To be gifted is to gift to the world of your gifts. If you live in a capitalist country, you will receive the lowest compensation the market will tolerate for said gifts. If you live in a non-capitalist country, I really have no idea what your life is like, and I don’t let myself dream about how a world that does not revolve around profit functions. Anymore.
If you are anti-capitalist, the pay floor for your talents will make you bitter. If you are anti-capitalist and idealistic, you really do make gifts of your gifts — or at least find ways to funnel them through non-profits. Straight-edge means you don’t drown your bitterness with drugs, and hardcore means you don’t put advertising on your site/blog/messages.
See, when you have talent — and that talent has no military or especially commercial application — there’s lots of talk about what you owe to the world of your talents…unless you expect a living wage for that, in which case the world doesn’t owe you anything per Mark Twain. That’s how it works. Gifted people owe the world their work but no one owes them any reward or just compensation in return. Seriously, try opting out of this arrangement. You will be shunned.
Last October, Mark Pilgrim (a software developer and author of multiple books and a blog about programming) committed infosuicide. The digital version of offing yourself involves not just closing your means of connection to the online world, but also removing your work from the web too. It’s an intentional act of rescission of your gifts to the community. Pilgrim had been that idealistic sort in that he advocated for open source work (free for all to use and improve) and he offered his insights to others at no cost. The common assumption after his infosuicide was that Pilgrim no longer wished to connect online because he sought greater privacy. If that was all he wanted though, he need not have scrubbed his work. He clearly wanted to do more than just opt out of digital involvement — he took his work with him so that others would no longer have it. This is an absolute rejection of the community — not just of your role in it, but in having contributed to it at all. Pilgrim didn’t just want to leave; he didn’t want to leave a legacy either.
Reactions were swift and of two kinds: some were immediately concerned that he might be literally suicidal or mentally ill with a potential to be a threat to himself or others. Someone called the police. Word came out that Pilgrim was fine and annoyed at being bothered. Tellingly, he did not issue a reassuring statement or even post a demand for others to back off – such was his seriousness about leaving his digital life. The second response to Pilgrim’s abrupt online end was anger. A poster on one article summarized the fury: You are a selfish dick if you don’t leave your work out there for others to use even if you want to leave. Tech savvy users lambasted Pilgrim’s actions and asserted vehemently that he had violated his social obligation to the community in “taking his ball and going home.” Since that time, others have worked diligently to undermine Pilgrim’s retreat. They have put up sites that “mirror” the work contained on his old sites so that even though his are no longer there, his work is available through other sources. They will force from him what Pilgrim no longer wishes to gift them, and yet, no one considers that stealing (as he is attributed). No one cares that he is free to do what he wishes with his own work, including destroying it.
And then there is this example: In 2005, historian Alwyn Ruddock passed away. She had been working for years on research regarding English maritime exploration of the new world and had promised to show that before Columbus came along, the English had already begun tapping the resources of North America. She died without publishing her research. Ruddock, like Pilgrim, elected not to leave her work behind for the benefit of others. She ordered her research destroyed and it was shredded before the academic community acted to salvage it. Thereafter, Dr. Evan Jones of the University of Bristol undertook a project to recreate Ruddock’s work by retracing her steps. Thus, Jones too refused to respect Ruddock’s ownership of her own work. Like the online sources who reposted Pilgrim’s writings, Jones and his co-workers will force Ruddock’s knowledge from obscurity. They have had some success. Just this last week, information emerged that scholars have confirmed the discovery of evidence regarding loans made by Italian financiers to English mariners (specifically, John Cabot) for voyages to “the” new found land prior to 1492. Still, of Ruddock’s actions, Jones stated: ”I have an enormous respect for Alwyn Ruddock as a scholar. But I can’t respect her decision to destroy all her work. She did what is the antithesis of everything that historical research is about — she sought to destroy all her findings. I can’t and don’t accept that.” (See Ruddock article here.) In other words, Jones thinks Ruddock was a selfish dick for refusing to leave it for others.
I wonder if there really is any social obligation in writing or scholarship — or in just being gifted. I suppose this topic is near and dear to my heart of late, as I have committed a sort of partial infosuicide recently. Ironically, what brought me back was an interest in being productive and sharing that work with others. I want to reach the community. However much I shy away from being out there personally, I like being in it productively. Still, I’m not sure that I owe humankind any gifts — particularly as it doesn’t seem much appreciative of them for the most part. I can’t help but think that notions of a social contract are just a way to force gifts from others; is it just stealing through socialization?
Maybe Pilgrim’s and Ruddock’s actions were ultimately signs of humility. Perhaps both knew that with the clues at hand, others would resurrect or recreate their work and there would be no lasting blow to the betterment of mankind in the end. They just didn’t need credit for it themselves. Or, maybe neither person cared about the community at large anymore — they grew to despise it enough to withhold their gifts from it absolutely. Who can know if it’s a profound hate or incredible modesty at work here. But, that is a judgment about motives and the outside world clearly cares little about that. It only wants what it can use from you. Thankless or not, it will have it, and if you resist, there will be work-arounds. Then, you will have infamy instead of honor; history will not release you regardless. You will be remembered, you selfish dicks.
m[-_-]
When you enter the Gates of Time — at 9:01am and 9:03am respectively — you enter a space where a minute exists in perpetuity. For as long as you remain between the gates, you are suspended in memoriam in a moment that no longer is. Yet, though seventeen years have passed, that minute endures there, through varying seasons and politics and time. Those sixty seconds alone do not change. They are always with us — between the gates, as scars on our hearts, and branded onto our memories. The physical space where time continues suspended is defined, but the memory of that moment travels beyond Oklahoma City, the State, and any circumscribed border. Wherever Oklahomans are — or go — that minute is present.
Because it is always with us, it’s all the more painful when, for others, it seems so unremarkable. It hasn’t even been twenty years. Are your memories so short? Was that moment so inconsequential in your lives? For us, it haunts — no, not haunts — more like it aches, even in spite of the years of healing and growth that have come after. We’ve had a measure of revenge. We’ve honored (and still do) those we lost. We’ve built a place to remember that is a model for the world in how to prioritize humanity in memorials to inhumane tragedies. Whatever else we fail at, our remembrance — our historical tribute — excels in nobility and sophistication. Our grief is dignified and remains authentic even after all these years.
Our profound sorrow turns bitter, though, when we see how little the history means elsewhere. It’s tough to choke down the truth that others remember the event so poorly. And, then, for that bad history to be used as a justification for systematized civic injustice… Insulting fails to characterize the effect properly.
Ironically, US Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy studied history as an undergraduate. One would tend to assume then that he would be careful with historical facts. Maybe he spends all of his time in the thrall of James Madison and other Founders though, or perhaps he prefers ancient history to current events. Whatever the case, the painful, stinging reality is that his recall of the Oklahoma City bombing is flawed and fuzzy. If Kennedy did not sit on the highest court in the country, his poor historical understanding would only prick the hearts of Oklahomans, but he does, and instead that history has become a tool in a far-reaching legal dispute. Kennedy’s recent opinion allowing strip searches of those arrested for any reason — no matter how trivial the charge and without reasonable suspicion — springs from his law-and-order orientation, but it was in his bad historical understanding that he found justification for this broad, intrusive governmental power. Kennedy rationalized his position by noting that Timothy McVeigh was arrested for driving without a license plate — this minor offense led to the apprehension of a mass murderer, and thus, since little violations can aid in arresting dangerous criminals, intrusive searches based on the same are permissible.
Only, McVeigh wasn’t arrested simply because the car he was driving was missing its tag. That was why the state trooper first pulled him over — but this offense doesn’t always warrant arrest in Oklahoma. McVeigh might only have been ticketed and his car towed….except. Except that during the traffic stop, the trooper noticed a bulge in McVeigh’s jacket, which turned out to be a loaded semi-automatic handgun. Once Trooper Hanger discovered this — which McVeigh did not have a license to carry concealed in Oklahoma — he immediately pulled his weapon, disarmed his suspect and placed him in handcuffs. This was the point at which McVeigh was formally detained. The arrest was precipitated by the gun — not the missing tag.
Clarity on this detail is important,and scrutiny of the facts is more than scholastic hair-splitting. Firstly, it insists that we remember the history and do so properly — something that may not mean much to others but is greatly significant to the people of Oklahoma. Is it really so much to ask that you remember this most horrific and horrible event accurately? We cannot forget it. It hurts that we have to remind you of it and that you recall it so badly. Further, it cuts that a poor history of this event be used to justify governmental intrusion into the personal privacy of those who survived it. The victims are now potential peers of the bomber. Somehow, they have become an equivalent threat if they accumulate too many parking tickets or write a bad check. How oblivious is Kennedy to the irony of his use of McVeigh’s misguided attack against tyrannical government? The incongruity bends back upon itself. The history just bends over, a malleable narrative used to make silly law.
But, that is outside. Within the Gates, it is still 9:02am and the world is shattering. The minute is the present past and not yet written in books. As McVeigh makes his way out of downtown with his weapon concealed, papers are still falling, concrete yet buries adults and children alive, and Oklahomans teeter on the brink of collectively meeting their great sorrow.
m[-_-]
Mar 082012
I love studying history, but I hate telling strangers that. When I meet new people, I always brace myself when the topic comes up. Invariably, other history lovers will reveal themselves. They will then gush over the latest best seller about John Adams/George Washington/Teddy Roosevelt or some other great American leader. Or, a review of their favorite visits to various historical sites, complete with superlative descriptions, spills forth inevitably. Perhaps they made a trek to the Capital and must wax poetic about the memorials they saw there — although interestingly enough, they never have visited the monument I think is most important. I appreciate their enthusiasm. I wish Americans had more of a historical orientation, and these individuals clearly care.
Still, I never know how to respond. Invariably, the history they love is that traditional founder-worshipping kind of propaganda I despise — and probably not coincidentally, the people I’m talking about here are usually men. Seriously, do you guys take a class or something where you learn to venerate the founders? Is it genetic? I don’t get it, and I don’t know what to say. I probably couldn’t care less about how impressed you were by the Washington Monument. I’m actually disappointed that you would rather go there or to the Jefferson Memorial or the World War II one than the Lincoln, which invites substantive reflection on race relations and political schism. I kind of assume this means you aren’t interested in serious thought about our history — that you just want the celebratory booster crap. To be honest, that leaves me empty. I am not the least bit interested and I don’t want to be a buzzkill by dropping that in a conversation with someone I just met. But, I’m not going to be chatty about your interest either. I’m going to smile and nod my head while you talk. Inwardly, I am rolling my eyes and wishing it were over already, but there you go.
It would be lovely if ever I was pleasantly surprised to have a stranger go on a crazy anti-Hamilton rant or critique of the Progressives after first meeting them and learning of our mutual affection for history. What wonderful astonishment that would bring. It would be especially awesome if it were an old lady that appeared mainstream and respectable — an outspoken lefty grandma all blue hair and bluster. I guess I will just have to be the change I want to see in the world.
m[-_-]
Feb 172012
If you are going to use history for your evidence, I absolutely insist that you use evidence in your history. I am growing ever tired of talkers, writers, and activists promoting poor history in order to serve their ideological ends. This practice takes the shape of individuals vaguely citing historical event(s) as support for their positions — but behind that, really, is an effort to present oneself as an expert: I know about this and am educated/wise/insightful enough to make the comparison — which makes my claims more impressive or convincing. (A good number of the people I see doing this are not actually historians, by the way.) Usually, the form of the presentation makes it impossible to ask follow-up questions — and follow-up questions I have.
The irony of this kind of educated conversation is that it has become clear to me how very ignorant people are — even smart and successful people — about historical events. For example, I’ve heard a number of individuals now condemning violent tactics in political protests and proponing non-violence as the better way with statements that seem to indicate that their knowledge of the examples they cite are limited. They point to Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. as leaders of successful political movements — and sometimes contrast them with figures like Malcolm X. But, before we can have a conversation about the most effective tactics, we have to ground this conversation in actual historical facts. We can’t use history as our guide if we don’t look at the evidence. In order to do that, pundits and proponents need to support their positions with concrete examples and no longer simply rely on a voice of knowing authority.
Here, then, are some of my follow-up questions:
1. For those referencing Gandhi: What did Gandhi do specifically that successfully ended British rule in India? Please directly link an event/action(s) with Indian independence in your explanation. Was there anything problematic about his positions and, if so, what were these issues? Were there other contributors to the independence movement? If so, did they also embrace non-violence? What did they do as part of this movement? How did independence finally occur?
2. For the MLK proponents: In what ways specifically do you think King’s actions directly led to changes in civil rights in the US and what rights did he influence (Do you mean voting, desegregation, housing, or what?)? Did he instigate these tactics himself? Was he always successful in his efforts and if not, what were the issues there? Were other actors involved in the movement too and did they agree with King? What actions did they take? Did they all embrace non-violence? What effects, if any, did their actions have on changing civil rights?
3. For those invoking Vaclav Havel: Were the Czechoslovakian protests always non-violent? How did they begin? What actions specifically were taken (violent and non-violent), and how did these directly cause the overthrow of the government? What were the cited aims of the protesters/activists? Was this a reform movement or revolutionary one? (Incidentally, these same questions should be asked whenever anyone cites other Eastern European movements too.)
4. For those denouncing Malcolm X: What specific violent actions did he engage in with which you disagree? What actions did he take generally and did any of these directly link to changes in civil rights in the US? Which rights are those, if any?
I’m not trying to be hateful here. I just think that many of these people talking don’t actually know the history that they are trotting out in any real detail. I don’t know it all, and I practice history. I generally avoid making generalized statements then. When I do speak, I use specific examples in a limited way, and I have been doing a lot of research on these matters to educate myself lately, precisely because I don’t know all the answers. I insist that you give me your evidence then — in order to educate me and so I can decide for myself based on the real facts (and give the whole evidence — don’t omit the part that makes your position look bad).
I know these people are probably not used to being historians, but if you’re going to do the work, you have to be held to the same standards. Otherwise, I call BS.
m[-_-]
I honestly don’t know why people are acting incensed about presidential candidate Mitt Romney’s impolitic statement that his primary concern is the middle class. If you’ve watched the news, read popular blogs, and followed the public discourse (including input from the Occupy movement) in the last couple of years, it would be readily apparent to you that the middle class is pretty much everyone’s main interest. The number of voices calling for a return to a war against poverty are few. No, what the American public has become consumed with is the shrinking and even destruction of the Made-in-the-USA middle class. This, in most minds, is the great tragedy in our venture capitalist system. Romney just said it artlessly.
Underneath this popular worry is the reality that most people are and aspire to be middle class. I know, in America you’re supposed to want to strike it rich — and most people will say that’s what they want — but realistically, they know they won’t make it. They may hope to be wealthy, but they angle to be middle class…because that’s a decent life. You can be proud of being middle class. There’s a social respectability and cultural desirability there. That status still allows you to claim the honor of hard work without the shame of bounced checks. You get to enjoy some luxury without having to feel guilty that you are blowing enough money to send someone’s kid to college. It allows you to believe you still serve God and not Mammon.
Most people in the US self-identify as middle class (even if they can’t define it). They claim it, and even feel entitled to it. It’s an identity that can be worn with pride — unlike poverty, which is a sign of low moral character and ignorance according to our popular thinking. People who are poor are too dumb to get professional jobs, too lazy to do the work to get ahead, and too low-class to aspire to better. Under a social hierarchy defined by wealth, the poor are American untouchables. You have to violently shun that status at all costs.
This kind of thinking has not always been the norm in the United States though. In fact, it’s relatively new. Being poor — a life of honesty and debt and beans and patched clothes — that used to be something many Americans were proud of. There was a celebrated sub-culture around that. Will Rogers said: ”I can remember when a man could be considered respectable without belonging to a golf club.” This was a guy who was internationally known but embraced a simple persona fitting for his 10th grade education and rural background. In the 1940′s, Woody Guthrie recorded an album originally called Bed on the Floor, which was later changed to Poor Boy. His folk tunes were full of the difficulties of a life of want but joy in life with other poor folk and pride in manual labor. Meanwhile, American audiences made movie stars of Ma and Pa Kettle and their humorous, illiterate ways. And, don’t forget the Capra-corn: It’s a Wonderful Life celebrated the honor of poor virtue over corrupt wealth.
Later, in the 60′s, President Johnson declared war on poverty and Fannie Lou Hamer proclaimed: “We serve God by serving our fellow man; kids are suffering from malnutrition. People are going to the fields hungry. If you are a Christian, we are tired of being mistreated.” These attacks on poverty, however, were in no way condemnations of the poor. Rather, they were efforts to ameliorate the worst of the effects of hunger and deprivation on that segment of our population. Into the 70′s, popular culture still reflected families struggling with mortgages and living outside of excessive consumerism without treating these figures as lesser than or morally challenged.
Then the Gospel of Wealth came along, and being poor turned into a mark of those forgotten by God. Soon, the working class family on Roseanne would stand out as a strange anomaly on TV — even as it connected with millions of Americans whose lives so reflected that representation. I guess time and credit changes all things. Items that used to be luxuries or marks of a life of leisure are now commonplace. Even in working class neighborhoods of my city, I see women — and girls — with manicured hands and nicely highlighted hair. It seems like everyone has a smartphone and Coach purse. The old markers of class are so unreliable today. Americans try so hard to look the same now, and invariably, that sameness is middle class. Even the “ghetto fabulous” image is about affluence without actual wealth. No one wants to be the Joads or the Youngers and look their (lower) class. Most importantly, no one cared that the poor were getting poorer as the 21st century unfolded — until the middle class started joining them. Then, everyone got up-in-arms about wealth inequality. Whatever we do, we must, by all means, protect the God-bless-American middle class. It’s of the utmost importance to us all.
m[-_-]
(Part IV — Fooled Me Once, Shame on You)
Do you get the feeling that the Occupy protests have a tinge of “rinse and repeat”? Haven’t we been here before? Let’s do some counting: Shay’s Rebellion, the Whiskey Rebellion, the Great Railroad Strike of 1877, Coxey’s Army, the Bonus Army, the Seattle WTO protests, the Occupy movement — seriously, the problem lingers instead of getting better. Why are we still having this fight?
After the Great Depression of the 1930′s, new regulations introduced by Congress promised to prevent future economic disasters and the political discords that accompany them. Most notably, the Banking Act of 1933 (aka Glass-Steagall Act) introduced the FDIC to protect individuals’ bank deposits, gave the Fed the power to regulate interest rates, prohibited holding companies from owning other financial institutions (meant to separate investment and commercial banking), and addressed problems of conflicting interests in financial transactions. It seemed that we were finally leaning from the cycles of economic upheaval and popular protest. The law seemed to work. There were notable recessions after (for example, in the 70′s) but they weren’t as frequent, as extreme, or as wide-reaching as before. The Great Recession, which began in December 2007, however, seemed like a return to the kind of economic turbulence of pre-Depression times. The unemployment rate doubled in less than two years; in the same amount of time, global wealth was estimated to have been cut almost in half. Housing prices fell by 20% — leaving many owing more than their houses were then worth on the market, while foreclosure rates jumped five times higher in an equally short time. You have to ask: what the hell happened?
For one thing, in 1999, Congress repealed the part of Glass-Steagall that separated investment banking from commercial forms — prompting banks to mix the two again and put commercial holdings at risk from poor returns (or financial blowout) on the riskier investment side. The Securities and Exchange Commission allowed investment banks to increase their debts with less in reserve in case of loss, while other regulators allowed companies to hide debts through legal constructs that took liabilities off of their balance sheets. As a result, many US companies were already unhealthy before the housing bubble — which had been fueled by predatory and discriminatory (read: illegal) lending and grew too fast for the tiny branch of the regulatory mechanism over it to keep up — burst. Further, Congress refused to move to regulate expanding derivatives markets, which allowed institutions to trade inflated or faulty financial products that made profits off of uninformed suckers buyers. In short, the protections that had been introduced before (after a previous economic meltdown) and the regulatory apparatus that had been haphazardly constructed in the US over the years had been dismantled and/or disgorged. There was little left to serve as a necessary preventative then, when it all came falling down.
And, so, again, the people take to the streets. Disorder and political revolt necessarily follow from malfeasance on Wall Street and Capitol Hill. Once more, financial chicanery forces the people to occupy public spaces demanding loudly that those in power adopt restrains — and frustratingly enough, ones we had already adopted. It’s discouraging and outrageous that the people have to resort to such actions to have their complaints heard. It makes us wonder, yet again, if it’s the system that’s the problem, as we find ourselves in the same spot once more. Clearly, it is up to the people to remain unruly and outspoken and angry, if they don’t want to be fooled repeatedly by financiers and politicians in cahoots with one another to enrich themselves at the expense of the republic. Apparently, it’s money as speech versus disorder as speech, in a never-ending civic exchange. It seems, sadly, then that the democracy will not be civilized either.
m[-_-]
(Part III — There’ll Be No Pelters Here)
Here’s the thing that no one wants to say out loud about Occupiers taking to the streets: it is the unspoken threat that they will turn violent that makes people take careful note of them. That hint of danger from groups loose in our cities — it’s ominous; it’s disturbing; it invites resolution. The innate urge to protect oneself and one’s own immediately reacts to crowds of the vocal and disaffected on the prowl. You prepare for danger and move to eliminate any hint of a threat. Hence, you cannot ignore the protesters in the streets.
This sense is significantly amplified in a society built around the sanctity of property. In a place where it is considered completely legitimate to take a life to protect your flat screen TV or expensive jewelry, any disorder is immediately perceived as a threat to (sacred) stuff. Oh, my God! They broke a window. Can it get worse? They spray painted graffiti on a statue of Robert E. Lee. The indignities! You know, the world will end if anything with a value greater than $500.00 is destroyed. That’s felony protesting there. In the greatest turn of irony ever, conservative pundits online are in a tizzy because some protesters set fire to their own stuff. Where will it end if they don’t even have regard for their personal property?!
(As an aside, this is part of the reason that the government cracked down on Native American practices — the potlatch and fire ceremony — in the 19th century. As rejections of wealth and materialism, these acts conflicted with capitalism, and they, therefore, had to be stopped.)
Do you know who can least afford to have their property damaged? Psst, it’s not the one percenters. Burning your own shit is a powerful statement when you’re unemployed or living paycheck to paycheck. It’s economic immolation. Like the hunger strike, it’s an act of sacrifice that pricks the conscience. Of course, it’s actually more alarming to many that it’s a rejection of commercialism and materialism, otherwise known as the American way. There is perhaps no greater sin against consumerism.
So, these hooligans are on the loose, lacking any regard for the value of things — theirs or others’ — or the propriety of compliant behavior. They say they renounce violence, and some of them have even tried to prevent it. That threat, though, it haunts conservatives (even if they see that the system does unfairly favor the rich) — because they think the bell tolls for them. Really, it serves the movement best that this unspoken fear does linger. Truthfully, the monumental changes wrought by the Progressives in the early 20th century were driven by their fear of growing masses of disaffected poor people, who fought back and caused substantial unrest standing up for themselves. The law didn’t help them. They couldn’t turn to the government. So, they filled the streets, sometimes exercising their 2nd amendment right to bear arms. There was violence, and though we are removed in time from this now, the past lingers. We could return there again. Great recessions and depressions have driven Americans to violent acts many times before. It is possible — even with the domesticated citizenry of today — that this spirit reawaken and we experience a return to the way it was. The regulatory state and welfare society diffused unrest in the past, but it fails us today.
It could be that the peace of the post-World War II age was an anomaly and we have passed that historical moment. Perhaps we are now at a turning point, transitioning to a new paradigm. At this juncture, we do not know. There lies the incentive for the establishment to do as it did in the 20th century: institute reforms that ameliorate the worst of the effects of systemic inequities on the middle and working classes. The people were not in the street when the disparities were not so great. The wealthy elite has forgotten past lessons and gotten too greedy. It needs to return (at least some) power to the people to preserve the system. Otherwise, it may be that restraint gives way as the squeeze continues. Desperation fuels violence – and revolution. Perhaps, it will come to that.
m[-_-]
(Part II — Start Your Own Freaking Movement Then)
I’m so tired of hearing wannabe armchair know-it-alls and negative critics bitching about how the Occupiers are running their own protest. First, observers were mad that the protesters wouldn’t boil the movement down to succinct bullet-point demands that would allow them to cynically, glibly, shallowly treat the very big and complicated problems that our country is facing. Then, they wanted to tell protesters how they should conduct their direct actions: don’t block traffic or destroy property or be rude or obscene. Also, they wanted to make them leave their children at home (please don’t undermine the authoritarian indoctrination we are trying to give them) and stop looking weird. The last part kills me. Essentially, the critics didn’t have a beef with the protester’s thoughtful statements about politics and the influence of money on our society today. Rather, they were disturbed that this intelligent insight was coming from someone who didn’t comb their hair, wore a cape and/or a mask, or was covered in tattoos. The observers prefer that you look “normal,” thank you, and we appreciate your strict cooperation. Yes, please look legitimate when denouncing corporate America. We can’t stand to look at you…er, listen to you otherwise. Of course, a good number of the critics were, all the while, demanding protesters get jobs too, because bums protesting would be yucky and un-American.
To these obnoxious and annoying voices I want to say: “If you don’t like it, start your own freaking protest.” Be better organized and look/smell better and be effective. If you can fix the inequalities we face today, do it! Then, the Occupiers won’t need to be on the streets and they’ll go home. Show them how respectability does it. Damn.
But, I think you won’t. I think you won’t get your lazy butts up and actually do anything. I think you’d rather pick and complain. Honestly, I’d love to have you add your voices — or even drown the Occupiers out if it means you can accomplish what they can’t. The thing is, I think this is part of what the protesters have to do: they have to annoy you so badly that you gripe about it, and gripe about it, and gripe about it — just like you have been. They have to goad you into saying publicly that you agree with their message, even as you complain about their methods. What you are doing then is actually giving the movement its armchair legitimacy and taking the conversation from the streets where the protesters are living it and putting it in offices and meeting rooms and on talk shows. Even as you sniff at the protesters in doing so, you are repackaging the message so that politicians cannot avoid it. The government can clear parks and arrest protesters; it can’t censor MSNBC, CNN or Fox pundits as they cover the story and pester candidates with questions about the protests and responses. It also can’t keep citizens from blowing up Twitter about what’s going on or engaging in millions of conversations about it — even if derisive — with friends and colleagues across the country. In your own little curmudgeonly way then, critics, you are being part of the movement. Welcome to it.
Consider yourselves the 21st century versions of E.B. White. When the Bonus Army marched to D.C. in the 1930′s, White was sympathetic but critical of what the protesters were doing. Writing in The New Yorker, he expressed his own concerns that something of the greatness of the country was gone. It was still rich, he thought, but unemployment had broken the spirits of millions of men and this loss was as crushing as any ruined crop or wasted resources. However, White also dismissed the protesters as a special interest whose terrible condition separated them from their fellow Americans, who were not in the same boat. Feel sorry for the unemployed, he said, but don’t identify with them, Middle Class. Their pains are not yours; you have your own concerns on which you must focus. In short, White rejected the notion that it was the system that was broken, as so many others thought in looking at the country in the midst of the Great Depression.
Of course, many did look at the staggering unemployment and housing foreclosures and shuttered businesses then and concluded that the problem must have been the way the Wall Street fat cats and financiers had played the market on spec and banks had played fast and loose with reserves in the search for profits and corporations had responded to the downturn by slashing jobs and heartlessly forcing men onto the streets. It was completely credible for many to see this as a sign that the market had cruel intentions and the only party who could rein it in and force it to work for the betterment of all citizens was a strong regulatory government. Today, the absolute failure of safeguards to protect the market from the harmful effects of the greedy elite leads many again to question if it is the system itself that is the problem. Tired of being manipulated by the few and forced out of the political process that would help them respond to powerful interests, protesters see no other choice but to change the venue and work outside the system. I don’t know what’s so hard to get about that. Yet, critics and pundits keep complaining that protesters aren’t using the political process as they feel they should and expressing their discomfort in the face of recalcitrants who have had enough of the mendacity of the myth of the American Dream and are taking to the streets.
So, you critics and pundits who delusively believe you are so wise or expert in managing revolutions, you are today’s sympathetic but exclusive E.B. Whites. You think you are not one of these people on the streets — that you do not share a common tyranny (as White called it) with them. The truth is, you are more like them than you are the Koch brothers. It is just your snobbery that prevents you from promoting your self-interest here. If you can’t get over your middle class sensibilities and separate respectability from righteousness in your minds, you will never really be part of the movement. That’s okay, though. Keep doing what you’re doing and wrinkle your noses at those who see discomfort and disruptiveness as completely legitimate costs of fomenting change. You know in your hearts — and in your minds — that the protesters’ complaints are legitimate and that they are ultimately helping millions of Americans retake a political process that has squeezed them out in favor of the rich and powerful. That’s why you complain but you still sympathize. You retain your decency. Thank you for that, but feel free to do more. And, if you think you can do better, let us see it!
m[-_-]
(Part I — The Candy-ass Middle Class)
I worry that the Occupy Wall Street movement will accomplish anything with lasting significance for the future, as opposed to eventually petering out and falling into historical obscurity like previous movements (read: Coxey’s Army or Green Corn Rebellion). As a historian, I look back at the political fights that have taken place in the U.S. and I wonder if we have the stomach for it anymore. More specifically, I wonder if our success has made us less rebellious — and, therefore, maybe a little less “American” (since, you know, the founders were rebels). The more we’ve come to define ourselves as productive capitalists, the more complacent we’ve become.
The thing people wanted so badly in the 19th century — access to a stable, decent standard of living — the thing they were so willing to literally fight for, we largely achieved in the 20th century. A burgeoning middle class expanded to include not only educated professionals but even tradesmen and technicians. That economic status and the comfort that came with it sapped the revolutionary spirit out of participants though. The middle class today is too well behaved and too politely socialized for fisticuffs. Nothing is worth more to them than the sanctity of property or a convenient life. Mobs used to shut down cities over labor disputes. People used to consider it completely legitimate to set fire to something as a statement of absolute political rage. Not anymore.
Occupy Wall Street is no Haymarket affair. Shit, it isn’t even a substantial service interruption. Don’t blame its domestication on a lack of fiery leadership though. You couldn’t find more than a handful today to follow Mother Jones, if she was around, and she used to attract crowds. It’s all about good PR now, which is no longer on the side of the poor and uncouth. No one gets worked up about economic injustice or feels sympathy for the less fortunate anymore. Occupy protests aren’t about any war on poverty. The reason liberals who identify themselves as middle class have joined the resistance is simply because they are now suffering economically and fear joining the poor (which in many cases they have, and that is a great affront to those used to a better life). This is not bleeding-heart liberalism.
The middle class — so dominant in the political discourse — doesn’t have pity; it only has self-righteousness. For them, the morality of the cause (and its proponents) is the important thing. It’s not acceptable to “fight like hell for the living,” a la Mother Jones. It is acceptable, though, to march for political equality politely like Martin Luther King, Jr. — but now you have to meet that standard set: peaceful protesting only, no fighting back, patiently suffering the beatings and indignities of your opponents, facing hate with respectability, etc. It is only through your long-suffering that you gain effectiveness with the public these days. If you shit on a police car or disrupt traffic or interfere with Suits on their way to work, you have lost your moral standing and your legitimacy is dismissed. The middle class wouldn’t break a fucking window, much less the party line — regardless of the fact that corporate America regularly doesn’t play by the rules and screws people every chance it gets. Further, if the police don’t use excessive force on you, then you are a trouble-making instigator who can’t abide by curfews/city ordinances/health regulations. Basically, you have to get beaten up or be Sister Teresa for the middle class to back you. Otherwise, you’re SOL.
By “the middle class backing you,” of course, I mean telling a pollster on the phone that they approve of you. They aren’t going to march with you or anything. That requires inconvenience and/or discomfort. This, the middle class must never endure. Also, making noise just to be disruptive and being generally dismissive of social conventions and authority is uncivilized. These too should be avoided then. In short, the middle class is not a revolutionary class. When you go back through American history, you won’t find the leading lights of rebellion (Cesar Chavez, Big Bill Haywood, Emma Goldman) among them. The poor and the wealthy will fight, but Middle America is a candy-ass class. They will be at home, judging the revolution.
m[-_-]
Forty-eight years ago, at the hopeful and ignorant age of twenty, JoAnn Roxbury was a young wife recently transplanted to Houston, Texas from her native Michigan. She worked for a company that made oil field equipment in their Accounts Payable Department, coding invoices for data entry by a co-worker. The office was in downtown Houston, although in one of the smaller high-rises there in the heart of the city. On her birthday, November 21, 1963, she was greatly excited because the President was coming to town and she would see him in person — something at the time that was rare for average citizens in the heartland and a special treat for a girl from a small town still getting used to urban life. The staff members in her office were notified by the management that they were closing the office early that day, due to the President’s visit. They were told that there had been a threat against the President’s life and extra security measures were being taken as a result. Previously, when parades had passed through downtown, the employees opened windows and threw confetti down on the participants below (like the Colt 45′s/Astros and other local teams/dignitaries); however, this time, they were informed that windows were to remain closed and everyone was prohibited from throwing anything out the windows. In the end, they closed the building altogether and the employees were forced to leave.
The motorcade itself passed in mid-afternoon (around 3:00pm), and it consisted of four or five cars. The Kennedys were in one car — a convertible (which Roxbury recalls as a Cadillac), and the Governor, Mayor, and other persons of note were in accompanying vehicles. There was a motorcycle escort from the Houston police and other officers and Secret Service members walked along with the cars. One of these was black and had darkened windows, which indicated it was a Secret Service vehicle. A large crowd packed both sides of the street, and this included people of all ages. In the heart of downtown, the faces were mostly white, but as the motorcade moved farther to the edges of downtown, it passed into a largely African-American part of the city. This is actually where young Roxbury (who is white) watched the President and First Lady pass. Although some of her co-workers stayed by their office and watched together, Roxbury’s husband fetched her in their Corvair and drove further out to try and avoid the worst of the crowd. Eventually, they were unable to continue on due to street closures, so they parked and got out to watch.
Roxbury was too young to vote in the 1960 election (when one had to be 21 to vote), but she liked the Kennedys very much. They were young and stylish, with a family. She saw them as a breath of fresh air in politics and admired them greatly. In particular, Jacqueline Kennedy seemed an elegant change from the dowdiness of Mamie Eisenhower, whom Roxbury did not particularly like. Houston was a Democratic bastion then and a port city, so there was quite a demographic mix there. It had a significant black population — as well as Hispanics and immigrants. The main of the town, then, was eager to see the President and his wife as they drove from the airport to wherever they were staying (which was never announced to the public). The Kennedys were to attend a fundraising dinner that night, Roxbury thought. She was very eager to catch a glimpse and was thrilled to find herself about fifteen yards from the Kennedys’ car as it passed. Being the only white people in the crowd at that part, Roxbury and her husband stood out — and she thought it was because of this that she caught the Kennedys’ attention. Looking over, Jackie Kennedy eyed her directly and waved, smiling brightly. Roxbury thought Mrs. Kennedy looked very elegant in her suit and hat. People around them were calling out to the President and First Lady, cheering, and talking excitedly. It was quite a treat for the young wife’s birthday, and she looked forward to telling her family back home about it later.
After this momentous and special birthday event, Roxbury reported to her office as usual the next day. She stayed in for lunch. Returning co-workers brought devastating news: going on to Dallas for a visit that morning, President Kennedy had been shot as his motorcade went through town there. Roxbury was stunned. But, she had just seen him the day before. He was so young and healthy-looking. She and her co-workers pressed their boss’ secretary to turn the radio on in his office (they didn’t have any TV’s there), and the woman finally relented. Initial news reports said that the Governor had been shot and killed, while Kennedy was rushed to the hospital with a bullet wound. About 1:30pm, they got the news that, instead, the President was dead.
The office fell strangely silent. The employees were shocked and stunned; some were crying. It seemed so unreal that they had just seen the President the day before, and the next, he had been brutally and shockingly assassinated. Again the office closed early for the day — and it remained closed for the next few days. In downtown Houston, people poured out of office buildings into the streets. Many stood around in a daze. This was America — not some unstable third world country. Roxbury thought: Aren’t we supposed to be better/more tolerant than this? Are we resorting to violence to settle our political disputes now? It was too much — and it would get worse as she watched the President’s assassin killed himself on live TV the following day. ”What have we become?” she asked, just a day after the joy of seeing the head of the great Republic and marking her entry into her second decade. It was all hope and tragedy, and she was starting out.
– Oral history with JoAnn Roxbury, 11/21/2011, Tulsa, OK
(Happy Birthday, Mom.)
m[-_-]
Follow me on Twitter