Thursday, June 21, 2012
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Incredibly offensive but honest essay on information warfare by US intelligence officer
Below are excerpts from a seminal essay on the future significance
of information warfare written by the now retired Lieutenant Colonel,
Ralph Peters formerly assigned to the Office of the Deputy Chief of
Staff for Intelligence for the US Army War College journal, Parameters. Though the article was originally published in 1997, it was recently re-published in light of its continued relevance, and has since been quoted by Pepe Escobar in his article “”War Porn: the New Safe Sex”,
with direct reference to the media war on Syria. Though unabashedly
racist and classist in content and offensively triumphalist and
jingoistic in tone, Peters’ essay provides a devastatingly honest
account of the central role information warfare will continue to have in
US military strategy. As if anticipating the current informational
onslaught against the resistance axis, the article serves to confirm how
the US media has become the most potent tool in its wider war on its
“rejectionist” enemies. Excerpts from the 9 page article are below, with particularly interesting/offensive parts highlighted in upper-case.
“ONE OF THE DEFINING BIFURCATIONS OF THE FUTURE WILL BE THE CONFLICT BETWEEN INFORMATION MASTERS AND INFORMATION VICTIMS.
How can you counterattack the information others have turned upon
you? There is no effective option other than competitive performance.
For those individuals and cultures that cannot join or compete with our
information empire, there is only inevitable failure (of note, the
internet is to the techno-capable disaffected what the United Nations is
to marginal states: it offers the illusion of empowerment and
community). …. Information, from the internet to rock videos, will not
be contained, and fundamentalism cannot control its children. Our
victims volunteer.
These noncompetitive cultures, such as that of Arabo-Persian Islam or
the rejectionist segment of our own population, are enraged. Their
cultures are under assault; their cherished values have proven
dysfunctional, and the successful move on without them.
THE LAID-OFF BLUE-COLLAR WORKER IN AMERICA AND THE TALIBAN MILITIAMAN IN AFGHANISTAN ARE BROTHERS IN SUFFERING.
These discarded citizens sense that their government is no longer about them, but only about the privileged.
The foreign twin is the Islamic, or sub-Saharan African, or Mexican
university graduate who faces a teetering government, joblessness,
exclusion from the profits of the corruption distorting his society,
marriage in poverty or the impossibility of marriage, and a deluge of
information telling him (exaggeratedly and dishonestly) how well the
West lives….
Hollywood goes where Harvard never penetrated, and the foreigner,
unable to touch the reality of America, is touched by America’s
irresponsible fantasies of itself; he sees a devilishly enchanting,
bluntly sexual, terrifying world from which he is excluded, a world of
wealth he can judge only in terms of his own poverty.
Most citizens of the globe are not economists; they perceive wealth
as inelastic, its possession a zero-sum game. If decadent America (as
seen on the screen) is so fabulously rich, it can only be because
America has looted one’s own impoverished group or country or region. ….
This discarded foreigner’s desire may be to attack the “Great Satan
America,” but America is far away (for now), so he acts violently in his
own neighborhood. He will accept no personal guilt for his failure, nor
can he bear the possibility that his culture “doesn’t work.” The blame
lies ever elsewhere. The cult of victimization is becoming a universal
phenomenon, and it is a source of dynamic hatreds.
Contemporary American culture is the most powerful in history, and
the most destructive of competitor cultures. ..The genius, the secret
weapon, of American culture is the essence that the elites despise: ours
is the first genuine people’s culture. It stresses comfort and
convenience—ease—and it generates pleasure for the masses. WE ARE KARL
MARX’S DREAM, AND HIS NIGHTMARE.
Secular and religious revolutionaries in our century have made the
identical mistake, imagining that the workers of the world or the
faithful just can’t wait to go home at night to study Marx or the Koran.
Well, Joe Sixpack, Ivan Tipichni, and Ali Quat would rather “Baywatch.”
America has figured it out, and we are brilliant at operationalizing
our knowledge, and our cultural power will hinder even those cultures we
do not undermine. There is no “peer competitor” in the cultural (or
military) department. Our cultural empire has the addicted—men and women
everywhere—clamoring for more. And they pay for the privilege of their
disillusionment.
As more and more human beings are overwhelmed by information, or
dispossessed by the effects of information-based technologies, there
will be more violence. Information victims will often see no other
resort. As work becomes more cerebral, those who fail to find a place
will respond by rejecting reason.
THE DE FACTO ROLE OF THE US ARMED FORCES WILL BE TO KEEP THE WORLD
SAFE FOR OUR ECONOMY AND OPEN TO OUR CULTURAL ASSAULT. TO THOSE ENDS,
WE WILL DO A FAIR AMOUNT OF KILLING. WE ARE BUILDING AN
INFORMATION-BASED MILITARY TO DO THAT KILLING. THERE WILL STILL BE
PLENTY OF MUSCLE POWER REQUIRED, BUT MUCH OF OUR MILITARY ART WILL
CONSIST IN KNOWING MORE ABOUT THE ENEMY THAN HE KNOWS ABOUT HIMSELF,
MANIPULATING DATA FOR EFFECTIVENESS AND EFFICIENCY, AND DENYING SIMILAR
ADVANTAGES TO OUR OPPONENTS. ..
Our informational advantage over every other country and culture will
be so enormous that our greatest battlefield challenge will be
harnessing its power. Our potential national weakness will be the
failure to maintain the moral and raw physical strength to thrust that
bayonet into an enemy’s heart. We will outcreate, outproduce and, when
need be, outfight the rest of the world. We can out-think them, too. ..
Our national appetite for information and our sophistication in handling
it will enable us to outlast and outperform all hierarchical cultures,
information-controlling societies, and rejectionist states. The skills
necessary to this newest information age can be acquired only beginning
in childhood and in complete immersion. Societies that fear or otherwise
cannot manage the free flow of information simply will
not be competitive. THEY MIGHT MASTER THE TECHNOLOGICAL WHEREWITHAL
TO WATCH THE VIDEOS, BUT WE WILL BE WRITING THE SCRIPTS, PRODUCING THEM,
AND COLLECTING THE ROYALTIES. OUR CREATIVITY IS DEVASTATING.
It remains difficult, of course, for military leaders to conceive of
warfare, informational or otherwise, in such broad terms. BUT HOLLYWOOD
IS “PREPARING THE BATTLEFIELD,” and burgers precede bullets. The flag
follows trade. Despite our declaration of defeat in the face of
battlefield victory in Mogadishu, the image of US power and the US
military around the world is not only a deterrent, but a psychological
warfare tool that is constantly at work in the minds of real or
potential opponents. Saddam swaggered, but the image of the US military
crippled the Iraqi army in the field, doing more to soften them up for
our ground assault than did tossing bombs into the sand. Everybody is
afraid of us. They really believe we can do all the stuff in the movies.
If the Trojans “saw” Athena guiding the Greeks in battle, then the
Iraqis saw Luke Skywalker precede McCaffrey’s tanks. OUR UNCONSCIOUS
ALLIANCE OF CULTURE WITH KILLING POWER IS A COMBAT MULTIPLIER NO
GOVERNMENT, INCLUDING OUR OWN, COULD DESIGN OR AFFORD. WE ARE MAGIC. AND
WE’RE GOING TO KEEP IT THAT WAY.”
Source: Ralph Peters, “Constant Conflict”, Winter 2010-11. pp. 126-134.
The Counter Revolution Disguised as Democracy in Egypt and All Over The World!
Post Categories: Africa
Shamus Cooke | Saturday, June 2, 2012, 9:39 Beijing
Shamus Cooke | Saturday, June 2, 2012, 9:39 Beijing
In a country where the embers of revolution are still glowing, you
would assume that a presidential election would produce a
revolutionary-appearing government. Not so in Egypt. The revolutionaries
who toppled the hated dictator Mubarak will have zero representation in
the upcoming runoff election for president.
Those who opposed the revolution, however, are well represented. The
runoff election features Ahmed Shafiq, the dictator’s former Prime
Minister who remains a military strongmen. Shafiq’s presence in the
election is a stark reminder that the revolution’s goals have yet to be
accomplished.
The other non-revolutionary presidential contender is Mohamed Morsi
of the Muslim Brotherhood. The leadership of the Muslim Brotherhood
stayed quiet during the initial phase of the revolution until their
youth wing dragged them into the fray. The leadership has since
pretended to be an ally of the revolution, but their fake revolutionary
credentials have been exposed several times since winning a large chunk
of parliamentary seats, steadily eroding their popularity.
For example, Egypt’s executive power still consists of a cabinet
handpicked by the military, a fact that began to fan the revolution’s
hot coals, re-igniting mass protests. The Muslim Brotherhood stayed
silent — as before — until the heat once again forced them into action:
the Brotherhood shut down parliament, demanding that the army’s cabinet
step down.
But the military responded with inaction and threatened to shutdown
parliament permanently. The Brotherhood responded by compelling the
re-opening of parliament, and the cabinet remained in place.
The Brotherhood is now correctly viewed by many as being somewhat
subservient to the military, a role their leadership played
pre-revolution. This exposure accounts for the drop in their popularity
that resulted in their earning only 25 percent of first round
Presidential votes, after winning 47 percent of the Parliamentary seats
in November/December.
Regardless of which candidate wins the election, the military could
very well remain the real power in the country. This is because Egypt
still lacks a constitution; the new president will literally have zero
power until one is created. If the military’s candidate loses they will
fight to limit the president’s power. Many of the more honest
contenders for president have already boycotted the election for this
reason.
A Constituent Assembly had been bureaucratically set up by Egypt’s
Muslim Brotherhood-dominated parliament to write a constitution, but
other parties boycotted it because of the Brotherhood’s overwhelming
power over the proceedings. Then Egypt’s military-dominated courts dissolved the Assembly ,
probably to keep the Brotherhood’s power in check (the military and the
Brotherhood have a love-hate relationship, relying on each other as
props while simultaneously vying for power).
The pathetic state of Egypt’s democracy led the spokesman for the
military’s candidate, Ahmed Shafiq, to declare “the revolution has
ended.” But he has spoken too soon. When stripped down to its
essentials, a revolution is the majority of working people actively
engaged in politics. And because the coming election will not allow this
majority an avenue to be engaged in politics, they will likely continue
their political engagement in the streets.
Inevitably, however, the revolutionaries will learn that it’s not
enough to oust Mubarak; a positive vision must replace the dictator,
lest representatives of the old regime attempt to replace the dictator
with his clone.
Hopefully, the revolutionaries will create a vision that unites them
against their opponents, while organizing themselves as a cohesive,
powerful social force that can withstand the organized power of the
past, complete with inspiring ideas capable of mobilizing working people
and truly transforming society, as opposed to a mere shuffling at the
top.
The Egyptian ruling class is consciously using these elections to
channel the revolution’s energy into a dead-end. This is a timeless
revolution-killing strategy: the ruling class calls for an election
before the revolutionaries have had the time to properly organize
themselves, leaving the election to be won by those groups — The Muslim
Brotherhood and the army in this case — who were organized
pre-revolution. The winners of revolutions are the organized or the
wealthy, often times both.
Egyptian society will refuse to remain calm after these elections;
there are too many economic and social problems that remain unfixed
post-revolution, most notably high unemployment within an economy in
shambles.
The military government has already asked the U.S.-dominated
International Monetary Fund for a $3.2 billion loan , which will not be
finalized until after the elections. The delay was intentional, since
the conditions of the debt deal will inevitably include austerity — cuts
to basic social programs, elimination of gas and food
subsidies, combined with privatizations of the public sector and other
anti-worker policies.
Like the revolutionaries in Greece, Egyptians will fight against
austerity while fighting for a truly democratic Constituent Assembly;
either issue by itself could re-spark the still smoldering revolution.
But democracy will have a new meaning for Egypt’s revolutionaries:
the abstract ideal will be tossed aside in favor of a democracy of
economic and social equality, requiring that the economic and social
power of Egypt’s old rulers be smashed.
Shamus Cooke is a social service worker, trade unionist and writer for Workers Action (www.workerscompass.org). He can be reached at shamuscooke@gmail.com.
Somebody Else’s Atrocities, “Ideal Illusions: How the U.S. Gov’t Co-Opted Human Rights”
Prof. Noam Chomsky | Monday, June 4, 2012, 8:19 Beijing
In his penetrating study “Ideal Illusions: How the U.S. Government
Co-Opted Human Rights,” international affairs scholar James Peck
observes, “In the history of human rights, the worst atrocities are
always committed by somebody else, never us” – whoever “us” is.
Almost any moment in history yields innumerable illustrations. Let’s keep to the past few weeks.
On May 10, the Summer Olympics were inaugurated at the Greek birthplace of the ancient games. A few days before, virtually unnoticed, the government of Vietnam addressed a letter to the International Olympic Committee expressing the “profound concerns of the Government and people of Viet Nam about the decision of IOC to accept the Dow Chemical Company as a global partner sponsoring the Olympic Movement.”
Dow provided the chemicals that Washington used from 1961 onward to destroy crops and forests in South Vietnam, drenching the country with Agent Orange.
These poisons contain dioxin, one of the most lethal carcinogens known, affecting millions of Vietnamese and many U.S. soldiers. To this day in Vietnam, aborted fetuses and deformed infants are very likely the effects of these crimes – though, in light of Washington’s refusal to investigate, we have only the studies of Vietnamese scientists and independent analysts.
Joining the Vietnamese appeal against Dow are the government of India, the Indian Olympic Association, and the survivors of the horrendous 1984 Bhopal gas leak, one of history’s worst industrial disasters, which killed thousands and injured more than half a million.
Union Carbide, the corporation responsible for the disaster, was taken over by Dow, for whom the matter is of no slight concern. In February, Wikileaks revealed that Dow hired the U.S. private investigative agency Stratfor to monitor activists seeking compensation for the victims and prosecution of those responsible.
Another major crime with very serious persisting effects is the Marine assault on the Iraqi city of Fallujah in November 2004.
Women and children were permitted to escape if they could. After several weeks of bombing, the attack opened with a carefully planned war crime: invasion of the Fallujah General Hospital, where patients and staff were ordered to the floor, their hands tied. Soon the bonds were loosened; the compound was secure.
The official justification was that the hospital was reporting civilian casualties, and therefore was considered a propaganda weapon.
Much of the city was left in “smoking ruins,” the press reported while the Marines sought out insurgents in their “warrens.” The invaders barred entry to the Red Crescent relief organization. Absent an official inquiry, the scale of the crimes is unknown.
If the Fallujah events are reminiscent of the events that took place in the Bosnian enclave of Srebrenica, now again in the news with the genocide trial of Bosnian Serb military commander Ratko Mladic, there’s a good reason. An honest comparison would be instructive, but there’s no fear of that: One is an atrocity, the other not, by definition.
As in Vietnam, independent investigators are reporting long-term effects of the Fallujah assault.
Medical researchers have found dramatic increases in infant mortality, cancer and leukemia, even higher than Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Uranium levels in hair and soil samples are far beyond comparable cases.
One of the rare investigators from the invading countries is Dr. Kypros Nicolaides, director of the fetal-medicine research center at London’s King’s College Hospital. “I’m sure the Americans used weapons that caused these deformities,” Nicolaides says.
The lingering effects of a vastly greater nonatrocity were reported last month by U.S. law professor James Anaya, the U.N. rapporteur on the rights of indigenous peoples.
Anaya dared to tread on forbidden territory by investigating the shocking conditions among the remnants of the Native American population in the U.S. – “poverty, poor health conditions, lack of attainment of formal education (and) social ills at rates that far exceed those of other segments of the American population,” Anaya reported. No member of Congress was willing to meet him. Press coverage was minimal.
Dissidents have been much in the news after the dramatic rescue of the blind Chinese civil-rights activist Chen Guangcheng.
“The international commotion,” Samuel Moyn wrote in The New York Times last month, “aroused memories of earlier dissidents like Andrei D. Sakharov and Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn, the Eastern bloc heroes of another age who first made ‘international human rights’ a rallying cry for activists across the globe and a high-profile item on Western governments’ agendas.”
Moyn is the author of “The Last Utopia: Human Rights in History,” released in 2010. In The New York Times Book Review, Belinda Cooper questioned Moyn’s tracing the contemporary prominence of these ideals to “(President Jimmy) Carter’s abortive steps to inject human rights into foreign policy and the 1975 Helsinki accords with the Soviet Union,” focusing on abuses in the Soviet sphere. She finds Moyn’s thesis unpersuasive because “an alternative history to his own is far too easy to construct.”
True enough: The obvious alternative is the one that James Peck provides, which the mainstream can hardly consider, though the relevant facts are strikingly clear and known at least to scholarship.
Thus in the “Cambridge History of the Cold War,” John Coatsworth recalls that from 1960 to “the Soviet collapse in 1990, the numbers of political prisoners, torture victims, and executions of nonviolent political dissenters in Latin America vastly exceeded those in the Soviet Union and its East European satellites.” But being nonatrocities, these crimes, substantially traceable to U.S. intervention, didn’t inspire a human-rights crusade.
Also inspired by the Chen rescue, New York Times columnist Bill Keller writes that “Dissidents are heroic,” but they can be “irritants to American diplomats who have important business to transact with countries that don’t share our values.” Keller criticizes Washington for sometimes failing to live up to our values with prompt action when others commit crimes.
There is no shortage of heroic dissidents within the domains of U.S. influence and power, but they are as invisible as the Latin American victims. Looking almost at random around the world, we find Abdulhadi al-Khawaja, co-founder of the Bahrain Center for Human Rights, an Amnesty International prisoner of conscience, now facing death in prison from a long hunger strike.
And Father Mun Jeong-hyeon, the elderly Korean priest who was severely injured while holding mass as part of the protest against the construction of a U.S. naval base on Jeju Island, named an Island of Peace, now occupied by security forces for the first time since the 1948 massacres by the U.S.-imposed South Korean government.
And Turkish scholar Ismail Besikci, facing trial again for defending the rights of Kurds. He already has spent much of his life in prison on the same charge, including the 1990s, when the Clinton administration was providing Turkey with huge quantities of military aid – at a time when the Turkish military perpetrated some of the period’s worst atrocities.
But these instances are all nonexistent, on standard principles, along with others too numerous to mention.
Prof. Noam Chomsky
Distributed by The New York Times Syndicate
Almost any moment in history yields innumerable illustrations. Let’s keep to the past few weeks.
On May 10, the Summer Olympics were inaugurated at the Greek birthplace of the ancient games. A few days before, virtually unnoticed, the government of Vietnam addressed a letter to the International Olympic Committee expressing the “profound concerns of the Government and people of Viet Nam about the decision of IOC to accept the Dow Chemical Company as a global partner sponsoring the Olympic Movement.”
Dow provided the chemicals that Washington used from 1961 onward to destroy crops and forests in South Vietnam, drenching the country with Agent Orange.
These poisons contain dioxin, one of the most lethal carcinogens known, affecting millions of Vietnamese and many U.S. soldiers. To this day in Vietnam, aborted fetuses and deformed infants are very likely the effects of these crimes – though, in light of Washington’s refusal to investigate, we have only the studies of Vietnamese scientists and independent analysts.
Joining the Vietnamese appeal against Dow are the government of India, the Indian Olympic Association, and the survivors of the horrendous 1984 Bhopal gas leak, one of history’s worst industrial disasters, which killed thousands and injured more than half a million.
Union Carbide, the corporation responsible for the disaster, was taken over by Dow, for whom the matter is of no slight concern. In February, Wikileaks revealed that Dow hired the U.S. private investigative agency Stratfor to monitor activists seeking compensation for the victims and prosecution of those responsible.
Another major crime with very serious persisting effects is the Marine assault on the Iraqi city of Fallujah in November 2004.
Women and children were permitted to escape if they could. After several weeks of bombing, the attack opened with a carefully planned war crime: invasion of the Fallujah General Hospital, where patients and staff were ordered to the floor, their hands tied. Soon the bonds were loosened; the compound was secure.
The official justification was that the hospital was reporting civilian casualties, and therefore was considered a propaganda weapon.
Much of the city was left in “smoking ruins,” the press reported while the Marines sought out insurgents in their “warrens.” The invaders barred entry to the Red Crescent relief organization. Absent an official inquiry, the scale of the crimes is unknown.
If the Fallujah events are reminiscent of the events that took place in the Bosnian enclave of Srebrenica, now again in the news with the genocide trial of Bosnian Serb military commander Ratko Mladic, there’s a good reason. An honest comparison would be instructive, but there’s no fear of that: One is an atrocity, the other not, by definition.
As in Vietnam, independent investigators are reporting long-term effects of the Fallujah assault.
Medical researchers have found dramatic increases in infant mortality, cancer and leukemia, even higher than Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Uranium levels in hair and soil samples are far beyond comparable cases.
One of the rare investigators from the invading countries is Dr. Kypros Nicolaides, director of the fetal-medicine research center at London’s King’s College Hospital. “I’m sure the Americans used weapons that caused these deformities,” Nicolaides says.
The lingering effects of a vastly greater nonatrocity were reported last month by U.S. law professor James Anaya, the U.N. rapporteur on the rights of indigenous peoples.
Anaya dared to tread on forbidden territory by investigating the shocking conditions among the remnants of the Native American population in the U.S. – “poverty, poor health conditions, lack of attainment of formal education (and) social ills at rates that far exceed those of other segments of the American population,” Anaya reported. No member of Congress was willing to meet him. Press coverage was minimal.
Dissidents have been much in the news after the dramatic rescue of the blind Chinese civil-rights activist Chen Guangcheng.
“The international commotion,” Samuel Moyn wrote in The New York Times last month, “aroused memories of earlier dissidents like Andrei D. Sakharov and Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn, the Eastern bloc heroes of another age who first made ‘international human rights’ a rallying cry for activists across the globe and a high-profile item on Western governments’ agendas.”
Moyn is the author of “The Last Utopia: Human Rights in History,” released in 2010. In The New York Times Book Review, Belinda Cooper questioned Moyn’s tracing the contemporary prominence of these ideals to “(President Jimmy) Carter’s abortive steps to inject human rights into foreign policy and the 1975 Helsinki accords with the Soviet Union,” focusing on abuses in the Soviet sphere. She finds Moyn’s thesis unpersuasive because “an alternative history to his own is far too easy to construct.”
True enough: The obvious alternative is the one that James Peck provides, which the mainstream can hardly consider, though the relevant facts are strikingly clear and known at least to scholarship.
Thus in the “Cambridge History of the Cold War,” John Coatsworth recalls that from 1960 to “the Soviet collapse in 1990, the numbers of political prisoners, torture victims, and executions of nonviolent political dissenters in Latin America vastly exceeded those in the Soviet Union and its East European satellites.” But being nonatrocities, these crimes, substantially traceable to U.S. intervention, didn’t inspire a human-rights crusade.
Also inspired by the Chen rescue, New York Times columnist Bill Keller writes that “Dissidents are heroic,” but they can be “irritants to American diplomats who have important business to transact with countries that don’t share our values.” Keller criticizes Washington for sometimes failing to live up to our values with prompt action when others commit crimes.
There is no shortage of heroic dissidents within the domains of U.S. influence and power, but they are as invisible as the Latin American victims. Looking almost at random around the world, we find Abdulhadi al-Khawaja, co-founder of the Bahrain Center for Human Rights, an Amnesty International prisoner of conscience, now facing death in prison from a long hunger strike.
And Father Mun Jeong-hyeon, the elderly Korean priest who was severely injured while holding mass as part of the protest against the construction of a U.S. naval base on Jeju Island, named an Island of Peace, now occupied by security forces for the first time since the 1948 massacres by the U.S.-imposed South Korean government.
And Turkish scholar Ismail Besikci, facing trial again for defending the rights of Kurds. He already has spent much of his life in prison on the same charge, including the 1990s, when the Clinton administration was providing Turkey with huge quantities of military aid – at a time when the Turkish military perpetrated some of the period’s worst atrocities.
But these instances are all nonexistent, on standard principles, along with others too numerous to mention.
Prof. Noam Chomsky
Distributed by The New York Times Syndicate
Africans In Israel Attacked by Zionist Government and Racist Mobs.
Migrants from Sudan and Eritrea beaten, robbed and threatened with deportation.
By Abayomi Azikiwe.Editor, Pan-African News WireSince late May the rising animosity toward African migrants in Israel has reached a boiling point. After months of anti-African speeches in the Knesset and the cabinet of Binyamin Netanyahu, mobs of racist gangs began to attack Sudanese, Ethiopians and Eritreans in south Tel Aviv.
People were beaten on the streets, their business were looted amid calls for the banning and deportations of Africans. Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu and other Israeli politicians have likened migrant workers and small business people from Africa to a “cancer” within society.
On June 4, four people were taken to a hospital suffering from burns and smoke inhalation after their home was firebombed in Jerusalem. The arson attack took place in a two-story building in a poor neighborhood close to the Mahane Yehuda market at 3:00 a.m. in the morning. (Alarabiya.net, June 4)
It was reported that some 18 people lived in the building where the fire was started in a narrow entrance corridor. Outside the building racists had painted “Get out of the neighborhood.”
Violence Given Official Support
These attacks against African migrants are by no means spontaneous but are taking place within a broader political context. The State of Israel, founded on the racist and imperialist notions of entitlement to the land of Palestine, has for decades engaged in massacres, imprisonment and forced removals of the Arab population.
On May 23 a rally in Tel Aviv of 1,000 people was addressed by several leading Israeli politicians, many of whom are members of the ruling Likud Party of Netanyahu. Accusations of criminal activity and taking employment opportunities away from Israelis worked the crowd into an agitated state.
Likud Member of Parliament Miri Regev told the crowd that “The infiltrators are a cancer in our body. The infiltrators must be expelled from Israel! Expulsion now!” (Press TV, May 29)
Later mobs carrying sticks and stones began to rampage through areas populated by African migrants. The crowds shouted “Blacks Out!” and “Infiltrators get out of our homes.”
In addition to the vandalism and looting of shops operated and frequented by Africans, two men who were sitting in a vehicle were assaulted while the car was smashed up. The mobs claim that Africans have disrupted their lives and neighborhoods by stealing and threatening Israeli women with sexual assaults.
Israeli Interior Minister Eli Yishai told the army radio station in an interview that “We must put all these infiltrators behind bars in detention and holding centers, then send them home because they come and take work from Israelis.
It has been estimated that up to 60,000 African migrants have entered the State of Israel from Egypt since the collapse of the Hosni Mubarak regime 15 months ago. The migrants say they are fleeing the unstable political situations in Sudan and the Horn of Africa where drought, food deficits and western-backed internal conflicts have created massive dislocation of civilian populations.
The Israeli government on June 3 put into effect a law passed by the Knesset in January that allows for the detention of African migrants for up to three years. Israeli officials say the new law will both discourage migration as well as provide a legal mechanism for the detention and mass deportation of Africans.
After the mob attacks on May 23, Netanyahu stressed that “The problem of the infiltrators must be solved and we will solve it.” Interior Minister Yishai, who is a member of another right-wing party, the ultra-orthodox Shas, said that the Africans are a threat to the character of Israeli society.
“The infiltrators along with the Palestinians will quickly bring us to the end of the Zionist dream. We don’t need to import more problems from Africa,” Yishai said in reference to the burgeoning economic problems in Israel which have sparked demonstrations over the last year by the settler population.
Feeling the impact of the world economic crisis, the Israeli state is based upon the maintenance of a settler population through government subsidies for housing and social welfare needs. With the overall decline in the manufacturing and service sectors, unemployment and the lack of housing has created tensions between the settler population and their government based in Tel Aviv.
Yishai also said of the Africans that “Most of those people arriving here are Muslims who think the country doesn’t belong to us, the white man.” Another right-wing politician, Aryeh Eldad, encouraged the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) to shoot on sight Africans attempting to cross the border into the Zionist state. (Reuters, June 3)
There are already detention facilities for migrants on the border with Egypt that are overflowing with inmates. Reports indicate that these prisons where migrants are held prior to deportation can house up to 5,000 people.
Nonetheless, the Israeli government approved the construction of another prison for migrants last year. This was done at the same time that plans were made for the building of a $167 million fence on the border with Sinai to ostensibly keep out African immigrants as well as revolutionaries who may be engaging in attacks against the Israeli state.
Continuing the Legacy of Racism and Forced Removals
Many longtime observers of the State of Israel are not surprised at the latest outbreak of racist violence against African migrants. Although the rationale for such attacks are supposedly based on the lack of “legal immigration documents” by Africans from Sudan and Eritrea, similar acts of discrimination are carried out against Ethiopian Jews who were airlifted into the settler state during the 1980s.
During the period of the Ethiopian Revolution, a drought and famine struck the country in 1984-85. The Soviet Union supplied planes to relocate people to areas where relief could be provided while the Israeli government targeted the Ethiopian Jewish population for immigration to occupied Palestine.
However, these Ethiopians have suffered discrimination since arriving in Israel. Evidence of such racism occurred during the mob violence in Tel Aviv on May 23 when Hananya Vanda, a Jewish Israeli of Ethiopian origin was attacked by the racists who later said they “did not know he was Jewish.” (Gulf Today, June 4)
Millions of Palestinians remain in refugee camps in and outside of their national homeland nearly sixty-five years after the establishment of the Zionist state. The United States government and ruling class subsidizes the Israeli rulers to the tune of billions of dollars every year and the transferal of sophisticated military and intelligence equipment and technologies.
The State of Israel serves as the most important outpost for U.S. imperialism in the Middle East. Last year at the United Nations General Assembly, President Barack Obama in his address urged the Palestinian Authority not to seek recognition as a legitimate state and to return to the negotiating table with Israel where no progress has been made in nearly two decades since the failed Oslo Agreements.
The Palestinian enclave of Gaza remains the largest open-air prison in the world. The IDF periodically engages in aerial strikes on the people of Gaza killing civilians almost on a daily basis.
The elimination of racism and discrimination in Israel will not take place until the territory is liberated from U.S.-backed Zionist rule. The entire political and economic fabric of the state is based on oppression and exploitation and the recent events of racist violence directed against African migrants provides an even greater opportunity for unity between the Arab and African populations throughout the region.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Monday, May 28, 2012
Middle Class Laziness
Franz Fanon’s strikingly prescient words which so aptly describe today’s political and intellectual fallout from the “Arab Spring”:
“History teaches us clearly that the battle against colonialism does not run straight away along the lines of nationalism. For a very long time the native devotes his energies to ending certain definite abuses: forced labour, corporal punishment, inequality of salaries, limitation of political rights, etc. This fight for democracy against the oppression of mankind will slowly leave the confusion of neo-liberal universalism to emerge, sometimes laboriously, as a claim to nationhood. It so happens that the unpreparedness of the educated classes, the lack of practical links between them and the mass of the people, their laziness, and, let it be said, their cowardice at the decisive moment of the struggle will give rise to tragic mishaps…….This traditional weakness, which is almost congenital to the national consciousness of under-developed countries, is not solely the result of the mutilation of the colonized people by the colonial regime. It is also the result of the intellectual laziness of the national middle class, of its spiritual penury, and of the profoundly cosmopolitan mould that its mind is set in.”
“History teaches us clearly that the battle against colonialism does not run straight away along the lines of nationalism. For a very long time the native devotes his energies to ending certain definite abuses: forced labour, corporal punishment, inequality of salaries, limitation of political rights, etc. This fight for democracy against the oppression of mankind will slowly leave the confusion of neo-liberal universalism to emerge, sometimes laboriously, as a claim to nationhood. It so happens that the unpreparedness of the educated classes, the lack of practical links between them and the mass of the people, their laziness, and, let it be said, their cowardice at the decisive moment of the struggle will give rise to tragic mishaps…….This traditional weakness, which is almost congenital to the national consciousness of under-developed countries, is not solely the result of the mutilation of the colonized people by the colonial regime. It is also the result of the intellectual laziness of the national middle class, of its spiritual penury, and of the profoundly cosmopolitan mould that its mind is set in.”
Source: The Wretched of the Earth, 1961
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Asia in my life: NGUGI WA THIONG'O
It is time to make the invisible visible in order to create a more interesting – and ultimately more meaningful – free flow of ideas in the world.
BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT
WRITER NGUGI wa Thiong'o, whose name is pronounced "Googy" and means "work", writes novels, plays, essays and children's literature. Among his most acclaimed works is the 2006 novel "Wizard of the Crow", a sweeping satire on globalisation that he originally wrote in his native Gikuyu language.
THE links between Asia and Africa and South America have always been present, but in our times they have been made invisible by the fact that Europe is still the central mediator of Afro-Asian-Latino discourse. We live under what Satya Mohanty in his interview in Frontline (April 6, 2012) aptly calls the long intellectual shadow of the Age of European Empire.
In my case, I had always assumed that my intellectual and social formation was tied to England and Europe, with no meaningful connection to Asia and South America. There was a reason. I wrote in English. My literary heroes were English. Kenya being a British colony, I had learnt the geography and history of England as the central reference in my widening view of the world. Even our anti-colonial resistance assumed Europe as the point of contest; it was we, Africa, against them, Europe. I graduated from Makerere College in Uganda in 1964, with a degree in English, then went to the University of Leeds, England, for further studies, in English. Leeds was a meeting point of students from the Commonwealth: India, Pakistan, Australia, and the Caribbean. We saw each other through our experience of England. Our relationship to England, in admiration, resentment or both, was what established a shared space.
After I wrote my memoir of childhood, Dreams in a Time of War, published in 2006, I looked back and saw how much India had been an equally important thread in my life. I had not planned to bring out the Indian theme in my life, but there it was, staring at me right from the pages of my narrative. The thread starts from home, through school, college and after.
I did not grow up in a Christian home, but we celebrated Christmas, everybody did; it was a time of carnival, with children, in their very best, trooping from house to house to indulge their fancy in terms of food. We were vegetarians throughout the year, though not out of choice, and to many Christmas day was the first time they would taste meat. For me Christmas meant the occasion for eating gitoero, a curried broth of potatoes, peas, beans, and occasionally a piece of lamb or chicken, but the centrepiece of the dishes was cabaci, sometimes called mborota. Even today, Christmas and feasts in Kenya mean plentiful of cabaci, thambutha and mandath i, our version of the Indian chapati, paratha, samosa. The spices, curry, hot pepper and all, so very Indian, had become so central a part of Kenyan African cuisine that I could have sworn that these dishes were truly indigenous.
It was not just Christmas: daily hospitality in every Kenyan home means being treated to a mug of tea, literally a brew of tea leaves, tangawizi, and milk and sugar, made together, really a masala tea. Not to offer a passing guest or neighbour a cup of tea is the height of stinginess or poverty, and for the guest to decline the offer, the ultimate insult. So African it all seemed to me that when I saw Indians drinking tea or making curry, I thought it the result of African influence. Where the Indian impact on African food culture was all pervasive, there was hardly any equivalence from the English presence; baked white bread is the only contribution that readily comes to mind. This is not surprising. Imported Indian skilled labour built the railway line from the Coast to the Great Lake, opening the interior for English settlement. Every railroad station, from Mombasa to Kisumu, initially depots for the building material, mushroomed into a town mainly because of the Indian traders who provided much needed services to the workers initially, and, in time, to the community around. If European settlers opened the land for large-scale farming for export, the Indian opened the towns and cities for retail and wholesale commerce.
Limuru, where I come from, had a thriving Indian shopping centre built on land carved from that of my maternal grandfather's clan. The funeral pyres to burn the bodies of the Indian dead were held in a small forest that was also under my maternal grandfather's care. Cremation is central to Hindu culture: it asks Agni, the fire god, to release the spirit from the earthily body to be re-embodied in heaven into a different form of being. The departed soul travelled from pretaloka to pitraloka unless there were impurities holding it back. My mother did not practise Hinduism, but to her dying day, she believed and swore that on some nights, she would see disembodied Indian spirits, like lit candles in the dark, wandering in the forest around the cremation place. She talked about it as a matter of regular material fact, and she would become visibly upset when we doubted her.
It was not all harmony all the time. The Indian community kept to itself, there was hardly any social interaction between us, except across the counters at the shopping centre. Fights between African and Indian kids broke out, initiated by either side. The Indian dukanwalla, an employer of Africans for domestic work and around the shops, was, more often than not, likely to hurl racially charged insults at his workers. Some of the insults entered African languages. One of the most insulting words in Gikuyu was njangiri. A njangiri of a man meant one who was useless, rootless, like a stray dog. Njangiri came to Gikuyu from Junglee, the Sanskrit/Hindi word for wild: it would have been what the Indian employer was likely to call his domestic help. In colonial times, in my area at least, I do not recall the tensions ever exploding into inter-communal violence.
The postcolonial scene presents a different picture. Time and again Indians and Indian-owned stores have been targets of violence, especially in times of crisis, mostly victims of looting. I am not sure if it is the fact of their Indianness, or the fact of their being a most visible part of the affluent middle class. In such a case the line between the racial and class resentment is thin. Different in that sense is the case of Idi Amin's Uganda, where hundreds of Asians were expelled from a country that had been their home for almost a century. In both the colonial and postcolonial era, social segregation, forced in the case of the colonial era, or a consequence of habit and history, has exacerbated tensions.
The colonial school system segregated Asian, European and African from each other and it was not until Makerere College that I had social interaction with Indians. Makerere was an affiliate of the University of London in Kampala, Uganda, where, until the advent of Idi Amin, racial relations were benign. Before its college status, Makerere used to be a place of post-secondary schooling for African students from British East Africa, but as Independence approached, the college opened its doors to a sizeable Indian student presence. That is when we started learning about each other's different ways of life at a more personal basis. We shared dorms, classes, and the struggles for student leadership in college politics and sports. Leadership emerged from any of the multi-ethnic and multiracial mix. Doing things together is the best teacher of race relations: one can see and appreciate the real human person behind the racial and ethnic stereotypes.
The lead role of an African woman in my drama, The Black Hermit, the first major play ever in English by an East African black native, was an Indian. No make-up, just a headscarf and a kanga shawl on her long dress, but Suzie Wooman played the African mother to perfection, her act generating a standing ovation lasting into minutes. I dedicated my first novel, Weep Not Child, to my Indian classmate Jasbir Kalsi, probably as homage to our friendly but fierce intellectual rivalry in our English studies. Ghulsa Nensi led a multi-ethnic team that made the costumes for the play, while Bahadur Tejani led the team that raised money for the production.
It was not simply at the personal realm. Commerce, arts, crafts, medical and legal professions in Kenya have the marks of the Indian genius all over them. Politics too, and it should never be forgotten that Mahatma Gandhi started and honed his political and organising skills in South Africa, where he spent 21 years of his life from 1893, leaving for India in 1914. The South African scholar Masilela Ntongela places Gandhi squarely as one of the founding intellectuals of what Masilela calls the New African Movement. The honorific Mahatma, the great soul, was first applied to him in South Africa for by the time he left for India, he had already developed his Satyagraha and Ahimsa ready for use in his anti-colonial struggles that eventually led to Indian Independence in 1947, an event that had a big impact on anti-colonial struggles in Africa. What India achieved could be realised in Africa! Gandhi kept in touch with politics in Africa, Kenya in particular, and wrote a letter of protest when the British imprisoned one of the early Kenyan nationalists, Harry Thuku, in the 1920s. Gandhi created the tradition of South African Asians at the front line of struggle in South Africa. Ahmed Kathrada was one of the 10 defendants in the famous Rivonia trial that would lead him to Robben Island where he spent 18 years alongside Nelson Mandela and others. What Gandhi started Mandela completed. When I met Mandela in Johannesburg soon after his release and becoming president of the African National Congress (ANC) party, I came out from the hour-long one-on-one conversation struck by the charisma of his simplicity, reminiscent of what people say about Gandhi.
MAKHAN SINGH ADDRESSING workers in Nairobi in 1961, following his release after more than 11 years, during which he had been held without trial in remote and isolated parts of Kenya. Makhan Singh, along with Gamal Pinto, started the trade union movement in Kenya.
The birth of the Trade Union Movement in Kenya was largely the work of Gamal Pinto and Makhan Singh. Imprisoned by the Kenya colonial authorities repeatedly, Makhan Singh would never give up the task of bringing Indian and African workers together. He was the first prominent political leader to stand in a court of law and tell the British colonial state that Africans were ready to govern themselves, a heresy that earned him imprisonment and internal exile. Kapenguria is usually associated with the trial and imprisonment of Jomo Kenyatta, but Makhan Singh preceded him. There have been some Indian political martyrs, the first being the Indian workers executed for treason by the authorities in the very early days of colonial occupation. Gamal Pinto, a hero of the anti-colonial resistance, would be a prominent victim of the postcolonial negative turn in Kenyan politics. Though under a fictional name, Gamal Pinto has been immortalised in Peter Nazareth's novel In a Brown Mantle, one of the best literary articulations of the political drama of the transformation of African politics from the colonial to the neocolonial.
The recent explosion of Chinese interest in Africa might obscure the fact that there has always been a small but significant migrant Chinese presence, in South Africa mostly, but also in Zimbabwe. Fay Chung, whose grandparents migrated to Rhodesia in the 1920s, became an active participant in the anti-colonial struggle, at one time running for her life into exile in Tanzania, and was a big player in the founding of Zimbabwe. She founded Zimfep, which invited Kamirithu theatre to Zimbabwe. (A visit was scuttled by the Daniel arap Moi regime by simply banning the theatre group and forcing one of its leaders, the late Ngugi wa Mirii, to flee to Zimbabwe.) Under Zimfep, she launched the Zimbabwe Community Theatre Movement, ensuring the continuity and expansion of the Kamirithu spirit.
Mao Zedong never visited Africa, but his thought has been part of the intellectual debate in the postcolonial era. His class analysis of Chinese society was seen as providing a more relevant model for analysing African postcolonial social realities than the European Marxist model, and Kwame Nkrumah's book Class Struggle in Africa has Mao's marks all over it. The notion of the Comprador bourgeoisie dependent on and serving foreign capital and hence contrastable from the national bourgeoisie with its primary reliance on national capital has become an analytic model in political theory and development studies.
The intellectual history of the continent would be the poorer without the journal Transition, now based in Harvard, but founded by Rajat Neogy way back in 1962. Neogy, a brilliant and creative editor, was Uganda born and educated: he believed in the multicultural and multifaceted character of ideas, and he wanted to provide a space where different ideas could meet, clash, and mutually illuminate. Transition became the intellectual forum of the New East Africa, and indeed Africa, the first publisher of some of the leading intellectuals in the continent, including Wole Soyinka, Ali Mazrui and Peter Nazareth. Transition published my short story The Return, a turning point in my literary life. The story, which captured what would later become so central a part of my aesthetic explorations in my novels, principally A Grain of Wheat et al, was the sole basis of my inclusion in the 1962 conference of African writers of English expression.
Peter Nazareth and Bahadur Tejani, early contributors to Transition, would later set the tradition of Afro-Indian writing with their novels, a tradition taken to new heights by Moyez G. Vassanji. More than even black African writers, these three have been among those who have explored extensively and intensively the often problematic African-Indian relations. My own work, Wizard of the Crow, published in 2006, in which I tried to bring in Eastern philosophies into imaginative discourse with African realities was following in the footprints already made by these writers on the sands of the cultural scene in Africa.
It may be argued that in the specific cases of East and South Africa, where there has always been a sizeable Asian immigrant presence, Afro-Asian dialogue was inevitable. But, in general, Africa and Asia have met through political entities such as the Bandung Conference, the Non-Aligned Movement, the Afro-Asian Peoples' Solidarity Organisation; and at intellectual practice, the long years of the Afro-Asian writers' movement which staged conferences in various capitals of Asia and Africa.
I have always felt the need for Africa, Asia and South America to learn from each other. This south-to-south intellectual and literary exchange was at the centre of the Nairobi Literature debate in the early 1960s, and is the centrepiece of my recent theoretical explorations, in Globalectics: Theory and the Politics of Knowing. The debate brought about a literature syllabus that centred the study of Indian/Asian, Caribbean, African-American and South American writers alongside those of the European tradition. The result was not to the liking of the neocolonial regime in Kenya, who accused me and my colleagues of replacing Shakespeare with Marxist revolutionaries from Asia, the Caribbean, Afro-America and Latin America, among them Lu Xun, Kim Chi Ha, V.S. Naipaul, George Lamming, Kamau Brathwaite, C.L.R. James, Alejo Carpentier, Richard Wright, and Ralph Ellison. Shakespeare was of course safe, but we had committed the crime of placing him among other writers and changing the name of the department from English to Literature, which we thought was the more appropriate designation of the study of literature without borders.
As the editor of the Gikuyu language journal Mutiiri, I have published the Gikuyu translations of some of the poetry of Ariel Dorfman and Otto Rene Castillo. Professor Gitahi, who did the translations directly from Spanish into Gikuyu, did his doctoral work on Latin American literature. Gitahi was a product of the literature syllabus of the reorganised literature department of Nairobi University. His translation has facilitated direct Spanish-Gikuyu language conversation.
I would like to publish numerous translations from the languages of Asia and South America and you can call this a challenge to African, South American and Asian translators. More important, I would like to see similar efforts at enabling conversations between African, Asian and South American languages. This also calls for a new category of literary scholars who have studied a combination of languages from Asia, Africa and South America.
It is time to make the invisible visible in order to create a more interesting – and ultimately more creative and meaningful – free flow of ideas in the world. Satya Mohanty is quite right when he says: “One of the many advantages of the present moment is that the long intellectual shadow of the Age of European Empire seems to be receding a bit, and we have remarkable opportunities to work across cultures to learn from one another.”
Mohanty's call for the cultural interaction and interchange across borders – beyond the Eurocentric campus and our current notions of Comparative Literature – echoes in a forceful way and fresh manner the vision assumed and contained in the call for the abolition of the English Department made in Nairobi in 1969, the first steps in what would later become postcolonial theories and studies. Mohanty's call for cross-regional comparative literary studies is a necessary and timely intervention on the path towards a genuine world literature.
Plight of the poor in kenya
Tragedies among the poor are so frequent that hardly merit a headline. Our Media outlets have neither a conscience nor care for social justice as they are preoccupied with politics, celebrities and fashion. When they discuss they discuss the plight of the marginalized it is always judgmental, pitiful and patronizing. Fr. Gabriel Dolan
Ethnicity and class relations in kenya
When you look at the ethnic nationality of a politician and disregard his class we start making mistakes. Ethnic nationality of a politician has not made any difference to how they treat the working class kenyan. A kikuyu politician will unite any day any time with a kalenjin, luo,luhya politician if their class demands even if they have previously sponsored the massacre of the working class and peasantry of each others ethnic nationality.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Marx at 193
John Lanchester
In
trying to think what Marx would have made of the world today, we have
to begin by stressing that he was not an empiricist. He didn’t think
that you could gain access to the truth by gleaning bits of data from
experience, ‘data points’ as scientists call them, and then assembling a
picture of reality from the fragments you’ve accumulated. Since this is
what most of us think we’re doing most of the time it marks a
fundamental break between Marx and what we call common sense, a notion
that was greatly disliked by Marx, who saw it as the way a particular
political and class order turns its construction of reality into an
apparently neutral set of ideas which are then taken as givens of the
natural order. Empiricism, because it takes its evidence from the
existing order of things, is inherently prone to accepting as realities
things that are merely evidence of underlying biases and ideological
pressures. Empiricism, for Marx, will always confirm the status quo. He
would have particularly disliked the modern tendency to argue from
‘facts’, as if those facts were neutral chunks of reality, free of the
watermarks of history and interpretation and ideological bias and of the
circumstances of their own production.
I,
on the other hand, am an empiricist. That’s not so much because I think
Marx was wrong about the distorting effect of underlying ideological
pressures; it’s because I don’t think it’s possible to have a vantage
point free of those pressures, so you have a duty to do the best with
what you can see, and especially not to shirk from looking at data which
are uncomfortable and/or contradictory. But this is a profound
difference between Marx and my way of talking about Marx, which he would
have regarded as being philosophically and politically entirely
invalid.
Consider these passages from The Communist Manifesto, which Marx wrote with Engels in 1848, after being kicked out of both France and Germany for his political writings:
Capitalism
has subjected the country to the rule of the towns. It has created
enormous cities. Capitalism has agglomerated population, centralised
means of production, and has concentrated property in a few hands.
Capitalism has left remaining no other nexus between man and man than naked self-interest, than callous ‘cash payment’.
Capitalism
has been the first to show what man’s activity can bring about. It has
accomplished wonders far surpassing Egyptian pyramids, Roman aqueducts
and Gothic cathedrals; it has conducted expeditions that put in the
shade all former Exoduses of nations and crusades. Capitalism has
created more massive and more colossal productive forces than have all
preceding generations together.
Capitalism
cannot exist without constantly revolutionising the instruments of
production, and thereby the means of production, and with them the whole
relations of society. Constant revolutionising of production,
uninterrupted disturbance of all social conditions, everlasting
uncertainty and agitation distinguish the capitalist epoch from all
earlier ones. All old-established national industries have been
destroyed or are daily being destroyed.
In
place of the old wants, satisfied by the productions of the country, we
find new wants, requiring for their satisfaction the products of
distant lands and climes.
Commercial
crises put on trial, each time more threateningly, the existence of the
entire capitalist society. In these crises a great part not only of the
existing products, but also of the previously created productive
forces, are periodically destroyed.
It’s
hard not to conclude from these selected sentences that Marx was
extraordinarily prescient. He really did have the most astonishing
insight into the nature and trajectory and direction of capitalism.
Three aspects which particularly stand out here are the tribute he pays
to the productive capacity of capitalism, which far exceeds that of any
other political-economic system we’ve ever seen; the remaking of social
order which accompanies that; and capitalism’s inherent tendency for
crisis, for cycles of boom and bust.
I
should, however, admit that I haven’t quoted these sentences exactly as
Marx wrote them: where I wrote ‘capitalism’, Marx had ‘the
bourgeoisie’. He was talking about a class and the system which served
its interest, and I made it sound as if he was talking only about a
system. Marx doesn’t use the word ‘capitalism’. The term never occurs in
the finished first part of Das Kapital.
(I checked this by doing a word search and found it three times, every
time an apparent mistranslation or loose use of the German plural Kapitals – in German he never talks of Kapitalismus.)
Since he is widely, and accurately, seen as capitalism’s greatest
critic, this is quite an omission. The terms he preferred were
‘political economy’ and ‘bourgeois political economy’, which he saw as
encompassing everything from property rights to our contemporary idea of
human rights to the very conception of the independent autonomous
individual. I think he didn’t use the word ‘capitalism’ because that
would have implied that capitalism was one of a number of competing
possible systems – and Marx didn’t believe that. He didn’t think it was
possible to move past capitalism without a fundamental overturning of
the existing social, political and philosophical order.
He
was right: no alternative has developed. Economics as a discipline has
in effect become the study of capitalism. The two are taken as the same
subject. If there were ever going to be a serious and sustained
theoretical challenge to the hegemony of capitalism inside economics – a
serious and sustained challenge subsequent to the one provided by what
used to be called ‘actually existing socialisms’ – you’d have thought
one would have come along since the near terminal meltdown of the global
economic system in 2008. But all we’ve seen are suggestions for
ameliorative tweaking of the existing system to make it a little less
risky. We have at the moment this monstrous hybrid, state capitalism – a
term which used to be a favourite of the Socialist Workers Party in
describing the Soviet Union, and which only a few weeks ago was on the
cover of the Economist
to describe the current economic condition of most of the world. This
is a parody of economic order, in which the general public bears all the
risks and the financial sector takes all the rewards – an
extraordinarily pure form of what used to be called ‘socialism for the
rich’. But ‘socialism for the rich’ was supposed to be a joke. The truth
is that it is now genuinely the way the global economy is working.
The
financial system in its current condition poses an existential threat
to Western democracy far exceeding any terrorist threat. No democracy
has ever been destabilised by terrorism, but if the cashpoints stopped
giving out money, it would be an event on a scale that would put the
currently constituted democratic states at risk of collapse. And yet
governments act as if there is very little they can do about it. They
have the legal power to conscript us and send us to war, but they can’t
address any fundamentals of the economic order. So it looks very much as
if Marx’s omission of the word ‘capitalism’, because he foresaw no
alternative within the existing social order, was an instance of his
crystal ball functioning with particularly high resolution.
Marx
puts great pressure on the question of where value comes from, how
commodities are exchanged and what money is. It’s a very simple question
but not one that had been asked with such clarity before; it’s also the
kind of question no longer asked at a professional or institutional
level because the current order of things is taken so much for granted.
But it is a very basic and important question, or two questions: what is
money and where does its value come from?
There
are many hundreds of pages on this subject in Marx, and many tens of
thousands in commentaries and analyses of his work, so my summary of his
views is of necessity cartoonishly compressed and simple. Marx’s model
works like this: competition pressures will always force down the cost
of labour, so that workers are employed for the minimum price, always
paid just enough to keep themselves going, and no more. The employer
then sells the commodity not for what it cost to make, but for the best
price he can get: a price which in turn is subject to competition
pressures, and therefore will always tend over time to go down. In the
meantime, however, there is a gap between what the labourer sells his
labour for, and the price the employer gets for the commodity, and that
difference is the money which accumulates to the employer and which Marx
called surplus value. In Marx’s judgment surplus value is the entire
basis of capitalism: all value in capitalism is the surplus value
created by labour. That’s what makes up the cost of the thing; as Marx
put it, ‘price is the money-name of the labour objectified in a
commodity.’ And in examining that question he creates a model which
allows us to see deeply into the structure of the world, and see the
labour hidden in the things all around us. He makes labour legible in
objects and relationships.
The
theory of surplus value also explains, for Marx, why capitalism has an
inherent tendency towards crisis. The employer, just like the employee,
has competition pressures, and the price of the things he’s selling will
always tend to be forced down by new entrants to the market. His way of
getting round this will usually be to employ machines to make the
workers more productive. He’ll try to get more out of them by employing
fewer of them to make more stuff. But in trying to increase the
efficiency of production, he might well destroy value, often by making
too many goods at not enough profit, which leads to a surplus of
competing goods which leads to a crash in the market which leads to
massive destruction of capital which leads to the start of another
cycle. It’s an elegant aspect of Marx’s thinking that the surplus theory
of value leads directly and explicitly to the prediction that
capitalism will always have cycles of crisis, of boom and bust.
There
are obvious difficulties with Marx’s arguments. One of them is that so
many of the contemporary world’s goods and commodities are now virtual
(in the digital-oriented sense) that it’s not easy to see where the
accumulated labour in them is. David Harvey’s lectures on Capital, for instance, the best beginning for anyone studying Marx’s most important book, are of immense value but they’re also available for free on the internet,
so if you buy them as a book – you can take in information much more
quickly by reading than by listening – the surplus value you’re adding
to is mainly your own.
This
idea of labour being hidden in things, and the value of things arising
from the labour congealed inside them, is an unexpectedly powerful
explanatory tool in the digital world. Take Facebook. Part of its
success comes from the fact that people feel that they and their
children are safe spending time there, that it is a place you go to
interact with other people but is not fundamentally risky or sleazy in
the way new technologies are often perceived to be – that VHS, for
instance, was when it was launched on the market. But the perception
that Facebook is, maybe the best word would be ‘hygienic’, is sustained
by tens of thousands of hours of badly paid labour on the part of the
people in the developing world who work for companies hired to scan for
offensive images and who are, according to the one Moroccan man who went
on the record to complain about it, paid a dollar an hour for doing so.
That’s a perfect example of surplus value: huge amounts of poorly paid
menial work creating the hygienic image of a company which, when it
launches on the stock market later this year, hopes to be worth $100
billion.
When
you start looking for this mechanism at work in the contemporary world
you see it everywhere, often in the form of surplus value being created
by you, the customer or client of a company. Online check-in and bag
drop at airports, for example. Online check-in is a process which should
genuinely increase the efficiency of the airport experience, thereby
costing you less time: time you can spend doing other things, some of
them economically useful to you. But what the airlines do is employ so
few people to supervise the bag drop-off that there’s no time-saving at
all for the customer. When you look, you see that because airlines have
to employ more people to supervise the non-online-checked-in customers –
otherwise the planes wouldn’t leave on time – the non-checked-in queues
move far more quickly. They’re transferring their inefficiency to the
customer, but what they’re also doing is transferring the labour to you
and accumulating the surplus value themselves. It happens over and over
again. Every time you deal with a phone menu or interactive voicemail
service, you’re donating your surplus value to the people you’re dealing
with. Marx’s model is constantly asking us to see the labour encoded in
the things and transactions all around us.
Last year the National Geographic
ran a feature on ‘the world’s most typical human being’ to commemorate
the birth of the world’s seven billionth person. The single
uncontentious point about this person is the fact of right-handedness.
(Actually, though handedness isn’t contentious, it is quite interesting,
since the average rate of left-handedness runs at about 10 per cent,
but seems to be higher in societies that have a higher level of
violence. Nobody knows why, but that isn’t surprising since the reason
some people are born left-handed isn’t understood.) That he is a he is a
relatively recent development. More male children are born than female
ones, in the ratio of 103-106 to 100, because male children have a
higher rate of infant mortality and to balance the gender ratio of the
species you need more male babies. But modern medicine has in most parts
of the world sharply decreased infant mortality and now the difference
in birth rates is feeding through into other demographic distributions,
which have historically had more women than men because women live
longer, again for reasons which aren’t understood. In addition, and much
much more darkly, rising prosperity and technological abilities have
led to huge disparities in birth rates, which can only be to do with the
selective abortion of female children. The sex ratio in many parts of
Asia in particular has risen way past biologically possible levels. In
China and India, census data indicate that the level is nationally
around 120 to 100. By 2020, China will have between thirty and forty
million more men than women under the age of 19. To put that figure in
perspective, forty million is the total number of American men in that
demographic bracket. So, within eight years, China faces the prospect of
having the equivalent of the whole young male population of America
permanently single. One of the dark things about this is that ‘son
preference’, as it’s dryly called in the literature, rises with income
and with modernisation – which means it’s been rising sharply. That
amounts to many tens of millions of missing girls.
So
he’s a he. He earns less than £8000 a year. He has a mobile phone but
not a bank account. That fits Marx’s model of how capitalism would play
out: he doesn’t have a bank account because the typical worker is a
proletarian who’s got nothing to deposit in a bank; he doesn’t have any
capital; he has to sell his labour for the best price he can get. He is
28 – that’s the median age of the world population, the guy in the
middle. And if you say the world’s most typical person belongs to the
world’s most numerous ethnic group, it follows that he is a Han Chinese.
So this representative human in 2012 is a 28-year-old Han Chinese man,
no bank account but a mobile, earning on average less than £8000 a year.
Guess how many people fit those exact criteria today? Nine million. We
can even guess his name: Lee, or Li, the most common surname in the
world. There are as many people called Lee as there are people in the UK
and in France added together.
I
don’t think Marx would have seen anything in that picture to disprove
his model, to use a word he would have disliked. He foresaw the
development of a proletariat who did most of the world’s work and a
bourgeoisie who in effect owned the fruits of their labour. The fact of
the proletariat being in the developing world, in effect shoved out of
sight of the Western bourgeoisie, does nothing to disprove that picture –
an ‘external proletariat’, it’s sometimes called. Take as a case study
of this process the world’s most valuable company, which at the moment
is Apple. Apple’s last quarter was the most profitable of any company in
history: it made $13 billion in profits on $46 billion in sales. Its
bestselling products are made at factories owned by the Chinese company
Foxconn. (Foxconn makes the Amazon Kindle, the Microsoft Xbox, the Sony
PS3, and hundreds of other products with other companies’ names on the
front – it’s not much of an exaggeration to say that it makes every
electronic device in the world.) The company’s starting pay is $2 an
hour, the workers live in dormitories of six or eight beds for which
they are charged rent of $16 a month, their factory in Chengdu, where
the iPad is made, runs 24 hours a day, employs 120,000 people – think
about that, a factory the size of Exeter – and isn’t even Foxconn’s
biggest plant: that’s in Shenzhen and employs 230,000 people, who work
12 hours a day, six days a week. The company’s answer to a recent
scandal about suicide rates was to point out that the suicide rate among
Foxconn employees is actually lower than the Chinese average, and that
it turns away thousands of applicants for jobs every day, and both of
those facts are true. That’s what’s really shocking. These conditions
are equal to or better than most of the equivalent manufacturing jobs in
China, where most of the world’s goods are made, and that life is
widely seen among Chinese workers as preferable to the remaining
alternatives of rural life. And all this, in an irony so large there is
almost no word to encompass it, in the world’s biggest and most powerful
notionally Communist state. I don’t think you can describe these as
19th-century labour conditions, but they come very close to fulfilling
Marx’s model of an alienated proletariat whose labour is sucked away
from it and turned into other people’s profits. Our 28-year-old Mr Lee
can easily be imagined as working at one of those plants.
The
challenges to Marx’s account of where we would be now come when you
look in closer detail. If you look at a large picture of the world, much
of what he predicted has come true. We have an affluent bourgeoisie
which is international but which in the Western world forms the majority
of the population, and a proletarian workforce largely in Asia. Add to
that the regularity of economic crises, the growing concentration of
wealth among the already wealthy and the increased pressures that are
everywhere apparent on the international bourgeoisie – the squeezedness
we read so much about. There’s a general sense that there are no longer
any safe havens, that there’s no escaping economic change, that
capitalism moves at a pace faster than humans themselves can move. If
you are a welder but your daughter has to be trained as a software
engineer in order to get work, that’s probably something you and your
society can adapt to; if you are a welder and you have to retrain as a
software engineer halfway through your productive career, that just
isn’t so easy. And yet changes of this scale are what is implied by
developments in modern labour markets. This is exactly what Marx meant
when he foresaw a world in which ‘all that is solid melts into air.’ It
is therefore not too hard to convince yourself that Marx’s predictions
were right at a certain level of broad-brush impressionism.
The
most obvious mistake in his version of the world is to do with class.
There is something like a classic Marxian proletariat dispersed through
the world. But Marx foresaw that this proletariat would be an
increasingly centralised and organised force: indeed, this was one of
the reasons it would prove so dangerous to capitalism. By creating the
conditions in which labour would be sure to organise and assemble
collectively capitalism was arranging its own downfall. But there is no
organised global conflict between the classes; there is no organised
global proletariat. There’s nothing even close. The proletariat is
queuing to get into Foxconn, not to organise strikes there, and the
great danger facing China, which is in a sense where the world’s
proletariat now is, is the inequality caused by fractures within the new
urban proletariat and the rural poverty they’re leaving behind. China
also has tensions between the coast and the centre, and increasing
problems with corruption and maladministration that erupt regularly in
what are known as Mass Group Incidents, MGI – basically anti-authority
riots which occur regularly all over China and seem never to be reported
in the Western mainstream media. But none of these phenomena is to do
with class, and given the emphasis put on organised class struggle in
Marx’s work you have to file this under predictions which haven’t proved
true.
Why
not? I think for two main reasons. The first is that Marx did not
foresee, as no one else did and I don’t think anyone could, the variety
of different forms of capitalism which would evolve. We talk of
capitalism as one thing, but it comes in many different flavours,
involving different models. The contemporary welfare state – housing and
educating and feeding and providing healthcare for its citizens, from
birth to death – is a development which challenges the basis of Marx’s
analysis of what capitalism is: I think he would have looked hard at the
welfare state and wondered whether it fundamentally undermined his
analysis, just because it is so different from the capitalism Marx saw
operating in his day, and from which he extrapolated. Perhaps he would
argue that what has happened is that British society in its entirety has
become part of a global bourgeoisie, and the proletariat is now in
other countries; that’s a possible argument, but not one that’s easy to
sustain in the face of the inequalities which exist and are growing in
our society. But Scandinavian welfare capitalism is very different from
the state-controlled capitalism of China, which is in turn almost wholly
different from the free-market, sauve-qui-peut capitalism of the United
States, which is again different from the nationalistic and heavily
socialised capitalism of France, which again is not at all like the
curious hybrid we have in the UK, in which our governments are wholly
devoted to the free market and yet we have areas of welfare and
provision they haven’t dared address. Singapore is one of the most
avowedly free-market countries in the world, regularly coming top or
near top of surveys for liberalisation of markets, and yet the
government owns most of the land in the country and the overwhelming
majority of the population lives in socialised housing. It’s the world
capital of free markets and also of council flats. There are lots of
different capitalisms and it’s not clear that a single analysis which
embraces all of them as if they were a single phenomenon can be valid.
One
of the ways this plays out is in the variety and complexity of our
interests in this system. In February all the workers in Foxconn had
their basic pay increased by 25 per cent overnight. That wasn’t because
of a feat of organisation and protest on the part of the workforce: it
was because of an article about working conditions there in the New York Times.
Ethical pressures from the West are one of the most potent forces for
improving factory conditions in Shenzhen. Another example, well known in
the medical world but not much outside it, concerns Mectizan, a drug
developed to treat river blindness by the American company Merck. (The
initial samples that contained the chemical used to make the drug came
from a golf course in Japan.) The drug was developed at considerable
cost in 1987, and then given away, free, in perpetuity, with the effect
of saving many hundreds of thousands of people from blindness, and also
saving many more from starvation because it allowed 25 million hectares
of previously uncultivatable land to be turned over to agriculture. You
can just about squeeze that into a Marxist model by describing it as a
publicity stunt, but I don’t think that analysis works, not least
because hardly anybody in the Western world has ever heard of it.
That’s
something Marx didn’t predict and it touches on something else that
couldn’t have been foreseen. That’s the diversity of our interests and
roles in contemporary capitalism. Marx talked about people, indeed
classes, as being divided into workers and owners of the means of
production, and he made some allowance for the fact that we are
‘bearers’ of these roles, different aspects of which might be in play at
different times, with the result that a proletarian may find himself
competing against other proletarians even though their class interests
are aligned. The fact is that in the modern world our selves are far
more fragmented and contradictory than that. Many workers have pensions
invested in companies whose route to profit lies in cutting to a minimum
the number of workers they employ; one of the things that led to the
credit crunch was pension funds’ search for higher stable returns to pay
the pension liabilities of future generations of retiring workers, so
that in very many cases we had a situation in which people lost their
jobs because of losses incurred in the attempt to provide future
security for the same workers. Most of us are wage slaves, beneficiaries
of the welfare state, funders of that state, at the same time as being
current or future pensioners who, in that capacity if in no other, are
textbook bourgeois owners of the means of production. It’s complicated;
and the intense ethical pressures which can intermittently be brought to
bear on companies are a symptom of that complexity and multiplicity of
interests. It’s very striking how seldom companies defend themselves
using the simplest – and under classic capitalism most truthful – answer
to criticism of their behaviour: our ethical role is to make a profit
for our shareholders, provide employment and pay our taxes. That’s it.
The other stuff is for government. But they never say that, perhaps
sensing that we all intuit the fact that our interweaving and internally
conflicting interests make the world more complicated than that.
Complicated
though Marx’s model of the world is, the modern world is more
complicated still. This exerts great pressure in one more area, one Marx
would have recognised through a favourite saying that comes from Hegel:
quantity changes quality. What this means is that you can have an
explanatory system which accounts for certain phenomena – in this case,
the way capitalism produces things which run against its own main
current of accumulation and exploitation – while the broad direction of
travel remains the same. But a point comes when the phenomena mount up,
and stop seeming like isolated contradictory examples and look instead
like a basic challenge to the central ideas. Something like this has
happened with the countercurrents that run inside capitalism.
Take
the most basic statistical measures of life, infant mortality and life
expectancy. Life expectancy in Britain in 1850, the year The Communist Manifesto
was first published in English, was 43 years; that’s lower than today’s
life expectancy in Afghanistan, which is in turn lower than in any
country that hasn’t been hit by the Aids epidemic. UK life expectancy is
now over eighty and rising so sharply that buried in the statistics is a
truly strange fact: a woman who is eighty today has a 9.2 per cent
chance of living to be a hundred, whereas a woman of twenty has a 26.6
per cent chance. It may seem weird that the person sixty years younger
has a three times better chance of making it to a century, but what it
shows is just how fast progress is being made. Infant mortality, which
is often taken as a proxy for a whole set of things (level of medical
and technological development, strength of social ties, degree of access
to care for the poor, a society’s acknowledgment of the needs of
strangers), is something in which Marx would have taken a keen interest.
In Victorian Britain it was at the rate of 150 deaths per thousand
births. Today, UK infant mortality is 4.7 per thousand. That’s an
improvement of 3191 per cent. (Many countries have done better than us
and have lower rates; we’re only 31st in the world – the lowest of all
being in the place where everyone lives in council flats, at 1.92 per
thousand.) The global infant mortality rate is 42.09 per thousand, a
third of the British rate in Marx’s day. Aids has a terrible effect on
these figures: Botswana, for instance, has a life expectancy of 31.6
years, but according to UN data, if you remove the impact of Aids that
goes up to 70.7 years.
At
what point do data of this sort represent a challenge to Marx’s ideas?
These data mask significant inequalities – the notorious example in
London is that if you take the Jubilee Line from Westminster towards the
east, male life expectancy goes down a year every stop for the next
eight stops – but leaving that aside, the very broad picture is that
pretty much everyone lives longer and enjoys better health. If that is
true, can it be true that capitalism consistently and reliably
immiserates? Can it be true that the system is destructive, if people
who live under it quite simply live longer? Take the Millennium
Development goals, announced at the turn of the new century, and setting
targets to reduce infant mortality by two-thirds and maternal mortality
by three-quarters by 2015 from a starting point of 1990 (the books
slightly cooked by setting the starting point ten years in the past),
halving the number of people who live in absolute poverty, doubling the
percentage of children getting at least a primary education. Can an
achievement on that scale be ignored? If a system does that, can you say
that it produces nothing but immiseration? Marx himself said that there
were moments when the capitalist mode of production could transcend
itself, as in the invention of the joint stock company. Further evidence
of this possibility for self-transcendence would have exerted great
pressure on his intellectual models.
A
final challenge to Marx’s model, and also to his picture of the future,
comes from something he did see very clearly and prophetically, the
extraordinary productive power of capitalism. He saw how capitalism
would transform the surface of the planet and impact on the life of
every single person alive. There is, however, a crack or flaw close to
the heart of his analysis. Marx saw the two fundamental poles of
economic, and social and political, life as labour and nature. He didn’t
see these two things as static; he used the metaphor of a metabolism to
describe the way our labour shapes the world and we in turn are shaped
by the world we have made. So the two poles of labour and nature don’t
stay fixed. But what Marx doesn’t allow for is the fact that nature’s
resources are finite. He knows that there is no such thing as nature
unshaped by our assumptions, but he doesn’t share our contemporary
awareness that nature can run out. This is the kind of thing which is
sometimes called ironic, but is closer to tragedy, and at its heart is
the fact that the productive, expansionist, resource-consuming power of
capitalism is so great that it is not sustainable at a planetary level.
The whole world wants to have a First World bourgeois lifestyle, and the
whole world can see what that looks like by glancing at a television
set, but the world can’t have it, because we will burn through its
resources before we get there. Capitalism’s greatest crisis is upon us,
and it is predicated on the unavoidable fact that nature is finite.
This
is a point that Marxists for the most part have been reluctant to
address, and for a very good reason: the problem of resources in the
world today, whether food or water or power, power in all senses, are to
do with inequitable distribution and not with the total supply. There
is more than enough of all those things for all of us. Writers and
activists in the Marxist tradition have tended to stress that point, and
they’re right to do so, but we need also to face the fact that the
world is heading towards ever greater consumption of and demand for
resources on the part of everybody. Everybody simultaneously. That fact
is capitalism’s most deadly opponent. To give just one example in
relation to one resource only, the American average consumption of water
is one hundred gallons per person per day. There isn’t enough fresh
water on the planet for everyone to live like that.
So
the question is whether capitalism can evolve new forms, in the way it
has so far managed to do, and come up with property and market-based
mechanisms which deflect the seemingly inevitable crisis that will
ensue, or whether we need some entirely different social and economic
order. The irony is that this order might in many respects be like the
one Marx imagined, even if he saw a different route to getting there.
When Marx said that capitalism contained the seeds of its own
destruction he wasn’t talking about climate change or resource wars. If
we feel a natural gloom and despondency at the prospect of the
difficulties ahead, we should also take comfort in the fact of our
imaginative adaptability and the ingenuity which has brought us so far
so fast – so far, so fast, that we now need to slow down, and don’t
quite know how. As Marx wrote, towards the end of the first volume of Capital,
‘man is distinguished from all other animals by the limitless and
flexible nature of his needs.’ Limitless needs we see all around us and
they’ve brought us to where we are, but we’re going to have to work on
the flexible part.
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