The debate between the policy positions of Ron Paul and John McCain is emblematic of the Republican divide in the U.S. around warfare. It also epitomizes the selfish myopia of many Republicans voters too ignorant or vindictive to connect the dots. McCain asserts that non-intervention, which he likens to isolationism, is what led to Hitler's rise to power, while Ron Paul advocates a position for the U.S. that rejects global militarism in favor of 'trade, travel and talk'. As these two candidates argued this point last night during the 'CNN/Youtube Debates' (a farcical spectacle if I've ever seen one), both were met by simultaneous cheering and booing.
Now, McCain is a number of derogatory nouns that I could spend hours listing, but he is at least coherent. In McCain's America, the US military would be (likely more effectively than under Bush) deployed throughout the world, reasserting neocolonial domination by imposing ideologically driven value systems on the conquered nations. At home, the federal government would act as the vanguard for the securitization of America in favor of the white christian male minority, and a thinner state would enact economic policy that favors corporate elites. For McCain, war is the endless, belligerent state that the American government should engage in - military and ideological warfare abroad, class and social warfare at home. Coherent, methodical and exacting in its hatred for everyone that does not reflect his power background.
Ron Paul on the other hand is a confusing character. On the one hand he vociferously advocates individual freedom for all as a libertarian, yet on the other he favors subjecting individual freedom to the iron grip of an intense national state that will seek to crush freedoms like immigration and abortion. Furthermore, he advocates the inconsistent and Utopian vision of a capitalist society without government regulation. But, back to the subject at hand, Paul rejects military warfare, arguing that American should only engage in warfare for "defensive" purposes (though, this is precisely how Bush sold Iraq pre-emption at first), all the while advocating combinations of policies that actively propagate class and social warfare on behalf of elites. Those who share the individualist and static conception of human nature that Ron Paul clearly has are undoubtedly familiar with Hobbes's classic phrase "war of all against all". Most of his supporters have failed to reconcile the contradictions implicit in a capitalist-libertarian conception of human nature that would prove Hobbes right. What is scary is that the few ideologues who have come to terms with this eagerly relish the Battle Royale that is to come if they end up in power.
Perhaps, deep down, Ron Paul is as coherent as John McCain. Perhaps he does understand that the policies he is proposing will quite obviously entrench social inequalities and widen the income gap - infringing on a great American constitutional freedom: that of general welfare. Maybe he is merely positioning himself at the top of the pack in the "war of all against all" that he sees occurring. But if so, this is not evident in his policies, nor in the vehemency of his misguided supporters. Coming from a point of principle, the state is a dangerous entity in the sense that it usurps decision-making power from each of us, no matter how "democratic" the process through which this takes place. However, efforts to reduce its influence, and more importantly, what social order will take its place, need to be reflective, purposeful and progressive. Abolishing the state without systematically addressing structural inequalities reproduced within the economy and society will certainly lead to the vindication of Hobbesian thought. John McCain understands this very well, and in response is interested in using the state to further entrench these inequalities. Ron Paul and his followers, at least on the surface, are woefully deluded.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Sixty Years On, the Cycle Continues
Steve Paikin and The Agenda have reminded me of an extremely important anniversary coming up this Thursday, Nov. 29th : 60 years ago, the United Nations decided to arbitrarily seize the land of the Palestinians and offer it as compensation to Jewish people reeling from the horrors of the holocaust. Immediately after the first wave of settlement, the Israeli state began its program of land 'expansion', evident below. 
Now, this is undoubtedly a complex issue with no complete solution that is immediately implementable. However, I was struck by the comments of Yossi Klein Halevi, the Jewish 'video guest' brought on to spark discussion. He argued a point that was seemingly innocuous, positive even, but - if you really want to be reflexive and historically grounded, as Halevi argues - was actually quite oppressive.
Halevi focused his monologue on the cultural and ethnic narratives we all have, and the historic unwillingness of both Israelis and Palestinians to acknowledge the legitimacy of 'the Other'. He argued that while the Jewish people have come to terms with their belligerent past, now accepting of a two-state solution, the Palestinians are still bent on the destruction of the Israeli state, incapable of acknowledging 'the Other'. To frame the situation like this makes sense if, and only if, both parties are on equal terms, politically and economically. But, as this is not the case, this argument will inevitably entrench historic oppression, forcing the victims to bear an equal share of a burden that was unequally dealt.
The years of constant denigration faced by Arab Palestinians, both within 'Israeli' and Palestinian territory and worldwide from the international community, are not something we can ask them to shrug off as if they did not matter. It is easy for Jewish Israelis to 'acknowledge the other' (though of course, never in government policy) after sixty years of 'reparations' in the form of foreign aid and economic opportunities - not to mention political autonomy. Defenders of this privilege try to offset the gap by emphasizing the barrage of violence Israelis have had to graple with (though never with any mention of disproportionality). But the real disconnect is between the limits of Israeli civil society's acknowledgement of the other's narrative (always in simple, though important, political terms) and the lived economic and cultural realities of the Palestinians.
Ahistoricity is a powerful concept for dominant groups wishing to legitimize their dominancy, but it is obviously the death knell for any hope of redressing inequities. Yet ironically, the only history that (some) Jewish people like to consider is the one that legitimizes their presence in the Middle East. Some of the most vociferous advocates of this history live in the United States, and yet none are willing to acknowledge the much more recent right to that territory by a variety of indigenous groups. If we trace back our history far enough, none of us have the right to be anywhere on this earth, as only some few million years ago, we didn't exist as a species. Instead of jockeying for some kind of fabricated "right" that could fantastically legitimize the various occupations of humanity over the course of its storied history, we should be focusing on seriously working towards addressing inequalities that result from those occupations.
History is not something we can ignore altogether, nor something we can circumvent by reaching back indefinitely. It is something that we have to acknowledge, understand, and deal with, if we wish to achieve real progressive solutions. That necessarily means the giving up of privilege for some. Any 'solution' that leaves this, and consequently history, off the table is no solution at all, but merely more fuel for the cycle of oppression to continue.
Now, this is undoubtedly a complex issue with no complete solution that is immediately implementable. However, I was struck by the comments of Yossi Klein Halevi, the Jewish 'video guest' brought on to spark discussion. He argued a point that was seemingly innocuous, positive even, but - if you really want to be reflexive and historically grounded, as Halevi argues - was actually quite oppressive.Halevi focused his monologue on the cultural and ethnic narratives we all have, and the historic unwillingness of both Israelis and Palestinians to acknowledge the legitimacy of 'the Other'. He argued that while the Jewish people have come to terms with their belligerent past, now accepting of a two-state solution, the Palestinians are still bent on the destruction of the Israeli state, incapable of acknowledging 'the Other'. To frame the situation like this makes sense if, and only if, both parties are on equal terms, politically and economically. But, as this is not the case, this argument will inevitably entrench historic oppression, forcing the victims to bear an equal share of a burden that was unequally dealt.
The years of constant denigration faced by Arab Palestinians, both within 'Israeli' and Palestinian territory and worldwide from the international community, are not something we can ask them to shrug off as if they did not matter. It is easy for Jewish Israelis to 'acknowledge the other' (though of course, never in government policy) after sixty years of 'reparations' in the form of foreign aid and economic opportunities - not to mention political autonomy. Defenders of this privilege try to offset the gap by emphasizing the barrage of violence Israelis have had to graple with (though never with any mention of disproportionality). But the real disconnect is between the limits of Israeli civil society's acknowledgement of the other's narrative (always in simple, though important, political terms) and the lived economic and cultural realities of the Palestinians.
Ahistoricity is a powerful concept for dominant groups wishing to legitimize their dominancy, but it is obviously the death knell for any hope of redressing inequities. Yet ironically, the only history that (some) Jewish people like to consider is the one that legitimizes their presence in the Middle East. Some of the most vociferous advocates of this history live in the United States, and yet none are willing to acknowledge the much more recent right to that territory by a variety of indigenous groups. If we trace back our history far enough, none of us have the right to be anywhere on this earth, as only some few million years ago, we didn't exist as a species. Instead of jockeying for some kind of fabricated "right" that could fantastically legitimize the various occupations of humanity over the course of its storied history, we should be focusing on seriously working towards addressing inequalities that result from those occupations.
History is not something we can ignore altogether, nor something we can circumvent by reaching back indefinitely. It is something that we have to acknowledge, understand, and deal with, if we wish to achieve real progressive solutions. That necessarily means the giving up of privilege for some. Any 'solution' that leaves this, and consequently history, off the table is no solution at all, but merely more fuel for the cycle of oppression to continue.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Praxis and the Engine of Revolution
I came across this very interesting image detailing the reform process underway in Venezuela. As usual, this is courtesy of Venezuelanalysis.com.
Historically, this has been a pretty common trajectory for new socialist states, begging the quetsion - what is '21st century' about Venezuela's socialism? Or perhaps the more pertinent question is how accurate a depiction of the revolutionary process this image is?
Rather than follow a linear '5-step' process, Chavez has cobbled together a number of these steps, and a host of other strategies to get to where he is now. This graphic, though fascinating - and a great starting point for discussion - demonstrates the disconnect between 'theory' and 'practice' that orthodox Marxists have consistently reinforced. Can't anyone recall Gramsci?
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
The ILO and Reactionary Politics
Venezuelanalysis.com has recently posted an article on its site discussing ILO criticism of Venezuela's treatment of business leaders. The article also goes on to praise Colombia for the "progress" it has made protecting labor leaders. Now, I know the ILO has not exactly been calling for the end of capitalism since its creation in 1919, but since when did it become its ardent defender? Both claims of the ILO, situated in proper context, are absolutely ridiculous, and the organization should be ashamed of its contributions to reactionary politics.
Labor conditions in Venezuela have improved, if only marginally, in the last 10 years. According to CEPAL-ECLAC's 2006 Statistical Yearbook, the unemployment rate has gone from among the higher half in the region in 1990 and 1995 to the lower half of the region in 2005 - this taking into consideration the brutal opposition-organized strikes in 2003. Female urban labor participation rate has made some of the biggest gains in the region, rising from 37.5% in 1990 to 51.7% in 2005, and the gender wage ratio, charting the average pay of women in relation to men, is the best in Latin America, rising from 80.4% in 1990 to 99.7% in 2005 . Enrollment in primary education - necessary to ensure bright futures for workers - has gone from 82.1% in 1995 to 92.0% in 2004, and gains in second and third level education enrollment have been even larger. On the business side, gross capital formation has made steady gains from $18 billion (in current market prices) in 1995, to $30.3 billion in 2005, with comparable gains for gross fixed capital formation. Related statistics show similar gains for domestic industry. (CEPAL statistics are available here). Labor conditions in improving in Venezuela, if only marginally right now, and clearly, so are the prospects for capital.
Meanwhile the situation in Colombia is much more dire. No fewer than 26 unionists, including 5 union leaders, have been killed in Colombia this year. Since 1986, Colombia's Escuala Nacional Sindical has recorded over 2500 murders of unionists. Thus, the 2007 numbers are down from the 21-year average of 119, but this is hardly the cause for a pat on the back. Most union members in Colombia are assassinated by right-wing paramilitaries, and given Uribe's close ties with these groups, as is slowly coming out now, justice will not be served until he is out of office, and these murderers are thoroughly prosecuted for their crimes instead of being offered amnesty. (Colombia statistics available here).
Capital has its advocates in the form of the WTO, World Bank, IMF, OECD, a whole host of agencies within the UN, and of course, most national governments around the world. The ILO should stick to its mandate by promoting the interests of "working people", not "owning people", and certainly needs to consider context when praising a country which has one of the highest rates of labor-related murders in the world. Either the quality of ILO's scholarship and research should be called into question, or they have become traitors to those they swore to defend. Neither would surprise me.
Labor conditions in Venezuela have improved, if only marginally, in the last 10 years. According to CEPAL-ECLAC's 2006 Statistical Yearbook, the unemployment rate has gone from among the higher half in the region in 1990 and 1995 to the lower half of the region in 2005 - this taking into consideration the brutal opposition-organized strikes in 2003. Female urban labor participation rate has made some of the biggest gains in the region, rising from 37.5% in 1990 to 51.7% in 2005, and the gender wage ratio, charting the average pay of women in relation to men, is the best in Latin America, rising from 80.4% in 1990 to 99.7% in 2005 . Enrollment in primary education - necessary to ensure bright futures for workers - has gone from 82.1% in 1995 to 92.0% in 2004, and gains in second and third level education enrollment have been even larger. On the business side, gross capital formation has made steady gains from $18 billion (in current market prices) in 1995, to $30.3 billion in 2005, with comparable gains for gross fixed capital formation. Related statistics show similar gains for domestic industry. (CEPAL statistics are available here). Labor conditions in improving in Venezuela, if only marginally right now, and clearly, so are the prospects for capital.
Meanwhile the situation in Colombia is much more dire. No fewer than 26 unionists, including 5 union leaders, have been killed in Colombia this year. Since 1986, Colombia's Escuala Nacional Sindical has recorded over 2500 murders of unionists. Thus, the 2007 numbers are down from the 21-year average of 119, but this is hardly the cause for a pat on the back. Most union members in Colombia are assassinated by right-wing paramilitaries, and given Uribe's close ties with these groups, as is slowly coming out now, justice will not be served until he is out of office, and these murderers are thoroughly prosecuted for their crimes instead of being offered amnesty. (Colombia statistics available here).
Capital has its advocates in the form of the WTO, World Bank, IMF, OECD, a whole host of agencies within the UN, and of course, most national governments around the world. The ILO should stick to its mandate by promoting the interests of "working people", not "owning people", and certainly needs to consider context when praising a country which has one of the highest rates of labor-related murders in the world. Either the quality of ILO's scholarship and research should be called into question, or they have become traitors to those they swore to defend. Neither would surprise me.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
A Little Brie on Saturday Night
I received some free tickets to see Bon Jovi last night in Ottawa, and despite the rearview seating, I must say it was a great concert. I'm not particularly a fan of the group, though I absolutely love the Young Guns II soundtrack, and am sympathetic to their glam rock roots. The little I have heard of their recent albums before last night I can say I actively disliked. But anyone who appreciates top-notch musicians and performers, regardless of musical allegiances, would have been pleasantly surprised by Saturday's concert.
The first few songs, even the classic You Give Love a Bad Name, were full of cheese - brie to be exact. But a few beers helped break down the socially-derived inhibitions that make everyone crack a wry smile when they hear the name "Jon Bon Jovi". Quickly, I couldn't help but realize how impressive - in terms of effort, band tightness, technical talent, catchiness, and performance value - the band was. They kept the entire stadium cheering and singing until the very end.
The band spit out song after song, with no break or unnecessary banter for almost 3 hours. A few hilarious fillers, such as the 'time warp' intro to Runaway worked more to put a smile on the faces of the undedicated than to prompt ridicule or disdain. Highlights of the show were Ritchie Sambora singing These Days, and phenomenal versions of I'll Be There, Keep the Faith, Wanted Dead or Alive, and Livin' On a Prayer. Throughout, the band performed at the highest level, far outdoing most bands I have seen. Considering that this show is 25 years into their career, in a time when most of the "classics" are in decline, the effort was all the more impressive.
Say what you want about the flavor of cheese that Bon Jovi exudes, in terms of performance value, there are few concerts that could have been better. The full setlist from the show is available on Bon Jovi's website.
The first few songs, even the classic You Give Love a Bad Name, were full of cheese - brie to be exact. But a few beers helped break down the socially-derived inhibitions that make everyone crack a wry smile when they hear the name "Jon Bon Jovi". Quickly, I couldn't help but realize how impressive - in terms of effort, band tightness, technical talent, catchiness, and performance value - the band was. They kept the entire stadium cheering and singing until the very end.
The band spit out song after song, with no break or unnecessary banter for almost 3 hours. A few hilarious fillers, such as the 'time warp' intro to Runaway worked more to put a smile on the faces of the undedicated than to prompt ridicule or disdain. Highlights of the show were Ritchie Sambora singing These Days, and phenomenal versions of I'll Be There, Keep the Faith, Wanted Dead or Alive, and Livin' On a Prayer. Throughout, the band performed at the highest level, far outdoing most bands I have seen. Considering that this show is 25 years into their career, in a time when most of the "classics" are in decline, the effort was all the more impressive.
Say what you want about the flavor of cheese that Bon Jovi exudes, in terms of performance value, there are few concerts that could have been better. The full setlist from the show is available on Bon Jovi's website.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Call It What It Is...
Canada's RCMP is embroiled in yet another scandal this week after the unprovoked "death" of a Polish traveller by taser. Robert Dziekanski had arrived in Vancouver after his very first flight with instructions to wait in the baggage claim area for his mother to pick him up. Unfortunately, she was unable to gain access to this area and her repeated attempts to make contact with her son fell on deaf ears. After some waiting, she was told by airport staff that her son never arrived and that she should go home (obviously they never bothered to check the passenger list). Nearly 10 hours after his arrival, unable to communicate with anyone around him, Robert became aggravated and began throwing objects around - though as eye witnesses described, not in a threatening or violent fashion. Though bystanders repeatedly insisted that Robert spoke no English and that a translator was required, airport security called the RCMP, who, without even assessing the situation, decided on tasering Robert. They then cornered him, tasered him twice with 50,000 volts, and proceeded to pin his throat down with their knees until he lost consciousness. This incident was captured on video and is available for viewing here.
Although no one in the media, to my knowledge, has come out and said it, we should call this incident what it truly is: murder. These officers willfully disregarded the life of this innocent man by rushing to taser him before even assessing the situation. At the very least this is clearly a case of involuntary manslaughter and should be tried as such, as a spokesperson for the Polish Foreign Ministry has suggested. When RCMP officers are murdered in the line of duty, we give them all the sympathy that they and their families deserve (and more). When they do the same to others in society - a society where every life is supposed to be equal to another - they are defended, or cautiously criticized.
Police brutality has a long history in Canada, most of which has gone unpunished. When individuals with the sanction of the state get away with murder, as happens all too often in Canada, we should be seriously worried. With clear evidence of this, in such a callous and despicable form, we should demand that justice be served on behalf of Robert's family, and our society.
Although no one in the media, to my knowledge, has come out and said it, we should call this incident what it truly is: murder. These officers willfully disregarded the life of this innocent man by rushing to taser him before even assessing the situation. At the very least this is clearly a case of involuntary manslaughter and should be tried as such, as a spokesperson for the Polish Foreign Ministry has suggested. When RCMP officers are murdered in the line of duty, we give them all the sympathy that they and their families deserve (and more). When they do the same to others in society - a society where every life is supposed to be equal to another - they are defended, or cautiously criticized.
Police brutality has a long history in Canada, most of which has gone unpunished. When individuals with the sanction of the state get away with murder, as happens all too often in Canada, we should be seriously worried. With clear evidence of this, in such a callous and despicable form, we should demand that justice be served on behalf of Robert's family, and our society.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Symphony and Sense Redux
I've been informed by a friend of a related question asked by Carrie Brownstein. Personally, my "line in the sand" is quite similar to Carrie's. I'm interested in a musical performance, not a dramatic spectacle with a soundtrack. Other elements that bother me are an avowed apoliticism claimed by the band, reactionary politics interspersed into lyrics, and to a lesser extent, a lack of complexity and originality in the work (i.e.: three chord songs in the key of G with some 'fresh' lyrics).
Democracy and the Rule of Law: Reflections on Gerald Frug
Listening to Gerald Frug talk about the concept of rule of law in relation to cities reminded me just how manipulative elites can be. Frug, a distinguished Harvard law professor, is concerned with the deconstruction of the idea of the rule of law as it is popularly understood and disseminated by politicians, businesspeople, and "think" tanks. As Frug points out, this usually is a particular model of market regulation focusing on improving the ability for individuals and groups to engage in capital accumulation. Hernando de Soto has argued in The Mystery of Capital that this, more than any other reason, is why the "third world" is still mired in poverty. In contrast to this notion of rule of law, Frug argues that its importance is in "restraining the excercise of arbitrary power".
This concept seems quite fair, but what exactly might we constitute as "arbitrary"? Fundamentally, Frug points out that arbitrary power is any decision-making authority that is not democratically excercised. This too warrants a definition: for Frug, "democracy is a lived experience" empowering people with greater control over their lives, rather than a simple electoral formula or representativeness in a legislature. Thus, Frug's ideal-type 'rule of law' is one that ensures that everyone's voice is involved in decision-making processes. As potential sources of arbitrary power, Frug cites governments, elite experts and professionals, and relevant to his city theme, neighborhood groups.
Beyond a dichotomous assertion of individuality implicit in Frug's understanding of rule of law, he hints at an essential point: if the legal system is founded, as in any representative democracy, on the arbitrary decisions of an elite minority (via the legislature and judiciary), then just how "legal" is it? Frug looks to the communal norms, customs, and checks on power in shantytowns around the world - in short the 'informal' segments of society - and determines that these arrangements are legal in their own right. The imposition of a formal legal system, especially when it is imported from afar via the WB and other development agencies, is clearly an excercise of arbitrary power that infringes on the legal structures of these state-autonomous regions. Now, the legal system of these informal shantytowns may be highly corrupt, immensely hierarchical, patriarchal, and brutally repressive - but then again, looking back on its historical development, so is our own.
Frug instead insists upon a notion of the rule of law that is flexible, situational and context dependent - one that is dynamic, not relatively static, and one that protects the "weak" from the "strong" instead of institutionalizing the power of the latter. Though he discusses this concept with reference to urban localities, he emphasizes that these local structures must not simply form an addition to the formal [national + subnational] legal structure, but radically transform it.
Elites who have a considerable stake in the particular idea of rule of law that is currently being disseminated (read: the formal liberal-capitalist legal structure) seek only to totalize its presence over society. This expansion, while often cloaked in the language of freedom and democracy, is clearly anti-democratic in the sense that it only empowers a small minority. But it is also opposed to the Frugian spirit of the "rule of law", in the sense that it seeks to bolster the hegemony of arbitrary power. This oligarchical format runs the risk of degenerating to blatant totalitarianism, as even if the content of the laws remain fairly liberal in nature, the structure of the legal system will not. Even Friedrich von Hayek warned us against this in The Road to Serfdom!
The rule of law is a welcome ideal that we must always strive for, if it is employed in the Frugian sense. But we should be intensely critical of this concept at all turns. If the bourgeois, questioning absolutism, asked "Whose rule should we submit to?", deciding among themselves on themselves via nascent "democracy", we the masses should ask the same question. Whose laws do we follow, even if we agree with many of them? Who determines which laws are right and just and which are not? Thinking about these questions for only a little while should reveal a radical disconnect between our "rule of law" and democracy.
This concept seems quite fair, but what exactly might we constitute as "arbitrary"? Fundamentally, Frug points out that arbitrary power is any decision-making authority that is not democratically excercised. This too warrants a definition: for Frug, "democracy is a lived experience" empowering people with greater control over their lives, rather than a simple electoral formula or representativeness in a legislature. Thus, Frug's ideal-type 'rule of law' is one that ensures that everyone's voice is involved in decision-making processes. As potential sources of arbitrary power, Frug cites governments, elite experts and professionals, and relevant to his city theme, neighborhood groups.
Beyond a dichotomous assertion of individuality implicit in Frug's understanding of rule of law, he hints at an essential point: if the legal system is founded, as in any representative democracy, on the arbitrary decisions of an elite minority (via the legislature and judiciary), then just how "legal" is it? Frug looks to the communal norms, customs, and checks on power in shantytowns around the world - in short the 'informal' segments of society - and determines that these arrangements are legal in their own right. The imposition of a formal legal system, especially when it is imported from afar via the WB and other development agencies, is clearly an excercise of arbitrary power that infringes on the legal structures of these state-autonomous regions. Now, the legal system of these informal shantytowns may be highly corrupt, immensely hierarchical, patriarchal, and brutally repressive - but then again, looking back on its historical development, so is our own.
Frug instead insists upon a notion of the rule of law that is flexible, situational and context dependent - one that is dynamic, not relatively static, and one that protects the "weak" from the "strong" instead of institutionalizing the power of the latter. Though he discusses this concept with reference to urban localities, he emphasizes that these local structures must not simply form an addition to the formal [national + subnational] legal structure, but radically transform it.
Elites who have a considerable stake in the particular idea of rule of law that is currently being disseminated (read: the formal liberal-capitalist legal structure) seek only to totalize its presence over society. This expansion, while often cloaked in the language of freedom and democracy, is clearly anti-democratic in the sense that it only empowers a small minority. But it is also opposed to the Frugian spirit of the "rule of law", in the sense that it seeks to bolster the hegemony of arbitrary power. This oligarchical format runs the risk of degenerating to blatant totalitarianism, as even if the content of the laws remain fairly liberal in nature, the structure of the legal system will not. Even Friedrich von Hayek warned us against this in The Road to Serfdom!
The rule of law is a welcome ideal that we must always strive for, if it is employed in the Frugian sense. But we should be intensely critical of this concept at all turns. If the bourgeois, questioning absolutism, asked "Whose rule should we submit to?", deciding among themselves on themselves via nascent "democracy", we the masses should ask the same question. Whose laws do we follow, even if we agree with many of them? Who determines which laws are right and just and which are not? Thinking about these questions for only a little while should reveal a radical disconnect between our "rule of law" and democracy.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Review: The Politics and Aesthetics of The Middle Passage
Good, politically charged films are hard to come by in a world of Hollywood tripe and aesthetic pandering. I recently watched the English version (2003) of Guy Deslauriers' film Passage du Milieu as part of a teaching assignment, and was pleasantly shocked that the spirit is alive and well, if only in somewhat marginalized indie films. The Middle Passage is a brutal indictment of the slave trade and colonialism, while explicitly making the link between the past and present experiences of those of African descent. It combines creative cinematographic techniques, various symbols of West African religion, and a clear and concise political message that is powerful, if not especially visually pleasing.
The Middle Passage tells the story of the experiences of the millions of people (250 million according to Deslauriers!) who were enslaved by West African kingdoms (such as Dahomey), sold to Europeans, and forced over the Atlantic ocean to work in the Americas, through the narrative of a murdered slave who still "haunts" the passage. It is a slow, symbolic, movie that aims for effect via the recurrent imagery of waves lapping against the hull of the boat, rats in the slave hold, and the festering wounds of slaves. The director uses an off-focus lens to blur many scenes, and often frames shots of the French slavers in a very depersonalized way, which works to establish the intersection of history (docu-) and memory (drama). The narrative simultaneously, and somewhat contradictorily, emphasizes the diversity of the African captives while seeking to construct a common continental identity among them by referencing a multitude of religious icons and shared social institutions.
While Deslauriers makes a good effort at this, the artistic aspects of the movie comes across as kind of bland, overdone, and even boring towards the end. The emotional response that he is trying to foster somehow didn't materialize for me - possibly due to the cerebral nature of the script. But the real strength of the movie is not its cinematography, but in the political message it advocates. The contradictory message of diverse "Africans" is laid bare in the final minutes when the narrator states that the middle passage was "a kind of vaccination" for the horrors of slavery to come, and that it created a "new race" of people. Although the temporal reference in the movie is deliberately unclear, The Middle Passage seems to be alluding to the notion of the creation of "race" beginning in the 1500s. References throughout the film suggest that it was the brutality of the Europeans that created a shared understanding of the "African", which obviously did not exist in an era of relatively isolated villages and kingdoms. This is powerful because it links the political claims of those of descendants of slaves in the present wholly to the atrocities of, and interaction with, the Europeans. In other words, the racialized identities of both Europeans and Africans are dependent on the longstanding historical relationship between these two broad groups, and thus any solutions dealing with present problems necessarily require the recognition of this historical interrelationship.
And this is precisely what Deslauriers unequivocally emphasizes. The narrator reminds the audience that it is not the descendants of those that suffered the horrors of the Middle Passage and beyond, or those who suffered under the ineptitude and greed of corrupt African "princes" that should be blamed for their current plight. Rather, blame should be placed on those who gained from this cruel institution and system of relations - and their descended beneficiaries. The institution of slavery is still with us, embedded in our postcolonial societies. If it is not prevalent in overt practice (though existent), it can still be seen in the inequality, discrimination, cultural denigration and remnants of a genocidal past that still flaunts itself in all of our faces. Deslauriers calls for - quite simply - a meaningful dialogue that actually seeks to address the past, rather than those noncommittal people who hope that the kinks will iron themselves out as time transforms memories into forgetfulness. He is much more critical of those who know, and yet actively seek to silence those memories. Ignorance is complicity, and to be complicit is to actively pick up the muskets and whips that European slavers and African kings wielded against so many human beings.
The Middle Passage is a refreshing political manifesto seeking to bridge historical memory with our present political praxis, and I argue that it does so quite effectively. However, this is likely to be lost on the very people that Deslauriers is trying to reach most, due in large part to the cerebral nature of the script and abstract imagery and symbolism. Moreover, from a purely aesthetic point of view, although the film flirts with genius, in the end it delivers a product somewhere between cliche and monotony. Unfortunately, I fear, the effect of the urgent political message greatly diminishes as a result of these failures. The general lack of interest in the film, though it it is available in both English and French, likely confirms my fears.
The Middle Passage tells the story of the experiences of the millions of people (250 million according to Deslauriers!) who were enslaved by West African kingdoms (such as Dahomey), sold to Europeans, and forced over the Atlantic ocean to work in the Americas, through the narrative of a murdered slave who still "haunts" the passage. It is a slow, symbolic, movie that aims for effect via the recurrent imagery of waves lapping against the hull of the boat, rats in the slave hold, and the festering wounds of slaves. The director uses an off-focus lens to blur many scenes, and often frames shots of the French slavers in a very depersonalized way, which works to establish the intersection of history (docu-) and memory (drama). The narrative simultaneously, and somewhat contradictorily, emphasizes the diversity of the African captives while seeking to construct a common continental identity among them by referencing a multitude of religious icons and shared social institutions.
While Deslauriers makes a good effort at this, the artistic aspects of the movie comes across as kind of bland, overdone, and even boring towards the end. The emotional response that he is trying to foster somehow didn't materialize for me - possibly due to the cerebral nature of the script. But the real strength of the movie is not its cinematography, but in the political message it advocates. The contradictory message of diverse "Africans" is laid bare in the final minutes when the narrator states that the middle passage was "a kind of vaccination" for the horrors of slavery to come, and that it created a "new race" of people. Although the temporal reference in the movie is deliberately unclear, The Middle Passage seems to be alluding to the notion of the creation of "race" beginning in the 1500s. References throughout the film suggest that it was the brutality of the Europeans that created a shared understanding of the "African", which obviously did not exist in an era of relatively isolated villages and kingdoms. This is powerful because it links the political claims of those of descendants of slaves in the present wholly to the atrocities of, and interaction with, the Europeans. In other words, the racialized identities of both Europeans and Africans are dependent on the longstanding historical relationship between these two broad groups, and thus any solutions dealing with present problems necessarily require the recognition of this historical interrelationship.
And this is precisely what Deslauriers unequivocally emphasizes. The narrator reminds the audience that it is not the descendants of those that suffered the horrors of the Middle Passage and beyond, or those who suffered under the ineptitude and greed of corrupt African "princes" that should be blamed for their current plight. Rather, blame should be placed on those who gained from this cruel institution and system of relations - and their descended beneficiaries. The institution of slavery is still with us, embedded in our postcolonial societies. If it is not prevalent in overt practice (though existent), it can still be seen in the inequality, discrimination, cultural denigration and remnants of a genocidal past that still flaunts itself in all of our faces. Deslauriers calls for - quite simply - a meaningful dialogue that actually seeks to address the past, rather than those noncommittal people who hope that the kinks will iron themselves out as time transforms memories into forgetfulness. He is much more critical of those who know, and yet actively seek to silence those memories. Ignorance is complicity, and to be complicit is to actively pick up the muskets and whips that European slavers and African kings wielded against so many human beings.
The Middle Passage is a refreshing political manifesto seeking to bridge historical memory with our present political praxis, and I argue that it does so quite effectively. However, this is likely to be lost on the very people that Deslauriers is trying to reach most, due in large part to the cerebral nature of the script and abstract imagery and symbolism. Moreover, from a purely aesthetic point of view, although the film flirts with genius, in the end it delivers a product somewhere between cliche and monotony. Unfortunately, I fear, the effect of the urgent political message greatly diminishes as a result of these failures. The general lack of interest in the film, though it it is available in both English and French, likely confirms my fears.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Symphony and Sense
Who doesn't like good music? Although I've met people who are decidedly (and self-describingly) "anti-music" in my life, most people I talk to are passionate about some form of music or other. I spent this morning indulging in song after song of my "favorite" music: metal. But instead of talking all about metal (though that will come shortly on another site), I would rather ruminate incoherently on the personal experiences that we have with music more generally.
Music, like all cultural productions, evokes an emotional response in the listener that depends on a whole host of factors. Contemporary researchers (such as Bourdieu) have focused on the socioeconomic influence on musical taste, but this is hardly the whole story. Certainly, common cultural bonds rooted in geography, 'race', and class play an important role. But alone, this analysis obscures the deeper connections that some people make with music: that is, the meaning that it has in the constitution of people's personal identities.
It is difficult, and dangerous, to separate personal from social identity - the two are as deeply interconnected as structure and agency. However, in our current technological era, with the ability for most people to independently engage with music, what motivates people to listen to what they listen to? Now, Bourdieu's concept of 'habitus' can take us some of the way in explaining this. For many, private musical consumption mirrors public consumption, easily explained by their internalization of the relevant and appropriate cultural norms for musical taste. But what about others who seemingly straddle typical 'determining factors' for musical preference such as socioeconomic status, geography, and historical time period? What about the poor black Georgian who is piqued by Nordic Viking Metal, despite having no prior contact to the subculture? There is something intimate and highly subjective about musical affinity at its point of first contact that cannot be wholly explained with reference to 'objective' social structures, as they are elucidated by Bourdieu.
I can remember well over a decade ago listening to Astrud Gilberto and Stan Getz's version of Girl from Ipanema, having had no real prior exposure to anything Brazilian (though I did have a longstanding interest in Venezuela) and immediately feeling an unexplainable rush. "World music" was not a particularly popular genre at the time, Brazil had not then gained the international stature that it has now, and this was long before the advent of internet music (aside from MIDI). Prior to this experience, my interests were in popular alternative music and classic rock, hardly in sync with the off-time of bossa nova. How might I explain this sudden connection with a brand new musical style?
I don't think we should abandon the concept of habitus in explaining musical taste, nor am I arguing for a wholly, or even mostly, subjective relationship between an individual and their musical experience. Clearly, it would be false to presuppose such an autonomous relationship when both individual and music only emerge from within social and cultural contexts. But equally as clearly, there are ambiguous, contradictory, and counter-intuitive cultural currents that must be built into any concept of habitus. Any notion of habitus has to take into account what is at the depths of culture, not just at its surface. But to make a short foray in this direction, let me ask a question. Can you provide an anecdote of a particular musical taste you have come to like personally that does not match your 'objective' social background? Why is it that you like that music, and what made you engage with it in the first place?
Music, like all cultural productions, evokes an emotional response in the listener that depends on a whole host of factors. Contemporary researchers (such as Bourdieu) have focused on the socioeconomic influence on musical taste, but this is hardly the whole story. Certainly, common cultural bonds rooted in geography, 'race', and class play an important role. But alone, this analysis obscures the deeper connections that some people make with music: that is, the meaning that it has in the constitution of people's personal identities.
It is difficult, and dangerous, to separate personal from social identity - the two are as deeply interconnected as structure and agency. However, in our current technological era, with the ability for most people to independently engage with music, what motivates people to listen to what they listen to? Now, Bourdieu's concept of 'habitus' can take us some of the way in explaining this. For many, private musical consumption mirrors public consumption, easily explained by their internalization of the relevant and appropriate cultural norms for musical taste. But what about others who seemingly straddle typical 'determining factors' for musical preference such as socioeconomic status, geography, and historical time period? What about the poor black Georgian who is piqued by Nordic Viking Metal, despite having no prior contact to the subculture? There is something intimate and highly subjective about musical affinity at its point of first contact that cannot be wholly explained with reference to 'objective' social structures, as they are elucidated by Bourdieu.
I can remember well over a decade ago listening to Astrud Gilberto and Stan Getz's version of Girl from Ipanema, having had no real prior exposure to anything Brazilian (though I did have a longstanding interest in Venezuela) and immediately feeling an unexplainable rush. "World music" was not a particularly popular genre at the time, Brazil had not then gained the international stature that it has now, and this was long before the advent of internet music (aside from MIDI). Prior to this experience, my interests were in popular alternative music and classic rock, hardly in sync with the off-time of bossa nova. How might I explain this sudden connection with a brand new musical style?
I don't think we should abandon the concept of habitus in explaining musical taste, nor am I arguing for a wholly, or even mostly, subjective relationship between an individual and their musical experience. Clearly, it would be false to presuppose such an autonomous relationship when both individual and music only emerge from within social and cultural contexts. But equally as clearly, there are ambiguous, contradictory, and counter-intuitive cultural currents that must be built into any concept of habitus. Any notion of habitus has to take into account what is at the depths of culture, not just at its surface. But to make a short foray in this direction, let me ask a question. Can you provide an anecdote of a particular musical taste you have come to like personally that does not match your 'objective' social background? Why is it that you like that music, and what made you engage with it in the first place?
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