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Wednesday, March 02, 2011

Seeking the Utopian: a Lecture on Erik Olin Wright's Envisioning Real Utopias

[Cross-posted to Political Context]

I gave this lecture, more or less, on the Friends University campus last Thursday, February 23rd. It was a small crowd, mostly my fellow Democratic Socialists of America activists, but a few curious others showed up as well. I was happy to be able to talk about Wright's book; Crooked Timber has been planning a symposium on it for a while, and doing so is much deserved. Whatever the faults of the book, I think it's the most philosophically interesting and politically insightful work on socialism that I've read in years, and the more attention it gets, the better.

*****

It may be strange to be talking this evening about something like “realistic utopias,” if that even makes sense, in the context of searching for alternatives to capitalism, when at this very moment an intensely real, intensely immediate battle over the capitalist marketplace is taking place in Wisconsin. Like many of you, I’ve been following the protests closely; one thing that I’ve been doing that you probably haven’t, however, is looking for names of University of Wisconsin faculty that I’m familiar with. The University of Wisconsin in Madison, WI, has long been an intellectual incubator of some of the most progressive, free-thinking, and radical of all approaches to political and social thought--and not coincidentally therefore, the sort of place where you can find professors that a socialist (or at least social democratic) academic like myself likes to hear about and learn from. Erik Olin Wright, the author of Envisioning Real Utopias, is a Wisconsin professor of sociology, and while I haven’t seen his face on any of the videos of protests making the rounds, he has strongly expressed his support for the public union employees, and their friends and families, who have been camped out in the capitol building. (See this letter here, for example.) I also know, though not terribly well, another UW-Madison academic--Harry Brighouse, a philosophy professor and fellow blogger. He’s been posting videos which his students have made of the protests. Before we get all intellectual and continue with the rest of this discussion of “utopian” thinking, let’s check this out:



The final shot of that video might make a good launching point: “Can You Hear Us Now?” The supposed “realist” response to that is, “yes, we can...and so what?” So what if thousands gather to express themselves, so what if they insist that certain principles cannot be sacrificed in the name of enabling certain economic actors and activities to go forward? That doesn’t change who has authority over such economic decisions, or the circumstances that they’re responding too. As things stand today I am unwilling to make any predictions about the developments in Wisconsin--those protests are persuasive, but ultimately Governor Walker may be able to quite honestly insist that budget needs and fiscal realities justify his every action, and that kind of talk is persuasive to a lot of people too. Anything else just seems...utopian.

Here is where Wright’s book comes in: it confronts head-on the mindset which, when it hears protesters cry out, either sadly or condescendingly turns away unmoved--because, as Wright puts it, “Most people in the world today, especially in its economically developed regions, no longer believe...that a fundamental alternative to capitalism is possible” (p. 1). The capitalist marketplace, with it’s fiscal demands and priorities, simply appears to be “the natural order of things,” and the passion for alternatives, either as an immediately graspable possibility (as people on the left like me and many of you have thought or hoped), or as an immediately threatening monstrosity to be fought (as people on the right felt, and often, confusingly, still feel), has dissipated. Of course, we have the ranting about how President Obama or the Democratic party in the U.S. is promoting “socialism,” and therefore the oppression of what many accept as our basic political and economic liberties, which comes from the ignorant or paranoid or both, and of course we also have those parties and interests who consciously cultivate that ignorance and paranoia for their own political purposes. But as for a serious intellectual engagement with socialism, as a really and truly present alternative way of organizing the marketplace and our material life, whether as something to be immediately defeated it or anxiously promoted? You don’t see much of it, because what is the point of fighting for, or fighting against, something which has been passed over and dismissed, something which arguably never did and maybe never will exist?

Wright’s book is a long (perhaps over-long and belabored; that criticism of the book is probably fair, though others, I think, are not) argument insisting that “socialism” means something much different, and much more intellectually encompassing, than that which many people, including those of us on the left and our respectable opponents on the right, have perhaps long assumes. Socialism has been associated with the label “utopian” for as long as that word has existed in English--Sir Thomas More, in writing his book Utopia, which features an island society where there was no private property and all lived in a state of communalistic equality, borrowed the word from the Greek language, creating a pun: a “u-topia” is “no-place,” while a “eu-topia” is a “good-place.” As the marketplaces which had existed throughout all of human history were transformed by the end of feudalism and emergence of basic capitalist structures in the 15th, 16th, and 17th centuries (including the division of labor, vocational specialization, enclosure acts and the resulting commoditization of land, and then the collaterization of those commodities) into something much different, many people accepted these historical transformations as often harmful, even tragic for many, but basically unavoidable. Only a fictitious world, a “utopian” one, could be truly free of them.

Some early European socialists, looking at the long history of Christian experiments with devotional, egalitarian, even communalistic communities, more or less explicitly embraced the utopian label; the question was how to bring about this utopian condition. Some, like Robert Owen and his New Lanark community, believed that what was necessary was to build a “partial community” around the “whole faith”; once the equality and simple beauty of such small, cooperative, communitarian experiments because known, their appeal would spread. Others, such as the Fabian Society of Sidney and Beatrice Webb, dismissed such thinking, insisting that what was necessary was to use the existing state and economy to get the “whole community” to embrace socialism one part at a time. (See the discussion of this distinction in David Leopold, “Socialism and (the Rejection of) Utopia,” Journal of Political Ideologies, October 2007, pp. 224-225.) The arrival and impact of Karl Marx’s thinking upon European socialism starkly divided the Christian reformers and other utopians from “scientific socialism”; while Marx himself at different times over the decades expressed different opinions about various efforts to institute one or another aspect of the socialist alternative to capitalism, whether through unions or political parties or some other means, overall he was decidedly committed to the idea that the achievement of socialism depended strictly upon preparing the working class for the inevitable, historically and materially determined collapse of capitalism. Given that, over a 150 years after Marx made his mark, capitalism has, as yet, not collapsed, or at least not in the way Marx predicted--and also given that those societies which attempted to hurry Marx’s logic along through revolution ended up being for the most part horrifically murderous regimes--provides perhaps more than enough proof than most people need to see those of us who long for something other than capitalism as dreamers, nothing more and nothing less. They have no need to listen to us.

Well, Wright wants us to dream again, and he wants us, in thinking about utopian alternatives to the present system that really work, to dream broadly. So let’s doing some dreaming right here, right now.

Since we’re in a university setting here, let’s imagine a utopian socialist university. First of all, let’s stipulate that it’s free--no one pays any tuition or fees, and who desires to be admitted is, without question. The costs of keeping up the infrastructure and maintenance of the university is entirely covered by free-will donations, and they constitute more than enough wealth to cover everything that needs to be taken care of. Second, there are no restrictions on what you can study; you create your own agenda of research, and whatever that agenda is, it is treated with perfect respect, equal to every other student’s agenda. Moreover, every research agenda is a participatory affair; students are encouraged to bring their work and ideas into the development of each and every course of study, and those students are treated as perfect equals by those responsible for establishing the courses in the first place which all these participants are drawn to. And speaking of those in a position of responsibility, here’s the third point: they aren’t paid. Every single teacher or researcher who contributes to whatever it is that any other person wishes to study at this university does so on a purely volunteer basis: their only reward is the knowledge that they are part of grand educational project, one which contributes to the common good of humanity and the enlightenment of the human race.

What is this utopian socialist university? Any guesses? One hint: it really exists, and it turned 10 years old on January 15th, 2011. That’s right: it’s Wikipedia.

The obvious objection is that Wikipedia isn’t a university; it’s an encyclopedia, and one that exists solely on the internet for that matter. As such, it has no “real world” presence, and so presumably can’t count as evidence of a “real utopia.” Some of these objections could be countered, or at least played with, but for my purposes here I will grant all of them. It’s not a real utopia; it’s a marvelous bit of evolving web-design and collaborative programming, one that depends upon what is called “crowdsourcing,” or turning the goal of a project--in this case, the constant compiling, updating, editing, revising, critiquing, and promoting of any and all information that any given participant my think it valuable to share--over to whomever responds to the opportunity to be part of said project, whatever their level (or lack thereof) of accountability and expertise. All in all, it is something which academics like myself can’t possibly avoid and yet also find ourselves tearing our hair out over, especially when we get a paper handed in to us which is nothing but Wikipedia citations (that’s not counting the papers which are just cut-and-pasted Wikipedia entries themselves). As an open-ended internet resource, it provides no credentials, which are the life-blood of any modern university’s bottom-line, and no direction, meaning that anything one wishes to do with it counts equally as a “course of study.” So no, Wikipedia is not a utopian solution to the many struggles which face universities today. (And of course, all of these arguably virtuous characteristics which I associate with Wikipedia can be disputed; the accusations about its biases, inaccuracies, and other problems are legion.)

But the reason why I make use of Wikipedia--and it’s not my idea; Wright did it first, in chapter 7 of his book--as an example is not to emphasize its utopian nature, or lack thereof; it is to emphasize, rather, its socialist nature, the fact that it presents an alternative to capitalism. This should, and probably does, strike most of you as strange. Wikipedia doesn’t apparently involve any of the usual forms or structures which are popularly or historically associated with any type of socialism, and moreover, most of those deeply committed to what might be called the “ethos” of Wikipedia--the idea of mass collaboration through open-source software and non-hierarchical competition and initiative--generally describe themselves as anything but socialist. One of the founders of Wikipedia, Jimmy Wales, is in fact reputed to be a huge fan of Ayn Rand, an iconic defender of individualism, self-interest, and capitalism. Yet nonetheless, Wright makes the case for seeing Wikipedia as “not simply non-capitalist,” but in fact “thoroughly anti-capitalist” (p. 195). Consider the following elements of Wikipedia’s basic operation:

1. It depends upon non-market relations: voluntary, unpaid contributions and free access.

2. It encourages full, open, egalitarian participation, not distinguishing between providers and consumers.

3. In that participation, there is direct and deliberative interactions among contributors; there are no intermediaries or interest groups or licensing boards which control who gets involved.

4. And finally, the maintenance and administration of the encyclopedia is characterized by democratic governance and adjudication. (These points are made by Wright, pp. 195-197.)

All of these points could be contested, to be sure; nothing ever operates entirely as it is designed to. But still when you go down the list--unpaid voluntarism, open access to resources, equal participation, absence of competitive market relations or economic distinctions, opportunities for democratic deliberation, rule by consensus--it really does sound rather “socialist.” Is it? Wright would have us changing our thinking so that we recognize it as just that. No, it does not involve, or even suggest, many of the aforementioned forms or structures associated with socialism: no state-owned industries, no government-regulated utilities or social services, no controlled wages, no free housing or health care or any of the rest. And certainly, it doesn’t match the hysterical and practically nonsensical fears which depict any and every kind of socialist arrangement as involving murderous actions comparable to the worst communist tyranny. But to limit our thinking about “socialism” to such tropes is to fail respect the fundamental appeal of socialist ideals, an appeal which keeps bringing them back into our collective arrangements, whether we recognize them for what they are or not.

What are those socialist ideals? Wright defines them very simply as “social justice” and “political justice.” (See pp. 12-20.) The former involves making access to the necessary material means of human flourishing as equal and open as possible; the latter involves empowering people as members of their societies to be able to construct that access as they think best within their own collective spheres. If you think about it, this definition of socialist ideals makes Wright very much a democratic socialist; but even more than that, it makes him a socialist who wants us to keep our eye on the “social” ball, and remember that every aspect of socialist thinking ought to be subject to constant critique, so as to better measure just how well it promotes the sort of radical, democratic egalitarianism that he thinks is inseparable from social and political justice.

Wright makes no bones about his belief that socialist thinking has, in the 150 years since Marx, frequently taken its eye off that ball. While he gives great credit to Marx in the ways in which he opened up the eyes of millions of people to the harms of free market capitalism as it took industrial form during the 19th century, he ultimately insists that socialists should disregard Marx’s “brilliant, if ultimately unsatisfactory, solution to the problem of specifying an alternative of capitalism” (p. 89). Marx’s belief in the long-term economic unsustainability of capitalism, of the intensification of the struggle it, and the eventual revolutionary transformation of the marketplace into a socialist (and eventually fully communist) one, had a religious-like appeal; indeed, his philosophy of historical materialism and determinism permeated those beliefs, lending them an almost metaphysical character, whatever Marx’s insistence otherwise. Wright very concisely counters Marx’s theories of capitalist self-destruction, of worker proletarianization, of class solidarity and ruptural transformation--not that there is nothing to be learned from those theories, and not that there is no historical truth to them whatsoever, but simply that we cannot trust in them as providing a clear and reliable direction. What we need, Wright argues, rather than the path which Marx’s socialist arguments provided (a path that, because it seemed philosophically mandated by history, was easily collapsed into convictions about its end-state, and with that the desire to mandate that end through the barrel of a gun), is a “compass”--a set of general orienting guidelines that will help us identify whatever it may be which brings greater social and political justice, meaning greater democracy and equality, into the world. This does not mean that anything which seems to achieve such is automatically “socialism”--but by the same token, it also does not mean that those looking for alternatives to capitalism should automatically discount the socialist potential of any given type of social or economic organization and project. If it is something which has at least some of the social and political implications or consequences which the socialist compass points toward, then it is something to take seriously. Hence, Wikipedia. Obviously, it is not a tool for accomplishing greater economic equality, or local collective governance, or participatory democracy. But then again, it is an arena of action which is open to teaching lessons about those things, and other open-ended alternatives to strictly capitalist marketplace exchanges as well.

Those few of you who may be somewhat familiar with the many arguments out there over the political and social theory of socialism may think that a lot of this is old news: if you do a couple of Google searches, it’s not hard to find plenty of information about libertarian socialism, market socialism, anarcho-syndicalism, individualist anarchism, and many other approaches to thinking about alternatives to capitalism for which Wikipedia may make a good fit. But the fact that there are very likely only a few people here who fit that description is partly evidence for Wright’s point; the left has gotten locked into a much too narrow range of ways to advance “utopian” possibilities, meaning radical, emancipatory, democratic and egalitarian possibilities. We need a different set of frames to appreciate what really is “realistic,” and what we on the left can and should be working with to achieve the social and political justice that we desire.

Being a good academic, Wright provides a plethora of alternative frames--perhaps too many, and perhaps they overlap each other a tad much, but by and large he defines them well, and I find them clarifying. Beginning with Marx’s essential observation that, under the capitalist system, the possession of capital gives one not just personal power, but social power as well, he tracks and delineates the many different forms that power can take at the present time. He defines “statism” as those forms of social organization where “the means of production are owned by the state and the allocation and use of resources for different social purposes is accomplished through the exercise of state power.” Capitalism, by contrast, becomes a form of social organization “within which the means of production are privately owned and the allocation and use of resources for different social purposes is accomplished through the exercise of economic power.” That leaves socialism, where “the means of production are socially owned and the allocation and use of resources for different social purposes is accomplished through what can be termed ‘social power’” (see pp. 120-121). This means that socialism is anything which seeks to empower democracy and civil society, anything that moves economic decision-making and influence out of private hands and into the public realm, into the commons to be used and expanded upon as communities articulate and make use of it. He recognizes that no form of social organization is ever going to be purely one or another; as anyone familiar with the collusion between corporations and governments can recognize, there is no pure capitalism, and no pure statism, and there will probably never be a pure socialism either: we are all, always, going to be dealing with “hybrids” (pp 123-124). So within our chosen frame–-socialism–-we are going to have to think carefully, and always be rethinking, the strategies we pursue.

Wright's focus on the social (which permeates the whole book; the original subtitle he wanted for it was "Putting the Social Back in Socialism"), is likely to seem worrisome to the philosophically liberal among us. Would a democratically empowered civil society actually be a force for egalitarian emancipation? Obviously, not always; as Wright himself admits, many actually existing civil society institutions and associations around the globe do not (pp. 146-147). The anarchistically inclined response might be that such is the wrong way of looking at things--a civil society that can "achieve sufficient coherence as to provide for social order and social reproduction" is all that one needs hope for when it comes to exploring socialist possibilities. But a proper socialist response, a radical democratic egalitarian one, would have to be different, Wright thinks; it would "require a state...with real power to institute and enforce the rules of the game," to construct or at least preserve that which is democratic and egalitarian in the midst of "pluralistic heterogeneity" of the "public square." Wright continues:

There is no guarantee that a society within which power rooted in civil society predominates would be one that upholds democratic egalitarian ideals. This, however, is not some unique problem for socialism; it is a characteristic of democratic institutions in general. As conservatives often point out, inherent in democracy is the potential for the tyranny of the majority, and yet in practice liberal democracies have been fairly successful at creating institutions that protect both individual rights and the interests of minorities. A socialist democracy rooted in social empowerment through associations in civil society would face similar challenges: how to devise institutional rules for the game of democratic deepening and associational empowerment which would foster the radical egalitarian conception of emancipation. (p. 147)

And so Wright acknowledges that, as we commit ourselves to experimenting upon different paths and testing different theories in pursuit of greater community and equality, as the socialist compass directs, certain kinds of institutional brakes or controls need to be kept in mind as we seek to place power in the hands of civil society institutions. Some of these brakes and controls should probably be liberal ones, thus pointing towards the well-understood controls provided by the language of state-enforced rights and constitutional balances. But not too many of them. Part of the power of the protests in Wisconsin is that what we are seeing is a political fight in which the interests of the collective, or the public, is being pitted against private and corporate one. Of course, as always, the story isn't that simple (unions, to be sure, can be corrupt and corporate as much as businesses can be!); but that is part of the story. In fact, it is at the crux of the current story--we have unions talking freely about surrendering a great deal of what their marketplace negotiations, conducted between the political representatives of various groups and interests, had secured them...just so long as they don't have to surrender the power to demand and organize collective negotiations in the first place. This is democratic, social power, and beside it, the liberal and redistributive and protective egalitarian accommodations in the marketplace that most of us treasure (weekends, health insurance, cost-of-living wage increases, civil rights protection on the job, labor standards and safety regulations, etc.), as vital as they all are, are nonetheless secondary. Keeping unions as one of the tools of "social empowerment...[and a] radical egalitarian conception of emancipation" is the reason why socialists should care about this fight, and only secondarily because of what rules about lay-offs the use of those tools have resulted in. For Wright, socialists should look at unions the same way we look at Wikipedia--what power can they move into the realm of the social? We should be wary of how that power can be abused, and liberal protections and guarantees are a valuable part of protecting against such. But we should not allow ourselves to become sufficiently fearful of the radical and democratic potential of civil society institutions or other participatory organizations--even if they are not, on first glance, properly "socialist"--that we look fail to back them when they appear.

Of course, most of the examples Wright proposes (and unions, it should be noted, are not one of them--not that he speaks against, only that they are quite the sort of "utopian" tools he has in mind) naturally do reflect elements and tropes of typical socialist thinking; he is not claiming that every previous socialist had gotten everything wrong! Still, he makes some interesting choices, pointing his readers toward the participatory budgeting process in the city of Porto Alegre in Brazil (pp. 155-160), the social organization of the childcare and eldercare economy as well as investment capital in Quebec (pp. 204-212, 225-230), and the worker-owned cooperative firms of Mondragón in the Basque region of Spain (pp. 240-246). An important shared element amongst these various utopian practices is that they all emerge from and contribute to a specifically and culturally embedded form of community feeling. Sometimes Wright acknowledges this is a positive way (he notes that Quebec has a "highly favorable social environment" for associational economies to take root, due to the province's extensive history of "social movements, cooperatives, and civic associations" by which the province has worked to maintain the "strong sense of solidarity" which goes along with being a minority linguistic community--pp.211-212), sometimes more as an obstacle (he also notes that the Mondragón Cooperative Corporation, in expanding beyond the Basque territory and purchasing firms elsewhere in Spain and around the world, faces a "global melding of capitalist and cooperativist principles," a melding complicated by the fear many in MCC have about the "dilution of solidarity [which could result] from the inclusion of so many worker-members from outside the region"--p. 245). That community feeling, and how our socialist compass ought to incorporate it, is worth dwelling upon.

Marx, in line with his overall philosophical project, saw socialist transformation as necessarily a cosmopolitan one--"workers of the world unite!" and all that. But what if the ability to articulate and pursue an alternative to capitalism, a route towards economic democracy and radical empowerment, sometimes requires a prior dependence upon a civil society constructed from highly specific and local historical experiences?

Consider the case of the Mondragón Cooperative Corporation again. By most measures, these worker-owned firms, and consequently the effects they have had on the distribution of social and economic power throughout their home region in Spain, represent among the most successful examples of a communitarian, "socialist" market economy anywhere in the world. Yet it is not difficult to find criticism of MCC from the left. Part of it is the legacy of a doctrinaire Marxism which rejects the idea that worker cooperatives can ultimately contribute a socialization of power relations within a country, part of it simple cultural and historical suspicions (Mondragón's founder was a Catholic priest who eschewed any talk of "class struggle" and was at one point honored by General Franco), and part of it derives from specific, arguably anti-democratic actions which MCC itself has taken. Wright's own analysis of these latter actions suggest they have their roots in the tensions and expectations which have come to the corporation as the success of its firms and egalitarian pay distribution have obliged it--or tempted it--to expand beyond those conceptual (meaning, local and cultural) boundaries within which the participatory ethos of its founder was first promulgated and embraced:

Since the mid 1990s, the MCC has adopted an aggressive strategy of expansion beyond its historical home in the Basque country. This has, above all, taken the form of buying up capitalist firms and turning them into subsidiaries of the cooperatives within the corporation....[For example] Fagor Elian, a cooperative that manufactures various kinds of auto-parts, created a new wholly owned subsidiary in Brazil, to manufacture parts for the Brazilian arm of Volkswagen. The director of the MCC explained...that although the Fagor Brazilian plant loses money, the Volkswagen Corporation insisted the Fagor Elian provide parts to its Brazilian operation if it wanted to continue to supply parts to Volkswagen in the EU....[Hence, the] MCC believes that, given market pressures linked to globalization, this strategy of national and global expansion is necessary for the survival of the Mondragón cooperatives in the twenty-first century. Whether or not this diagnosis is correct is a matter of considerable controversy, but in any case the result of this expansion has been to intensify the capitalist dimension of the Mondragón economic hybrid. (pp. 243-244)

There are, to be sure, many ways in which we might contemplate and develop responses to the pressure which exist in the global marketplace--and some undoubtedly, ought to involve more "vertical," comprehensive, or "cosmopolitan" parameters. But there remains the fact that a reliance upon those parameters moves one away from the diverse forms of real solidarity and social power which the hope for radical egalitarian and democratic transformation in part depends upon. So why would it not be equally viable--why would it be any less "utopian"--to approach the compass of socialist empowerment and look for ways to preserve the local and cultural environments that provide spaces for emancipation in the first place? This is not a question which Wright directly asks, but it is one which his analysis, I believe, presents us with nonetheless. The struggles of Mondragón mainly have to do with maintaining a reliable cooperative ethos while simultaneously handling an enormous increase in workers pressing for membership, whether that be through a) developing procedures for encouraging "spin-off" cooperatives to be formed, or b) abandoning the "unitary organizational form" which have guided the cooperatives from the beginning, and accepting that the push for democratic and egalitarian reforms will have to come through unionization in the subsidiaries, rather than full participatory membership. Would any of these struggles have arrived in a global marketplace more resistant to globalization, and where national economies--and the firms that operated within them--enjoyed greater self-sufficiency (which, yes, would also mean the national markets they supplied would also "enjoy" greater restrictions on the range of pricing and goods available)? Perhaps they would have anyway--but then again, in a global economic environment less hostage to the neoliberal terms of the IMF and the EU, perhaps the Mondragón cooperatives would have developed as an even stronger example of the socialist ethos, one less implicated in the tensions that could pull a civil association away from radical democratic egalitarianism, because the sources of that tension would be, in a sense, literally "foreign" to the local, cultural site wherein this particular association was able to plant its socialist seed.

Wright's masterful book plants numerous seeds all its own, most of which give rise to ideas that, on my reading, support each other in development towards both known and as-yet speculative radical democratic and egalitarian futures. I suspect one of those futures--one which I hope our socialist compasses will be attuned to--will need to make a space for local instantiations of socialism, and that defending and promoting such will require those on the left to make peace with more than just liberals, whom have long been their allies in many respects anyway. There will also need to be some peace, at least some of the time, between different types of culturally communitarian movements and institutions, because those locally embedded expressions of social power cannot help but be a significant component of any proposal to involve the wide range of civil associations and groups in countering the power of corporations and the state.

Ultimately, in an environment where Marx's doctrines have passed into history (though they continue to teach us), and where all alternatives to capitalism sometimes seem equally utopian, we who which to be part of a movement towards something better must recognized that radical democratic and egalitarian possibilities will, and should, involve multiple hybrid forms, moving on many distinct fronts--some confrontational, some liberal, and some, quite importantly, being local and cultural--indeed, it may sometimes be the case that the latter will require action on the part of the former to long survive. If Wright's book has made that point well--if it helps convince those of us on the left that the communitarian component of social empowerment, when properly recognized and tended, needn't be either something singular and forced, or something which necessarily undermines egalitarianism from within--then his book has done something important indeed.

Now, let's hear it once more for the protesters in Wisconsin!

Update, 3/3/11, 8:50am, CST: for the truly obsessive amongst you, here is a video of the lecture as delivered. Hat tip: my fine fellow DSAer, Stuart Elliot.]

Monday, February 28, 2011

A Thought for Nate on Unions

My post on Friday came late to a debate that, on the ground at least, appears to be winding down, or at least is shifting to a different terrain--it seems unlikely that a mobilization that brought up to 100,000 people out on the streets of Madison on Saturday (and tens of thousands more in demonstrations which occurred in state capitols all around the country in support of them) will be able to keep up such intensity. Unless, of course, the stuff floating around you hear about a general strike in Wisconsin comes to fruition; that would kick things up another level. But for now, one quick additional thought.

Nate Oman, a law professor at William and Mary, is one of the smartest people I know, and my proof of this is the many times he has hammered me over basic issues of economics in our many political and religious arguments over the years. Nate's basically a fan of markets, and thus basically unfriendly to unions. But he respects the ideas and history they represent, as laid out in this fine column which was published over the weekend. A highlight:

Labor law and anti-discrimination law regulate the workplace in fundamentally different ways. Anti-discrimination laws treat workers in isolation, protecting them against mistreatment on the basis of race, religion, gender, and--in some jurisdictions--sexual orientation. It holds up the ideal of an individual judged wholly independent of any accidents of birth or identity. Labor law, in contrast, creates associations of workers, often using mild coercion, and forces management to bargain with the associations. In contrast to the individualism of anti-discrimination laws, labor law envisions an ideal marketplace in which every worker is embedded in an association that both regulates his behavior and protects his interests.

Anti-discrimination law reflects a basically Protestant view of the moral universe, while labor law reflects a basically Catholic view of the moral universe. For Martin Luther every individual came alone before the throne of God, stripped of the mediating influences of tradition, community, or priesthoods, seeking mercy for his exposed and sinful soul....In contrast to Protestantism, Catholicism accepts the legitimacy of tradition in defining identity and insists that spiritual life requires participation in the "community of the saints"....Labor law reflects this communal vision of human identity and human flourishing.


This is a simplistic and even somewhat reductive explanation, as Nate would be the first to admit, but it's also insightful. As he succinctly the details the differences between the approaches taken by civil rights protesters in the 1960s, emerging most prominently from Protestant Baptist and African Methodist denominations, and those taken by labor forces, most of which found their greatest strength in the immigrant Catholic communities and leadership of the early 20th century, it makes sense to suggest that the different legal thinking at work in Wisconsin (many conservatives are happy to attack collective bargaining, but have no interest in going as far as Rand Paul and attacking the Civil Rights Act) reflects a difference, at least in part, in our civil religion: most of us, and most of our institutions and organizations, are more Protestant than Catholic, more individualistic than communitarian, and thus there is less public cost associated with attacking anything that speaks of people in terms of group or class or community interests, as opposed to something that speaks of individual rights.

I would ask Nate one question though, one which his own argument opens up about Wisconsin--namely, if this reasoning is correct, then shouldn't attacking corporations, vilifying and challenging and undermining the advantages which their collective associations of capital, built around plainly fictitious "persons," have enabled them to gain in the marketplace, be a lot easier? Of course, there is plenty out there on the level of rhetoric which romanticizes the entrepreneurial individual going up against the big corporate guns...but when you look at where weight lies in our economy (easy answer: look where the bulk of bailout dollars went), it really does seem that corporate entities enjoy plenty of advantages. Why doesn't our civil religion granted that same benefit of the doubt to unions? Corporations are, of course, in their basic organization, no more foreign to "using mild coercion" in the service of pulling together their constituent parts, than unions are. They are collective, in other words, or rather, "Catholic." Yet our presumably Protestant resistance to such doesn't seem to have the same effect. The answer, I suspect is obvious: deep religious explanations only go so far, especially when they are up against structural forces which shape and privilege the holders of capital in their presentation of themselves as friends of the individual economic actor. Or, as the joke making the rounds on Facebook today puts it: "A unionized employee, a Tea Party member & a corporate CEO are sitting at a table. In the middle is a plate with a dozen cookies on it. The CEO reaches out & takes 11 of the cookies, then says to the Tea Party member 'look out for that union guy, he wants a piece of your cookie.'" That's about the size of it, or so it seems to me.

Friday, February 25, 2011

A (Compromised) Localist Looks at Wisconsin

[Cross-posted to Front Porch Republic]

Wow--I've let almost all of February go by without any substantial blogging. A hiatus indeed, I guess. But still, I shouldn't let the month end without saying at least something about what is happening in Wisconsin--especially considering that in the early hours of this morning, the Wisconsin Assembly passed the "Budget Repair Bill" which tens of thousands of protesters have spent the better part of two weeks demonstrating against. It's a bill that, should the Wisconsin Senate approve it (which it can't under present rules so long as enough Democratic senators stay in hiding, robbing the Senate of the quorum needed to vote), and should Governor Scott Walker sign it (which he, of course, would in an instant; it's his bill, after all) would, among other things, significantly cripple the power of most public employee unions in the state.

Given that the unions being targeted by this bill have long since signaled that they'd be willing to accept the cuts and budget reforms that the governor and Wisconsin Republican legislators are looking for, it has become fairly clear that this struggle is fundamentally about political power, not fiscal realities, however important they may be. It is a question about whose power over our economic landscape is to be respected, and to what degree. It places on one side the bondholders and bankers and CEOs who ultimately (and, perhaps, legitimately) demand a certain level of unregulated austerity if making investments and expenditures is to continue to appear appealing to them, or the workers and homeowners and citizens on whose behalf those programs and regulations--despite their admittedly often less-than-stellar track record--were designed:

The deal Wisconsin made with its state employees was simple: Accept lower wages than you could get in the private sector now in return for better pensions and health-care benefits when you retire. Now Walker wants to renege on that deal. Rather than stiff the banks, in other words, he wants to stiff the teachers--but the crucial twist he's added, the one that's sent tens of thousands of workers into the streets, is that he wants to make sure they can't fight back once he does it.

The reason you can't stiff bondholders is that they can make a state or country regret reneging on the deals they've made. They can increase borrowing costs far into the future, slowing economic growth and, through the resulting economic pain, throwing politicians out of office. That gives them power. An ordinary teacher does not have access to such artillery. Unless, of course, she's part of a union.


There are, to be sure, plenty of reasons to be concerned about the power of public employee unions--they can, like all other large organizations, become self-interested and corrupt, and thus stifle the productive actions of individuals and communities concerned with achieving common goods. The same can be said, of course, about all unions, in the same way the same can be said about all business and corporations, all school boards and church committees, all bureaucracies and agencies. But some say that public employee unions are an especially troubling case; that because their ultimate employer is technically themselves, and all the rest of us--everyone who pays taxes, in other words--public employee unions face a unique moral hazard, a very specific incentive to capture votes rather than negotiate, and thus act like an institutionalized political party within the bureaucracy of the state, rather than a "countervailing power" within the open market. Trade unions are a classic example of just such a power, and at least potentially a highly democratic example as well: organizing individual workers into a force which corporations, who enjoy the benefits of capital (and thus also the political power which an electoral system open to massive donations, never more so than now), would have to reckon with.

Does that logic fall apart with public employee unions? Many prominent opponents of the power of large corporations, including the father of the New Deal himself, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, thought so; the Wagner Act was about empowering the workers at private firms to demand respect from business owners, not enabling government employees to do the same. But perhaps all the changes in the American economy over the past three generations--some for good, many for worse--have changed this calculation as well. Manufacturing jobs have disappeared, as the country has grown wealthier and the technology making it possible for businesses to move their work to poorer (and thus, for them, more profitable) parts of the world has proliferated. Much of our country's economic lifeblood is now tied up in service and information-related jobs, in health and education and sanitation and livability and public spaces and environmental resources. Many of those jobs have been, from the beginning, rightly considered a public--that is, a government--responsibility, rather than a private one; many others have been moved, over the decades, from corporate hands to public ones (and some, to be sure, have also been moved back again). And that presents the question of whether people who hold those jobs, whether at the local or state or federal level, ought to be able to organize, to bargain collectively, to strike if necessary--to act as their own "countervailing power" against the government (which arguably has long been dominated by corporate and Wall Street interests, whether the Democrats or the Republicans were in control, anyway) that employees them. (See more on this issue here.)

For folks like myself, folks attracted to the ideas of local power and economic democracy, the fact these demonstrations have erupted in Wisconsin is significant. Robert "Fighting Bob" La Follette led Wisconsin as a U.S. representative and senator, as its governor, and as a presidential candidate for years. He was very much a Progressive, and for perhaps most who identify themselves as localists or decentralists today, the Progressives were the worst kind of bureaucratic busybodies. But the fact remains that the causes which he fought for and against--against imperialism and powerful corporate trusts and child labor, for civil liberties and union protection and municipal independence--are very much part of the foundation upon which most of whatever real respect for "place" which has survived in the mostly urbanized, mostly interconnected America of today was originally built. (The union protesters and their sympathizers in Wisconsin absolutely recognize this fact; Governor Walker is, perhaps, trying to pass that historical reality over.) Intact neighborhoods, family-supporting wages, local authority: there were, of course, many components to all these--stronger churches and civic organizations being one, a less acquisitive and individualistic social and economic mentality in the first part of the last century being another--but one would have to engage in a great deal of historical revisionism to claim that the laws which protected and empowered unions, the laws which guaranteed the rights or workers or organize and make demands and negotiate with those in power, didn't play a huge role as well.

One might hope that, in a different socio-economic world, local democracy and economic independence wouldn't depend upon defending, as I believe at the present moment they must be, something as potentially troubling as public employee unions. Christopher Lasch noted years ago the inevitable difficulties for and the dangerous backlash against any truly authentic community populism which comes when the efforts to empower workers through trade unions result in the emergence of "Big Labor." Libertarian-minded individuals, who presumably ought to favor the freedom of association which unions at least potentially represent, tend to see the current argument (especially the argument involving public employee unions), as ambiguous at best: clearly unions are an important weapon in the arsenal of individuals and communities seeking to protect themselves as the powers of capital and corporations, but the strategies and structures of today's unions leave much to be desired--among other things, they set aside any more radical (populist or distributist or socialist) critique of the contemporary capitalism, in favor of a never-ending (and, in a world where globalized neoliberalism is dominant, mostly losing) battle over wages and living conditions. Some smart observers suggest that unions have outlived whatever usefulness they may have once had in terms of making a more equal and more empowered America, and that other strategies are now called for.

For myself, I see a continuation of the same tension that has been, to my mind, front and center throughout this ongoing crisis in global finance capitalism, and all the ways in which most of us--as workers and homeowners and voters and farmers and teachers and citizens--are implicated in it: what kind of compromises with the system should we make? How far should those compromises go? What kind of economic or political tools should we employ in those compromises? Or the present system--a system of large and perhaps systematically polarized and paralyzed governments, of corporate powers which are perhaps constitutionally incapable of considering questions of democracy and community when tabulating their bottom lines, of resource depletion, of credit-and-debt-dependent economies, of globalization and dislocation and consumption on a massive scale--so worthless or so near collapse as to make any attempt to reform or work through or within it pointless? I'm not able to resolve that tension; perhaps none of us can, until the crisis of peak oil, or some other crisis, renders the issue moot. But until then, I know what I believe in: I believe that the capitalist market, for all the good it produces (and it produces a lot), makes inevitable a distribution of power between employers and employed which is unequal--and that inequality, invariably, will work against the long-term flourishing of families and neighborhoods and communities within which the employed, those without independent access to politically-empowering and protecting wealth, dwell. Unions are certainly not a perfect tool for addressing this imbalance of power; they are often a defective tool, in fact. But they remain a tool, and one worth defending. For all the caveats and concerns we may have about the proper way to consider relations between business and government and labor at the present time, I would hope no localist worth his or her salt would blithely agree with those who would wave "larger fiscal realities" to distract us while they take that tool away.

Friday Morning Videos: "Walk of Life"

Two years ago, a huge hit, and a hugely influential video, by Dire Straits. This year, same band, but a much more modest hit and video. But hey, at least it isn't the silly American version with all the sports bloopers.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Friday Morning Videos: "Smooth Criminal"

Two years ago around this date, I bowed to pressure and put up Michael Jackson's biggest video of all time. And since then, I've acknowledged his influence a few more times. But I still haven't put up my favorite MJ video. So, here it is.



Cripes, it's hammy, not to mention ridiculously, cartoonishly violent. But visually, stylistically, I simply adore it.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

A Hiatus By Any Other Name...

Wow, I really haven't been doing much blogging here--between family vacations, snow days, teaching extra classes (got to make the money somehow), and student excursions (I'm writing this from St. Louis at the moment, where I'm with our Model United Nations student delegation), time and energy and interest have been far lower than usual. Not that I haven't made this same excuse many times before at different points, of course. But seriously, I really do have plenty of posts in the works...I'm just not finished with any of them yet. Oh well, thank goodness Friday Morning Videos keeps me from forgetting about the blog entirely. Perhaps I'll get back on track next week. In the meantime, it looks like I'm in Ross Douthat's and Laura McKenna's boat, whether I meant to be or not.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Friday Morning Videos: "Ebony and Ivory" and "Say Say Say"

He doesn't have a tenth of the critical cred that Harrison had, but if I'm going to put up a couple of post-Beatles videos from George, I suppose I ought to do a couple from Paul McCartney too. I kind of liked Wings, after all. Anyway, pick your preference everyone: the atrociously cheesy one, or the depressingly banal one?





Not quite up to the level of "Goodnight Tonight" are they? Oh well; the 80s were hard on a lot of people. At least you can't say Sir Paul wasn't keeping himself busy.

Friday, February 04, 2011

Friday Morning Videos: "End of the Line"

Last year at this time, FMV gave you the high point of the post-Beatles glory that was George Harrison and The Traveling Wilburys. This year, another one. This song wasn't nearly the hit that "Handle With Care" was, but it's much too charming and touching a video to leave out. Roy Orbinson, RIP.

Wednesday, February 02, 2011

Getting High in Hawai'i (Part 2)

Obviously, traveling to the big island of Hawai'i is, for someone who lives in Kansas, a tremendous luxury. So I don't want to make too much of the fact that, for us, our vacation there was at least as much about being able to get away and follow our own pace as it was to go on some kind of once-in-a-life adventure. For the great majority of people in this world, to visit paradise even once (much less as often as we have!) really would be a once-in-a-lifetime-type of event. We're lucky, that's for sure. And I never felt that as strongly as I did last Friday.

On that day, our oldest daughter, Megan, and I got to do something that really was, as far as I felt it anyway, truly outrageous and adventuresome: we traveled by tour from Kailua-Kona, on the shore of the Pacific Ocean, to the summit of Mauna Kea, a dormant (but technically not extinct) volcano that rises to a height of over 13,700 feet above sea level. Not being a mountain climber, that was easily more than twice as high as I have ever been in elevation before (while on the ground, that is: I'm not counting flying, obviously). Our tour took us up the valley between Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa, with much informative discussion of the geological formation of the island on the way. We drove to a information center at about 9000 feet, near the tiny community where the astronomers and engineers who work at the observatories on Mauna Kea live, and ate there, getting acclimatised to the thin air at that elevation. Then, it was a bumpy, long climb up the final mile to the summit. The views were stunning. The temperatures were "merely" sub-freezing, but with the thin air, my fingers felt frozen (Megan handled it better than I). After sunset, we traveled back down to our previous stop for some star-gazing. All around, an amazing day (and it was a full day: the trip up and back took nearly three hours each). Herewith, some photos:

At our first stop up the mountain, overlooking the clouded valley between Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa to the east, shrouding the city of Hilo below...


...then, looking west, you can just see the top of Hualalai, the non-active (but not entirely dormant) volcano that forms the western ridge of Hawai'i island.


At the summit of Mauna Kea, at sunset, we were surrounded by the shadows of the 13 observatories that have been built there, the Keck Observatory (the twin white globes) most prominently....


In the second one, you can see pretty clearly the snow all around us. At the time of our visit, it had been two weeks since the last heavy snowfall on the summit of Mauna Kea, and much of the snow had slowly evaporated in the sunlight. Still, snow in Hawaii: that was one of Megan's big goals for the trip, and I was happy to see it fulfilled


To the north, we could easily look over Kohala, the northenmost and oldest (but still not yet officially extinct) volcano on the island, and make out the southern end of the island of Maui, 30 miles away...


Most dramatically, to our east we could look out, over the clouds and the Pacific, and see the shadow of Mauna Kea itself--a pretty bizarre (and awesome) sight...


After our time at the summit, we did some star-gazing, which was simply fantastic; I'd never before seen the night sky so filled with stars that it was actually hard to focus on any one of them. Unfortunately, our camera couldn't take night sky pictures--but of all the celestial items (Jupiter, the Andromeda galaxy, and more) that we viewed, none were as impressive as the Orion Nebula, a spot in the sky that I seen lots of pictures of, but never had never seen with my own eyes (as aided by a powerful telescope!) before...


Once in a lifetime? Considering that I'm extremely unlikely to take up a second career as an astronomer, this qualifies. A great, memorable day, one of the best I've ever had on a vacation. A luxury indeed.

What Can I say About Hawai'i? (Part 1)

A couple of days ago we returned from a superb vacation: eight days on the big island of Hawai'i. It's an enormous blessing to visit that island paradise--and we've done it four times. My parents own a time-share condominium on the west side of the island, in Kailua-Kona, which they travel to every wintertime, and when budgets, schedules, and frequent-flier miles have allowed, we've visited them out there for a week or so in January (our previous trips have been in 1998, 2001, and 2005). By this time, we've gotten to know the island pretty well--though there are still parts of it we've never visited, and parts we'd love to get back to, if ever the opportunity for such a trip may fall into our hands again. The last time we went I summed up some of my thoughts and recommendations this way:

[The island of Hawai'i] is a gorgeous and still relatively simple place. People drive slow (the roads are two-lane, and often not good), the shopping options are limited, and you either conform to the environment or head back to Honolulu (or the mainland). Sure, I'm painting with a broad brush here: there are plenty of pricey resorts all over the island, and they deliver food and entertainment and services with all the speed and efficiency that one might expect from a complex tourist economy....And yet the socio-economic stakes are still pretty small. Head up from the coastline, into the forests that cover the hillsides, and you've got farmers and ranchers and fishermen living day to day, ex-hippies and local Hawaiians rubbing shoulders with long-time Japanese immigrants and various European refugees, any one of which you're likely to bump into on the beach or at the one big Costco up the road where most everyone shops at least once a month or so. It's a remarkable place, possibly the most multicultural non-urban environment I've ever encountered, and one in every way inviting to people who are looking for a vacation that will allow them to step off the road and find their own pace for a while, rather than rush even faster to get it all in.

In other words, though lacking the urban amenities of bigger and pricier vacation locales, it's the perfect location for wanna-be slacker-localists like ourselves. As proof, some photographic evidence:

1) It's the simple things, natural world edition:
You can travel from the northernmost part of the island (the black sand beach at Polulu Valley)...


...to the southernmost part (the raw lava stone cliffs at Ka Lae, or South Point)...


...and visit zoos and museums and beaches and parks all throughout, and what will be most memorable? Probably that awesome banyan tree jungle right beside Rainbow Falls:


2) It's the simple things, food edition:
We cooked for ourselves, ate at cafeterias and restaurants, and checked out the wonderful Hilo Farmers Market. Four of us ate at a fun local luau, and two of us took a meal at over 9000 ft. in elevation (more on that here). We had some fine local fish: 'ahi (tuna), ono (wahoo), mahi-mahi (dolphinfish), and my favorite, kajiki (blue marlin). But what was my favorite food-related discovery? Nothing less than a simple dish of saimin...


...and a delicious loaf of sweetbread...


...available at the Punalu'u Bake Shop in the tiny town of Na'alehu in the Ka'u District (whose oranges are pretty awesome as well).


We drove right by this place on our away to South Point; good thing Melissa insisted we stop there and grab some lunch on our way back.

3) It's the simple things, family edition:

As I wrote in that old post of mine, nearly fifteen years ago Melissa and I had a chance to take a Caribbean cruise--and despite the sun and the sand and the swimming, the truth is that with only a couple of exceptions, we really didn't enjoy it too much. We didn't like being rushed; we didn't liked being overwhelmed by the tourist economy (however much we were obviously a part of it); and mostly we didn't like being without our daughter. Well, we have four daughters now, and the opportunity to get away without the kids is an increasingly rare and precious commodity. But still, the fact remains: we like doing this together. From our stop our first Sunday there at the LDS temple in Kona-Kailua...


...to our visit to the Place of Refuge National Park just south of the city on our final Sunday before flying home...


...this is why we take vacations: to see things we haven't seen before, and too see them together with people we love. Wasting away our final Saturday afternoon awaiting the sunset at Hapuna Beach State Park on the west side of island?

Works for us anyway.