capitalism

Floored

annette — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 08:00:00 +0000

What do you get when you cross a documentary film about the supply and demand frenzy of the Chicago Stock Exchange with a borderline Marxist, feminist film critic? A whole lot of screaming. But that’s really just happening on screen during Floored, the new movie from director James Allen Smith (My Name is Smith), which presents Chicago traders and their associates telling stories of how it felt to be in “the pits” during the “glory days” before the boom of Internet trading and the recession of late, risking their clients’ (and often their own) money. As for the room where I was sitting, there was silence and a yawn. This liberal wasn’t shocked or amused by a showcase of the distinctly capitalist obsession with money.

Smith does everything by the book: he knows who to interview, and where, and how. It’s not enough that the men who used to trade tell us about how much they love money (one couldn’t be away from the floor on vacation with his wife and children because he missed the possibility of acquiring greater wealth too much); we must see their other obsessions: cigarettes, booze, status symbols (Rolex watches, fast cars, large homes, decorative companions such as models and porn stars, etc.) and phallic symbols (guns, golf clubs, cigars, etc.). We must visualize their aggression to understand how their circumstances were; and only then can we understand how even the most successful traders turned out looking and sounding as foul as Mickey Rourke—on his worst day.

“It’s just not any fun… unless you can die,” one former trader says of hunting. But is he really just talking about hunting? He could as easily have said, “It’s just not any fun… unless you can go broke.” These men–and an estimated four women–of the trade are gamblers. They get a high from risking big and winning big. They get off on fear and anticipation. And when they think about winning and losing $100,000, they’re not thinking the things your average 9-to-5er is when he or she goes off to work: how will I pay my utility expenses, my taxes, my mortgage bill; will my health insurance cover my doctors visit/prescription drugs/surgery, etc.? There’s too much loud, naked—and yes, male—aggression in the air to be concerned with anything other than shouting, pushing, waving and clawing one’s way to fortune. The emphasis in stock trading wealth acquisition is less about how much you can spend at the end of the day, and more about how big a pile of cash you’ve managed to hoard.

Of course, there’s a token female trader, who has (fittingly) made a graceful transition to electronic trading. She poetically mentions Darwinism when she talks about the shift. (You’re forced to picture apes foraging for food, grunting and beating their chests before the glow of computer monitors.) And it is, of course, a female psychotherapist who helps the “guys” evolve into electronic traders, even after they feel like they’ve lost their mojo. The Internet has robbed them of the game, many feel. It’s “the most vile invention in the world” that allows “evil” people to cheat at trading. As the film depicts, computer trading is certainly more sedate than open outcry on the floor.

Could the juxtaposition of self-contained, successful women against a pile of sweaty, angry and ultimately unhappy male former stock traders be a little too conveniently giving viewers the sense that men are predisposed to aggressive behavior and ruin in its wake? Yes. But as anyone who’s ever walked by the boys’ locker room after a crushing defeat on the football field knows: boys will be boys. (That is to say: masculine boys will be masculine.)

Floored doesn’t really offer up anything new or exciting, but it does confirm the essentialism we collectively already subscribe to. A better movie, Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, confirms the same information, condemns the ethics of unscrupulous capitalists, and keeps you glued to the screen.

Written by: Rachel Moehl, April 13th 2011

Time Binds: Queer Temporalities, Queer Histories

beth — Sat, 02 Apr 2011 08:00:00 +0000

By Elizabeth Freeman

Duke University Press

In a temporally queer attachment of my own, I was bound to Time Binds before it was even published. With versions of the preface, introduction, and three out of four chapters having already appeared in academic journals, Elizabeth Freeman’s arguments had already made an impression on me. This is not to say that Time Binds is a redundant publication. Bound together, the individual pieces only gain in strength, displaying Freeman’s commitment to theorizing the intersections of temporality, queer theory, and the body.

In what might by now be described as a new turn in queer theory—a more self-reflexive turn, a turn that seems to be a pulling back, a slowing down—Freeman is surely one of the leading voices. She describes feeling as though “the point of queer was to always be ahead of actually existing social possibilities.” Instead of this ‘kind’ of queer theory, Freeman describes her commitment to a politics of “trailing behind,” as being “interested in the tail end of things, willing to be bathed in the fading light of whatever has been declared useless.” Time Binds contains captivating and powerful arguments for the need to understand temporality as physical, history as erotic, and the body as a sight that can challenge the temporal limits of heterosexuality and capitalism.

In the first chapter, Freeman focuses on Diane Bonder’s film The Physics of Love (1998), and Bertha Harris' novel Lover (1976), two texts that explore the mother-daughter dynamic. Freeman considers these texts as they utilize the body and the body’s “bad timing” to present a queer challenge the heterogendered and class-marked temporality of familial intimacy. She unpicks how capitalism and heteronormativity depend on a certain temporality and suggest that the body and its queer pleasures may be a site to contest this keeping of time.

In the second chapter, Freeman turns to Elisabeth Subrin’s Shulie (1997) and the work of Canadian artist Allyson Mitchell to consider how ‘lesbian’ and ‘lesbian feminist’ pull on ‘queer'. She introduces and works through what she calls “temporal drag” to consider how the pasts of movements might productively surface in the present, insisting that there is transformative potential in moments that are not quite past, but not entirely present.

In chapter three, Freeman describes “erotohistoriography” as a method for encountering the past as already in the present and the body as a tool “to effect, figure, or perform that encounter.” The body, and its pleasurable responses, in Freeman’s usage, becomes a “form of understanding,” a means to do history. Through tender readings of Frankenstein and Orlando, Freeman pieces together a history of history as physical and considers how bodies in these texts become sites where history is felt—staging the “very queer possibility that encounters with history are bodily encounters, even that they have revivifying and pleasurable effect.”.

Finally, in the last chapter Freeman analyzes Isaac Julien’s The Attendant (1992), following through with her arguments to a site that, she admits, potentially poses troubling conclusions. Namely, the body in sadomasochistic practices as it iterates the past, particularly the horrors of the slave trade. However, through her reading of Julien’s work and S&M practices more generally, Freeman argues for their role as erotohistoriographic practice, and as such they present erotic means of challenging history and rewriting bodily possibilities.

Concluding her thrilling book with a new queer manifesto, Freeman stakes her claim as an influential voice in contemporary queer theory, and asks us to join her, to “use our historically and presently quite creative work with pleasure, sex, and bodies to jam whatever looks like the inevitable.”

Written by: Sam McBean, April 2nd 2011

Absolute Erotic, Absolute Grotesque: The Living, Dead, and Undead in Japan's Imperialism, 1895-1945

caitlin — Sat, 04 Dec 2010 12:00:00 +0000

By Mark Driscoll

Duke University Press

Mark Driscoll, an associate professor of Japanese and International Studies at the University of North Carolina, here presents a very thorough reassessment of Japanese imperialism of Asia in the first half of the twentieth century. Driscoll focuses his attention on the fringes of the colonized Asian peoples, writing about the Chinese coolies, Korean farmers, Japanese pimps and trafficked women of various Asian nationalities that moved Japan's empire along and provided the behind-the-scenes energy that created such an empire. Japan's rise to a capitalist power—and its expansion of its empire—is identified by Driscoll as happening in three distinct phases, each marked by exploitation of people, land, life, and labor: biopolitics, neuropolitics, and necropolitics.

Driscoll's reading of biopolitics as it applies to Japanese imperialism and capitalism is the same as Michel Foucault's: faire vivir (improving life) and laisser mourir (letting die off). Biopolitics most often involves public health, disease prevention, maternity clinics, and hygiene campaigns. It directly ties in to the concept of laissez-faire capitalism, its aim being for some lives to be improved and for others to be left to fare for themselves. In neuropolitics, the exploited worker in the capitalist society has a life that no longer belongs to him but to the object into which he puts his life (often his job); therefore, he must try to buy back his own life in the form of “commodity substitutes.” (Think of Fight Club and its message of “the things you own end up owning you.”) Citizens in a neuropolitical state are “shocked into stupefaction,” and then tricked into buying a “second life” back from the capitalist regime in the form of consumable goods. Necropolitics, the third phase of Japan's capitalist imperial expansion, is defined as the state in which workers, forced laborers, and colonized persons are aware of the constant threat of omnipresent death, and perceive life as a constant struggle against this threat of death. The imperialistic powers over the colonized peoples subjugate their lives with the power of death.

Absolute Erotic, Absolute Grotesque is a highly fascinating book, though occasionally dry and academic. This is no fault of the writer or subject matter, but simply my own Western/Caucasian mind not having these lingual-neural pathways, but I had trouble keeping up with the many Asian names sprinkled liberally throughout the text. There is plenty in here to intrigue those with an interest in twentieth century world politics, Marxism, sex workers, the failures of capitalism, the deplorable treatment of women in war conditions, poverty, gender, race, political corruption, and the swift rise and fall of empires. Driscoll also covers pornography and drugs in Japan's colonization of Asia, and includes some grisly photographs from “erotic-grotesque” magazines, the idea of these being that the two concepts were not so different from one another.

Written by: Natalie Ballard, December 4th 2010

Living in the End Times

barbara — Sat, 23 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Slavoj Žižek

Verso

Reading Slavoj Žižek for the first time is not unlike being stuck on a bar stool next to a slightly inebriated, repentant MBA who just read a Karl Marx biography and thinks he has the world figured out. An aside about the deeper meaning of 3:10 to Yuma, a diatribe against Slovenia’s failure as a communist state, and praise of the five stages of grief seem like disconnected nonsense unless taken as a larger, comprehensive analysis of the failure of global capitalism. After a while, you’re either also drunk or so bewildered by the onslaught of information that you begin to see the reason behind this grizzled young man’s ramblings. Now just imagine that this is one of the most gifted living intellectuals.

Žižek—one of the world’s leading contemporary academic thinkers—is at once obscure and brilliant. In Living in the End Times, he pulls together themes from several smaller works and dozens of speeches and papers from the past several years to illuminate the apocalyptic zero-point for which the world is headed. The four horsemen of the apocalypse are approaching—ecological crisis, explosive social divisions and exclusions, consequences of the biogenetic revolution, and systemic imbalances (struggles over raw materials, food, and water; as well as more abstract battles over issues like intellectual property)—and our textbook-diagnosed reactions show that the end is nigh.

Using Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’ model, he categorizes our reactions to modern economic, social, and ecological crises as stages of denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. While many believe Kübler-Ross’ framework to be somewhat flawed, it does provide a handy way of determining one’s own stage of grieving the collapse of society. How else to make sense of our apathy in the face of the simultaneous rise of extreme religious fundamentalism, crumbling banking systems, and expansive, violent political repression? What other way to explain away the near-psychotic binaries in wealth and poverty in places like Kuwait and Dubai, oil-dependent towering desert empires built by thousands of slave-wage immigrants and ruled by a frighteningly wealthy upper class—and the ways with which we turn the other cheek?

If you believe the state of the global economy, social hierarchy, and legal affairs to be as dramatically desperate as Žižek, you’ll not be surprised that he beckons us to prepare for famine, plague, global warfare, and ultimate death. If you have little faith in humanity, you’ll find good company in the bright if troubled theorist. If you believe in our eventual recovery, you’ll also find nuggets of helpful wisdom between his dismal predictions.

You may not be able to keep up the apocalyptic philosopher, but you’d be better off for trying.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, October 23rd 2010

Love the Questions: University Education and Enlightenment

admin — Tue, 23 Mar 2010 16:02:00 +0000

By Ian Angus

Arbeiter Ring Publishing

In Love the Questions, Ian Angus attempts to document the evolution of the university as a social institution, the problems presented by recent shifts in the structure and funding of the modern university, and possible solutions that will allow for modernization without the loss of the university’s most vital traditional roles. While stories of the decline of social institutions are far older than the university itself, Angus does an extraordinarily good job of demonstrating that there is a real loss involved in the corporatization of the university and the commodification of both university credentials and knowledge itself.

What is the purpose of a university education? Should it provide job training, enlightenment, or both? How does the withdrawal of public funding and the increasing dependence on private interests affect the university’s ability to provide unified knowledge to its students and a critical viewpoint to society at large? How does the loss of the university’s independence from the capitalist marketplace undermine the academic freedom and flexibility that previous generations of scholars and students could expect? What role is left for the university in the new networked society where the university library is no longer the vital, centralized repository of knowledge and information? What is lost when the new corporate model replaces scholarly professorships with low-wage teaching positions detached from the research and publication that once characterized academia? These are but a few of the vital questions Angus asks on our behalf.

In an age where the value and purposes of post-secondary education and just how much of it will be available and to whom are matters of ongoing controversy, Angus is by far not the first to raise these issues. However, the context and perspective he brings to the questions are interesting and refreshing, though a bit depressing at times. While reading this book, I found myself reflecting on my own college days and how much I value the experiences that current and future college students may never have. I wonder how alien these young students’ perspectives would be to my own as a young college student.

Like Angus, I question what becomes of those who receive job training at the exclusion of an opportunity to enlighten themselves, and what becomes of a society that doesn’t offer its young people the chance to really engage the broad knowledge of the ages rather than simply assimilating the current state of a narrow field. What happens when our horizons are limited to their market value? In the end, Angus does offer some hope that we can preserve some of the best of the past as we adapt to modern circumstances, but each possible solution will require a kind of commitment that may be impossible in today's cynical, commodified world. Let’s hope not.

Whatever relationship an individual reader may have to university education, Love the Questions has something to offer, even if that something doesn’t involve the final answers to the ultimate questions.

Written by: Melinda Barton, March 23rd 2010

The Rise of Disaster Capitalism

admin — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 09:01:00 +0000

Directed by Euan Preston

Bonobo Films, PM Press

Recorded from a lecture in May 2008, The Rise of Disaster Capitalism is an engaging, well-crafted talk by economist-writer-activist Naomi Klein about the problems of increasingly pervasive neoliberal privatization of land and resources on a global scale. Based on the same premise as her most recent book, Klein’s lecture is aimed at people who have not necessarily read The Shock Doctrine—in part, she said, because the book was “hideously overpriced in hardback.” The lecture marked the release of the book in paperback, as well as its availability in Spanish.

In the book and for the purposes of this talk, Klein’s analysis is centered on the idea that widespread privatization of public spaces and services often takes place in the aftermath of large shocks: military coups, economic crises, natural disasters. This pattern has played out repeatedly in Latin America, and most recently, it has been seen in Iraq, New Orleans, and in the wake of the 2004 tsunami that ravaged Thailand, Sri Lanka, and Indonesia, among others. Though Burma was already run by a crony capitalist regime before the 2008’s Cyclone Nargis destroyed significant infrastructure and killed tens of thousands of civilians, the disaster accelerated the country’s last major wealth grab. Forty-three private reconstruction contracts were already in place before any relief had been done.

Anecdotally, Klein cites a recent National Science Foundation study that shows that conservatives are generally happier people, better able to rationalize social and economic inequality. Calling the mindset an “elaborate form of self-deception” and a “political sedative after the fact,” she explains that in reality, neoliberal policies treat entire nations and peoples as testing grounds and laboratory subjects. In the wake of large-scale disasters and upheaval, people are often rightfully focused on self-preservation. By the time new constitutions have been put into place, water supplies have been privatized, and public school systems have been turned into privately-funded charter schools, it is often too late to debate—let alone reverse—such massive systemic changes.

What is crucial to remember is that none of these events are inevitable. Indeed, they are being resisted, often most effectively by indigenous groups. While certainly not simple problems with easy solutions, Klein believes there are two ways to respond. We can develop policies and technologies that change our way of life; or, as is increasingly and frighteningly common, we can devise policies and technologies that can be used to protect and shield ourselves from those we have enraged and displaced.

If you don’t live in an urban area likely to be visited by a luminary like Klein, this skillfully produced lecture is an excellent way to supplement the experience of an in-person lecture. A portion of DVD proceeds go to War On Want.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, January 3rd 2010

The End of Poverty?

admin — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 08:52:00 +0000

Directed by Philippe Diaz

Cinema Libre Studio

I haven’t seen Michael Moore’s Capitalism: A Love Story, or any of his films, but I rejoice that he made these films, especially this last one, which dares to challenge “our” economic system. Now, quickly following Moore’s film is another full-length feature challenging capitalism, The End of Poverty? directed by Philippe Diaz.

The documentary opens soon in New York, at a commercial theater, but also at the radical Bluestockings bookstore on the gentrifying Lower East Side, where the seats are less posh but most of the audience will already be aware of many elements of the critique.

The financial meltdown has triggered anticapitalist scorn that could soon evaporate, or this moment may be viewed by future generations as the turning point in the end of capitalism. The more films saying “enough already,” the better. Diaz takes note of Moore’s film: “It is great that Michael Moore is attacking the bankers and the financial establishment in his new film, but the end of greed on Wall Street will not end poverty in the world.” He argues that people are poor because their community wealth has been stolen to make other people rich.

The thesis of The End of Poverty? is that from the conquest of the Americas, capitalism is linked to colonialism and drives postcolonial imperialism and neoliberalism—and creates poverty. Aerial shots of cities interweave with talking heads (in comfortable settings), including Nobel prize-winning economists Joseph Stiglitz and Amartya Sen and the head of the Venezuelan Women’s Bank Nora Castaneda, and with visits to the homes and desolate landscapes where the poor live. The experts explain “primitive accumulation,” the “Washington consensus,” and “hegemony,” decry export economics, and flog the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund.

I liked the forthright cataloging of U.S. foreign interventions (violent coups, assassinations) to install compliant regimes and win access to natural resources and markets in the global South. John Perkins, author of Confessions of an Economic Hit Man, explains how the stick of veiled threats is delivered with the carrot of megabucks so that violence is only occasionally needed.

The target audience of The End of Poverty? seems to include the nonprofit antipoverty establishment. The film would be “preaching” to the already converted anti-imperialist Left, as the ideas in the film have been percolating in the antiglobalization movement for years. (The film does pull the argument together well, however.) Perhaps it is aimed at the policymakers; the filmmakers abstain from skewering the hypocrisy of contemporary ones. For the wider audience, whose education does not include the readings of academic Marxism, the exposition is a bit too laden with jargon.

Unwisely, I think, The End of Poverty? does explicitly limit itself to the extreme poverty (living on less than one dollar a day) of the developing world. There is no mention of foreclosed homes in the United States, and only a passing mention of the enclosure of the commons in England and to the poverty of New Orleans. The dispossession of farmers in Africa is not connected with the deindustrialization of cities in the United States. Debt that impoverishes the developing world and its people has a correlation in consumer debt. Yet, a job in a windowless cubicle is a homeopathic dose of oppression compared to la mita, being forced to work and live underground for six months at a time as silver miners were. The homeless of New York may live in a rich country, but they are not getting much of the wealth. Perhaps yet another anticapitalist film will take up these connections.

Do films—especially documentaries—that chronicle the devastation caused by capitalism have the power to break the stranglehold centrist ideology has on political debate in the United States? Perhaps. This film unveils the sham that is capitalist development, but suggests few steps ordinary citizens can take to change policies. Unanswered is an older question: What is to be done?

Written by: Frances Chapman, November 12th 2009

First As Tragedy, Then As Farce

admin — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 17:07:00 +0000

By Slavoj Žižek

Verso

Slovenian philosopher and cultural critic Slavoj Žižek’s latest work—a call to the Left to reinvent itself in a time of international crisis—begins with a nod to Marx’s correction of Hegel in The Eighteenth Brumaire Of Louis Bonaparte: “Hegel remarks somewhere that all great events and characters of world history occur, so to speak, twice. He forgot to add: the first as tragedy, the second time as farce.” Indeed, when you examine the two speeches that bookend former President Bush’s term in office—the one in the aftermath of 9/11, and the one in which he addressed the global financial meltdown—you begin to notice that the first (the tragedy) sounds remarkably similar to the second (the farce).

Many people have known for years that the global banking system was on the verge of collapse. For more than a decade, police have been summoned to disperse protests around the world in which activists have called for more transparency and accountability. Last year, Naomi Klein wrote about the relationship between ideology and economics—the fact that there is no such thing as a neutral market—in The Shock Doctrine.

When the markets finally did crumble, instead of compulsively tossing billions of dollars at a problem, we would do well to reflect on how it came to be. In First As Tragedy, Then As Farce, Žižek is highly critical of the Right’s shortsighted call to “Save Main Street, not Wall Street!” which fails to recognize that most obvious capitalistic principles: in a capitalist society, Main Street cannot exist without Wall Street. Period.

Žižek explores the idea that the Left should stop apologizing in the face of the Right’s moralistic blackmail. Instead of focusing on supposedly dismal or inappropriate cultural shifts, the Right should be held fully accountable for the devastating economic recession. In general, meltdowns—of economic, cultural, or nationalistic stability—should awaken us instead of being bandaged over to allow the dream to continue. That is, 9/11, much like the banking crisis, should have served as an ideological wake-up call. Asserting additional military force in the Middle East or bailing out failing banks and corporations like General Motors with taxpayer money does nothing but continue a cycle of confusing ignorance for the general public. It promotes a type of populist conservatism in which middle class people literally vote against their own self interest.

Of the many admirable qualities in his work, what I like best about Žižek is his ability to masterfully dissect U.S. policy. One might argue that Slovenia’s problems deserve such a critical eye, but I appreciate that Žižek so eloquently dismantles problematic American foreign policy and class war disguised as culture war from an outsider’s perspective. A European Chomsky of sorts, Žižek’s theory is a must-read for any scholar or layperson interested in twenty-first century capitalism, economics, and contemporary Leftist thought.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, November 3rd 2009

Ad Nauseam: A Survivor's Guide to American Consumer Culture

admin — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 16:00:00 +0000

Edited by Carrie McLaren, Jason Torchinsky

Faber & Faber

Ad Nauseam: A Survivor's Guide to American Consumer Culture is an anthology of articles (plus some new material) from ‘90s ad-busting zine Stay Free!. Since I write a zine that deconstructs feminine hygiene advertising, I couldn’t have represented more of their target demographic if I’d tried. So when I saw that it was up for review, I immediately requested it.

I was a little miffed when only a cursory mention of the industry that lent its name to Stay Free! was covered in Ad Nauseam, but I was not disappointed in any other regard. This book is ace. And it’s funny.

In a series of short, sharp essays written over the past fifteen years or so (and the older articles are, revealingly, still very relevant to current marketing trends), the editors and other contributors cleverly debunk, deconstruct and delight in the many ways that advertisers try to put several over on us. There is something for you here whether you are completely new to the topic or have studied it before. Subjects include (but are not limited to) television’s influence on the U.S. legal system, the ins and outs of subliminal advertising, brand loyalty taken to almost unbelievable extremes, and the techniques magazines use to sell ad space by marketing, well, us.

Spoof multiple-choice quizzes at the end of each chapter reveal creepy tidbits you can use to impress your friends. (This worked well for me at the pub last week.) There’s also a brief history of the advertising industry that will catch up anyone new to it, and refreshingly refresh those who've already got the basics down.

The final section is my favorite part—a chronicle of the merry ad-busting japes undertaken by the editors and others, followed by an encouraging word—and a few resources—for any potential japesters out there. Carrie McLaren and Jason Torchinsky acknowledge that although one small prank can’t combat the financial might of major corporations, it can still raise awareness and educate on a small scale, forging personal connections. McLaren continues this with a blog and Brooklyn-based alternative lecture series.

Does this book pass the feminist test? Yep. Historically, most of the advertisers were men, and most of the shoppers they targeted were women. Again and again, Ad Nauseam chronicles in detail and handily exemplifies that old traditions die hard. It’s an excellent tool kit for any feminist, male or female. At $18 in paperback, it's also an expensive toolkit, but its 335 pages are stuffed full of wittily presented stats and examples—all backed up with extensive references and notes, so it is actually very good value for money.

Ad Nauseam would make an accessible companion to a high school or undergraduate module on advertising or media studies, and I’d even go ahead and recommend some of the shorter segments that illustrate each chapter (easy to find on gray background pages throughout the book) for middle school students. Read it all in one sitting like I tried to at first, and your world may be so deconstructed that you can’t put it back together again. As a zine anthology, it’s made for dipping into, and I plan to keep mine on my bathroom bookshelf. (It’s the modern coffee table. You know it is.)

Props to Faber and Faber for allowing Torchinsky to design the cover, which sports a lovingly rendered airsickness bag emblazoned with the book's title on a fetching field of blue. Can a barf bag be beautiful? Scarily, yes. It’s great to know that Torchinsky and his co-editor understand the industry well enough to manipulate it to their advantage, and that they’ve chosen to use their powers for good.

Written by: Chella Quint, October 31st 2009

Philanthrocapitalism: How the Rich Can Save The World

admin — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 17:22:00 +0000

By Matthew Bishop, Michael Green

Bloomsbury Press

If the adage about giving a woman a fish only feeding her for a day, but teaching her to fish feeds her for life is true, then Matthew Bishop and Michael Green would argue that the nature of today’s philanthropic giving has taken a similar turn by creating a standard and strategy of giving that doesn’t simply donate—it leverages, it grows, it profits, and it multiplies.

In Philanthrocapitalism, through a series of interviews with notable wealthy donors like Bill and Melinda Gates, Warren Buffet, and even Angelina Jolie, the pair argues that philanthropy has taken on a new shape. Though giving as a trade has been around for sometime (Bishop and Green mark the merchants of Tudor England and Renaissance Europe as among the first philanthropists), they argue today’s new philanthropists were born of an era of highly lucrative capitalism and as a result “are trying to apply the secrets behind that money-making success to their giving,” and earning them the title “Philanthrocapitalists.”

The giving is notable, of course. The authors begin with Warren Buffet’s incredible public donation of more than $37 billion dollars of his fortune, comparing it to the prior year’s $31 billion dollar donation from Bill and Melinda Gates. At stake, the authors argue, for many of these donors, is their challenge to one another to continue to give and to continue to up the ante. The leveraging of funds—positioning dollars to begin or shore up projects and using corporate business sense to keep the money coming and the project growing—is the newest incarnation of giving. The authors argue, it’s new, it’s innovative, and it’s working.

Philanthrocapitalism is a combination tutorial on philanthropy’s history and good works and contemporary business and investing. The constant parallels to solid business stamina and strategy are necessary to explain how contemporary givers are able to do so and in order to highlight the unique ways they donate. It is also, however, a useful tutorial to anyone investing, $37 billion or simply $3,700. The writing style of the authors allows even the algebra apprehensive to understand leveraging practices and money growth. The coupling of business with the heartwarming and important stories of empathy and need also highlight the unending need for donation.

Key also to Philanthrocapitalism, though published in 2008 and its statistics and information necessarily assembled prior to that, is its timing. The current economic downturn is free marketing for Bishop and Green’s overarching argument that in a capitalist framework, the need for philanthropy is unending, necessarily political and is to be counted on as a source of revenue for any number of social programs.

This analysis is highly informative, if not disturbing, because it showcases a capitalist privileging of wealth that isn’t simply about consumerism. The philanthrocapitalists are choosing charities that not only make a difference, but that can be successful and it begs the question: who decides and how do the new definitions of need get crafted? Is it to be based on quarterly reports and evidence of growth? Or is it to be based on tangible human qualities like fed children, cleaner water and savvier school children? If giving is to be a business, who decides what the bottom line should be?

Written by: Dr. Julie E. Ferris, September 10th 2009

In and Out of the Working Class

admin — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 23:30:00 +0000

By Michael D. Yates

Arbeiter Ring Publishing

To be perfectly honest, I have not read any of Michael Yates’ other work, and only know his name as a radical economist. I was interested in In and Out of the Working Class to see how he would turn his lens of analysis on his own life, in hopes that he would not only tell his own story, but illuminate the world that we all inhabit. This reading of the personal as political is an important part of feminist writings, and I was curious how Yates, as a radical economist, would present the personal.

Yates succeeds in using an economic lens to place his own life within the capitalist class system. He traces his family’s history as immigrants, workers in western Pennsylvania’s factory and mining towns, and his trajectory towards academia. While Yates' stories of unionization, poverty, and the travails of youth point us toward an understanding of his own class position and politicization, his writing tends toward the nostalgic.

What I took away from Yates’ many stories—most non-fiction, with a few fictional narratives thrown in—was a determination to reinvigorate class struggle in America. I appreciated his attention to the differences and similarities of work in factories and work in universities, drawn out in a useful and coherent manner. Yates never loses his sense of purpose in helping the reader come to an understanding of all kinds of work as part of the same capitalist system, which he paints so clearly as unjust.

Yates’ purpose, however, falls short of bringing new and exciting ways of understanding work, class, and poverty. His autobiography feels, at times, self-indulgent; I remain unconvinced that his story is the one that we all need to read. At the same time, for those well acquainted with Yates' work, it may be of interest. I found it more useful as a model for what we each could do to examine our own lives and role in movements for economic justice.

Written by: Katrina Forman, August 17th 2009

My Sister, My Love: The Intimate Story of Skyler Rampike

admin — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 22:10:00 +0000

By Joyce Carol Oates

Harper Collins

My Sister, My Love is Joyce Carol Oates’ thirty-fifth novel in forty-five years. Ambitious and sweeping, the nearly 600-page tome explores a plethora of themes: the tabloid press’ obsession with celebrity; marital discord and fidelity; the pressure placed on children by achievement-worshipping parents; forgiving transgressions; the medicalization of normal human development; and the hypocrisy underlying Christian-inspired capitalism, among them.

The story is narrated by Skylar Rampike, a depressed nineteen-year-old whose six-year-old sister, Bliss, was brutally murdered ten years earlier. Bliss, a child-prodigy figure skater, was found in the family’s Fair Lawn, New Jersey home, hanging in the basement boiler room during the Christmas season of 1994. If it sounds familiar, it should. Like a Law and Order episode spun from a lurid news story, My Sister, My Love is a send up of JonBenet Ramsey and her family.

And what a family it is. Betsey is a hover mother of the highest order, hell-bent on making little Bliss a star. It starts serendipitously, when Bliss exhibits an uncanny dexterity that sends her mom into a what-if frenzy. First comes the name change; Bliss’ original name was Edna Louise, after her paternal grandmother, but she was re-christened "Bliss" after Betsey envisioned god instructing her to make the switch. This is followed by hormone injections into Bliss’ child-sized body, regular beauty makeovers to enhance the child’s appearance, and forced practice sessions, even when Bliss is in obvious pain from one or another injury.

While Betsey is over-involved and continually scheming for a place in the spotlight, the family patriarch is the opposite. Named Bix, he is an anti-Semitic womanizer, a politically conservative glad-hander who reveres money and status and is more than happy to keep his family at arm’s length. For his part, Skylar is everything his parents despise, a bookish, non-athletic kid with few friends.

It’s a recipe for trouble and the novel delivers it, in spades. Unfortunately, while there are moments in which the book is affecting, most of the time it falls flat. Among the problems is tone. At times, Skylar is extremely sympathetic—clearly grieving for his sister, tormented by survivor guilt, and filled with fury toward parents who push him out of sight because they are embarrassed by his anti-social mien. At other times, however, the narrator’s snarky voice is distracting. Oates may be trying to replicate the moods of a sullen teen, but like time in the company of a snotty boy-child, one wants to escape him rather than stay in his orbit. What’s more, the many tangents—including hundreds of footnotes meant to elucidate Skylar’s thought processes and intellectual pursuits for the reader—are annoying digressions that make the book longer and more detailed than it needs to be.

Oates is clearly making fun of upper class pretensions and the faux Christian piety and family values endemic to suburban Republicans. It’s a rich playing field, but sadly, My Sister, My Love_ reads like a bloated lecture delivered by a pompous windbag. It’s too bad because real life dramas can be wonderful jumping off points for imagined scenarios. What we get instead is as nauseating as the incessant coverage of celebrity shenanigans we’re continually fed, and we close My Sister, My Love_ feeling no more insight than we had when we picked up the novel for the very first time. It’s a huge disappointment from so gifted a scribe.

Written by: Eleanor J. Bader, July 26th 2009

Dynamite: The Story of Class Violence in America

admin — Mon, 11 May 2009 23:52:00 +0000

By Louis Adamic

AK Press

Originally published in 1931, Dynamite hearkens back to an era of American capitalism a little less glossy, a little bloodier, and with striking parallels to today. In this account, Adamic provided one of the first overviews of U.S. labor history to that point, although his narrative is clearly not intended to be comprehensive, but rather focuses on the role of violence in the movements. Jon Bekken’s introduction helpfully contextualizes Adamic as a would-be Socialist, and the writing within a slew of other labor books that would provide more comprehensive analysis. Bekken also makes the important parallels to contemporary capitalism, in light of recent government bailouts for the rich and powerful, a revitalized labor movement may be exactly what we need. Adamic’s book certainly imbued me with a new sense of urgency, history and power.

Written in short chapters that capture different groups, movements, and strikes chronologically, Dynamite is easy to read casually and at your own pace. Adamic makes the overarching point that violence in the labor movement emerged because of violence at work and from the capitalist class. Many famed episodes of violence have in fact been misrepresented, including episodes wherein laborers were framed for what was perpetrated by capitalists.

There are, of course, plenty of examples of laborers using violence as a strategy for their cause. My favorite example were the Molly Maguires, an Irish immigrant group that settled in the Pennsylvania and West Virginia coal mines, led by Molly Maguire herself, but was made up largely of young men, who used assassinations of owners to demand complete control of all work and rent in the area. While unimaginable today, Adamic does a terrific job of painting the conditions of life in industrializing America that makes one understand how so many could be driven to violence to improve their situation.

While Adamic purports to center the immigrant in labor history, his focus on western European immigrants largely ignores race or gender as important lenses of analysis. To be real, this was 1931 so such an analysis from a white guy may be a bit much to ask, and Jon Bekken does address this in the introduction.

All in all Dynamite is entertaining and informative, and probably best for labor and social movement nerds who may have some of the background information already.

Written by: Katrina Forman, May 11th 2009

No Innocent Bystanders: Riding Shotgun in the Land of Denial

admin — Sat, 18 Apr 2009 16:58:00 +0000

By Mickey Z.

CWG Press

I have enjoyed reading Mickey Z.’s feisty, politically charged writing in the pages of VegNews magazine and on his website and was excited by the opportunity to review his latest book, No Innocent Bystanders: Riding Shotgun in the Land of Denial. New York City based writer Mickey Z. is a “cool observer” who “likes: sunsets, rainbows and anarcho-syndicalism” and “dislikes: mean people, traffic and factory farming.”

No Innocent Bystanders is a collection of short essays, poems, parables, quotes, lists and a pop quiz that express thought-provoking commentaries on what the US Government is up to. The book opens with a disclaimer for those of us that haven’t drunk the Kool-Aid of flag-waving patriotism, “WARNING: This book has not been approved by the Department of Homeland Security. You are reading at your own risk.”

Among the qualities I’ve always appreciated in Mickey Z.’s writing is the smart, cheeky, pissed off tone. I love it when a writer unapologetically calls out the things that you aren’t supposed to, the kid pointing out the emperor’s (lack of) new clothes. Mickey calls out the “hypocritical white supremacist capitalist patriarchy” of the United States and writes with a natural sarcastic humor that leads me to nod my head in recognition at the absurdity of the systems that prevail in “the land of the free.”

Mickey Z. questions the assumptions and causes blindly supported by the average American, quietly eating what the Government is feeding. He muses on dissent, advocacy for animals, the planet and our selves and challenges the symbols we assign to speak for us. He asks if we can be anti-war but pro-troops and parallels war to “the morally indefensible and scientifically fraudulent enterprise of animal experimentation.”

There are no innocent bystanders because in this age of information, there is no excuse for ignorance. The facts are everywhere, and it is our responsibility to pay attention.

Written by: Matsya Siosal, April 18th 2009

Uncharitable: How Restraints on Nonprofits Undermine Their Potential

admin — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 11:17:00 +0000

By Dan Pallotta

Tufts University Press

In Uncharitable, Dan Pallotta demands nothing less than a complete overhaul of the way charity is understood and expected to function. He traces America's nonprofit ideology back to the Puritans, for whom charity was a form of self-denial used to counteract and assuage their guilt about their unabashed self-serving capitalist pursuits. Ever since, he argues, charity has been kept separate from capitalism and held to different and damaging standards.

He takes issue with the fact that many standard practices at for-profit companies, the very practices that allow them to grow and succeed financially, are generally seen as off-limits to nonprofit organizations. These include paying executives market-rate salaries, taking risks, planning according to a long-term vision instead of just short-term needs, advertising prominently, and allowing investors to receive a return on their investment through the stock market. If nonprofits were permitted to engage in similar practices, he argues, they would be able to make much more money and have a much better shot at achieving their long-term goals of ending homelessness, finding a cure for AIDS, and so on.

Whether or not you agree with Pallotta's argument that the non-profit sector should have access to the tools of free-market capitalism, it's hard to deny his claim that charities are held to a double standard and often judged on the wrong criteria. The book's most persuasive chapter concerns the common donor concerns about overhead, fundraising costs, and what percentage of their donation "goes to the cause." The measure of so-called efficiency drives the assessments and ratings of influential watchdog groups like the Better Business Bureau and Charity Navigator, and often ends up completely replacing questions about what organizations are actually accomplishing through their programs. While Pallotta acknowledges that most of his visions for an improved nonprofit sector are impossible without a widespread change in ideology, something we can all start doing today is concerning ourselves with outcomes rather than percentages, and doing the most good rather than having the fewest expenses.

In case you're wondering how Pallotta's ideas would actually function in the real world, the book is supplemented by a case study of Pallotta TeamWorks, the author's company that produced AIDS Rides, breast cancer walks and other large-scale fundraising events that raised hundreds of million dollars for charity before being forced out of business by the public outcry about its unorthodox approach to fundraising. PTW came under fire for its "slick" advertising and brochures, high expenses, risks that usually succeeded but occasionally failed, and the fact that it made a profit. Amazingly, despite the huge amounts of money being raised for vital AIDS vaccine research and more, activists and news outlets consistently painted PTW as a parasite taking advantage of charities, and the company eventually lost its contracts and was forced to cease operations. Unfortunately, the result of its closure was the loss of massive amounts of charitable funding that has not since been replaced by other revenue streams.

Uncharitable is a visionary work that will change the way you think about charity, how nonprofits operate, and what they could accomplish under a different set of rules.

Written by: Kiri Oliver, March 4th 2009