Monday, January 10, 2011
"Eliminationist" America
Saturday, November 13, 2010
America’s Near Future and the Failure of American History
It must be clear by now that, in a few more years or a few more decades, the U. S. A. will no longer be the chief arbiter of relations among nations. It will not be the world’s primary democracy nor the political beacon for emerging free societies. It will not be the hub of the world economy, and its dollar will not be the center around which other currencies will orbit.
Yet, contrary to those who subscribe to linear historical inevitability, it will not “collapse” (in some Jared Diamond conceptualization of societal collapses). It still has massive agricultural resources, industrial capacity, and educational/intellectual potential. It could even become a leader in what we now call “alternative energy” or the “eco-friendly” revolution. (We call this “future” by various names but what it will be – very soon -- is simply what we will come to accept as the normative future in terms of energy-power, human interrelations, human mobility, and so on).
Like other modern nation-states that have felt the sting – and the embarrassment – of losing their leading roles on the center-stage of the world’s nation-states, the U. S. will go through a transition of denial. England, or what became the U. K., lost its primacy in the West in 1919. It did not recognize this loss for several decades, although it did recede from empire to commonwealth with more grace than India, for example, may be willing to acknowledge. France lost its moral center in 1940, disgraced itself in Vietnam and some of its other former colonies, and grudgingly gave up its European continental importance (in the 1950s) in favor of a gallic sense of internal, cultural superiority (starting with De Gaulle and lasting until Sarkozy).
The U. S. will react to its decline in a more exaggerated way than either the U. K. or France have done. Although the two latter nations are renowned for their haughty claims to cultural superiority, and for their too frequent displays of insular “jingoism,” the U. S. is an even more profoundly proud and smug nation. Its origins are based on a mythology of colonial rebellion against religious authority and arbitrary government. Its two central historical motifs – the American Revolution and the Civil War – have to do with victories for local autonomy and self-rule, in regard to the former, and the morally purposeful, industrialized, unified nation-state, in regard to the latter. “Conquering” the “empty” frontier, “stabilizing” the Western Hemisphere, and “Saving the World for Democracy” through the two World Wars, have further gilded the ornate frame around the mirror into which all Americans gaze narcissistically.
What do Americans see as they peer, seemingly perpetually, into that elaborately framed mirror? They see EXCEPTIONALISM writ large. American historical debates about who they are as Americans, or how they got here, may be sharply debated between leftist historians and rightist historians, but both sides agree that Americans have possessed, and continue to possess, a special “genius” not shared – indeed, not shareable – with or among other peoples of the world. American ideals may or may not have been achieved, depending on which group of historians (past or present) one is reading, but they are special American ideals, and not international ones.
American “EXCEPTIONALISM” has been supported by most importantly by one thing – American historians. The products of these historians have represented a nation in ways that are largely self-congratulatory and entirely self-referential. It is true that a few American historians have refused to play that game, but most American historians deal in the matter of: “how did we get to be so good and great” or “how did we fail, given our special dispensation of historical grace, to become so good or great”? The proof of this failure of written American history is to be seen in what American historians study and write about, and what they do not study or write about. Much of American history has been political, and much of that political history has been “heroic.” Until recently, it has been top-down history, from presidents down to mayors and city councils. Witness, for example, the “PBS New Hour” having a “presidential historians” panel, but no other American history panel. American History is an in-house game. Although many British and French historians, for example, live in and were educated in countries other than the U. K. of France, very few American historians are to be found outside the U. S. For ordinary Americans, what happens in America, stays in America. Its borders are sharp. Canada and Mexico might as well be the North Pole and Antartica. It is true that a few American historians have now ventured into things like “Atlantic Culture History” which links the U. S. to England and Europe. But, American History is mainly limited to the continental geography of the U. S. (Hawaii and Alaska intrude uncomfortably, occupying folding chairs at the family dinner table). When American historians are adventuresome, they consider things like “popular culture,” which, of course, is an American product with world derivations. Comparative history, which exists in the rest of the historical world, is an unknown thing to Americans and American historians. How, after all, can America be compared to anything else?
So, the prospectus for how Americans will react in the next few decades to what is only a partial demise in their importance, is not a promising one. Their claims of exceptionalism are likely to become more shrill. Their detestation for the “other,” in all forms, is likely to become more extreme. The best the rest of the world can do is to try to welcome Americans into the broader world, and that may take a great deal of good will and time.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
The Destructiveness of Words
In the last two days, we have heard two people use words that say more than they, and even we, want to acknowledge. First, President Obama, in his speech yesterday, referred to people in Louisiana and Alabama as “our neighbors.” I do not believe that anyone, even those criticizing the speech for partisan reasons, has picked up on this “mistake.” If the President were queried on the matter, I am certain that he would say that he meant that all Americans who did not live in those two states were neighbors of those who have suffered misfortune, etc., etc. In fact, however, Louisianans and Alabamans are full citizens of the United States; they are not “neighbors”; they are part of the nation, just as equal as any other members of the union. “Our neighbors” are Mexico and Canada. In a previous blog, I said that American ethnocentrism was not just a national siege mentality against a hostile outer world but was reflective of a strong regional disparity in the U. S., where even various parts of the U. S. A. were like foreign and strange territory to those who do not live in them. So much for democratic national solidarity. Poor Louisiana; poor Alabama. It is Katrina redux.
Today, Carl-Henric Svanberg, the president of British Petroleum (they would like to be known as BP in order to take on a greater world-wide glamour, and in order to attract more stockholders) said that he wanted to help the “small people” of the Louisiana and Alabama coast. The Huffington Post (huffing as usual) and other media latched on to this mistake. Tonight, on the PBS Newshour, Mr. Dudley, a clever spokesperson for BP, excused the Swedish president of BP, claiming that his president speaks English as a second language, and that he meant “small business people” not lesser people. Carl-Henric Svanberg almost certainly learned English as a young boy. He likely knows how to speak and write the English language better than most Americans. So, you may be assured, you can keep the “small people” reference in your mind for what was meant – people poorer, weaker, and more impotent than Mr. Svanberg and his capitalist executive colleagues.
Language means something. Who among us has not said something truly destructive to those we love, and we know that what we said had some kind of truth to it even though we immediately want to disown that truth. The President of the U. S. (who almost certainly has not even thought of “neighbors” as a mistake) has just made one of those irretrievable mistakes. Mr. Svanberg has more graphically made the mistake. And, what are the messages? First, it is still a world of “them” and “us.” In the U. S., it is a matter of “I’m all right, Jack.” In the larger capitalist world, it is a matter of large capital versus, well, everyone else, and everyone else, in the end, loses. In both cases, the real substance of “democracy” loses.
There is a tragedy beyond this. As everyone speaks the language of human-being superiority, animals throughout the northern Gulf of Mexico are in truly mortal danger. A new genocide, of sorts, is being played out. We will not lament, and shed our false tears, until someone like David Attenborough comes along ten years from now and documents the whole thing. By then, it will just be sentimentality. And, while you are at it, you might shed a false tear for democracy as well.
Monday, May 24, 2010
The (Im)perfect Storm
Thursday, May 6, 2010
What “Freedom” are we Talking About?
The reductio ad absurdum of “freedom” and “liberty” that has become the mantra and entire ideological “argument” of the right-winger movement in the U. S. A. (usually but not exclusively known as the Republican Party) needs more examination. Since the right-wing will not be addressing or defining what they mean by “freedom,” I will volunteer some definitions.
Most people probably assume that freedom is a pretty simple concept, and that everyone shares their definition of freedom and what freedom encompasses. But starting with John Stuart Mill and moving on with Isaiah Berlin in the mid-twentieth century and then Charles Taylor and others more recently, freedom has been increasingly seen as meaning at least one of two things: 1) freedom as a removal of shackles or restraints, and 2) freedom as permission and opportunity to create something, do something, to take positive action in some regard. The first – known as negative liberty or negative freedom – has an illustrious history in things like the end of slavery or the end of a censured press. The second – known as positive liberty or positive freedom – has an illustrious history in things like society or state-driven economic reforms or social justice reforms.
Paradox and irony do not begin to describe how the modern right-wing has twisted the concepts of negative and positive freedoms into comical parodies of all real freedom. First, the right-wing refuses to see any positive liberty because they refuse to see any role for the state, and ipso facto, with no state there are no social and economic reforms and justices to be addressed. Some question whether there is such a thing as society at all, following the famous dictum attributed to Margaret Thacher that “there are no societies, there are only individuals and families.” The right-wing’s world of besieged families resisting outside influences as if they were defenders of the Alamo, and their Ayn Rand world of bizarre fictional individuals who robustly and egoistically fashion their lives with little social assistance, defy the realities of a real world of mass populations and that world’s vast historical accomplishments in everything from health to education to economic well being that have been produced through the collective efforts of societies. Thomas Paine, a friend of free market ideas and an opponent of strong governments, nevertheless believed that human beings naturally formed societies, and that society was the fundamental basis for both public and individual good. In short, ignoring historical realities and real modern needs, the right-wing does not recognize positive the legitimacy of positive freedom at all.
Oddly, the right-wing now seems to outdo itself in idiocy when it comes to distending its natural penchant for negative freedom. The thirty-year revolution that began with Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thacher seemed grounded, at first, in old (some would also say respectable) ideas about laissez-faire capitalism, low taxes, and a minimal state. Those ideas, which admitted some idea of limitations, have now taken on an unlimited character: capitalism should be left entirely unfettered; no taxes should be passed (well, unless you are fighting a war for the empire somewhere); and the state should wither and disappear altogether (they seem to know little about their ultimate affinity with Karl Marx). Many who advocate such things as unregulated capitalism are the unknowing (and sometimes knowing) stooges of big corporations and investment banking. But lately, this extension of “pure” freedom has had some very strange consequences (one would say amusing if one did not give a damn for the world and human life in general):
1. Tea Party members and other right wingers demanding lower taxes, despite the fact that some 40+% of Tea Party advocates, under new tax breaks for the middle and lower classes, do not need to pay any tax at all. In fact, some 45% or more of American households do not need to pay any federal income tax. See Gail Collins amusing blog in the NYTimes “Celebrating the Joys of April 15” (April, 15, 2010) for other interesting statistics on a tax regimen that angers the right because those with big incomes (one can hardly call them “earners”) pay most of the bill.
2. A Supreme Court which in its “supreme wisdom” has declared corporations of all sorts eligible for First Amendment free speech protections. Not only did the Court overrule a lot of impressive precedent, they gave a new, rightist, purist definition to “person” which defies reason and the Constitution. (I have said more on this elsewhere and could say much more, but it would not matter. Citizens United is the Dred Scott case of the 21st century; it has the same apparent logic and the same catastrophic unreality).
3. An oil spill disaster in the Gulf of Mexico that will have long term effects, and begs the question as to whether deep off-shore drilling can be done at all. Yet, several Republican right wingers have used this “opportunity” to ask for more off-shore drilling, in complete defiance of what has just happened and of reason itself.
4. A terrorist attempt in Times Square in NYC that has right wingers falling over themselves to proclaim their full attachment to the Second Amendment to the U. S. Constitution (wrongly interpreted as it is), and pledging their troth to the practice of even those on a terrorist watch list having the “right” to bear arms.
So, what do we have here? On one level, we have people so uneducated (in what we used to call “Civics”) and so simple-minded as to demand an absolutist interpretation of freedom. On another level, we have people living in fictive worlds of their own, very strange, imaginations. “Avatar,” the movie, is not much ahead of the curve. Many right wingers have in fact made themselves into “avatars.” They live in a world they imagine, or think they want. Reality plays a very small role in this exercise of freedom.
In the end, I think of the words from “Me and Bobby McGhee” – “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.” Total negative freedom is total alienation, and the right wing is certainly alienated from society, and perhaps now from themselves.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Talk Is Cheap (and priceless)
My father was not taciturn in his speech but he did think that actions spoke louder than words. Among his most firmly held beliefs was his conviction that the material consequences of the work he accomplished – water well drilling and plumbing -- would speak to the memory of his existence. I know some of my father’s inventions. He crafted (invented) a well-drilling rig on a homemade oak and steel frame, for example, and short of both money and access to proper well drilling equipment he made many of his own heavy tools. Unfortunately, unlike the visible fruits of labor of sculptors or architects, my father’s work was inconspicuous except to the few who chanced to examine it at close range. Still, what one did rather than what one wrote or spoke, was what mattered most to him. He did not disdain the written and spoken word but neither did he think that either was as important as the useful knowledge of the craftsman. In his mind, “book learning” was not bad; it was just secondary to the invention that flowed from experience in material crafts. For my father, those who talked were worse than those who wrote. Almost every time after having had to listen to someone talk too much (and, on more than one occasion, that included his two sons and his daughter), he would mutter: “the empty wagon is the one that makes the most noise.”
I cherish the memory of accompanying my father to drill wells with his improvised machinery, and of watching him solve a knotty plumbing problem. But I also wish that I had some verbal or oral artifacts of his life to pass along to my sons and grandsons. I only have vague ideas about his life between his birth in 1896 and WWI. I know he briefly joined the “Wobblies” (IWW) (a “youthful mistake,” he later told me) while training as a steamfitter in Detroit, and I know that he was inducted into the U. S. Army late enough in the WWI to avoid being sent “over there.” His life in the 1920s and 1930s – those were all depression years where we came from -- and even much of the 1940s will always remain obscure to those few of us who still remember him. What my brother and sister and I recall of him are more the incomplete remembrances of children and adolescents than of keen observers.
Neither my brother nor my sister and I ever shared my father’s view on the limited value of books. We all read a fair amount (my brother read an enormous amount), and I entered a profession that required constant reading. For a long time, however, I probably shared some of my father’s prejudice about “talk.” Perhaps my ill-formed diminution of “talk” or oral sources was reinforced because I am an 18th century historian, whose primary sources are manuscripts. I have always loved research that involved diaries, journals, letters, even commonplace books and almanacs, and I have always pitied those poor modern historians who had to use lesser materials like radio broadcasts and film and oral history evidence. Oral, spoken evidence was too light, too transient, too unreflective, and too “cheap” to for me to take seriously.
For the past year now, I have been conducting oral history interviews of persons who were engaged in the founding and early development of the university where I spent my career – The University of Lethbridge. Because it was not founded until 1967, many of its earliest members are still able to remember well their involvement in that university’s early years. Yet, my initial motives were more negative than positive in regard to recording these interviews. Instead of lauding the richness of oral history interviews, I too often have said (and still say), that the regrettable lack of written sources about this university’s first formative years makes the use of oral history sources necessary. No one has left rich diary and journal sources. No one’s correspondence remains extant, and since the rise of computers and email, it is certain that useful electronic source materials disappear in a nano-second as well. So, I sigh and lament that all I can do is record fifty or so oral history interviews (twenty-seven are completed as of this date). Because I have the time, I usually add with little enthusiasm, that I might as well finish this project on the first generation of the U of L out of duty. These interviews just have to be done, I suggest with the tone of voice of someone who must wash the evening dishes. Before I began the project, I also said to myself (and no one else) that these interviews would be like mining some low-grade ore field, looking for a few nuggets valuable enough to keep. I thought I was looking for a few meager answers to specific questions about the origins, policies, programs, governance, liberal education, and people of the first decade of the University’s existence.
I was wrong, of course, and after my first interviews, I slowly began to distance myself from my snobbery and weak prejudices. What I found were fascinating, highly varied, stories about childhoods and personal educational experiences. Arcs of personal narrative, of personal history, emerged in the earliest interviews and have continued ever since. The enormous achievements of my colleagues in their personal and professional lives made me much more humble about my own accomplishments, and made me respect the fullness of everyone’s life when put into an autobiographical context. I have put most of my pre-planned, specific questions aside. I now start each interview with no notes. I just try to encourage interviewees to describe their lives, and then we proceed largely on autopilot. I eventually “converse” too much with everyone I record, but what my interviewees say is so evocative of our shared past that I often cannot keep my mouth shut (my father was right, at least about me). I now find myself contemplating more openly the views of others about teaching or research or curricula or programs or liberal education that I once resisted openly and forcefully. With every new interview, my respect for oral history sources increases.
This is not to say that I am blind to the shortcomings of oral history. Remembrance of the past well after the occurrence of events is problematical at best. Autobiographies – which oral history interviews are in short form -- are one of the weakest forms of historical evidence. My personal narrative, biographic approach creates incomplete and false historical narratives. My role as an interviewer who converses with his subjects – and one who was a participant in or observer of most of the events discussed – further distorts any objective picture of the past. But, look at those written sources I used to admire above all others. Personal letters are carefully crafted to address a specific reader. Diaries and journals are biographical and generally written in a self-serving manner. It is true that if one puts together a large enough body of someone’s personal correspondence and self-reflective writing, a subtext of unintended truths seep out of this verbal self-justification. Yet, I have seen subtle, undeclared truths about the character or essential nature of my interviewees seep out of an hour and a half to a two-hour interview as well.
As a late convert to oral history, I cannot tell you how much I would now give to be able to turn on my digital recorder and talk to my father for two hours. Since I cannot, I urge the rest of you to sit down and record the stories of your family or friends. You do not have to wait until someone is old; interviews of young children also produce amazing results. While the most astute interviewer cannot get a subject to recreate the past accurately even the most novice interviewer can conduct an oral interview that will produce an astounding record of their interviewee’s experiences, ideas, and feelings.
I am just reading a memoir by Studs Terkel, the famous Chicago interviewer and raconteur, entitled Touch and Go. Terkel knew, and inevitably interviewed, an enormous range of the rich and famous. But, as he puts it, he is (was; he died last year) really someone who has “been celebrated for having celebrated the lives of the uncelebrated among us, for lending voice to the face in the crowd.” According to him, his epiphany in this regard came at a public housing project in Chicago where he recorded a young mother. Here is what Terkel says:
I don’t remember whether she was white or black. The place was mixed. She was pretty, skinny, with bad teeth. It was the first time she had encountered a tape recorder. Her little kids, about four of them, demanded a replay. They insisted on hearing mama’s voice. I pressed the button. They howled with delight. She put her hands to her mouth and gasped. “I never knew I felt that way.” She was astonished, sure, but no more than I was. Such astonishments have always been forthcoming from the etceteras of history. Ever since the Year One.