economic development

South Koreans in the Debt Crisis: The Creation of a Neoliberal Welfare Society

admin — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 17:04:00 +0000

Having recently read Marxist scholar David Harvey's A Brief History of Neoliberalism, I was eager to dig into Jesook Song's explanation of how her own nation became a case study for the neoliberal state. Amid a worldwide economic crisis, now seems a fine time to explore the assumptions underpinning global capitalism. Harvey argues that neoliberalism, disguised as the liberation of populations and markets, is actually a reassertion of class power that redistributes wealth into the hands of an elite few. Yet how elites could perpetrate such a coup in the class war, with so little opposition, is difficult to demonstrate at a global level. Enter Song, an ethnographer who explicates the unique culture of South Korea, showing how neoliberalism took hold and developed in one exemplary country.

Neoliberalism took root in the late 1970s as a response to stagnant economies. In contrast to planned economies controlled by (often despotic) states, liberalization encouraged deregulation and the growth of financial rather than industrial capital, while discouraging collective activities like labor unions through a cult of personal choice and identity politics. As Song explains, South Korea first experienced government liberalization after thirty years of military dictatorship, and then economic liberalization through International Monetary Fund (IMF)-mandated restructuring and break-up of large conglomerates. After the Asian Debt Crisis of 1997, Song explores how neoliberal, free-market ideology combined with existing Korean concepts of family and gender as well as civil society movements. Strange bedfellows—activists, scholars, and non-governmental organizations (NGOs)—cooperated with the new liberal government in the delineation of deserving (those willing and able to sell their labor) from undeserving (those who cannot or do not), in the new welfare state. Song focuses primarily on the treatment of two demographics: unemployed youth and the homeless.

In Seoul in the wake of the debt crisis, Song worked in a public works program to assist shaping unemployment policy; there she was able to meet and interview city officials, scholars, NGO members, activists, and homeless and unemployed people themselves. These interviews are often illuminating. One city official clearly differentiated two categories: "IMF homeless are people who came to be homeless due to layoffs after the IMF crisis. They are normal people, not 'rootless vagabonds.' They have the intention to rehabilitate and the desire to work." One type of homeless person was normalized—a worker laid-off from the break-up of the conglomerates that had once provided job security and benefits—while others were marginalized. Women, not considered breadwinners, typically became homeless for reasons like domestic violence, not unemployment. Homeless women and their advocates either had to fit them into the script of a work-ready neoliberal subject, or give up even temporary assistance. Similarly, unemployed youth who received assistance were expected to be (paradoxically) self-sufficient and self-governing entrepreneurs. In the new economy based on finance and technology rather than industry, educated youth became commodities themselves, expected to sell their flexible labor and technical know-how.

Combining Marxist class theory and Michael Foucault's concept of governance, Song's analysis in South Koreans in the Debt Crisis_ _is densely academic; she wisely reviews key points at the beginning and end of each chapter. A larger weakness is the presentation of data. Much of the supporting evidence feels idiosyncratic—interviews, the summary of novels and popular movies, officials' speeches. While no doubt all of these are vehicles for ideology, they are not enough bricks to lay a solid foundation for Song's thesis of how NGOs, activists, and scholars were co-opted into the neoliberal project. This is disappointing, as her arguments make intuitive sense, and her critique of (neo)liberalism is timely, particularly for those of us who make activism and scholarship our lives.

Written by: Charlotte Malerich, December 14th 2009

Black and Green: Afro-Colombians, Development, and Nature in the Pacific Lowlands

admin — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 16:56:00 +0000

By Kiran Asher

Duke University Press

Black and Green is a publication based on Kiran Asher’s doctoral thesis in political science, a field she came to by ways of a masters in Environmental Management and much field experience in Costa Rica, Belize, China, and now Colombia. It is her contact with local people that let Asher to want to explore the link between environmental management and society, and her passion for both of these areas of investigation is well displayed in this book.

Throughout Black and Green, one finds passages where the author speaks of her connection with people involved in the Afro-Colombian movement, a concrete connection made through relationships forged during field work with the people she is writing about. Asher’s book not only examines a little-known area of research (resource management in the Colombian Pacific Lowlands on the west coast) but also gives a voice to a people (Afro-Colombians) who have had problems getting their voice heard in their own country and on their continent, let alone to a wider English-speaking audience.

Research in both of these fields is only recent. African slaves and their descendants have inhabited the Pacific coast area for almost as long as the Spanish colonizers. However, the acknowledgment of a distinct Afro-Colombian identity and the development of a national Afro-Colombians movement have only arisen in the last thirty years. Similarly, in a part of the country which has largely been forgotten by national (and often nonexistent) environmental policies—and despite being home to a unique biodiversity—the development of ecological strategies is also quite novel. Both of these issues, as Asher points out, are inextricably linked, and thus the correlation of these issues in her study.

Asher is a privileged witness (and occasional, often reluctant participant) to the process she is analyzing. She frequently employs firsthand accounts of the meetings she attends and the people she meets, something that transforms Black and Green into an interesting narrative of Asher’s own involvement with/in the identity she is studying (something she is very conscious of and recognizes the ambiguities of). The author does not shy away from exposing underlying issues relevant to the construction of her text; this is especially true in the last chapter where she deals with the thorny problem of Colombia’s last few decades and specifically the guerrilla and paramilitary presence in the region she deals with.

Chapter 4, on Afrocolombianas (Afro-Colombian women), is one of the shortest, but one which could have been developed into its own book. Asher’s meaningful connection with the Afrocolombianas is evident in this chapter and her writing at its strongest. She accentuates the implication of Afrocolombianas in the environmental policies movement and establishes the importance of their mobilization for the larger identity and environmental movements.

Overall, Black and Green is an engaging study that signifies a defining moment for academic studies about both Afro-Colombians and nature in Latin America.

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, December 6th 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

Chesapeake Necklace

admin — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 10:33:00 +0000

By Moonrise Jewelry

Moonrise Jewelry had me at hello. The woman-owned and operated, Virginia-based, eco-friendly company doesn't simply produce amazing jewelry; they "design, manufacture, and sell high-quality handmade jewelry while adhering to values that contribute to a stronger and healthier global community." Are you in love yet? Because it gets better.

Meredith Restein runs her business using raw and recycled materials gained from Fair Trade and ethical vendors for whom community economic development is a priority, and whose employees work in safe and healthy conditions and are provided with fair wages and labor standards. She insists on supply chain transparency to ensure the legality of all international transactions, and to maintain an ethical and sustainable business practice. When possible, Moonrise keeps production local to stimulate the rural Virginia economy, as well. And if that weren't enough, the company courts philanthropic partnerships to whom they give monetary and in-kind donations. Head over heals now, aren't you?

Delivered in a royal purple box with a metallic pink Moonrise Jewelry logo on the lid that was wrapped with a single, sage green ribbon tied in a bow, the initial presentation of the Chesapeake Necklace was stellar. The round pendant cast in 100% recycled silver is hand carved in a way that resembles ocean waves, which gives the delicate piece a sense of movement. The sterling silver chain with a ring clasp is available in multiple lengths—16", 18", or 20"—and the pendent is attached in an unconventional fashion by looping the chain through the intentionally off-center hole in the pendant. While the price tag ($78) might be off-putting, go re-read those first two paragraphs and remember that cheap usually equals exploitative.

The Chesapeake Necklace has become my FN2 (favorite necklace for now). It's simple enough to be casual, elegant, or sexy—not that the three are mutually exclusive. The Chesapeake also has mass appeal, as both my mom, my sister, and my best friend were all keen to relieve me of the piece, and weren't shy about making this known. Good thing they're all on the other side of the world now, or I'd have to be making frequent paranoid checks of my jewelry box, especially since this necklace has since sold out! No worries, though, there are plenty more to choose from.

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, September 6th 2009