neutral because the words one chooses always convey a point of view. The existence of words themselves entail a specific way of categorizing the world which is never the only means of doing so. How one categorizes the world (the language one uses) will, then, affect how one views and interpret the world.
Orwell is absolutely correct that relationships of power involve strategic use of language to influence consciousness and generate consent. Yet, Orwell also misses the mark here. First, even while he acknowledges the political use of language, he still seems to uphold a naturalist perspective of language, in which there are "correct" and "distorted" uses of words. For example, Orwell assumes that the word "peace" has one "correct" referent in the real world, regardless of social usage (he doesn't seem to countenance the idea that meanings are arbitrary and can shift and change). If conventional use of the word "peace," however, changes or broadens to include circumstances that previously would not be accorded such a label, it is not the original concept itself that is disturbed, but merely the word, the symbol. The real question is, if a concept has no word to refer to it (through shifts in language use) does that concept suddenly cease to exist, and can it never be brought back into existence?
Because he does not allow for the fluidity of meaning, Orwell's view on the politics of language amounts to something like absolute control: the powers that be essentially brainwash people by forcing them to adopt new forms of language use. In reality, however, meaning can never be controlled and manipulated that effectively; one cannot prevent the multiple interpretations, misunderstandings, and resignifications that make resistance a perennial counterpart to power. Most problematically, Orwell seems to think that the "manipulations" of language he describes are a problem endemic only to totalitarian states. Yet, one need only look at the United States to find examples of Orwellian abbreviations (CENCOM, USSTRATCOM, etc.) as well as the application of words to circumstances that contradict their own meaning (the "free market").
This last point is illustrative of two major weaknesses of Orwell's work. First, the book is premised on certain fundamental oppositions between socialism and capitalism, democracy and totalitarianism, which I have already argued are false distinctions (follow the links to see those discussions). It is clear that many of the trends Orwell describes are already present in the capitalist, democratic world, and it is much more due to the inherent nature of these systems themselves, than in any movement toward anything else.
Second, Orwell's fallacious construction of the relationship between language and power is symptomatic of his more general mischaracterization of the nature of power, the state, and government (once again, follow links to view my previous discussions of these issues). Orwell presumes that power is centralized in a single person (Big Brother) or group of people (the Party), and in a single institution (the state). This contradicts the principle that power is without a unified center or source, and is most certainly NOT monopolized by the state. Just look at the criticism leveled at Facebook and Apple for their invasions of privacy! If anything, a non-unified group of corporations has become our "Big Brother." More radically, using these technologies we have all become each other's "Big Brother."
To this end, Orwell also misunderstands the way in which power works. He views power primarily in terms of direct, coercive and restrictive force, while overlooking the more subtle, consent-based and productive strategies that can achieve more spectacular results. Power relationships have extended their reach not primarily through the use of police, surveillance, imprisonment, and torture. To the contrary, power relationships have extended themselves inward, penetrating consciousness in a manner that allows the subject to act freely. Strategies of power encourage behaviors, and they do so without force. (Following from my last series of posts, consider how images and discourses about "health" promote consumption of diet products, gym memberships, and pharmaceuticals, just as they more generally shape personal eating habits and behaviors.) Recall my argument that the difference between dictatorship and democracy is the extent to which democracies are able to use wealth and other resources to build phsyical and ideological infrastructure to reduce reliance on coercive mechanisms of control. Coersion is less effective, and if this were the sole base of power, as in the world of 1984, there would most surely be an uprising. (Just witness events in MENA right now.)
However, Orwell justifies the scenario by portraying the workers as too uneducated and ignorant to recognize their own interests and challenge the system. This is a third weakness in his work. Orwell severely underestimates the capabilities and consciousness of the working class, even when denied an education and saturated with propaganda. One need only look at historical and anthropological evidence to see that this hypothetical scenario has no empirical justification. Nationalism and propaganda do work, but only to a certain extent. At some point, when conditions become harsh enough, a breaking point will be reached.
Orwell's neglect of the most common mechanisms of power also prevents him from foreseeing the type of imperialism that eventually emerged in the post-WW2 era. It is not, as in the past, an imperialism based primarily on military violence and direct force, though this is the nature of Orwell's "permanent war." In contrast, imperialism today is more often a matter of manipulating social and economic polices via transnational lending organizations, multinational coporations, and foreign development aid programs. The generation of consent through the spread of neoliberal ideology, and the creation of a guise of "humanitarian" motives, have become extremely effective ways of maintaining control without violence or coersion (although the latter do still have their place, and may also appear under the guise of "humanitarian" motives!).
Thus, the most harmful aspect of 1984 is the way in which it encourages us to look for power in places where it does not reside ("Big Brother," particular forms of government) and to ignore all the relationships of power in which we ARE enmeshed, in increasingly subtle ways.
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