On Continued Beginnings

Last month I graduated from the University of Maryland and went from being Malcolm, a senior politics and English major, to Malcolm, who does nothing. I’ve moved back to California and started looking for my first post-university job-job. One part of pre-employment that I’m looking forward to is having more time to write, but 24 Percent no longer feels like the right place. I’m at a very different point in my thought than I was when I made 24, and I felt the need for a new look and feel. The result is my new blog, destructural.

I picked the new name for a number of reasons. The term comes from destructural video, “An art movement of video and moving image artists who aestheticize the exploration of medium specific flaws which perpetrate themselves as visual and/or audible glitches in their work.” I ran into artist and student John McAndrew’s blog the other day, and the idea appealed to me, even beyond the video context. Working from glitches and aporias in a system, seeing them as sites from which to work rather than flaws to be painted over, is what I always try to do in my writing.

It also works nicely with a story from my first foray into (para-)academia at the Beneath The University, The Commonsconference at (near?) the University of Minnesota last April. My friend Max and my co-presentation involved a rhetorically aggressive reading of parts of Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri’s Commonwealth, especially the section about the need to destroy ourselves as we exist within current social relations. For the rest of the conference, Max and I were the crazy guys who wanted to destroy stuff, incensing at least one attendee who wanted to know why we weren’t talking about making stuff instead. One of the other presenters decided to refer to me and Max collectively as “destruction.” The conference was a surreal experience, but also some of the most fun I had in college. As I look forward to graduate school, I better get used to navigating those kinds of spaces, but hopefully this title\ will serve as a reminder of how I came in thinking.

Also, “destructural” is a goofy theory-jargon neologism. And I’m into that stuff. But it is certainly self-consciously goofy.

Luckily, wordpress has it set up so that you can import your old content into your new blog, so 24 Percent lives on, but changed. I’ll leave the Hegelian interpretation to someone else, but I think of this switch as both a continuation and a beginning.

The organizing principle for the content hasn’t really changed, I’ll still be writing about whatever I feel like. It will probably skew toward student power, ultra-left political theory, as well as Marxist readings of literature, films, and other art, but I honestly don’t know what I’ll be writing about in six months. I’ve also added a “readings” page that has .pdf’s and links to pieces I think people would enjoy/find useful. Please feel encouraged to send suggestions.

Meant to Be Broken: Control Society and Crosswalks

Think of the road-crossing; as described in the sign in the picture, there are three standard symbols for pedestrians. Unlike the three light colors in the traffic signs for vehicles, the crossing signs come with behaviors. A yellow light can mean “slow down” or “speed up” depending on the context, since the color is describing something that will happen – the light’s imminent change to red – rather than prescribing a single pattern of action. In the picture on the left, the first two symbols come with instructions for pedestrians: the walking figure means you ought “start crossing” while the blinking hand means you ought not “start crossing” but should continue if you have already entered the crosswalk. The third however, the solid hand, does not prescribe behavior, but proscribes a state of existence, “pedestrians should not be in crosswalk.” The incongruous language is necessary because the behavioral instructions of the solid hand are no different than those of the blinking hand. After all, pedestrians do not freeze in place when the lights of the hand stop blinking, nor would the State want them to. Rather, walkers cross more quickly, leaving the street so as not to continue to violate the injunction not to be in the crosswalk while the hand does not blink. Also to avoid getting hit by cars. That’s important too.

If it has nothing to add instructively, why the division between the blinking and non-blinking hands? If pedestrians followed the rules, only two symbols would be necessary: one for when it’s okay to start crossing and one for when it’s not. Of course, we know that pedestrians rarely if ever follow the stated instructions for street crossings. If we arrive at the corner just as the hand starts blinking, or if the street seems easy to cross in the time before the solid hand of banishment emerges, then we cross. Pedestrians and the State have a different idea of how long it will take to cross streets, and there aren’t enough cops in the world to make sure people stick to the stated rules. In the actually existing crosswalk, the third term is very useful. The blinking hand serves as the equivalent of a yellow light: pedestrians walk quickly or stop based on the context. The three-term logic is based on the premise that we will not follow the instructions as stated. These rules are literally made to be broken.

The crossing light is a tool for the State management of behavior, whether this involves adherence to the actual rules or not. In this case, people’s behavior can be better managed by creating a system of rules that will be broken, but broken in ways built into the rules themselves. I’m sure there are far better examples of this phenomenon, but this one has always seemed particularly overt to me. The State lists the rules on street corners for god’s sake.

David Brooks And The Myth of Concrete Reason

I’m not sure there’s a working writer more invested in the ideology of conservatism than David Brooks. I’m not talking about the gay-bashing cross-burning Conservatives who want to return to an imagined suburb in the 50’s, Brooks and his patron saint of crawling reform, Edmund Burke, are conservative in that they want things to change very very slowly. In his column today, Brooks uses the newsworthy occasion of a PhD dissertation at the University of Chicago on the Enlightenment to reframe the classic reform-or-revolution debate as two sides of the same dull 18th-century coin. He writes of the division between the French and the British/Scottish Enlightenments, the first devoted to shaping society in accordance with universal reason, no matter the costs, while the second focused on the limits of reason and human rationality. For Brooks, there is nothing outside the Enlightenment; rationality is an Enlightenment value, but so is irrationality.  His title is “Two Theories of Change” but it could have been “Only Two Theories of Change.” Toward the end of the column, Brooks remembers that he is not a philosophy professor – in case you were wondering about his credentials, he lays them out in the first sentence of the column: “When I was in college I took a course in the Enlightenment.” – and tries to piece together some lesson about contemporary American politics,

“Today, if you look around American politics you see self-described conservative radicals who seek to sweep away 100 years of history and return government to its preindustrial role. You see self-confident Democratic technocrats who have tremendous faith in the power of government officials to use reason to control and reorganize complex systems. You see polemicists of the left and right practicing a highly abstract and ideological Jacobin style of politics.”

Ah yes, the lure of false parallels. I imagine the esteemed author is here referencing Rand Paul and the Tea Party movement of which Paul has become the foot-choked mouth. On the Dem side, I can only assumer Brooks is writing at least partly about our cucumber-cool technocrat-in-chief and his administraton, but I have a hard time seeing the correspondence. President Obama is certainly a fan of reason and logic – notice how awkwardly Brooks has to structure that sentence so as not to write the absurd and revealing “faith in reason” –  but he has demonstrated no desire or even any willingness to radically alter anything. Banks nationalized? Nope. Single-payer health care? Obama’s never heard of it.  The president can’t even bring himself to get rid of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell with a well-reasoned stroke of his pen, instead opting for the snail’s pace change Brooks and Burke love. I don’t think you’re allowed to refer to any group as technocrats and Jacobins in the same paragraph, even if you have a column in the Times. The part that really gets me though is the use of “abstract” as a pejorative.

Brooks uses the word “abstract” two more times in the column, modifying “reason” and “plans,” and always negatively. I would give you a concrete example of what Brooks means by abstract reason or abstract plans, but he doesn’t give any himself. In a column in which he repeatedly condemns politicians and philosophers obsessed with abstract problems of justice, Brooks gives us not one concrete example of what the Hell he’s talking about. Since Brooks won’t deign to give an example, I’ll pick on Rand Paul some more because, let’s face it, that motherfucker is asking for it. Paul has a total reverence for private rights, such that he has recently argued that the Civil Rights Act was an overreach by the government and the market should have been allowed to desegregate private firms on its own. This is certainly a tone-deaf position from an electoral standpoint, but is it any more abstract that the reverse?

The Civil Rights Act provides a number of protections for minorities in America, both in the “public” and “private” spheres. (Note the scare quotes. Perhaps the best thing to come out of Paul’s candidacy – besides the lulz – is some questioning  of this division.) But policy is always abstract since it deals with collective subjects (e.g. citizens, blacks, gays) as such. In fact, there’s a name for concrete policy-making, and it’s not allowed in this country. The idea that people should be treated equally regardless of race both under the law and at the lunch counter is no less abstract in terms of its reason than Rand’s position. Hard core libertarians  may be more concerned with abstract policy impactslike the violation of sacred property rights – than the concrete suffering individual blacks faced during Jim Crow, but that’s not what Brooks condemns. The workaround Brooks is attempting to posit is a non-ideological pragmatism that handles political questions one at a time, looking for and implementing the most practical policy. Sorry Dave, no dice.

Unfortunately all my books are on their way to California at the moment, or I’d go find the lines in Gramsci’s The Modern Prince about the ideology of pragmatism. However, it’s not hard to see how pragmatism is ideological: it describes a consistent way of seeing the world and acting within it. Brooks summarizes Burke,

“If you try to re-engineer society on the basis of abstract plans, Burke argued, you’ll end up causing all sorts of fresh difficulties, because the social organism is more complicated than you can possibly know. We could never get things right from scratch.”

This is an ideological statement that forecloses possible interpretations of society and patterns of action. It is also profoundly abstract. Are all incarnations of the social too complicated to understand? Always? Without even looking at the individual situation? Pragmatism lacks the ability to be pragmatic about itself, to recognize a point at which “impractical” action is required, which makes it consistently counter-revolutionary. Brooks can only bring himself to retroactively support the American Revolution when he phrases it in terms of the maintenance of tradition.

The column’s conclusion (“The children of the British Enlightenment are in retreat. Yet there is the stubborn fact of human nature. The Scots were right, and the French were wrong. And out of that truth grows a style of change, a style that emphasizes modesty, gradualism and balance,”) is an exercise in hackery. Brooks posits “the stubborn fact of human nature” – an abstract idea by anyone’s measure – as if it weren’t one of the central questions in political philosophy. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t bother to capitalize “truth” in the final sentence. The argument is not ultimately with ideology or abstraction, it’s with those who don’t share Brooks’s particular milquetoast understanding of the world.

Tab Dump

Now that I am officially a college graduate, I can recommence blogging. I’ll put up a more substantial post later this week about something interesting, but for now I thought I’d go with the classic Tab Dump.

– Israel is, it turns out, not so sympathetic to a lot of progressive young Jews. Maybe it’s the apartheid thing? Ain’t been hip since ’94…
– So that’s Google’s cloud-music fix for the Chrome OS.
– And is Apple gentrifying the web with its app store? It makes for a cool metaphor either way.
– Here’s the audio from a panel discussion about “Who’s Afraid of Philosophy” and the Middlesex occupations with Alberto Toscano, Nina Power and others.

And for music to go along with all the words, “All Your Way,” low rock from the band Morphine

Don’t Call Me Ginger, Whitey

[Vimeo 11219730]

It’s been impossible to be a redhead and not get asked about M.I.A.’s short film. I’ve been told by at least a dozen friends that I had to see it and I wonder if this is how black people felt when Do The Right Thing was in theaters. Voyou Desoeuvre has an interesting analysis – there’ve been a lot of analyses of cultural studies darling Lady Gaga’s video for “Telephone” but I haven’t found many for “Born Free” – in which he sees redheads as insufficient metaphorically.

The video’s big “reveal,” that the state’s violence is directed at the redheaded, turns any possible shock into pure silliness. Now, I imagine someone will say that I’m missing the point here, that prejudice directed against redheads is really no more silly than prejudice directed against black people or Muslims, and that by showing us this, the film makes a serious point about the arbitrariness of racism. This is wrong: racism is indeed unfounded and constructed and arbitrary, but it is not silly … Worse, perhaps, the video ends up letting the actual racism and violence of the US state off the hook. The first half of the video presents us with a mystery: who are these police, and why are they raiding this building? The moment when we see the bus full of red-haired young men functions as an explanation, an explanation which immediately places us in an alternative reality in which the US features a number of signs of oppression that suggest places out side the US: Northern Ireland (murals) or Palestine (kids in keffiyehs throwing rocks). The problem is, that this, it seems to me, strongly suggests that we should see the first half of the video as also part of this alternative reality; but police raids of this sort are of course no “alternative” at all to actually existing US reality.

I think there’s a good point here about the dangers of viewing current forms of racial hierarchy as merely one arbitrary possibility. White supremacy is intertwined so intricately with American society and culture that to imagine that we could swap in another characteristic and everything else would remain the same is wrong. Forms of hierarchy and the oppressive social relations they engender are not self-contained; you can’t pull a single thread without undoing the whole tapestry. But I don’t agree that this is primarily what the “Born Free” video calls into question. M.I.A. did not write a science fiction novel in which she replaces an American oppressed minority group with redheads. Instead, I see the video instead as commenting on the way we react to State violence perpetrated against white bodies. The gruesome final scene in which the soldiers slaughter the fleeing redheads – thanks for the nightmares by the way, that cute kid whose head gets blown to pieces looks exactly like my cousin Oliver – isn’t shocking just for the violence. Newspapers have pictures of bloody Iraqi and Afghani children all the time, but it doesn’t provoke the same reaction. We’ve become so desensitized to images of soldiers, many wearing American flags on their shoulders, shooting at brown people that if this same video were shot with Arabs or Latin@s, people would find it an inartful work of propaganda. It wouldn’t even touch them.

When the State’s police extract the young redhead and bring him to the bus, the narrative is ill-defined. The cops are being assholes, clearly, but what are they after? A terrorist? Illegal immigrants? Jews? Even when the soldier/police have the man, the meaning is still illusive. This wouldn’t necessarily be the case if it had been a black man or an Arab, then the narrative writes itself. If the man had been a Palestinian wearing a keffiyeh, he becomes, by the narrative logic of the scene, a terrorist. His skin and clothes would be enough to fill in a story about why what was happening was happening. One redhead in isolation is generally a normal white person, not acquiring any larger symbolic representational value until juxtaposed with others. When the camera turns to the back of the bus, the narrative becomes instantly clear. The commonality that all of these boys share, the organizing principle for the group as such, is their hair color. The arbitrary commonality betrays the State’s arbitrary violence.The execution scene is a bit overdone, but the visual of American guns turned against white children is jarring. I see the red hair as a convenient narrative tool that gets the story quickly and comprehensibly to the real weight of the video: a scene of arbitrary State violence against white bodies. Think of the last time you saw a scene like that. Update: Thought of a couple. Coincidence that they’re both about the Irish?

Unfortunately, red hair is not quite the empty signifier M.I.A. might have hoped for. Desoeuvre worries that violence against red heads would be thought silly, linking to a tweet about “ginger kids getting blown up.” Is there another group that we could insert in the place of red heads that would yield the same fear? Is there any other group that could be rounded up and executed in a video, only to be laughed at by people who don’t have closets full of the latest in Klan-wear? Ever since the writers of South Park used redheads in a similar way, as a group marked by arbitrary difference used to stand in narratively for oppressed groups, no one can get over how funny it is to call us gingers or talk about how we don’t have souls or whatever. “Ginger” was routinely used as an diminutive on the comment threads for my Diamondback column, e.g. “He’s certainly entitled to his little, misguided, ginger opinion.” There are a lot of words that could take the place of “ginger” in that sentence without changing the tone, and they’re all othering terms. As a college kid (soon to be post-college kid), I don’t have to worry about it so much, but I’d imagine it got a lot harder to be a red-headed 5th grader. In post-modern America, the metaphor is prefigurative. How hungry we are for categories of limited difference that even the jokes will do.

Arizona to More Aggressively Enforce Law

A major sign of my political drift has been my inability to muster atypical indignation at the latest liberal outrages. Arizona’s new anti-immigration law, among many other provisions, allows police to profile based on the appearance of illegality (the fact that it’s hard to find the words to describe what people are being profiled based on is indicative of a whole bunch of shit) and requires cops to check immigration papers when they stop someone. The rest of the country is outraged at the Copper State’s willingness to embrace apartheid enforcement techniques. As SNL’s Seth Meyers noted, there’s not a World War II movie in which the Nazi’s don’t demand to see someone’s papers. Conservatives have done their best Cirque du Soleil impressions, artfully contorting themselves to describe how one could determine someone’s legal status on sight without the use of racial profiling – or less artfully in the case of California Congressman Brian Bilbray who suggested cops could tell by the illegals’ distinctive footwear. And yet, I’m not much angrier than normal. I’m not rushing out to join a boycott – a consumerist reduction of political activism if I’ve ever seen one. I see things basically as status quo.

I’m using the term “illegal” rather than the more acceptable “undocumented” not out of insensitivity, but to make a point. A provision of the new law makes it a state crime to be in Arizona without legal immigration papers. But we didn’t need a new law to tell us that being an illegal immigrant was against the law. The threat of deportation is constant because the life of the undocumented immigrant is illegal. To use another term is to disguise the State’s violence. The question I want to ask all the outraged liberals is if they really think the police in Arizona aren’t using racial profiling already. Also in the news this week was the revelation by Yale researchers that of the 376 traffic tickets issued by the East Haven, CT police, 210 were to Latino drivers, even though they only make up six percent of the population. I have a hard time believing that cops in Arizona are any different, and the first thing any officer does when they stop someone? Identification. The police don’t need the law to let them put these provisions into practice, the police are the law.

The new law is then a forced confrontation with the underlying logic of US immigration policy. Alain Badiou writes in an op-ed in Le Monde (translated for Nina Power’s Infinite Thought by Alberto Toscano) “The living proof that our societies are obviously in-human is today the foreign undocumented worker: he is the sign, immanent to our situation, that there is only one world.” Liberals don’t have a problem with borders or restricted immigration, they want a “humane” policy. Not a human policy, which is impossible, but the next best thing. “Humane,” the word we use to describe animal shelters. When confronted with the fundamental injustice of treating people differently under the law based on where they were born in relation to a set of arbitrary lines, the mask of the moral State slips and the naked pragmatic visage pokes through. The shrugged response that it would be impossible to just open the borders is a not-so-disguised rephrasing of “my opulence requires the existence of global underclass, and that’s a price I’m willing to pay.” No amount of “responsible” immigration reform will change this.

Immigrants aren’t the only ones made illegal in our society; we speak of the “criminalization of poverty” as the way in which the poor are forced to commit what the law calls crimes in order to survive. Sudhir Venkatesh’s less famous book Off the Books: Underground Economies of The Urban Poor is a great description of the ways in which being alive and poor at the same time becomes a crime in America. Medical marijuana patients are frequently treated “inhumanely” by the authorities for dealing with their illnesses. American Apparel’s “Legalize Gay” shirts are premised on the (I think false) idea that the identity is tied directly to the institution of marriage, but homosexual acts were criminalized in parts of America until 2003. In all of these cases we have the criminalization of life processes: acquiring enough money to eat and afford shelter, treating disease, and consensual sexual acts. The ultimate American example is the figure of the illegal immigrant whose breathing on this side of a line is criminal. (The example par excellence remains the “bare life” prisoners of Auschwitz). We cannot allow the compelling slogan “No one is illegal” to distract us from the fact that many people are illegal.

For radicals, I think it remains our job to provide whatever support we can to anyone whose life is made illegal in Arizona and anywhere else, as well as to fight the structures that create the police in the first place. But even more so, I think it’s our job to honestly face the consequences of our own moral conclusions and never to shrug at injustice due to its immensity. We will have illegal immigrants as long as we have a closed border. I’ll leave it up to you to draw the appropriate conclusions after that, but the dominoes certainly don’t end there.

How Randy Cohen Is Like Cam’ron

The thing that impresses me most about Randy Cohen’s The Ethicist column in the NY Times Magazine is his willingness to tell the people who ask him for advice not to follow the rules or adhere to standard protocols. In this week’s column, Cohen had a boss who discovered his employee’s theft and wants to know whether or not to call the cops. He writes in response, “Calling the cops is something you may do but not something you must, and I do not think you should. It’s not a matter of calibrating this thief’s punishment; the criminal-justice system is simply too crude an instrument to gently accomplish what you admirably seek to do: protect others from harm.” Damn right.

The question here is whether society is made better or worse off by sending a non-violent offender through the justice system. The ethical decision is based on the amount of harm done, and with regard to the U.S. prison system, Cohen figures it does more harm than it prevents in this case. The logic by which he derives his answer is, however, broad. I don’t see any reason why this same logic couldn’t be applied to all but a very few crimes. Our ethicist does write that we have a duty to call the cops in the case of an imminent, serious threat to others, but he that’s the only example he gives. What is clear is that he doesn’t think the criminal justice system does anyone (prison guards?) much good, with any deterrent value heavily outweighed by the social cost of a system that knows only how to punish and not how to reform. If we go by Cohen’s “maximum protection with the minimal harm” standard, there are not a lot of situations I can imagine where calling the cops becomes the ethical thing to do.

In fact, I wonder if we don’t have an ethical obligation not to call the police when we consider the overwhelming harms of the penal system. If I were to drop a dime on some kids selling drugs, I wouldn’t be protecting the neighborhood or committing a morally neutral act. I would be putting young people at the mercy of a dehumanizing, arbitrary and cruel system without alleviating nearly enough misery to compensate ethically. Think of it this way: I would rather take a pretty bad beating than be charged with a crime, convicted, and sent to jail for a month. Not only because jail – at least from what I’ve seen in OZ – involves some beatings, but because a criminal record causes serious damage to someone’s life chances. I figure most people would probably agree with me in this calculation. In terms of pain or misery inflicted I can try and imagine some physical equivalent to going through the criminal justice system, and I imagine it would be pretty bad. Now weigh that against the harm reduction of sending someone to jail. In a situation where the crime is assault with a deadly weapon, I’m okay beating the equivalent of a jail sentence out of the assailant if it could save someone’s life. A drug dealer or a thief? The ethical math doesn’t seem to come out right on anything that does not involve a life in peril. The “He brought it on himself” line doesn’t work here, we always have the choice to not call the cops and we have to take that seriously as an ethical decision.

Cam’ron takes it one step further in the ultimate stop snitching statement:

Note: I don’t mention sexual assault because calling the cops in that situation is not my decision and I don’t pretend to know what being a rape victim is like. I’ve heard good arguments for either sides from both women and men and I’m curious what people think about that as a complicating factor.

Teaching The Students of Texas about The Black Panthers

The whole liberal internet is up in arms about the latest in red-state idiocy, with the Texas Board of Education voting to implement a number of curriculum changes that conform to conservative ideology. Among the changes are additions of Milton Friedman and Friedrich Hayek to the list of economists studied, as well as labeling capitalism with the nice euphemism “free enterprise system.” What has apparently sent Democrats into a tizzy is the de-emphasis of enlightenment values and Thomas Jefferson’s role as a revolutionary. Instead, Texas history classes will now focus on the role of Christianity in the foundation of America without all that pesky Deist business. One Democrat on the Board of Ed, whose amendment calling on schools to look at the influence of Hispanic Americans was voted down, accused the body of “whitewashing” the curriculum.

She acts like American history classes weren’t whitewashed already. I’m sorry, but I just can’t get worked up about history classes in Texas not pretending well enough that American history is based on respect, tolerance and “Enlightenment values.” It’s not like they removed the parts where the history books included that Thomas Jefferson raped a child whom he owned as property, because that was never in there in the first place. It’s not like they removed the sections on Emma Goldman and Angela Davis, they just changed from glorifying capitalism to glorifying the free enterprise system.

Apparently the Republicans beat back attempts to include hip-hop in the curriculum as an example of a cultural movement. Good. The less students are inclined to trust their history teachers, the better I feel about the future of this country. The Conservatives on the Board of Ed clearly haven’t seen The Matrix enough times and forgot what happens when you tell people a history without conflict: they don’t believe you.

The way American History is taught, at least as it was taught in an Advanced Placement class with a strong teacher in a liberal public school five years ago, involves acknowledging a bunch of the pain and suffering on which this country was founded and thrived, but to frame it as somewhat inevitable, as part of the inevitable march of history. Teachers describe resistance movements as historical curiosities rather than real alternatives. MLK gets his shout-out, but if Malcolm X gets a paragraph then it’s about his violence and relation to the Nation of Islam.  The other night I was watching Reds and during a scene about the Palmer Raids, I remembered that I’d learned about those in school. I had never made an emotional connection between an organized program of repression perpetrated by the U.S. government and that thing I had to remember for that midterm in high school. Teaching kids about the dark parts of American history in a classroom is the best way to make sure they don’t care about them. My dream now is students in El Paso forming an underground Enlightenment reading group, passing around dog-eared copies of Diderot and Locke. Not that likely, but maybe slightly more than yesterday. I don’t know, maybe it will piss off some liberal teacher enough for her to pull out the People’s History copy left on her shelf from college and lend it to a curious student. In the mean time, good riddance to the social contract and empiricism.

What this news item does end up doing is get a lot of liberals to start defending Thomas fucking Jefferson and his bullshit Enlightenment values. Instead, I’ll be working with my new allies on the right at heightening the contradictions and alienating students past the breaking point. See, at first I thought the 10 conservative BoE members were just nutball ideologues, but then I read this sentence in the Times story, “Dr. McLeroy, a dentist by training, pushed through a change to the teaching of the civil rights movement to ensure that students study the violent philosophy of the Black Panthers in addition to the nonviolent approach of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.”

Get rid of any mention of tolerant America’s pluralistic founding and then teach the kids about Huey and Bobby? Well done comrades, well done.

Fuck Nicholas-Jacques Conté or Why I Hate Pencils

I spent an unstrategically long time during my Race and Ethnicity in American Politics exam thinking about Nicholas-Jacques Conté. Even though I had no way to know how many minutes I had left to finish the test because my insecure professor watched too many movies about teachers who are tough but fair and won’t allow us to keep phones on our desks and who really wears a watch anymore anyway?, I couldn’t help my mind drifting to the French inventor. Upon cursory research, it turns out my world history teacher was wrong and Conté didn’t invent the pencil so much as invent modern pencil lead five years after a guy in Austria did the same thing. But at the time, when I was trying to remember the median household income of Asian-Americans, I blamed him for the torture implement wedged in between my fingers.

In addition to pencil lead, Conté also pioneered balloon warfare. So clearly the guy was full of brilliant fucking ideas.

Up until this exam, I had not written with a pencil since my SAT. In an act of inexplicable arbitrary cruelty, my professor requires that we use pencils to write our essays in class. He has, to my knowledge, not attempted to explain this decision. The structure of the exam requires the examinee to try to string as many references to the readings as possible into a somewhat coherent framework. There are four compound questions, you have one hour and fifteen minutes. You must write in pencil. Halfway through the second question, the friction causes a cut on my fourth finger to open and as I rotate the stick in my hand I coat the exposed wood in an even layer of blood. Fuck you, Nicholas-Jacques Conté.

Writing with a pencil after writing with a pen for years is like being asked to write in crayon. The lead, even after being freshly sharpened, quickly turns dull. Normally neat handwriting becomes childlike, possibly so defined because we force children to write with pencils. The ability to erase is poor compensation for the loss of the smooth glide of a ball-point across a page. Writing over erased words is unnerving; I always feel like I’m desecrating a cemetery, paving over graves in order to replace the dead. The discarded thoughts live on in their ghostly imprints, making the new words look nervous.

It’s important to remember that when you write with a pencil, you scratch clay and rock against paper and read the debris.

Pencils require constant maintenance. Sharpening pencils is archaic, a tradition that lives on because we don’t trust children with ink. The pencil produces trash often, unlike pens which create trash only when they are completely spent. There is no need to care for a pen. The mechanical pencil is no excuse, it is a modernization of something that should no longer exist, like a VCR with an iPod dock. The lead advertises its thinness and breaks with the smallest pressure, leaving me afraid I will poke a hole in the paper. A pen requires one click to engage, a mechanical pencil requires continual clicking. Is there anything worse than continual clicking?

I begrudge artists nothing, but I also refuse to write essays with a paint brush.

Ultimately the children must defeat the pencil. We want them to have a reverence for the idea of permanence (e.g. the myth of the permanent record) and so they must be kept away from permanent ink. They must be made to know that mistakes must be erased and hidden, that the final product matters more than the process. It makes me crazy to see kids who panic when they make mistakes, as if one left uncorrected would set the universe off its intended course. Of course the ink is not permanent and neither are the records or anything else, and the sooner we are okay with kids knowing that, the sooner we can escape the tyranny of Nicholas-Jacques Conté.

No Flood, No Ark: On The Optimism of Collapse

Chris Hedges’s article in the new Adbusters with its dramatic title (“Zero Point of Systemic Collapse”) is a spirited call to new forms of resistance against a capitalist structure that is dead on its feet. Within the first paragraph he has renounced reformism, declaring “All resistance must recognize that the body politic and global capitalism are dead.” This is a gutsy move for a magazine most closely associated with Seattle-era anti-neo-liberal opposition to branding. Adbusters has never been far from the radical left, but one would be hard-pressed to say it’s been on the cutting edge of leftist theory.The piece is also a courageous move by Hedges who has relatively strong mainstream appeal to call for a war to the death with capitalism. If this article can provoke discussion and more writing about radical forms of resistance moving forward, then Hedges and Adbusters have done us an enormous service. I write this partly because I fear the critique that follows will sound too harsh and I want to make clear that I thought the article was not only interesting but important and I will spend the next few days sending it to friends and family. Hedges’s book War Is A Force That Gives Us Meaning was distributed free to students the year before last at Maryland and the author came and gave a talk. I read War Is A Force and wrote a complimentary piece in The Diamondback looking at the ways in which my university fails to live up to the standards Hedges sets in the book. He was nice enough to send me an e-mail thanking me for the article and his talk was both critical and engaging. All of this to say that I think Hedges is a stand-up guy and an important voice on the left who manages to write about complex ideas in ways that interest readers. None of what follows is meant to contradict any of that.

In “Zero Point,” Hedges writes of an American society on the edge, “on the cusp of one of the bleakest periods in human history when the bright lights of a civilization blink out and we will descend for decades, if not centuries, into barbarity.” His thesis is that old forms of resistance that conjure up a fantasy of popular revolt are antiquated and no longer respond to our historical circumstances. Most of the modes of struggle, at least as far as the media is concerned, are reformist and centered around environmental sustainability. Hedges lays the smackdown;

“We can march in Copenhagen. We can join Bill McKibben’s worldwide day of climate protests. We can compost in our backyards and hang our laundry out to dry. We can write letters to our elected officials and vote for Barack Obama, but the power elite is impervious to the charade of democratic participation. Power is in the hands of moral and intellectual trolls who are ruthlessly creating a system of neo-feudalism and killing the ecosystem that sustains the human species. And appealing to their better nature, or seeking to influence the internal levers of power, will no longer work.”

I don’t know about “moral and intellectual trolls” but the power elite’s best angels don’t speak loudly enough to deserve much credit. This critique of the current sustainability movement is probably the best part of The Coming Insurrection and it’s nice to see Adbusters take the more radical side and not the greenwashing cop-out.

Instead of just calling attention to problems, Hedges proposes alternatives. In this articulation he falters and reveals the central problem in his analysis and the prophetic tradition in which he writes. The author’s solution is to build neo-monastaries isolated from the destructive effects of contemporary capitalist society:

“If we build self-contained structures, ones that do as little harm as possible to the environment, we can weather the coming collapse. This task will be accomplished through the existence of small, physical enclaves that have access to sustainable agriculture, are able to sever themselves as much as possible from commercial culture and can be largely self-sufficient.”

This idea of hiding out and relying on each other in communes is predicated upon a need to “weather the coming collapse.” Hedges has made a clear, strong argument about the unfeasibility of reforming current social structures and the emptiness of our contemporary political culture, but this is not the same as predicting a collapse. The mechanics of what could actually bring down American capitalism is almost an afterthought in the piece, and not a very well-researched one. It seems fair to quote Hedges’s collapse prediction in its entirety:

“The massive bailouts, stimulus packages, giveaways and short-term debt, along with imperial wars we can no longer afford, will leave the United States struggling to finance nearly $5 trillion in debt this year. This will require Washington to auction off about $96 billion in debt a week. Once China and the oil-rich states walk away from our debt, which one day has to happen, the Federal Reserve will become the buyer of last resort. The Fed has printed perhaps as much as two trillion new dollars in the last two years, and buying this much new debt will see it, in effect, print trillions more. This is when inflation, and most likely hyperinflation, will turn the dollar into junk. And at that point the entire system breaks down.”

This certainly sounds like it could be true, and if our government were a household, it would have declared bankruptcy a while ago. But our government is not a household and despite its magnitude, the national debt is not our most pressing economic concern. Paul Krugman put the fear of China selling dollars in context in this post, which is kind of wonky but basically concludes in Krugman saying that it would help the U.S.’s finances if China sold some dollars and that fears of this process initiating a collapse are unfounded. Sure, Krugman’s one of those Times elites, but he has a reputation for over-predicting collapse. If he thinks you’re worrying over nothing, you probably are.

Hedges’s language frames the collapse as inevitable, “one day has to happen,” without considering the alternative. America has been behaving unsustainably since its founding, what makes him think collapse is imminent? Hedges, who has a degree from Harvard Theological Seminary, is writing in the same Judeo-Christian tradition as the Old Testament prophets who forewarned the people of an angry God’s coming wrath. In this discourse, the collapse, as predicted by the prophet, is connected to man’s failure to fulfill a contract with the divine being. From The Flood to Amos and Jonah to Sodom and Gomorrah, social depravity leads to collapse as God renders judgment upon the living. One of the more vulgar examples of this way of thinking was Jerry Falwell blaming the ACLU for 9/11 because they took God out of the schools. Hedges speaks more in the tradition of Amos who did not warn of a violation of the cultic requirements (like worshipping God insufficiently in schools) but of social requirements. We have allowed injustice to run rampant and will pay the price. Things have gotten so bad that they must collapse soon, therefore we ought escape to our communal monasteries and preserve whatever knowledge and culture is worth saving.

The problem here is that I still haven’t heard why this collapse is coming. Hedges seems to attribute the collapse of the U.S. structures of power to the hand of God in the form of Chinese monetary policy (although Bob Herbert’s analysis of unemployment as a flashpoint for social unrest seems more realistic). I think Hedges and those who believe that the “arc of history bends toward justice” are optimistic in thinking that we can’t go on this way. The author’s conclusion seems to be some variant of the “build an ark” strategy, but America has developed complicated systems of flood prevention.

Hedges’s has an overriding concern for the quality of his and our souls. Despite recognizing that there are times for armed resistance, the author chides anarchists for their romanticization of violence. He acknowledges that their structural analysis is correct, but reacts strongly against the reactionary mayhem that was the bread and butter of hard-left factions of what became known as the “Anti-Globalization Movement.” This is a good place for Hedges to refer to the thesis of War Is A Force, but he’s taking unnecessary shots at friends. I don’t know when the last time was Hedges spent time with grassroots anarchist organizers, but he seems to think their analyses haven’t changed over the last decade or so. It’s not true. There are some activists who just want to fight cops, but they’re increasingly a joke within larger communities and their strategic insights are not in great demand. Hedges crosses the line with this sentence, “There are debates within the anarchist movement – such as those on the destruction of property – but once you start using plastic explosives, innocent people get killed.” Who are the anarchists advocating using plastic explosives? When was the last person killed in an act of anarchist political violence in the U.S., President McKinley? Hedges fights the same spooky straw-man the mainstream media constructs when it comes to anarchists. The anarchist movement if we can speak of such a thing at present, is much more interested in building sustainable communities than breaking windows.

Anarchists may be violent in their aspirations, but not precisely in the way Hedges imagines. Creating new structures based around non-market values involves the destruction of current institutions and patterns of thought. This sort of change is violent insofar as it dislodges us from current subjectivities and ways of interaction. (Thus Slavoj Zizek’s infamous claim that Gandhi was more violent than Hitler.) Having heard him talk about his book, I know Hedges’s aversion is based in extensive experience around war, but I’m worried how much theoretical sense his definition of violence makes. If we cannot ethically use the violence of thrown bricks to destroy the violence of sweatshops, then what responsibility have we really claimed when it comes to creating a better world? The urge to destroy can lead to a spiral of violence, but it is dialectically linked to the urge to create.

The author then finds himself in the position of a Disney screen-writer. By the end of the movie, the villain must be destroyed in order to usher in the happily-ever-after utopia, since there is no possible compromise with the pure evil. At the same time, the hero cannot be directly responsible for the villain’s death since that would bring the pollution of murder into the utopia, a contradiction in terms. The recurring answer is some Deus ex machina, usually a product of the villain’s hubris, ends up doing the dirty work of actually removing the evil, setting up the possibility of utopia – e.g. Scar’s death at the hands of his hyena cronies in The Lion King or Jafar’s desire to be a genie imprisoning him in Aladdin. Hedges requires the flood, brought on by American arrogance, so that we might keep our souls and be worthy to save what’s worth saving. Needing a collapse isn’t the same as having one ready in the wings.

The article starts with a quote from Aleksandr Herzen, “We think we are the doctors. We are the disease.” Hedges uses this to make an argument against reform, but he fails to recognize the full implications of what he writes. The distinction between doctor and disease is one between reform and revolution, not reform and withdrawal. We cannot wait for the flood because we are the flood, and rising waters need no boat. If Hedges’s analysis of our current structures of power is correct – and I think it is – then we can’t head for monasteries 2.0. The struggle is to reclaim for the commons what has been unjustly privatized, commodified and appropriated and its a monstrous process. I share a portion of the author’s fear for our humanity, but the model of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Lutheran minister executed by the Nazis, holds no hope for me. Hedges quotes Bonhoeffer’s last words, “This is for me the end, but also the beginning.” But without an act of God, I see no time to waste with post-mortem beginnings.