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Archive for the ‘Books’ Category
Steve Bannon is President Trump’s most trusted adviser. He is the second most powerful person in the Trump administration.
He is guided by a dangerously wrong philosophy.
He thinks that Judeo-Christian civilization is at war with the Moslem world abroad, and with secularists and Muslims at home.
He expects a shooting war with China and as well as a shooting war in the Middle East.
He sees himself as part of a global nationalist movement that includes the United Kingdom Independence Party, the National Front in France and similar movements across Europe.
Trump owes him. He and Jared Kushner, through their skilled use of data mining and social media, are responsible for Trump’s victory in the 2016 Election.
His idea that Americans are engaged in both a civil war and a global war could become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Steve Bannon, born in 1953, has had a varied career as U.S. Naval officer, mergers and acquisitions specialist for Goldman Sachs, and executive producer in Hollywood. He has degrees from Virginia Tech, Georgetown University and Harvard University.
He was a little-known but influential figure even before he joined the Trump campaign. Among his films are documentaries on Ronald Reagan, Michelle Bachman and Sarah Palin and an expose of Occupy Wall Street. He was on the board of directors of Breitbart News and became executive chair when founder Andrew Breitbart died in 2012. Another Bannon organization sponsored opposition research on Hillary Clinton which resulted in the book, Clinton Cash, and many articles in mainstream newspapers about the Clintons’ conflicts of interest.
QUO VADIS by Henryk Sienkiewicz (1896) tells a story of the coming of Christianity to Rome in the time of Nero. It depicts the discontinuity between Christianity and the Greco-Roman pagan world, and what happens when people actually live by the Sermon on the Mount.
This would be a revolutionary moral change today. It was an even more revolutionary change then.
Unlike in Christianity, worship of the Greco-Roman gods had nothing to do with morality nor with hope and heaven. The pagan gods were regarded as powerful supernatural beings who had to be appeased with worship and animal sacrifice for the sake of one’s family or one’s city or nation, but who otherwise did not care about you.
Many of the Roman upper classes had come to believe that religion was a useful superstition for keeping the common people contented.
This had nothing to do with leading a virtuous life, which was the province of philosophy, and only a select few were followers of philosophy.
Christianity represented a moral revolution. St. Paul, St. Peter and the Christians depicted in this novel practiced universal love, unconditional forgiveness and the sharing of all wealth and property—something unprecedented in any mass movement.
The Christian missionaries taught that in the Kingdom of God, there was no distinction between rich and poor, free and slave, man and woman or Roman, Greek or Jew. They created communities whereby poor people could band together and provide for their own needs, independently of the oppressive and indifferent Roman state. The collision of the pagan and Christian view of life is the subject of this novel.
One of the things I’ve come to realize is the central importance of African slavery not only in the history of the United States, but of the whole New World and the British, French, Spanish and Portuguese empires.
My understanding has been greatly helped by the historian David Brion Davis. He wrote about slavery as a moral issue—how it was justified in the first place, and how the Western world came to turn against it.
I’ve read his principal books—The Problem of Slavery in Western Culture (1966), The Problem of Slavery in the Age of Revolution (1975), Slavery and Human Progress (1984), Inhuman Bondage: the Rise and Fall of Slavery in the New World (2006) and his latest book, which I finished reading last week, The Problem of Slavery in The Age of Emancipation (2014).
Slavery is a problem because in Western culture because of the heritage of the Greeks and Romans, who regarded freedom as necessary to human dignity, and because of the Christian religion, which taught that all human beings are equally children of God.
In the ancient Mediterranean world, there were two kinds of slaves—debt slaves and war captives. Selling yourself or your children into slavery was the ultimate form of bankruptcy, and it exists in the world today. I read somewhere that the world’s largest concentration of slaves are debt slaves in India.
Ancient armies did not have facilities for keeping prisoners of war. Their choices for dealing with defeated enemies were to kill them (or at least kill all the adult males) or to enslave them.
When the Atlantic slave trade began, the rationalization was that the African slaves had been defeated in war in their own homelands and already forfeited their lives.
The first white opponents of Western slavery were the Quakers and other peace churches. Since war was anti-Christian, the Quakers believed, then slavery, as the fruit of war, also was wrong.
Quakers were leaders of the anti-slavery movement in both Great Britain and the United States; many and maybe most white members of the Underground Railroad were Quakers.
Another strain of opposition to slavery came from the rationalistic thinkers of the 18th century, who opposed hereditary privilege and believed that government should should be based on recognition of human rights.
They were not as wholehearted as the Quakers. Slaveowners such as Thomas Jefferson admitted that slavery was in theory a great evil, but insisted that the times and conditions for emancipation weren’t right.
The invention of so-called scientific racism was in part a response to qualms of people like Jefferson. If black Africans are not as human as white Europeans, then slavery does not have to be justified. There is no reason not to treat enslaved people as if they were livestock.
This argument did not touch the Quakers and other religious opponents of slavery because they opposed slavery on moral grounds, not scientific grounds.
Black people, both free and enslaved, meanwhile fought for their own liberation, in slave uprisings and in appeals to white people for the abolition of slavery. Without their struggle, the majority of white people might have been able to ignore the moral issue indefinitely.
I read Charles Dickens’ Bleak House as part of a novel-reading group hosted by my friend Linda White. We read it after reading the six novels in Anthony Trollope’s Barsetshire series and the six in his Palliser series.
Trollope was a good storyteller. I got a lot of pleasure out of reading his novels. But reading Dickens after reading Trollope gives me an added appreciation of the greatness of Dickens.
Both Dickens and Trollope created memorable and believable characters, whom we talked about as if they were real people.
Trollope’s characters were like people I know, if the people I knew had grown up in Victorian England. The women in the reading group said Trollope was remarkable for knowing how women talked among themselves when there were no men around.
A few of the Trollope characters were completely villainous, but were mixtures of good and bad, and Trollope regarded them with amused tolerance.
Dickens’ characters were much more extreme—the good ones were much better, the bad ones were much worse, the eccentric ones were much more strange, but they all were memorable and believable.
Both Trollope and Dickens were keen social observers. Trollope was a keen observer of the middle and upper classes. In fact, one of his protagonists was a Prime Minister. But he treated the lower class as comic characters.
Dickens did not reach so high in his observations, but described the lives of the poor as sympathetically as the lives of the middle class.
He depicted characters on every level of society, from aristocrats to paupers in the slums, some caring and responsible, some hypocritical and self-deceiving and some cunning, manipulative and cruel.
He thought that no matter who you were, your moral choices made a difference, and he accordingly was much more judgmental than Trollope.
I read THE FREE STATE OF JONES: Mississippi’s Longest Civil War by Victoria Bynum after seeing the movie, “The Free State of Jones,” which I liked, in order to see how much of the movie is based on fact.
The movie dramatized the true story of Newton Knight, a white Mississippi farmer led a guerrilla revolt against the Confederacy during the Civil War, and was never captured or defeated.
He took his grandfather’s slave as a lover and became the patriarch of an interracial community which continued to exist down tinto the middle of the 20th century.
Victoria Bynum’s book begins with the origins of the families who fought in the Knight Company. In colonial times, they lived in the backwoods of the Carolinas, and opposed rich plantation owners in the political struggles of those times.
Racial lines were not drawn so strictly in those days as later, and some sons of poor white indentured servants felt they had more in common with black slaves than with slave owners..
During the American Revolution, many wealthy planters such as George Washington and Thomas Jefferson were rebels, and many poor backwoodsmen were Tories.
After the Revolution, many backwoodsmen migrated into the lawless frontier region that later became the states of Alabama and Mississippi. They endured great danger, hardship and isolation, particularly the women, but rejoiced in being their own masters.
Slaveowners adopted, taught and enforced a rigid ideology of racism. to a degree previously unknown, Bynum wrote.
Anybody with “one drop” of Negro “blood” was considered black. White men had a duty to preserve the chastity of white women, lest white “blood” be contaminated. This was supported by a religious practice that condemned dancing, alcohol and sensuality.
No doubt the slaveowners sincerely believed in these things, but they served a function of keeping the black slaves isolated and preventing them from joining forces with whites.
But, according to Bynum, not all white people followed the accepted code. Some enjoyed feasting, dancing and drinking, sometimes among black companions. Some preferred charismatic, revival meetings, sometimes led by women, to the stricter and more authoritarian religion. There were those who became lovers across the color line.
This is part of a chapter-by-chapter review of THE ECOLOGY OF FREEDOM: The emergence and dissolution of hierarchy by Murray Bookchin (1982, 1991, 2005).
chapter nine – two images of technology.
In this chapter, Murray Bookchin examined the current disillusionment with the idea of technological progress. This is something fairly new, he noted. In the early 20th century, even radicals such as Woody Guthrie celebrated giant engineering feats such as Boulder Dam and the Tennessee Valley Authority.
There is a big difference, he wrote, between the ancient ideal of the good life and the modern ideal of the abundant life.
Ancient Greek philosophers such as Aristotle believed that the good life was an ethical and balanced life lived within limits and within community. A skilled craftsman, according to Aristotle, had understood well not only how to do his work, but the reason and purpose for his work.
Modern industrial production is the opposite. It defines efficiency in terms of quantity and cost. Workers are not required to understand their work, only to follow instructions. “Living well” is defined as consumption and material comfort apart from work. Industrial workers, unlike laborers in preceding ages, do not sing work songs.
Bookchin said the modern industrial system is not a result of technology. It is a result of peasants being uprooted from the land and their communities, and having no choice but to work for merchants and capitalists. Originally this was done by piecework in the home, but “factors” insisted in assembling workers in common workplaces so that they could be better controlled.
Industrial technology developed to fit the already-existing factory system, Bookchin said. Mindless labor is not a product of mechanization, he wrote; it is part of a process of subordination and control.
Srinivasa Ramanujan Iyengar was a poor Hindu with only a basic mathematical education who, as a young man, made important mathematical discoveries. He impressed the great British mathematicial, G.H. Hardy, who invited him to join him at Cambridge University in England, where the two had a brilliant and fruitful collaboration, cut short when Ramanujan died young.
I read Robert Kanigel’s The Man Who Knew Infinity: A Life of the Genius Ramanujan after seeing the movie based on the book. The movie does justice to the spirit of the book and mostly conforms to fact, but cannot duplicate Kanigel’s richness of detail.
Both the movie and the book gave me food for thought on the nature and sources of genius. I once thought of mathematical discovery as a logical, step-by-step process, but I now realize it depends as much on inspiration as anything else.
Some of Ramanujan’s theorems came to him in dreams, sometimes on scrolls held by Hindu gods.
Since I do not believe in the Hindu gods myself, how do I explain the fact that Ramanujan’s visions of the gods have him true mathematical theorems and also good advice on major life decisions.
I have to believe that his visions were manifestations of his subconscious mind. Brain scientists tell us that most cognitive activity takes place below the level of consciousness. I believe that most inspiration and creative thought arises from subconscious sources, and that the conscious mind performs an executive function—deciding which intuitions have a basis in reality.
I recently finished reading MIND & COSMOS: Why the Neo-Darwinist Conception of Nature Is Almost Certainly Wrong by Thomas Nagel. If I only read or thought about politics, I’d go crazy.
The book reminds me of a saying of the late, great H.L. Mencken, who once wrote that when you try to combine science and religion, you wind up with something that isn’t really scientific and isn’t really religious.
While Charles Darwin’s theory of natural selection explains the origin of species, including the human species, Thomas Nagel pointed out that it does not explain the origin of life, consciousness, human reason or morality.
He hopes for a new theory that will not only explain all these things, but give them meaning. He is not a religious believer, and he looking for things in science that are to be found in art, literature and religious and spiritual practice.
His basic argument is the improbability and implausibility that human life as we know it could ever arise from the blind working of physical and chemical laws.
The problem with the argument from improbability is that in an infinite, or near-infinite, universe, anything that is possible, however improbable, will happen not once, but many times.
And the problem with the argument from implausibility is that most modern people already accept scientific conclusions that are highly implausible in terms of common sense—for example, I would find it hard to believe the earth goes around the sun, let alone the Big Bang and expanding universe, if I had not been taught so in school.
Hillary Clinton’s has been a steadfast proponent of aggressive war throughout her career in national politics. The interesting thing is how she has justified this in the language of liberalism, humanitarianism and human rights.
As unofficial adviser to her husband, President Bill Clinton, she pushed for military intervention in the former Yugoslavia. As a U.S. Senator, she joined with Senator John McCain in pressing for military confrontation with Russia. As Secretary of State, she talked President Obama into the disastrous intervention in Libya.
Unprovoked attacks on foreign nations were defined by the Nuremberg Tribunal as a war crime. But Clinton and other militaristic liberals have found a way to justify such crimes in terms of preventing crimes against humanity.
Diana Johnstone, an experienced American freelance journalist living in Paris, has written a new book, QUEEN OF CHAOS: the Misadventures of Hillary Clinton, which is about Clinton’s foreign policy record. I read it last week.
Johnstone has one chapter each on Secretary of State Clinton’s support of a brutal military coup in Honduras, the destruction of Libya and military confrontation with Russia.
But the heart of the book is her account of the Bill Clinton administration’s intervention in the former Yugoslavia, and how this constituted a field test of methods used by subsequent administrations for leading the American and European publics into support of war.
The key step on the path to war, according to Johnstone, is Hitlerization—designating an enemy as a new Hitler who has to be dealt with as the original Hitler was. This goes along with charges of genocide.
Western public opinion agrees that the Holocaust of the Jews was the ultimate crime. Public opinion mostly agrees that all the mass killing in World War Two was justified because it was necessary to prevent the ultimate crime.
But what the crime consisted of was the attempted extermination of a people based on their race, religion and culture.
It follows from this that any attack on an ethnic or religious group is in a different and higher category of evil than, say, killing labor leaders or bombing cities because the latter are not potentially genocidal.
It also follows from this that, once you have identified a situation as genocide, any attempt at peacemaking represents appeasement, as at Munich.
If one side, such as the Hutus, is equivalent to the Nazis, and another, such as the Tutsis, is equivalent to the Nazi’s victims, compromise is not only impossible, but wicked. Fighting has to go on until Nazi-equivalent side is crushed.
Furthermore, since the nations of Eastern Europe, the Near East, South and Southeast Asia and Africa are patchworks of different nationalities and religions, often lumped together within arbitrary boundaries down by colonial powers, there is always some ethnic conflict going on almost anywhere.
The path to war includes (1) a propaganda campaign against a foreign leader, who is identified as the equivalent of Hitler, (2) funding and arms for discontented groups, who are identified as victimes of genocide, followed by (3) economic sanctions and maybe (4) protests from human rights organizations or (5) some sort of resolution from an international body.
Any international body will do, but the best outcome would be an indictment by the International Criminal Court (even though the USA does not recognize the jurisdiction of the ICC) because diplomacy becomes a matter of law enforcement.
Economic sanctions almost always fail, and rebel groups almost never win, so next comes (6) a “no fly” zone and then (7) a bombing campaign. If and when they fail, as is probable, there seems to be “no choice” but to send in troops, rather than give up.
David Hackett Fischer’s Albion’s Seed: Four British Folkways in America is a ground-breaking 946-page book I never got around to reading, and probably won’t. But I think I got the gist of it by reading a review by Scott Alexander on his Slate Star Codex blog.
Fischer’s argument is that basic patterns of American culture were set by migrations of four very different groups of migrants from the British Isles:
- Puritans to New England in the 1620s.
- Cavaliers to Virginia in the 1640s.
- Quakers to Pennsylvania in the 1670s.
- Borderers (aka Scots-Irish) to the Appalachians in the 1700s.
Those who came after, he said, had to adapt to social systems established by these four groups—the moralistic Puritans, the aristocratic Cavaliers, the tolerant Quakers and the warlike Borderers—even though the biological descendants of these groups ceased to be in the majority.
It’s interesting and, I think, at least partly true. Alexander’s review is long for a blog post, but much shorter than the book, and even those uninterested in his basic theme will enjoy reading his lists of fun facts about each group.
THE ECOLOGY OF FREEDOM: the emergence and dissolution of hierarchy by Murray Bookchin (1982, 1991, 2005). Introduction
I am coming to realize that Murray Bookchin, whose name I first heard a year or so ago, was one of the great thinkers of our time.
His book, The Ecology of Freedom, is a profound work that is worth studying closely. I intend to do this by reviewing the book chapter by chapter, partly to stimulate interest in his ideas but more to clarify my own thinking.
His basic idea is that human domination of nature and human domination of other human beings are part of the same thing. This sounds simple. What he does in this book is to describe the history of how this has played out in all its cultural, political, economic and religious aspects, and map paths to a better future.
My basic political principles are the ideas of American freedom and democracy that I was taught as a small boy. My ideals have changed little in more than 70 years, but my ideas of how the world works have changed a lot, especially in the past 10 or 20 years.
State socialism based on command economies haven’t worked. A tiny group of masterminds, even if they have good intentions, are not qualified to make decisions for the rest of us. The kind of capitalism we have now doesn’t work either. So I am interested in learning about alternatives.
Born in 1921 to Russian Jewish immigrants, Bookchin was a labor organizer in the 1930s and 1940s and a participant in the anti-nuclear and radical Green movements in the 1960s and 1970s. As a young man, he was a Communist. He later became a Trotskyite, then an anarchist, and, in this book, espoused a philosophy he called social ecology or libertarian socialism.
The Ecology of Freedom begins with introductions to the 2005, 1991 and original 1982 editions, in which he expresses his disappointment with the environmental movement’s failure to live up to its original promise because of the failure to develop an adequate political philosophy.
One current of the environmental movement became a mere lifestyle option, based on consumer choice. The Deep Ecology movement and part of the population control movement decided that human beings as such, rather than oppressive governments or exploitative corporations, were the problem.
Many self-described environmentalists identified being anti-rational, anti-science and anti-technology with being in harmony with nature, which was one of the teachings of fascism.
All these things, Bookchin wrote, indirectly helped prop up the status quo. Environmentalists did accomplish important practical victories in individual situations, for which they deserve praise. But they did not change the overall direction of society because of the lack of a unifying vision, which he called “social ecology”.
That vision is a symbiotic relationship among human beings, and between human beings and the rest of nature. This doesn’t mean passivity, or abandonment of the human-made environment to wilderness, he wrote; it means to work with natural processes and with human nature rather than trying to override them.
This seems to me very much like the Unitarian Universalist Seventh Principle, which is “respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.”
The Ecology of Freedom by Murray Bookchin – the complete book in PDF form.
Society and Ecology by Murray Bookchin.
Social Ecology Versus Deep Ecology: A Challenge for the Ecology Movement by Murray Bookchin (1987)
Libertarian Municipalism by Murray Bookchin (1991)
What Is Social Ecology? by Murray Bookchin (1993)
Bookchin Breaks with Anarchism by Janet Biehl.
Remembering Murray Bookchin by David Rosen for Counterpunch.
Murray Bookchin is a leading anarchist thinker whose work I had never thought about until I learned that he is, of all things, respected by the Kurdish people in the Middle East.
The Kurds have struggled for decades for independence for decades against the governments of Iran, Iraq, Turkey and Syria. They are the most effective fighters in their region against the Islamic State and the successors to Al Qaeda in their region.
In all this, they have not engaged in acts of terrorism against civilians. They respect the rights of women, and even have women in their fighting forces. Although mostly Sunni Muslims, they gave refuge to people of all religions, including Christians, who suffer religious persecution.
Of course all this does not necessarily stem from their admiration for Murray Bookchin, but I am intrigued that this American thinker finds admirers in admirable people in a (to me) unlikely part of the world.
Bookchin is an anarchist, which means that he is opposed both to capitalism and to state socialism, a point of view I have come to share, late in life. Some other anarchist writers I admire, and have posted about, are David Graeber and James C. Scott.
I just finished reading Bookchin’s Remaking Society, a quick and readable, but somewhat superficial, outline of his views. I have started reading his earlier and longer book, The Ecology of Freedom: the emergence and dissolution of hierarchy, which is more detailed and profound, but more difficult to follow.
Bookchin is opposed to hierarchy as such. He thinks all domination is connected – political domination, economic domination, racism, patriarchy and the domination of nature.
His ideal is the “organic” society, in which people cooperate voluntarily for their mutual benefit, and seek to understand natural processes rather than override them.
He thinks organic societies existed in pre-historic times. Tribes based on kinship worked together for the benefit of all. Persons of superior ability became leaders, but not rulers. They had prestige, but not the power to coerce. Men and women had different functions, but neither ruled the other.
Their principle, he said, the equal treatment of unequals, which sound to me very like the Marxian principle of “from each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs”. Our present capitalist society, he said, is based on the opposite principle – the unequal treatment of equals.
Philip K. Dick was a science fiction writer whose main theme was the fluid boundary between illusion and reality, and sanity and insanity.
Sadly his insights were partly due to his own drug use and mental illness. This may have been the reason so many of his novels and stories lacked coherence.
It also may explain why movies based on Philip K. Dick novels and stories – The Adjustment Bureau, Blade Runner, Imposter, Minority Report, Paycheck, A Scanner Darkly and Total Recall – were all better than the originals. I say nothing about other Philip K. Dick movies because I haven’t seen them.
I recently saw the Amazon Prime series based on The Man in the High Castle, which was excellent, and I went back to the original out of curiosity. Unlike the others I mentioned, the novel is better than the TV series, both as a novel and as a science fiction novel.
Both the TV series and the novel depict a world of 1962 in which the Axis has won the Second World War. The Nazis occupy the United States east of the Rockies, and the Japanese occupy the U.S. Pacific Coast, with the Rockies a neutral buffer zone.
There are three plots in both. One is an attempt by hardscrabble Americans in San Francisco to make and sell fake art objects to sell to rich Japanese antique collectors. Another is an attempt to head off a conspiracy by a Nazi faction in Berlin to launch a nuclear first strike against Japan.
The third is a search for “the man in the high castle.” In the novel, he is the author of a underground novel set in a world in which the Allies won, which, however, is different from the real world (I almost wrote “our” world). In the Amazon Prime series, he has mysteriously obtained actual newsreels of the real world.
The novel is better because it is more realistic, and because the characters have more psychological depth. The Amazon Prime series has an anti-Nazi Resistance movement, which is not in the novel, and characters undecided about their true allegiance, which wouldn’t be tolerated either by real Nazis or real anti-Nazi fighters.
The excellence of the novel and the TV series is in showing how living under Nazi and Japanese occupation could come to feel normal, and in developing realistic and memorable characters.
One is Mr. Tagomi, the humane Japanese bureaucrat whose life is guided by the I Ching. Another is Obergruppenfuhrer John Smith, who appears in the TV series but not the novel.
I look forward to Amazon Prime’s second season in the series, which will take the characters beyond the scope of Dick’s novel.
In LIFE AFTER FAITH: The Case for Secular Humanism (2014), Philip Kitcher argues that religion is not necessary to lead a happy, meaningful and ethical life.
His argument is obviously true, as far as it goes. I know of many people, through personal aquaintence and reading who aren’t in the least religious, but are happy, wise and good.
But there also are saints and heroes whose religious faith enables them to go beyond what average human nature is capable of, as well as many seemingly ordinary people for whom faith is a source of quiet serenity and unpretentious goodness.
Others are hurt by their religion. Their faith fails them in times of crisis. Or they are tormented by a sense of sin because they can’t obey certain rules or accept certain beliefs.
Religion certainly makes life more dramatic.
If I believed, and internalized the belief, that my life was a high-stakes test, leading to either eternal bliss with God or eternal pain without God, my life would be much more intense and meaningful than it is now, but not better.
I would have to struggle to stop myself from thinking about why a merciful and loving God would condemn people to infinite pain for sins committed during a finite life or, even worse, for choosing the wrong creed.
One way to have the satisfactions of religion without being chained to harsh dogmas is through what Kitcher calls “refined religion,” such as Unitarian Universalism, Ethical Culture or Reformed Judaism.
“Refined religion” puts theology on the same level as art, literature, philosophy and science—part of a treasury of human wisdom on which we can draw as needed.
“Refined religion” is not far from Kitcher’s own “soft atheism”, which doesn’t claim that science and philosophy have all the answers and which sees much of value in religious tradition, but sees no basis for affirming that religious beliefs are objectively true.
He admits that both refined religion and secular humanism are weak tea compared to the powerful emotions evoked by the great religious traditions and rituals.
But the great religions traditions have thousands of years’ head start, he wrote; there is no reason in principle why secular humanism cannot evolve rituals and traditions that are just as compelling.
Thomas Frank has published another excerpt from his new book, Listen, Liberal., which I look forward to reading. This one is about Bill Clinton, and why he is still so popular among working people and minorities despite having done so little for them when in the White House.
I would periodically ask my liberal friends if they could recall the progressive laws he got passed, the high-minded policies he fought for—you know, the good things Bill Clinton got done while he was president. Why was it, I wondered, that we were supposed to think so highly of him—apart from his obvious personal charm, I mean?
It proved difficult for my libs. People mentioned the obvious things: Clinton once raised the minimum wage and expanded the Earned Income Tax Credit. He balanced the budget. He secured a modest tax increase on the rich. And he did propose a national health program, although it didn’t get very far and was in fact so poorly designed it could be a model of how not to do big policy initiatives.
Other than that, not much. No one could think of any great but hopeless Clintonian stands on principle; after all, this is the guy who once took a poll to decide where to go on vacation. His presidency was all about campaign donations, not personal bravery—he basically rented out the Lincoln Bedroom, for chrissake, and at the end of his time in office he even appeared to sell a presidential pardon.
I grew up and spent my early working years in the golden age of capitalism, which was from 1945 to 1976. Almost anybody—as least, any white American man—who was willing to work could get a decent job sufficient to support a family.
Then a lot of things turned bad as once. Worker pay no longer kept pace with productivity, but the pay of CEOs and wealthy investors grew much faster. Manufacturing declined and high finance expanded. Hourly wages declined and debt increased. What went wrong?
He blames America’s current woes on the adoption of what he calls the Better Business Climate model of economic policy.
This model is based on the argument that the key to economic prosperity is economic growth, that economic growth depends on investment, and that investment depends on business profitability, and that the way to increase business profitability is lower taxes, lower social spending and fewer regulations.
We used to call this Reaganomics. Now we call it neoliberalism. Many people thought it was a plausible response to the economic stagnation and high inflation of the late 1970s. I myself thought it was worth a try (more fool I). I wouldn’t have objected to making rich people richer if everybody else had benefitted in the long run.
But this isn’t how things worked out. Instead:
- Wage increases stopped keeping pace with productivity.
- The CEO-worker wage gap took off.
- The financial sector grew at the expense of manufacturing.
- Wall Street profits skyrocketed.
- The income gap between the super-rich and the rest of us widened.
- Corporate debt, consumer debt and government debt rose.
What went wrong?
This is an archive of my notes written over the years on the works of the philosopher Jurgen Habermas.
THE SOCIAL TRANSFORMATION OF THE PUBLIC SPHERE: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society by Jurgen Habermas (1962) translated by Thomas Burger with the assistance of Frederick J. Lawrence (1989)
I read this book as part of an informal seminar organized by my friend Paul Mitacek. I don’t claim to have fully understood it. Habermas wrote in a highly abstract style, but his style was not an attempt to obfuscate, but rather to integrate complex ideas.
Habermas’s subject was the evolution of what’s considered public and what’s considered private. His focus was on Germany, France and Britain, which I found interesting because it showed that the changes he described were not specific to the United States.
In the age of absolute monarchs, Habermas wrote, royalty lived their lives as a public spectacle, while the common people lived private lives in obscurity. What we now think of as the public sphere arose in the mercantile middle class—hence “a category of bourgeois society.”
Merchants organized shared newsletters and foreign correspondents to get accurate information about business conditions. Out of this evolved the press as we know it, which reported on politics and culture. Coffee houses in Britain, salons in France and Germany provided means by which middle-class and upper-class people could meet, talk freely and form public opinion, which in the 18th century was a new concept. There arose an ideal of governance based on free public discussion and exchange of ideas.
Advocates of democracy in the 19th century hoped that the mass of the people could be assimilated to this ideal. Instead the mass media arose, and the mass public became passive consumers of culture.
Ordinary people only to got to choose which newspaper or magazine to read, which political party to vote for and which soft drink to consume, but communication was downward, not upward.