American Antipodes: Tales of Discord and Unity

By Jason Hirthler

A few weeks ago an image surfaced on social media. It featured three convergent triangles, their central nexus including parts of all three. Each triangle represented a prominent characteristic of what the right call, “Mask Nazis.” The first triangle represented the virtue signaler aspect of this group. Millions of social selfies feature individuals with their masks over their mouths, or lately their arms bandaged after their vaccine shot. The second triangle represented the patronizing element of the group, when they indicate they are “more informed and intelligent” than you. The final triangle represented the martyrdom mentality of the group, in which they claimed to be masking and vaccinating on your behalf, not theirs.

The Backstory

It is admittedly an amorphous and inexact thing to use the word, “right” to describe the community of people that would like the above diagram, versus the community of those who would revile it. But more than ever in modern memory the sides have been starkly divided. It was partially initiated by the Gingrich ‘revolution’ in the late 90s when Republicans adopted an attitude of intransigence and noncompliance toward their Democratic colleagues, an attitude sparked largely by a deep-seated antipathy and animus for Bill Clinton. Clinton had used his ‘triangulation’ model to successfully appropriate Republican policy positions and claim them as his own. This was part of Clinton’s effort to penetrate the deep-pocketed donor class that has previously been the province of the conservative right. It worked and Clinton shifted the Democrats away from a party that at least plausibly represented the working class toward one that served monied constituencies and retained only a patina of pathos for empty-handed workers. This led to the Republican revolt.

The presidency of George Bush further divided a once-collegial Congress and its national segments of popular support. The 2000 election scandal, 9/11, the Iraq War, Afghanistan, the 2004 election, climate change, the collapse of the housing market all provided blistering talking points for liberals and conservatives as they blamed one another for these traumatizing events.

The presidency of Barack Obama further polarized the left from right, when shrieking Tea Party zealots, in an eerie foretaste of resistance liberals, clamored for their guns, sure that the Hawaiian-born Obama was a closet Marxist Muslim scheming to infect America with theocratic socialism. But it was the election of Donald Trump that delivered the hammer blow to any thoughts of reconciliation. The Covid19 pandemic that followed at the end of the Trump era gave the citizenry fuel to continue the partisan bickering once Trump had been ejected from the Oval Office, to the delight of 80 million, the fury of 75 million, and the frustrated resignation of the rest. 

Now, Joe Biden has assumed the mantle of power, and opened his presidency by supposedly dashing off 72 revisions to Trump’s egregious policies. It’s all enough to convince even the most cursory observer that the left and the right are eternal enemies.

Perceptions of Fascism and Mutual Complicity

Searching Google’s text corpora through its Ngram Viewer reveals that the usage of the word ‘facism’ has seen a 100 percent rise this century in American English. This will surprise few, but questions of what fascism is and who embodies it will immediately trigger quarreling between left and right. For the liberal and left sides of the spectrum (they are not the same), Donald Trump is the de facto embodiment of modern fascism. For the right and libertarian side of the spectrum (they are not the same), fascism is better represented by censorious tech monopolies and the global public health apparatus that has led the battle against the coronavirus.

Could both sides have a point? Not if you ask either side. A recent poster on leftist Twitter warned of the dangers of dramatically dichotomizing the left/right ideological divide and argued that neither side had a monopoly on truth. Many readers liked a reply that dismissively claimed that “yeah, no, the right is categorically wrong on [just] about everything.”

But might it be true that neoliberalism, a class-based project to dismantle representative government, as described by David Harvey, is fascist at its core and animites Trump Republicans but alo Biden Democrats?

An article by Joshua Briond published by the Hampton Institute makes the interesting observation that, “The misunderstanding of fascism begins with the deliberate political positioning of [neo]liberalism as in opposition or an alternative to the fascist order.” This false opposition expects to see an older, imagined fascist order (principally Nazism or Italian fascism with its telltale nationalistic trappings) rather than what some describe as a corporate fascist order that exists now in less visibly overt fashion.

As Briond continues, “It has never been more apparent that liberal democrats are the stabilizers and upkeepers of fascist rule--who exist to provide an illusion of “opposition” to the material actualities and consequences of liberal democracy, western capital(ism), and the white power structure at-large--while actively upholding the neoliberal fascist order and inhibiting even the slightest possibilities of progress. Left radicals, or anyone who has divested from bourgeois electoralism, are constantly punched down on and condescended to for daring to demand more than mild concessions (“reforms” that’ll just be poked, prodded, weakened and rendered obsolete the moment the next Republican gets into office) and milquetoast, uninspiring, career-imperialist Democrat candidates.”

“The White liberal differs from the white conservative only in one way: the liberal is more deceitful than the conservative. The liberal is more hypocritical than the conservative. Both want power, but the white liberal is the one who has perfected the art of posing as the Negro’s friend and benefactor. And by winning the friendship, allegiance, and support of the Negro, the white liberal is able to use the Negro as a pawn or tool in this political ‘football game’ that is constantly raging between the white liberals and white conservatives.”

-        Malcolm X

Briond here unmasks the quiet complicity of liberals in the stabilizing of corporate fascism. This is partly owing to the fact that Boomer liberals, a huge contingent of the political active, see the values they sometimes bravely supported in the tumult of the Sixties--anti-racism, anti-war, anti-establishment--have been enshrined or otherwise spun by the establishment, cleverly enough to convince most liberals that their original war has been won. After all, we’ve had a black president, the #MeToo movement has outed countless misogynists in positions of power, gay rights are further along than we’d ever have imagined before Stonewall, and a new generation of Social Justice Warriors are manning the barricades of bigotry by the day.

Yet look at the subtlety with which an imperial capitalist establishment has incorporated these elements. Racism is alive and well. Blacks have a penny in a jar for every dollar in the calf-skinned wallet of a white man. Obama was only elected by internalizing the hegemonic ideals of establishment ideology. Jennifer Matsui notes how the #MeToo movement diverts attention from institutional foundations of sexism and retrains our focus on individual cases, which can be profitably resolved without addressing the larger structural barriers to equality of the sexes. Indeed, gays have made progress, but they are embraced by a corporate world that merely sees another wallet to mine. It makes no difference to WalMart whether the man or woman in the checkout line is LGBTQ+ or a racist cis homophobe. A dollar is a dollar.

What we see here is that the imperial establishment will actively co-opt any value set that does not meaningfully threaten its bottom line. If profits are unaffected, or if new revenue streams can be viably pioneered, a popular or trending movement will be absorbed by the corporate facist establishment for just that purpose.

Obscure and Abjure

This co-optation is mirrored in the identitarian politics that fuel the left-right divide and consume so much activist fuel. In the drafts for a lecture series that cultural theorist Mark Fisher was to give before his suicide in 2017, he unearthed the sinister root of the left-right war: it buried class as the bedrock subjugation on which all other forms of oppression were built.

“In disarticulating class from the identitarian struggles of the day, capitalism no longer appeared to be the enemy. We were, instead, all too prone to impotently turning on one another.”

He anticipated the lynch mob mentality of social media whose current dimensions Fisher himself might find unimaginable: “As individuals squabble over who has the most privilege on Twitter, for instance, turning on each other, the true enemy — capitalism itself — is left completely off the hook.”

This regrettable disarticulation of class leads well-intentioned citizens on left and right to battle over identity gains that, while often majestic and necessary, will doubtless founder on the shores of economic inequality. They do not cut into the profit potential of the monolithic imperial system that underpinned the identitarian subjection in the first place.

Undervalued, Overlooked

Briond returns to drive home this point about liberal complicity even as the state undermines the communities it campaigns on behalf of: “The fact that so much state-sanctioned violence, political repression, mishandling and neglect of the most marginalized--especially incarcerated, immigrant, and houseless populations--in the face of COVID-19, an ongoing housing crisis, unemployment, and economic turmoil, is happening in “liberal” cities and cities led by Democrats nationwide, should very much inform our understanding of the situation at hand.”

It is no small thing to point out that liberals typically have what appears to be a naive faith that the government cares about them, prioritizes their health above profits, that Big Pharma does the same (at least in times of crises), and that their cherished mainstream media would not knowingly deceive them. This despite the volumes of evidence that the government and media have wittingly lied to and misled populations for decades. (See Taking the Risk Out of Democracy and Manufacturing Consent for foundational works on media bias in favor of corporate interests.)

This almost surreal and childlike trust in the good intentions of government is reminiscent of Josef K., in Franz Kafka’s The Trial, who when arrested without apparent cause is relieved to finally have an opportunity to address himself to the chief inspector, fully confident this is a reasonable man with whom he will have a reasonable conversation, quickly resolving the misunderstanding of his arrest. The conversation quickly reveals to K. the confounding absurdity of the apparatus in which he is ensnared.

One might suspect this naive faith is the consequence of, as journalist Cory Moringstar has said, the monetization of left-liberal activism since the untutored riot of the Sixties. After which capital rightly surmised that activism ought not to be suppressed but co-opted. Hence the explosion of NGOs and their role as a kind of para-state reifying the conditions of the corporate state. Liberals have too much skin in the game to meaningfully resist. A rhetoric of empathy eases them into compliance.

The Invisible Horizon

Add to this domestic squall the almost incomprehensibly vast horizon of foreign aggressions perpetrated by a U.S. establishment whether led by Democrats or Republicans. Hence a scenario arises with Donald Trump repeating conjuring nationalistic and racist tropes reminiscent of the great fascist scourges of the 20th century, while at the same time the lockdown regimes cheered on by liberals and perpetrated by western governments in the name of public health have come to mirror characteristics of what one might call ‘public health fascism’ or ‘medical tyranny.’ In a further irony, Trump appeared to express a desire to continue to promote imperial hegemony and capitalist exploitation through the less public apparatus of drone war and special forces, much like Democrats have done.

“I will say then that I am not, nor ever have been in favor of bringing about in any way the social and political equality of the white and black races, that I am not nor ever have been in favor of making voters or jurors of negroes, nor of qualifying them to hold office, nor to intermarry with white people; and I will say in addition to this that there is a physical difference between the white and black races which I believe will forever forbid the two races living together on terms of social and political equality. And inasmuch as they cannot so live, while they do remain together there must be the position of superior and inferior, and I as much as any other man in favor of having the superior position assigned to the white race.”

-        Abraham Lincoln, debate with Stephen Douglas, Sept. 18, 1858

End Games

If both left and right have been in some sense co-opted by the subtle ideology of the neoliberal establishment, is there not now reason to at least temporarily shelve the policy disputes that animate their hatred of one another, in the service of a collective effort to deny the realization of an authoritarian plutocracy as described above? Set aside the horizontal perspective of a left-right war and consider the world from the verticality of a top-down class war, that missing ingredient Fisher perceptively identified.

Yet the human urge to dichotomize and demonize is almost uncontrollable in our modern moment. Each side sees the other as a herd of rule breakers: conservatives break all the pandemic rules established to keep people safe; but in obeying these rules, liberals trash the bill of rights. In spite of, or amplified by, the relentless efforts of advertisers to sound social rallying cries meant to bring people together (while simultaneously opening their wallets), there now exists a continental divide between two halves of the country. It is a yawning crevice not likely to be mended by an American grit Bruce Springsteen Jeep commercial claiming that “the very soil we stand on is common ground,” as though sophomoric platitudes penned by 25-year old copywriters will heal us (but we can dream). Efforts like these only illuminate the abyss.

Violating the Myth

This is this collective void—a void of collective spirit—that Fisher laments. He argues that perhaps the ultimate subjugated group is “group consciousness,” that prevents the collective from seeing the totality of the system at large—capitalism—while at the same time being too divided to propose a full-scale replacement system.

As part of Fisher’s solution, he proposed “implementing a counterlibido to capitalist desire — a postcapitalist desire.” He was principally interested, “in the ways that radical political messages could be smuggled into collective consciousness through popular culture.” Considering that popular culture is where huge swathes of common opinion tend to coalesce around cultural figures and trends, it is an interesting proposition. After all, one simply can’t compete at the level of invective--the assembled armories of the mainstream media are too plentiful, ranged too far and wide, and are too able to actively suppress counter-narratives. And artificial cultural tropes spawned by Madison Avenue only salt the wound.

But what if Michael Jackson had been a communist? What if Elvis had befriended Castro? What if more films smuggled into the cinema the anti-consumerist manifesto of Fight Club? Could a graphic novel whose hero was a BIPOC socialist gain traction? One would expect the blind avarice of corporate capitalism to allow these ideas so long as the product produced significant return on investment. A recent graphic novel called The Ministry of Truth mines the deep vein of discontent with American media-propagated mythologies. It proposes that belief has more to do with reality than fact, a theme that is both comical and somehow true. It makes one think of how much more effective fiction might be than invective in a post-truth world.

Such works are at least potentially profitable avenues of discovery, their potential guided by their profit. (You see how even the language is co-opted.)

Paradoxically it seems to be the hidden factor of class that inhibits social cohesion around a narrative of collective uplift. As author John Steppling (frustratedly) noted on his excellent podcast Aesthetic Resistance, propaganda cuts across class lines. Workers are often hugely skeptical of MSM storylines. Haute bourgeoisie, white, liberal, educated professionals tend to buy the official line uncritically. A large up-from-below shift in consciousness, from individuated consumer desire to a potentially militant desire for collective prosperity, would doubtless frighten the haute bourgeoisie and elite capital into the kind of concessions obtained in the New Deal era. It has often struck me as not categorically necessary to take power--and that often wielding power beyond the official precincts is not a bad place to be. To be pitted against overwhelming odds is also of course the root scenario of great fiction.

Someone whose name I’ve forgotten once perceptively noted that communism out of power is galvanized by a collective vision that has a clear enemy that must be toppled for that vision to be realized. Once they’ve taken power, the original force of will continues for a time and produces great positive change, but as one generation slides into the next, the militancy and urgency of that original class consciousness bleeds out, lacerated by the very surplus it distributed. The material lived experience of the next generations is simply different than the original generation. The revolutionary urgency fades as a kind of bureaucratic and defensive mentality ascends. What is gained must be defended rather than gained.

One sees the same dynamic at work in capitalist societies. Small fledgling entrepreneurial businesses, always a few weeks away from running out of money, produce tremendous innovations in different industries and roar into market share and wealth on the backs of their inventions. But once they are market leaders, their entire attitude changes: they become principally interested in defending and growing market share, not through innovation, but through the mass dissemination of their original invention. They begin to act as border guards, patrolling the limits of their empire, ready to acquire and absorb any entrepreneurial challengers to their dominance. They become the staid, status-quo establishment they once sought to overthrow.

It is the same with politics. The principled antiwar activists and civil rights fighters from the Sixties made inroads into the national consciousness and won concessions from the establishment, but were then absorbed into it, undergoing a transformation that eventually spat out those longhairs and militant marchers as comfortable liberals who merely rehearsed a well-memorized lexicon of labor-friendly rhetoric, while the machinery of exploitation they once abhorred marches on under cover of the co-opted language of progressivism.

And so, staying out of power is perhaps a way to avoid the corruptions of power and retain the power of first principles, a persistent vital threat to authority, which must ultimately acknowledge that its power is, at best, nominal.

In that light, a bottom-up class consciousness aiming at collective prosperity could isolate the fake partisanship of the neoliberal duopoly as a permanent enemy of the people, exerting a permanent pressure and threat against it that would force the kinds of vast concessions necessary for it retain even a semblance of power. It would have to be a permanent threat in a way that taking power undoes. And perhaps that class consciousness is best transfused into the popular mind through scripts rather than screeds, drawn stories instead of funded studies. And best perpetuated by a marginal class far from the precincts of power, not the “rogue” vehicles sold to bourgeois families but rogue narrators wildly at odds with the fictions pumped out of the imperium. Apolitical and peripheral—a strange place to pen an origin story of revolution. But maybe not so strange in a cultural wasteland overrun with mainstream half-truth.

After all, until the war of the top against the bottom is recognized and the diversionary spectacle of right-left combat is set aside, we will continue on a horizontal plane, never climbing in metrics of prosperity or equality. Only by recognizing the ladder of prosperity has been kicked away—supposedly for our benefit—will we begin to invoke the “great weapon” of mass dissent, which is the hinge point of an awakening world.

Jason Hirthler is a writer, social critic, and veteran of the media industry. He has published widely on the progressive left including at Dissident Voice, The Greanville Post, and CounterPunch. His latest essay collection is The Conquest of Reality.

Critical Race Theory: John McWhorter Gets it Wrong…Again

By Christopher Viscuso

Columbia University scholar of Linguistics, John McWhorter, was recently featured on MSNBC commentator, Chris Hayes’ podcast, Why is This Happening? to discuss freedom of speech and to debate its boundaries. The pair begin by conceding that “freedom of speech” is more an ideal than a rigid principle. Whether through etiquette or the evolution of debate, some topics are either beyond the pale of polite conversation or are settled matters. McWhorter uses genocide and women’s suffrage, respectively, as examples in this regard.

But the conversation quickly polarizes around the degree to which speech is currently being limited. McWhorter argues that this is mainly being carried out “by a certain contingent of people,” across the academic, political, and popular spectrum, effectively circumscribing discourse to such an extent that “it’s beginning to choke out what most societies would consider any kind of sensible, or thriving, artistic, moral, or intellectual culture.” Hayes then attempts to shore up the conversation with nuance by organizing the debate into a bifurcated set of categories: delimitations of who or what is welcome to be discussed in written media or college campuses on the one hand; and “should someone face employment sanction for a Facebook post” on the other. Conceding initially, McWhorter then reverts to hysterics, which characterize a great deal of his contribution to this discussion, claiming vaguely that American society is being “told by a certain cadre of these people” that this supposed expansion of “that which we may not say” is being instituted by a rule of fear. “This truly frightening kind of cultural development,” claims McWhorter, enforces a sort of conformity across American society and culture, supposedly coercing the lion’s share of the American public through the fear of being called “racist” on Twitter.

In his more eccentric moments, McWhorter analogizes this situation he sees sweeping the nation to the “Great Terror” following the French Revolution. (To be fair, McWhorter does catch himself several times in this regard. But it happens too often to be incidental.) Without a certain degree of context, you’d think McWhorter was referring to the Red Scare under the McCarthyites or the “Satanic Panic” of the 1980s. Instead, in lieu of any hard data suggesting that so-called “Cancel Culture” has manifested into some totalitarian tyranny reminiscent of Nazi book-burnings, McWhorter, like many of his reactionary compatriots, resorts to a (small) series of the most miniscule of anecdotes to make his point. For example, he points to a rather obscure case from the University of Illinois, Chicago, Law School, wherein Professor Jason Kilborn was suspended, McWhorter claims, for an exam question that included a heavily redacted use of a racial slur. While the Black Law Student Association (BLSA) of the University indeed submitted a petition to Dean Darby Dickerson and Chancellor Michael Amiridis regarding the redacted word’s inclusion on the exam, Kilborn was in fact suspended for comments made in jest in a Zoom meeting with a member of the BLSA about the petition. Kilborn stated “I suspect she’s afraid if I saw the horrible things said about me in that letter I would become homicidal.”

McWhorter’s other examples are equally singular, with little to no context provided to substantiate his claim that this is somehow a “truly frightening kind of cultural development,” as part of “this racial reckoning,” seizing the nation.

Now, I do agree that activists’ efforts against entrenched, structural racism could be put to better use elsewhere to alleviate its material outcomes. And I certainly agree that in many cases, such as that demonstrated by McWhorter here, the more rarefied, toxic forms that so-called “Cancel Culture” may take can be ceased upon by reactionary, fearmongering commentators to project anti-racism as a dangerous behemoth destroying the country to retain their own control over the culture. I certainly do not agree that the material conditions that racism produces can be separated from the racist attitudes of individuals that allow its structural forms to persist. Hayes, to his credit, makes this point to McWhorter during the discussion, though McWhorter responds, rather condescendingly, by claiming that African Americans, presumably African American intellectuals, are just now beginning to expect a level of historical literacy of their white interlocuters. Which leads us to the crux of my frustration with McWhorter.

Never minding his argument that the expectation of a basic literacy of racism in this country is somehow tantamount to a national “reeducation program,” McWhorter’s Trumpian detraction of Critical Race Theory (CTR) is perhaps even more disconcerting than his commentary on speech and so-called “Cancel Culture.” And, like Trump, his attacks seem to be based on a misunderstanding of what the term even means. To McWhorter, prior to the protests that erupted around the killing of George Floyd in the Summer of 2020, CRT had been a “fringe school of thought” within academia whose “proponents” seized the “opportunity” of the protests to project their agenda. This is a level of alarmism unbecoming of an Ivy League scholar. And it’s incorrect.

CTR is, as it has always been, an analytical tool used to observe the power dynamics within race relations between different groups. Though its original iteration applied specifically to law, its application has spread across a range of academic disciplines, including, but not limited to, Criminal Justice, History, and Sociology. Its fundamental premises are (1) race is not a natural, biologically meaningful feature of physiologically distinct human subgroups; (2) race is therefore a socially constructed category historically and contemporarily utilized for the oppression and subordination of people of color; (3) racism is thus endemic to American culture and society, and a common experience among people of color; (4) the racial hierarchy upheld by American culture and society is typically unaffected, or reenforced, by attempts to improve the legal status of subordinated and oppressed peoples; (5) following the thesis of intersectionality, no one individual of color may be sufficiently identified by their membership in any one subgroup; and (6) the sufferers of oppression constitute uniquely situated communicators of the effects of their oppression, whether in a court of law or otherwise.

Beyond a commitment to challenging racism and discrimination within the law and other economic and social structures, CRT holds no ideologically partisan allegiances; the application of CRT in scholarship may lead to left- or right-wing conclusions, depending on the orientation of the scholar. However, detractors of CRT typically come from the right end of the spectrum. (McWhorter does not self-identify as a conservative, though he has worked as a Senior Fellow at the conservative think tank, the Manhattan Institute, since 2003.) Despite myriad Orwellian attempts to prohibit or delegitimize it, CRT has provided a theoretical framework for countless scholars across academia for several decades now. And, to the chagrin of McWhorter and others, it will remain a persistent tool against racial oppression for the foreseeable future.

Automation Represents the Second — Not ‘Fourth’ — Industrial Revolution: Just as the First Necessitated Capitalism, the Second Necessitates Socialism

By Ted Reese

Republished from the author’s blog.

Humans have longed to be free from toil. The Greek poet Antipater, a contemporary of the Roman statesman Cicero, welcomed the invention of the water mill, which worked “without labour or effort”, as the foundation of a “Golden Age” and the liberator of slaves.

Now in the epoch of late-stage capitalism, after a long and painful evolutionary road, the possibility of a ‘post-work’ world — with the ongoing development of robotic machinery, artificial intelligence (AI) and other forms of increasingly sophisticated automation — seems like a tangible reality. Decades of relatively small, quantitive innovations (with computing power, for example, tending to double every two years) have led up to a point now promising huge qualitative technological leaps.

At the same time, the global workforce has been increasingly ‘deindustrialised’ — moved from manufacturing to services. The proportion of manufacturing workers in the total workforce in the US fell from 26.4% in 1970 to 8.51% in 2018.[2] Even Latin America and Sub-Saharan Africa have been deindustrialising in the past decade, from a much lower starting point than Asia.[3] Whereas industrialisation peaked in western European countries at income levels of around $14,000, India and many Sub-Saharan African countries appear to have reached their peak manufacturing employment at income levels of $700 (both at 1990 levels).[4]

As McKinsey Global Institute Director James Manyika said in June 2017: “Find a factory anywhere in the world [our emphasis] built in the past five years — not many people work there.”

The ‘fourth’ industrial revolution?

The bourgeois (capitalist) narrative trumpets the automation revolution as the ‘fourth’ industrial revolution.[5] Is this accurate?

The evolution of production is a process of developing man’s mastery over nature, of harnessing nature to serve our needs. New technologies give rise to new needs. For centuries — comprising the primitive communal, slave-owning and feudal systems — manual labour determined the technological basis of society. As the continual improvements and specialisations of the implements of labour reached their limits and slavery and feudalism became fetters (restraints) on the further development of the productive forces (technology and humans) as a whole, mechanisation (machine-aided production) necessarily replaced manual labour. Man was no longer the source of power which wielded the implements of labour.

Consolidating capitalist relations of production, this was the first industrial revolution — it marked a radical change in the technological mode of production, i.e. the mode of combining man and technology. Where man had controlled and wielded the inanimate elements of work, machines now dictated the inputs of man and relieved him as, in Marx’s words, “chief actor”;[6] but, in creating a division of labour, did not free him. “The hand tool makes the worker independent — posits him as proprietor. Machinery — as fixed capital — posits him as dependent, posits him as appropriated.”[7]

Dominant versions of history tell the story that — since it was the most obvious contrast between machine production and the handicrafts and ordinary manufacture of small ‘cottage industry’ workshops — the upgrade of the steam engine made by Scottish engineer James Watt around 1775 was the fundamental catalyst of the first industrial revolution. By extension, it was considered the primary factor behind the rise of British capitalism and the ensuing industrial and economic dominance of its Empire. All thanks to the supposed individual genius of Watt (or was it his ‘Britishness’?).

This is an example of idealism, the theory that man’s ideas or ever-improving rationality determine the course of history. Marx’s method of dialectical materialism — that history is driven by ongoing conflict or interaction between material and social forces — enables the understanding of history per se, rather than individual versions of it. (Indeed, it also explains man’s ever-improving rationality.) That it was Watt who made this innovation is merely a ‘historical accident’ — if he had never been born someone else would have realised this inevitable evolutionary development.

Behind this ‘accident’ lay the driving necessity to develop machinery and liberate industry from the confines imposed by nature in terms of a power source. The development of steam power removed the reliance on water power and therefore enabled industry to be moved to other locations more freely. With steam power, the primary factor became access to coal, the source of the energy needed to generate steam, which in turn enabled greater access to coal. With the development of electrical power, industry was further liberated, and has therefore invariably moved to wherever the cheapest labour can be found.

The origins of the steam engine can actually be traced back to the ancient Greek mathematician Hero of Alexandria. Within a system of slavery, though, it could not be utilised. Marx therefore argues:

“The steam-engine itself, such as it was at its invention during the manufacturing period at the close of the 17th century, and such as it continued to be down to 1780, did not give rise to any industrial revolution. It was, on the contrary, the invention of machines that made a revolution in the form of steam engines necessary. As soon as man, instead of working on the object of labour with a tool, becomes merely the motive power of a machine, it is purely accidental that the motive power happens to be clothed in the form of human muscles; wind, water or steam could just as well take man’s place.”[8]

In his 1967 book Era of Man or Robot? The Sociological Problems of the Technical Revolution, Russian Soviet philosopher Genrikh Volkov writes that what made an industrial revolution for Marx

“pivoted on finding the correct methodological approach. His examination focused on changes in the joint working mechanism and the combination of the inanimate and human elements of the process of production. Whether the machine is driven by an animal, a man or steam, Marx showed, is immaterial. The source of power, being part of the machine, only serves the system of working machines.”[9]

What is defined as the second industrial revolution by bourgeois scholars was therefore merely the ongoing development of the first. Taking place in the decades before World War I, it saw the growth of existing industries and establishment of new ones, with electric power enabling ever-greater mass production. Major technological advances included the telephone, light bulb, phonograph and the internal combustion engine.

The ongoing digital revolution — with the emergence of digital record-keeping, the personal computer, the internet, and other forms of information and communications technology — is considered to be the third industrial revolution. This is, perhaps, more arguable. The instruments described certainly amplify man’s mental capacity. But the digital revolution is a technological revolution and actually part of the automation revolution; not an industrial revolution by itself:

“Mechanisation begins with the transference to technology of basic physical working functions, while automation begins when the basic ‘mental’ functions in a technological process actually materialise into machines. This becomes possible with the appearance in production of supervising, controlling or programming cybernetical installations.”[10]

The productivity of machines is slowed down by the physiological limits of human bodies, and so automation becomes necessary; man is increasingly excluded from direct production and now works alongside fully mechanised machines, calling forth a radical change in the man-technology relationship. As Marx said of automation:

“Labour no longer appears so much to be included within the production process; rather, the human being comes to relate more as watchman and regulator to the production process itself.”[11]

This therefore means that capitalism “works towards its own dissolution as the form dominating production,”[12] says Marx, since capital’s exploitation of human labour is the source of profit and exchange-value (the worker keeps less value than they create, with the surplus value appropriated by the capitalist and realised as profit through commodity sales).

The point of automation, therefore, says Volkov,

“should be to remove the contradiction between the inanimate and human elements, between man and machine, to break the shackle that made man and machine a single working mechanism, to act as Hercules setting Prometheus free to perform his great deeds. Potentially, automation can enable man to become Man with a capital letter, and the machine to become Machine in the full sense of the word. Freedom for man’s development is, at the same time, freedom for technological progress.”[13]

Defining automation

In Automation and Social Progress (1956), English socialist Sam Lilley defined automation provisionally as “the introduction or use of highly automatic machinery or processes which largely eliminate human labour and detailed human control”.[14]

The term is of course applied to a very broad field ranging from semi-automatic machinery to automatic factories. These are qualitatively different notions and so must be understood carefully. Volkov writes:

“Semi-automatic technology (semi-automatic machine-tools and lines, so-called cyclic automatons) represents a transitional form from ordinary to automatic machines. In this form, ‘automation’ is usually affected by mechanical means without, as a rule, recourse to cybernetical devices. The worker is still directly included in the process, which he supplements with his nervous system, intellect and, partly, muscular energy (loading and unloading of machines). At this stage, the new technology does not yet constitute automation proper and lacks its most characteristic features. As a matter of fact, semi-automatic technology stretches to the limit the adverse aspects of mechanisation by simplifying things still more, robbing working operations of all their creative content and contributing to their further fragmentation.”[15]

Automation proper can therefore be subdivided into three stages:

1. Initial or partial automation (separate machine-tools fitted with programme control, separate cybernetically controlled automatic lines). Here, the worker has relative freedom of action. They are included in the process only in so far as their duties include the overall supervision of operations, maintenance and adjustment of the machines.

2. Developed automation, e.g., automatic factories equipped with overall electronic control of all production processes, regulation of equipment, loading and unloading, transportation of materials, semi-finished and finished products. In this stage of automation the worker takes no direct part in the production process.

3. Full automation, which ensures automatic operation of all sections of production, from planning to delivery of finished products, including choice of optimum conditions, conversion to a new type of product, and auto-planning in accordance with a set programme. The planning of production as a whole and the overall control of its operation are also to a considerable extent transferred to automatic installations. “Automation of this kind is equivalent to automatic production on the scale of the entire society,” says Volkov. “Here, not only the labour of workers, but that of technicians and, to a considerable extent, of engineers as well, is excluded from the direct technological process. This does not mean, of course, that such work disappears altogether. It is only shifted to another sphere, becomes more creative and closer related to scientific work.”[16]

Base and superstructure

Under capitalism in the first part of the 21st century, we are still a fair way from achieving a singular fully automated system of production (The production process includes the transport of commodities to the point of sale/consumption, so workers who transport commodities (such as Deliveroo and other courier drivers) and check-out/till-point workers add value to a commodity. Drones, autonomous vehicles and self-serving tills are therefore automating the last stage of production.) That does not mean we are not moving relatively rapidly towards that outcome or witnessing an industrial revolution. McKinsey and Co expects “the near-complete automation of existing job activities” somewhere between 2060 and 2100, with the “most technologically optimistic” scenario putting the date at 2045.[17]

The first industrial revolution began before and necessitated the rise of capitalism (the printing press being the first generalised example of machine-aided mass production), just as the second begins before and necessitates the rise of socialism.

Marx recognised that the technological-economic base of a society determines its political and class superstructure. (Although the two of course interact and influence each other, the former dominates.) An industrial revolution has far-reaching consequences that go beyond the framework of technology and even beyond that of material production.

The first affected the character of labour (manual to mechanised); social structure (artisan and peasant turning into worker/proletarian);[18] the correlation of economic branches (agriculture being supplanted by industry); and, finally, the political and economic field (capitalist relations superseding feudal relations). Volkov spells out the most characteristic features of the second industrial revolution.

1) The production of material wealth has a tendency to turn into fully automated production “on a society-wide scale”. The second industrial revolution therefore “marks the completion of the establishment of industry”. At first, large-scale machine industry had a relatively limited area of diffusion, having taken the place of handicrafts and ordinary manufacture. But with the second industrial revolution, “industrialisation tends to spread also to the whole of agriculture, beginning with mechanisation, followed by comprehensive mechanisation and, eventually, by automation. Industrialisation is spreading to house-building, distribution, the community services (eg public catering) and even intellectual, scientific work. In this way, industry becomes the universal form of producing material wealth.”

2) While the first industrial revolution was local in character, being limited to a few developed European countries, the second industrial revolution “tends to involve all the countries of the world” as newly industrialising countries begin by installing the most up-to-date industrial equipment involving comprehensive mechanisation and automation. “This presents features of the first and second industrial revolutions at one and the same time. Consequently, the second industrial revolution is global in character, laying the groundwork for a subsequent economic and social integration of nations.”[19] (Our emphasis .)

3) The modern industrial revolution leads to substantial structural changes in the various spheres of social activity. Because of the ever-decreasing need for manpower for material production, scientific production increases both quantitatively and qualitatively and tends to assume priority over the direct production of material wealth. “Hence, science is the helmsman of the modern industrial revolution.”[20]

4) The dominant feature of the automation revolution concerns its social implications. As we know, the first industrial revolution led to the consolidation of capitalist exploitation. Large-scale industry spelt wholesale ruin for artisans and peasants, longer working hours, intensification of labour and narrow specialisation (the breaking down of the production process into a series of repetitive, monotonous tasks). In contrast, the modern industrial revolution in the socialist nations “leads to a shortening of working hours, an easing of labour, a modification of its nature (work becoming more creative and free), and to the elimination of the essential distinctions between town and countryside, and between mental and manual labour. While yielding the industrial basis for an abundance of material wealth and to distribution according to need, it also opens up possibilities for unlimited spiritual improvement of man’s personality.”

Volkov adds:

“The second industrial revolution resolves the contradiction between the machines and those who operate them, i.e. the contradiction within the joint working mechanism. By completing the automation of production, it paves the way for the implementation of the principles of socialist humanism in society. Hence, the very logic of the second industrial revolution strengthens man’s personality and humanism.

“In capitalist countries, however, this logic and the above-mentioned features of the second industrial revolution contradict the very essence of the relations of exploitation. All the same, mechanised labour gives way to automation, the antithesis between mental and physical labour tends to disappear. And the cultural and technical standard of the workers tends to rise. Substantial changes also occur in the social structure and in the relation between the various economic branches. In other words, many of the essential elements of an industrial revolution are distinctly on hand.

“The fundamental difference between the revolution in capitalist countries and its counterpart in the socialist states consists in its leading to the breakdown, [our emphasis] instead of the consolidation, of the existing relations under the conditions of the private ownership of the means of production. The modern industrial revolution has strained to the utmost all the contradictions of capitalism…. It does not reform capitalism. Instead, it creates the material preconditions for a social revolution and paves the way for the eventual replacement of capitalist relations of production by communist relations.”[21]

The automation revolution cannot be consummated under capitalism — socialism must be established to finish what capitalism started.[22]

The technological determinists who see automation as the ‘fourth’ industrial revolution do not put the development of technology in its proper socio-historical context, but instead in isolation from the human component of the productive forces. They fail to see “the genuine dialectics [interactions] of the forces and relations of production, [and] deny the inverse influence of the relations of production on the productive forces and the development of science and technology”.[23]

Recap

To summarise: over many centuries, manual labour determined the technological basis of society. The technological mode of production, the mode of combining inanimate and human elements, was subjective.

The next stage, paved by the specialisation of implements in manufacture, began when the main working function — control of partial implements — of the ‘living mechanism’, the worker, transferred to the mechanical mechanism, the machine. From human-inanimate, the working mechanism became inanimate-human. The technological mode of production became objective and labour became mechanised. This is then the first industrial revolution.

Finally, the third historical stage in technological development is ushered in by automation. The working mechanism becomes fully technical and the mode of combining man and technology becomes free and labour itself is automated. This then is the second industrial revolution.

Marxists therefore reject the bourgeois definition that posits the automation revolution as the fourth industrial revolution.

Towards a Single Automatic System

The maturity of technology that socialism will inherit in the 21st century means that the problems of planning associated with the 20th century Soviet Union will be much easier to overcome. (Indeed, in hindsight it is arguable that the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 proved to be somewhat ‘premature’, given that the Bolsheviks thought capitalism was entering its final crisis at that time.)[24] Thanks to contemporary computing power, ‘big data’ and stock coding, the dominant ‘command and control’ military style planning that overlooked the finer details is no longer necessary.

As Volkov writes:

“Let us anticipate the future and suppose that it has attained its zenith and that its characteristic features… have reached full development. We shall then have a society with fully automated production of material wealth, ensuring abundance. Such production will form a Single Automatic System which, for the sake of maximum efficiency, will incorporate all the branches of industry and agriculture, centrally controlled according to a single plan.

“From the social point of view, this will be a single society, because there will no longer be any workers or peasants previously associated solely with physical labour, and because the distinction between mental and manual labour, and between town and countryside, will have vanished. Creative work incorporating intellectual, emotional and manual activities will predominate. The life of society will be governed by the laws of free, instead of working, time, and so on.”[25]

The direction of history towards turning world productivity into a Single Automatic System shows that the final stage of socialism before the higher stage of communism is a de facto single world state. To get there each nation-state obviously needs to become socialist, with its own governing structure and centrally planned system working towards full automation in that country. A Communist International would be required to oversee development and trade between each socialist state — making sure, for one thing, that the plan incentivises the sharing of technologies and material wealth (including human resources) — which would act with the same semi-autonomy in relation to the International as a region of a country does to its central government or a state to federal level (or a local soviet to its regional soviet, and so on).

As this system develops, the Single Automatic System and a de facto one-state world would come into being, with borders being rejected as fetters on productivity — there being no transfer of ownership when it comes to trade in a socialist political union, anyway — and individual nation-states withering away in all but regional name.

We can see then that, whereas capitalism in the long run has a historically centralising tendency, socialism in the long run has a historically decentralising tendency. This then is the path to a borderless, stateless world, not the fantasy anarchist one, which, with its desire to introduce federations of fully autonomous communes, would effectively introduce new borders and undermine internationalism. The necessary aim of communism is to unite — to un-divide — the working class and humanity as a whole.

Conclusion

The essential point that must be grasped about automation is that it is abolishing the source of profit and exchange-value, i.e. capital’s exploitation of commodity-producing labour. This process is not reversible. Innovation and the tendency for machinery to grow relative to labour continues throughout history, under any mode of production. Under capitalism, the process is driven by the needs of capital accumulation.

Commodity-producers must continually expand production to overcome the inherent contradiction contained in the commodity: it is both a use-value, a utility; and an exchange-value, containing surplus value and sold for profit. The quicker and more abundantly commodities are made, the less labour, exchange-value and therefore profit tends to be contained in each commodity, compelling the capitalist to expand production yet further, only to continually intensify the contradiction. All production under capitalism is governed by this, the law of (exchange-)value.

This contradiction is also expressed in an overaccumulation of capital (a surplus that cannot be (re)invested profitably, resulting also in the equivalent surplus labour (unemployment)) and a contraction in economic output. This is at the same time an underproduction in surplus value. The necessary reaction for capital is to expand and cheapen the labour base and raise its productivity through innovation, only to increase the underproduction of surplus value in the long-run, since the amount machinery and capital employed tends to rise relative to the total surplus-value-producing labour employed.

Commodity-producers continually have to attract greater investment to turn a profit. As a company gets bigger, though, its costs get larger and more unsustainable, and so greater profits need to be generated than before (hence the dominant tendency towards the ever-greater monopolisation of industry, for economies of scale (efficiency)).

Since wages eat into thinning profit margins, expenditure on wages must be slashed. Robots do not need toilet/rest/lunch breaks, sick or holiday pay, and are therefore much more productive and cheaper to employ. (There is no such thing as ‘technological unemployment’, though; people go unemployed when capital can no longer afford to employ them (so socialism, capable of permanent full employment, would take advantage of automated production by training and employing far more scientists, doctors, teachers, etc). Even police and soldiers, who do not produce surplus value and are therefore paid out of the surplus produced by commodity-producing workers, are increasingly being replaced by surveillance technology and autonomous weapons, since one effect of shrinking profit margins is shrinking government tax bases, at least in relative terms per capita.)

Innovation is necessary to continually raise the productivity of labour, to meet the demands of accumulation — only the size of the ever-expanding total capital eventually becomes too large for the ever-dwindling pool of surplus-value-producing labour to renew and expand. The underproduction of surplus value becomes insurmountable. The system comes up against a historical limit of accumulation and breaks down into barbarism, necessitating socialist revolution.[26] Indeed, interest,[27] GDP and general profit rates have all trended historically towards zero,[28] along with commodity prices.[29]

As with previous modes of production, the contradictions between the productive forces (the means of production) and the productive relations (the ownership of production) are being driven into irreconcilable conflict by sheer historical force. While this contradiction has always been expressed under capitalism by the private appropriation of the products of collective, socialised labour, it is now increasingly expressed by automated labour and a diminishing source of profit, tending ever-closer towards the self-abolition of the law of value.

Just as capitalism matured in the womb of feudalism through the concentration of industry, socialism has matured in the womb of capitalism through the further concentration and monopolisation of industry and the deindustrialisation, servicisation, automation and digitalisation of labour. The new technological-economic base demands a new, applicable superstructure; ie public ownership of the means of production; an all-socialist state (a people’s democratic republic); centrally planned production on a break-even basis; and the replacement of money by digital (non-transferable) vouchers pegged to labour time.

Indeed, fiat money is becoming more and more worthless — pound sterling having lost more than 99.5% of its purchasing power during its lifetime, for example. Worldwide hyperinflation is already on the horizon.[30]

The age-old arguments about which system works better, capitalism or socialism, are quite redundant — the answer has of course always been socialism, but the point that now has to be stressed is that, for the first time, socialism is becoming an economic necessity.

As Volkov concludes:

“As the mass of exploited manual workers decreases due to scientific and technological progress, particularly automation, the mass of exploited intellectual workers, i.e. white collar employees, engineers and scientists [who increasingly contribute to commodity production] also increases in reverse proportion (or even more rapidly)…[31]

“Capitalism in the age of automation increasingly turns the majority of the population into proletarians and, in doing so, creates all economic, social and political prerequisites for the system’s downfall.”[32]

Ted Reese is author of Socialism or Extinction: Climate, Automation and War in the Final Capitalist Breakdown.

Dynamics of Celebrity Activism: How Idolizing Our Movement Leaders Exacerbates Systemic Burnout and Deters Work Towards Collective Liberation

(Daniel Leal-Olivas/AFP/Getty Images)

By Aiko Fukuchi

“We really need to stop putting people on pedestals. It is harmful and dehumanizes all involved. Putting someone on a pedestal is not caring for them. It is not love. You can love, admire, adore, learn from, or follow the leadership of someone without putting them on a pedestal. Putting people on pedestals is part of the binary of how we categorize people into “good” and “bad”. They are two sides of the same coin and they contribute to our collective inability to understand, identify and respond to harm. We demonize people or we put them on pedestals. As we work to be free of a culture of punishment/revenge, we also have to confront the other side. We have to acknowledge celebrity culture and how it stretches well beyond formal celebrities and into our movements, organizations, groups, relationships -- just as punishment does. A punitive culture teaches us we have to be “good” or “bad”. It erases away our humanity: our human complexities and contradictions; our human capacity for growth, change and transformation, our human capacity for both harm and love.” - Mia Mingus (IG)

After a few years of working for non-profits that not only de-prioritized care or rest, but rewarded overwork and lack of boundaries, I crashed. At that point, responses to unaddressed trauma and burn out had expanded into frequent panic attacks and migraines, dangerous weight loss, and rashes developing under my eyes and on my chest among other symptoms. Looking back at that time now, almost two years later, I can see I was operating from a place of survival. 

I’m writing this as someone who’s experience of burn out was severely exacerbated by a broader culture that centers individualist and competitive action, deeply rooted in capitalist value systems. As a result of participating in these systems, I had internalized the harmful idea that the large majority, if not entirety, of my worth was grounded in my ability to be both productive and available. Moving beyond my own individual experience of burn out, after conversations with close friends and comrades who shared similar experiences, it is apparent that the values of celebrity culture (individualism, idolization, dehumanization) are also present in many current and recent social justice movements in the United States, and that this is exacerbating systemic issues of burn out and unaccountable leadership, and is ultimately deferring our efforts towards collective liberation. I hope people take away from this piece is a critique of cultures and practices around leadership that progressive and left-leaning movements are maintaining, not a cancelation of individual leaders themselves. I hope it will help us to reflect on our collective role in transforming harmful and outdated movement practices and cultures, which we are all responsible for.

To first lay some groundwork, mainstream celebrity culture is rooted in violent and oppressive systems, and perpetuates falsehoods that argue human connection and value is most efficiently achieved and effectively experienced through commodified goods, individual success, and popularity. While this line of thinking clearly goes against the values within social justice movements, they are still present in many of our spaces. In this piece, I’m specifically referring to dynamics within social justice movements in the United States. It is not meant to focus on mainstream celebrities. Rather, it explores how we, as social justice movements, recreate value systems and dynamics of celebrity culture in the ways we idolize leaders in our movements. 

I see the dynamics between large social movements and their leaders manifesting a certain category of leadership I’ve recently been referring to as the ‘celebrity activist’; a leader who is idolized, placed on a pedestal, and generally engaged with through an ideology of individualism. This is not to be confused or conflated with ‘activist celebrities’, or mainstream celebrities (pop stars, actors, etc.) who act philanthropically or use their social media audiences as a platform to speak to social issues. Before and while I was burning out, whether or not I was willing to admit it, I frequently perceived the accomplishments of certain individual leaders as purely individual efforts and achievement. I admired their ability to financially sustain themselves from their work before celebrating their contributions to principled struggle, and I was often more focused on their personal lifestyle choices rather than their commitment to liberation. Often unknowingly, I was contributing to this larger dynamic propped up by this ‘celebrity culture’ mentality. In doing so, I was simultaneously detaching myself and the leaders I idolized from our respective humanity, which I will speak to more directly later on. 

Social media has severely exacerbated blurred these lines of relation, easily dissolving the separation between people’s actions and analysis, and their personalities and style, and in this way, we can easily lose our sense of clarity around what we are valuing in someone’s work. When the main outcome we are looking for in our leaders a social justice version of the same entertainment, inspiration, and endorphin rush we find by following mainstream celebrities and their lives, we are limiting everyone involved while increasing avenues for potential harm. And while I support leadership that is accountable and structured according to collective need, I question if and how successfully our current leadership culture fosters this, when we are more readily willing to follow someone based on their charisma, rather than their relationship to the movement and critical analysis. 

Social media has served as a vehicle for our movements to connect, build, communicate, and show up for one another. It has also served as a place to present leaders and their impacts (current and historic) through a lens of individualism. After all, social media is programmed to de-center collective efforts, and hyper-fixate on individual achievements. We’re all aware that when we view someone’s accomplishments on social media, we don’t see the years of trying, failing, struggling, and compiling small scale victories to get to the flashier results social media is made to uplift. We don’t see the communities that came together to move something forward, the organizations that trained people, offering them initial frameworks to understand the context of their work.

When we don’t see the principled and discipled collective actions many of our leaders engaged in prior to becoming well-known, which significantly contributed to the sharpness of their analysis, the impact of their actions, and the consistency and longevity of their participation in anti-oppressive struggles, we paint a picture that our leader somehow became this way on their own, overnight. This often leaves us as followers believing that we somehow have to find a way to become, reinvent, or evolve ourselves into the movement leaders we admire all on our own; No frameworks, no guidance, no rest, and no mistakes.

What does this look like?

We can begin to see clearly the ways that celebrity culture, idolization and individualism impact how we value ourselves, our comrades, and less visible leaders when we reflect on how we discuss and relate to many of our most visible movement leaders. One way I see us doing this is by placing leaders and individuals in our movements on pedestals, ascribing excessive weight and value to their opinions, disproportionately rewarding one person’s efforts in a collaborative project or process, and applying unobtainable expectations to them and their work. It leads to a shift from thinking of someone as a valuable part of a larger, collective movement, into idealizing their efforts, personal lives, personalities, and relationships, thinking of them as the individualized personification of an entire social movement. Additionally, when we consider how we relate to someone and their work we can ask ourselves whether we are seeking to replicate or replace the role someone holds, or motivated to expand, adopt, and build alongside an area of work, value, or practice.

Once we make this shift in thinking, our perception transitions from engaging with someone as a movement leader into viewing them as a ‘celebrity activist’. This shift can look like adopting someone’s specific style, brand of swagger, or personal interests without first reflecting on whether we personally identify with these things. This can also look like believing a celebrity activist’s analysis and beliefs to be irrefutable as well as universally applicable and relevant. We see these forms of engagement lead to fragmented relationships, uncoordinated movements, and the formation of social cliques. Not only this, but in these idealized perceptions of individuals, we often disconnect from the reality that even in their greatness, our leaders (now celebrities) still hold the potential to cause harm as we all do. And when we disconnect from this reality, we increasing the potential for future harm they are involved in to go unaccounted for, excused, or brushed aside.

Which leaders we do and do not select into celebrity status is connected also to visibility and absolutely intertwined with oppressive structures. The process by which our movements transition leaders into celebrity revolutionaries is heavily based on race, skin tone, ability status, immigration status, English-speaking capability, income and gender presentation, prioritizing cis-gendered people. Applying these same practices of adoration in celebrity culture to movement leaders, especially when this is how we determine who we place on top to receive the most resources and the attention, recreates the same value systems our movements resist. 

Why is this Happening? 

There are a lot of reasons why celebrity culture and individualism are so present in our movements. Three factors seem to be: 1) capitalist funding models, 2) uninspiring non-profits, and 3) experiencing personal, physical, emotional, or spiritual overwhelm. These three reasons often feed into and perpetuate one another. 

The mainstream funding model in the U.S is steeped in capitalist notions, assigning those with resources the authority to define (in a social context) who is and is not important expressed by what work, people, and locations receives funding and other resource support. This model prioritizes the opinions of white folks, charity-based models, quantitative, “measurable” outcomes, and success framed through an individualistic narrative, while sewing distrust in grassroots efforts and devaluing Black and brown leadership, collective action, long-term investment, and relational, qualitative achievements. This issue is defined and analyzed thoroughly in the report, “12 Recommendations for Detroit Funders”, put together by Allied Media Projects and the current Design Team of the Transforming Power Fund, a community-led fund that, through practice, is creating a template to address some of the funding issues named above. 

The United States mainstream funding model is inherently misaligned with the vision our movements are fighting for. It pushes non-profits to compromise on their goals and ability to remain genuinely accountable to the communities they are working with, and present themselves as “independent, innovative, and visionary” while also presenting as measurable and palatable. It tends to fracture our movements by creating a culture that rewards aggressive competition, under-recognizes collaboration, and glorifies suffering for the sake of productivity through lack of self-care and rest, neglecting personal boundaries, and undervaluing community care practices, facilitating burn out, often leading to further harm. 

This pressure and relationship to funding often plays a significant factor in the development of an organization’s culture, heavily influencing who non-profits hold themselves accountable to. This frequently results in uninspired theories of change, and contributing to the rise of individualist "celebrity" narratives around leaders.  I’ve lost count of friends and fellow movement collaborators who have abruptly left positions at social justice-oriented non-profits, exhausted from navigating harm, enduring violence, having their opinions, contributions, or ideas go unvalued, unacknowledged or claimed by bosses, or simply working hard and feeling no sense that they are making a difference. Many non-profits don’t elect leadership or have clear, effective structures to keep us aligned with community-defined vision and goals and remove or take other accountability measures when they fail or cause harm. Our lack in stronger organizations and structures to support organizing for collective vision leads to a tendency towards individualistic activism.

Many organizations are gradually degrading, their initial visions and goals diluted and redirected under the weight of funder demands while their detachment from communities they claim to invest in expands. Many organizations are also functioning under leadership structures that are not elected or clear, and do not offer safe ways to challenge decisions made by directors and other organizational leads whose main work relationships are usually with funders and other organizational leads. It requires continuous and committed effort to maintain collective decision-making and accountability systems, and existing in a social and economic structures that work against this generally leaves these efforts un or under-funded. This puts them in a precarious position where they’re generally the first items to be deprioritized when organizations find themselves lacking in resources (time, funding, capacity), which is frequent and common. And when we don’t or can’t prioritize maintaining collective structures, it becomes all but impossible to not focus on individuals. Rather than confronting the structural issues our work faces, we offload those contradictions onto specific organizations. When those organizations inevitably fail to live up to our expectations, we revert to celebrating specific individuals who we see embodying our values. This tends to fracture our movements, creating a culture that rewards individualism and aggressive competition and under-recognizes collaboration. This structure glorifies the productivity of individual organizers, pushing them to neglect self-care, rest, reflection, personal boundaries, and to undervalue community care practices, ultimately facilitating burn out and often leading to further harm.

These conditions exacerbate systemic and wide-spread experiences of overwhelm. Speaking from personal experience and drawing from conversations I’ve had with a few trusted comrades, when organizers are working with less than we need, running on fumes while facing problems bigger than all of us, it is often difficult to accept our own limitations. This pushes us further into individualist thought. We want to believe we can accomplish more than we can, because we feel a sense of urgency that we need to accomplish more than we can in order for any of our efforts to have value. Worse yet, we may even start to feel as though proving our commitment to a social issue, or to our community’s wellness requires us to suffer for our work, that celebrating or experiencing joy or fun is somehow a betrayal to our community, an idea is articulated in Trauma Stewardship, by Laura Van Dernoot Lipsky and Connie Burk. In my case, this urgent feeling that I needed to always to do more for anything else I did to matter, of refusing experiences of joy, was how I was operating for a long time before I was more or less forced to slow down, ask a few people for help, and clarify, first for myself then for everyone else, what I did, and mostly what I did not have to offer at that moment. 

In order for me to accommodate this sense of urgency, I often ended up cutting out parts of my life my well-being really needed me to prioritize. From conversation with friends, and what I’ve experienced and witnessed, what we cut out often includes investing in personal relationships, acting in solidarity with movements that our work does not center, and contributing to community care in spaces we inhabit. It can also look like de-prioritizing building our own analysis of the issues and vision towards liberation, an exciting, gratifying part of social justice movements. It can feel like just another huge, never-ending task on a long continually growing to-do list. 

When we’re in this mental place, it can feel easier to align ourselves with someone else’s vision and framework that feels similar to our own. It can feel comforting to believe that even if we cannot be the super human we think we need to be in order to contribute valuably, at least someone else out there can; that one person’s vision is the only one we need in order to achieve collective liberation. 

Engaging in another person’s work in this way can impact us in a few key ways. One way is a disinvestment in one’s own capabilities and potential. When we mainly value our work by how visible it is to another person, or how others’ view our work in relation to someone else’s, it becomes easy to lose touch with ourselves, making it difficult for us to identify and trust our own experiences, and capabilities. We will try to apply solutions that may have worked in well in their specific situational, geographic, or cultural context without considering why applying it to our situation may lead to a different outcome or require some adjusting and rebuilding in order to succeed. It also distracts us from our focus on collective goals and needs, deceiving us into thinking we are focusing on collective needs in moments when we’re really focusing on receiving approval.

On the flip side, this way of engaging in someone’s work or analysis also places far too much weight and expectation on what any one person or one groups’ framework can reasonably accomplish. As Mingus states in her quote found above, this pushes us back into binary thinking. Either a person or their analysis is absolutely flawless and applicable in every situation, leaving no reason to question or challenge, explore otherwise, or develop our own thought, or it is flawed and therefore not worth engaging in. Binary thinking makes it even easier for us to perpetuate idealizing and idolizing our certain leaders while we discard and disavow others, leaving little wiggle room between the two. And while I think it makes sense to listen and learn from clear, accountable leadership, I think this also means learning with leadership, actively engaging by questioning, challenging, contributing, and building.

What are some of the impacts?

So, what effect does this designation of ‘celebrity activist’ have on our ability to both hold leaders accountable and grasp their humanity? In the past, as I was beginning to notice my patterns of thought that viewed movement leaders through a binary lens, and relating to them through practices found in celebrity culture, I also noticed myself disengaging from uncomfortable, or unpredictable elements of their humanity. I saw them as unquestionable, unable to make mistakes or have short comings, and sometimes, I even started to see them as unable to cause harm or enact violence. Allowing space for the potential of certain leaders to cause harm left me feeling vulnerable, conflicted, and defensive. So, to protect myself, consciously or not, I left this space out.  

I’m sharing this from my personal perspective, but this train of thought is something I see in many social and progressive movements today. It may be convenient for a while, giving us a fabricated sense of security, but I fear as we continue to collectively refuse to hold these uncomfortable truths, and include them in the image we build of our leaders ultimately, we are opening gaps for potential harm to go unacknowledged, and are creating opportunities for our communities to disempower, silence, and neglect those speaking out against harm caused by our leaders. As I've delved into these issues, I found a great resource in the book ‘Beyond Survival: Strategies and Stories from the Transformative Justice Movement’ edited by Ejeris Dixon and Leah Lakshmi-Piepzna-Samarasinha which shares occurrences of this harm as well as instances of transformative community response. In the same moment, we also expand the potential for our leaders to experience harm and isolation themselves.

Our movements have experienced this over and over. We avoid holding leadership accountable, or even acknowledge violence or abusive they’ve committed for fear it will destabilize our movements. It’s easy for us to support #metoo advocates and survivors of abuse until it interferes with our campaign plans, our community events, our organizational structure. This is the point at which most of us become silent or look in another direction. Our willingness as individuals, organizations, and entire movements to look past violence is often determined by the race, skin tone, ability status, income, immigration status, English-speaking ability, and gender presentation placing Black and brown, disabled, undocumented, non-english-speaking, low-income, trans women and femmes in our movements at the bottom. On the flip side, when we do choose to address harm, our response often results in simply banishing someone from movements and community spaces with no potential to transform and restore relationships or repair harm, which is rarely transformative or revolutionary.

Finally, losing sight of understanding our leaders as fellow human beings also means disconnection from their need for rest, joy, care, and community, their limits and their boundaries. It also isolates leaders from their communities and makes it difficult for us (their communities, neighbors, friends, and families) to see when they are struggling and offer care. This can look like expecting our leaders to always be available, always be working, to conflate our leaders with their work, to view them as incomplete without it. It can look like us applauding our leaders for not caring for themselves, for not taking breaks, for suffering, a capitalist, ableist perspective on productivity that reverberates out into our movements and communities.

We begin to equate having a lack of boundaries with proving our commitment to struggle. I have alluded to this throughout the piece, but when there is no space for care, there is no space for children, parents, illness, and disability. And I wonder, how revolutionary can our movements truly be if there is no space for those of us who are living in the context of these conditions and identities?

In addition to everything named here, applying celebrity culture to our movement spaces weighs heavily on how much and if we value care, healing, and other under-recognized and historically-feminized work including logistics planning, cleaning and space-creating, etc. When all of us are aspiring to be the most visible and charismatic leaders of a movement, we tend to see behind-the-scenes work, tedious, time and energy-consuming tasks like logistics planning as stepping stones on our ways to greatness, and not as independently valuable. 

This shows up when we don’t give ourselves a reasonable timeline or enough resources to coordinate logistics for an event, expecting it to “just work itself out”, when we do not communicate effectively with those leading behind-the-scenes efforts, but give them a round of applause during the closing remarks of a conference. It also doesn’t allow movement members to play to their strong suits. Not everyone needs to have charisma, and not everyone wants to or can be at the front of a room. Let’s invest in people finding the work that feels good to them, rather than pushing them to fill a role that is convenient for us, but doesn’t work for them. Let’s invest in building movements that support the needs and value the participation of parents, low and minimum-wage workers, people who rely on public transportation, and people with disabilities.

I do not want to see us move into a way of relating which is defined by potential for harm. I want to see us hold ourselves and our leader in the full potential of each others’ humanity, something I do not see us doing when we place individuals on pedestals, refusing to hold space for potential mistakes, let-downs, and harm we all of the potential to cause. Disengaging from our leaders’ humanity also means disengaging from their ability to change, evolve, and transform. Once again pushing us into binary thought of ‘good’ or ‘bad’ people, it creates an opening for mainstream narratives that attempt to justify violent institutions including militarized police forces, and prisons, arguing that there are people who belong there, when we know this isn’t the case.  

Moving Forward

This piece isn’t about scolding ourselves for our flaws; it’s meant to help identify our shortcomings and adjusting to strengthen ourselves and our movements as we move forward. It is an offering to strengthen where we are unsteady, and build on where we are succeeding within many of our social justice movements and spaces. The goal of it is not to criticize our movement leaders or tear down our movements. Rather, it is to critique an aspect of our movement culture; how we treat our leaders, the pedestals we build to place them on, and the ways this impacts our relationships to ourselves, each other, and our movements. What I’m asking in this piece is for movement leaders, not movement celebrities. We do not need celebrities who we idolize or idealize, who we don’t feel comfortable questioning, who we don’t feel safe challenging. We need leaders who guide, facilitate, initiate, coordinate, listen, commit, clarify, and follow-through. We also cannot transform how our movements and the leaders within them relate to one another through individual response or action. Changing our movements will require collective investment and responses to build egalitarian, democratic structures.

Our movement leaders offer critical analysis, historic context, tools, and practices that strengthen our efforts. They also model tenderness, fierceness, and tenacity to achieve healing for their communities and realize solutions that will bring us to a liberatory future. They deserve our attention, respect, and engagement, but they deserve to experience this in a way that is not disengaged from their humanity, or the humanity of those supporting and engaging them. 

As community members and the people who make up these movements, we deserve to be organizing in a culture that is prioritizing our well-being not just as long-term goal of “eventually”, or “maybe when this next event ends”, but as we are moving together now. 

Through the current pandemic, many grassroots efforts are already redirecting their attention and actions, placing the focus on mutual aid and building spaces and practices that facilitate connection and trust; We are developing stronger clarity of collective values, and an unwillingness to bend in our practices or leave any of our comrades behind. We are weeding out unsustainable results disguised as solutions, and encouraging each other to envision futures that are breath-taking and irresistible before they are reasonable or palatable to discouraging perspectives or oppressive forces. I am excited for us to continue this work. 

Though I’m sure there are many more, next steps I am envisioning right now begin with investing in relationships with our peers, in deepening our personal visions for what liberation might look like, in studying the organizational and collective contexts under which many of our most dynamic movement leaders developed their thought and action, in joining and actively participating in local organizations and community groups, and learning how to be in conflict with each other, to disagree with one another without expanding violence towards each other, to learn how to respond to harm with compassionate accountability.

I believe we are already more in sync than we think, and as we continue to build, this connection will only deepen as it already has been for decades. As I continue untangling these oppressive thought patterns in my own mind, I hope to be a part of future conversations where we are not tearing ourselves apart, but instead are challenging ourselves to further untangle our practices from the systems we’re fighting and weave a stronger cloth on our own. I want to see us reject individualist, celebrity culture, and lean into exploring what collectively-led and community-defined liberation might look like for all of us.

The ideas I’m sharing here are grounded in stories, practices, and frameworks rooted in the transformative justice and disability justice frameworks, and from what I’ve learned following the work of the Bay Area Transformative Justice Collective, Transform Harm, Project NIA, API CHAYA, Emergent Strategy Ideation, Detroit Safety Team, Detroit Represent!, and so many others. They also come out of personal experience with social dynamics I’ve witnessed, been impacted by, and been a participant of that I believe would strengthen our social justice movements to change. Thank you to the Michigan Student Power Network for giving me a space to unfold and explore these thoughts. Thank you to the many friends and comrades who have engaged in vulnerable conversation with me around these ideas. In particular, I would like to acknowledge and express my appreciations for Sariah Metcalfe, Ian Matchett, Teiana McGahey and Owolabi Aboyade for your support, input, and collaboration, and for being continuous thought partners with me in a struggle towards liberation.

Additional Resources:

·         Pod-mapping — Bay Area Transformative Justice Collective

·         Leaders Need to Build Peer Accountability — Cathy Dang-Santa Anna

·         Beyond Survival — Edited by Ejeris Dixon and Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

·         12 Recommendations TPF — part of a process led by Allied Media Projects & Detroit People’s Platform

·         Dreaming Accountability — Mia Mingus

·         Hacking the Syllabus; critical solidarities — Scott Kurashige with adrienne maree brown

·         How We Get Free Black Feminism and the Combahee River Collective Edited by Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor

·         Suicidal Ideation 2.0 — Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

·         Mariame Kaba: Everything Worthwhile is Done with Other People — Eve L. Ewing (interview with Mariame Kaba)

·         Trauma Stewardship — Laura Van Dernoot Lipsky and Connie Burk

·         Leaders Need to Build Peer Accountability — Cathy Dang-Santa Anna

Aiko Fukuchi is a queer, Japanese American writer, community organizer living in Detroit, Michigan. Their organizing efforts have focused on gender justice, labor, environmental justice. They are currently part of a collective living project, Brick & Mortar Collective, as well as a creative disability justice collective, Relentless Bodies. Their writing focuses on topics including gender-based violence, environmental justice, and connections between grief (personal and collective) and our ever-expanding experiences of intimacy.

The Commercialization of Music: How Rock Lost Its Roll

By John Mac Ghlionn

For years now, the world of hip hop has received a lot of attention. From Kendrick Lamar’s lessons on humility, to Cardi B’s damp nether regions, to Lil Nas X’s molestation of Satan, hip hop is very much alive.

The same, sadly, can’t be said for the world of rock. It’s thirty years since the release of two of the finest rock albums ever created: The Black Album, Metallica’s magnum opus, and Nevermind, Nirvana’s work of existential art. In fact, 1991 was very much rock’s year. Pearl Jam released Ten, another thoroughly exceptional album; U2 released Achtung Baby; R.E.M released Out of Time; and Dinosaur Jr. released Green Mind.

Fans of rock were spoiled for choice.

Thirty years on, rock music is on life support, or maybe it’s dead. Who knows? A more gifted writer would surely insert a joke involving Schrodinger’s cat, but we have more pressing matters to discuss.

What happened to rock music? Well, to answer that question, one needs to ask another question: what are the ingredients needed to make great rock music?

Originality is a must.

Sadly, musicians are no longer awarded for originality. Today, as I have written elsewhere, an artist is more likely to be judged on the quality of their video, rather than the quality of their music.  Quality music takes time to write. Could the likes of “Sad but True” and “Nothing Else Matters,” two of the finest rock songs ever written, thrive in today’s market?

Perhaps, but I have my doubts, and these doubts are justified.

This is the attention economy, and our attention spans continue to shrink dramatically. To truly appreciate the artistry of a band like Metallica requires dedication and commitment. Most importantly, it requires a level of deep concentration. No distractions, just you and the band. Interestingly, songs are now well over a minute shorter in duration than they were two decades ago.

Furthermore, rock music requires an element of roguishness. The history of rock is replete with stories of musicians doing the wildest of things. Mötley Crue, Black Sabbath, Guns N Roses, to name just three bands, had reputations that preceded them, and these reputations, along with the music, helped cement their legacies.

Now, though, a “bad” reputation is no longer desirable, nor is it permissible. In March of this year, Mumford & Sons’ Winston Marshall announced that he would be stepping away from the band. Why? The banjoist praised a book authored by Andy Ngo, a controversial cultural commentator.

Today’s culture is tame and lame, and that’s a genuine shame.

However, there is also another factor at play, and it involves a dilution of authenticity. Let me explain.

In the world of rock, 1994 was the year things really started to change.  A handful of multinational companies took control of the music industry. Interestingly, the likes of Sony and EMD, two of the biggest players in the music industry, also had very close ties with the movie industry. All of a sudden, suit and tie executives were using different metrics to judge music.

In the animal kingdom, mutualism describes a type of mutually beneficial relationship between organisms of different species. By the mid-90s, mutualism was an integral part of the entertainment industry, with music and movies, and to a lesser extent TV, engaged in a symbiotic, commercially driven romance.

In 1995, Batman Forever became the highest grossing movie of the year. Of all the song’s to feature on the movie’s soundtrack, U2’s Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me was by far the most popular. Though it’s a fantastic song in its own right, it blurs the line between pop-rock and pure rock. Nevertheless, the success of the movie helped the song, and vice versa. This was commercial mutualism in its purest form. Movies and music had always enjoyed a relationship, but now they were inextricably linked.

However, what was good for profit wasn’t necessarily good for authentic artistry. The mid 90s, I argue, was when authentic artistry began to wither away.

It’s important to remember that moves like Mission Impossible (1996) and Independence Day (1996) were made with an international audience in mind.

This explains why soundtracks had a manufactured, generic sound. Nuance, the very thing that bands like Metallica and Pearl Jam prided themselves on, was rendered redundant. As music is a cultural carrier of sorts, it became much easier to sell movies with “safe” soundtracks.

The mid 90s also saw the explosion of manufactured pop groups; The Backstreet Boys, N-Sync, and The Spice Girls started to dominate the musical landscape. At the same time, the dilution of rock music continued. Bands like Sum 41 and Good Charlotte arrived on the scene, and it wasn’t long before they, along with Blink-182 and Green Day, became the representatives of rock. The unkempt rock stars of the late 80’s and early 90’s were replaced by young men who could have easily formed boybands of their own.

Yes, genuine rockers still existed, but the purification process was in full effect. A band like System of a Down, as popular as they were (and still are), simply couldn’t compete with Maroon 5. This was the age of colorful clothing, rollerblading, and Tamagotchis. Such inanity was incompatible with angst ridden lyrics. It became far more profitable to sing about generic things like “hooking-up” and finding “the one.” Why be serious when you could be silly?

Shows like Friends and The Fresh Prince of Bel Air dominated the airwaves, and movies like Dumb and Dumber and Happy Gilmore lit up cinema screens around the world. This was silly-season, and in many ways a negation of the early 90s, when the rawness of rock music truly resonated.

The erosion of rock music’s authenticity carried on from there. With the arrival of Snowpatrol and Nickelback, rock came in the form of catchy, radio-friendly tunes. Then, in 2005, with the creation of YouTube, the commercialization of music was complete. Videos now mattered just as much, if not more, than the music itself.

Some 15 years later, what are we left with?

Whatever it is, it’s nothing like 1991. Of course, rock music can still be found, but it’s a pale reflection of what it once was. If in doubt, just ask Winston Marshall, a man who had the audacity to read a book.

Dialectics of Hope

(Photo: Ekaterina Bykova/Shutterstock.com)

By Yanis Iqbal

The situation of the world is grim. Decades of neoliberalism - marked by the privatization of social life, deregulation of markets, increasing income inequality, labor flexploitation - has finally culminated in a politically regressive wave of right-wing resurgence. What we have now is “neoliberal fascism” - a new social formation in which the principles and practices of a fascist past and neoliberal present have merged, connecting the worst dimensions and excesses of neoliberal capitalism with the fascist ideals of ultra - nationalism and racial supremacy. Thus, in contradiction with the Right’s populist discourse, brutal processes of surplus-value extraction still occur; it is just that they have been politically re-packed through the use of archaic religio-cultural symbols to whip up mass hysteria against manufactured enemies.

The rise of the Right reflects the relations of forces in today’s world. With the technocratization of the state and party as mere appendages of neoliberal regulation, the scope for alternatives within electoral competition was drastically reduced. This led to an inter-party consensus on neoliberal orthodoxy. In this way, parties were reduced to different shades of the same economic policy with slightly varying promissory propagandas. Electoral competition, therefore, was exponentially abridged to signify a process through which people could choose different parties, all geared towards imposing austerity packages. Aijaz Ahmad calls this phenomenon the emergence of “mature liberal democracy in the neoliberal age” in which competing parties “function as mere factions in a managing committee of the bourgeoisie as a whole”. 

In a context like this - characterized by a shift in the balance of forces within the state in favor of the bourgeoisie and the installation of “policies without politics” - many people on the Left are understandably pessimistic about the prospects for socialism. The primary question reverberating loudly through the terrain of struggle is this: what grounds do we have for continuing the hard labor of sustaining a revolutionary movement in highly adverse conditions? Insisting on the indispensable presence of hope is perceived as playing with fire. However, hope is what we need. Without hope, there is no possibility of sustained engagement in a revolutionary movement. Moreover, hope for a radical re-constitution of existing societal conditions is present in the very movements of capital. In other words, we need to discover the material determinations of hope in its present mode of existence as a hidden potentiality and turn it into actuality through conscious revolutionary action.

The Origins of Capitalism

A highly schematic look at the origins of capitalism helps us to ground hope in a material soil. The present system we have was not a result of the operation of quasi-supernatural forces. Rather, it was the outcome of a (continuing) conflict between the logic of capitalist accumulation and other logics stemming from the resistance of social forces that suffer the effects of such economic processes. The separation of the direct producer from the means of production, the consequent transformation of labor power into a commodity, and the concentration of the means of production in the hands of the buyer of labor power were the contingent results of concrete antagonisms and social struggles. The interpretation of capitalism as a social form composed of unstable conjunctions of domination and resistance is elaborated by Etienne Balibar in his preface to “Race, Nation, Class: Ambiguous Identities”.

In the preface, Balibar writes: “The capitalist division of labor has nothing to do with a complementarity of tasks, individuals and social groups: it leads rather…to the polarization of social formations into antagonistic classes whose interests are decreasingly ‘common’ ones. How is the unity (even the conflictual unity) of a society to be based on such a division? Perhaps we should then invert our interpretation of the Marxist thesis. Instead of representing the capitalist division of labor to ourselves as what founds or institutes human societies as relatively stable ‘collectivities’, should we not conceive this as what destroys them?... If this is so, the history of social formations would be not so much a history of non-commodity communities making the transition to market society or a society of generalized exchange (including the exchange of human labor-power) - the liberal or sociological representation which has been preserved in Marxism - as a history of the reactions of the complex of ‘non-economic’ social relations, which are the binding agent of a historical collectivity of individuals, to the de-structuring with which the expansion of the value form threatens them. It is these reactions which confer upon social history an aspect that is irreducible to the simple ‘logic’ of the extended reproduction of capital or even to a ‘strategic game’ among actors defined by the division of labor and the system of states.”

Insofar that class struggle has a primacy over classes, the structure of a mode of production is constituted by the antagonisms it contains, notably the systemic contradiction between the forces and relations of production, and the contradiction internal to the relations of production between exploiters and exploited i.e. social conflicts between classes generated by antagonistic relations of production. If we extrapolate from our understanding of capitalism’s origins as one unified not by the uniformity of its components, but through their contradiction, inconsistency, and incommensurability, we are given the following general statement about the motion of history: history is not the working out of some plan imprinted in the nature/essence of humans. It is the result of the struggles between different and opposed classes. These struggles are structurally conditioned, but history leaves their result open. There is no natural necessity which decides which class will be victorious.

Understanding Capitalist Society

As in the origins of capitalism, the workings of a capitalist society are also deeply cut by the friction and tensions of class struggle. Following the schema developed by Karl Marx in his book “A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy”, we can say that a capitalist society is made up of the economic “base” and the ideological “superstructure”. It needs to be emphasized that the base-superstructure metaphor is only a heuristic device; the division of capitalist society into these two segments is only present at the analytical level. In reality, base and superstructure are inseparably intertwined; one can’t be conceptualized without the other. Can capitalism’s predatory mechanisms of exploitation survive in the absence of specific ideological codes that make human subjects accept that exploitation as being in the “nature of things”? The answer is in the negative.

The inextricable intertwinement of base and superstructure was also stressed by Marx through the conceptualization of the economy as an essentially social and historical entity, the unity of the social relations of production and the productive forces, rather than that of the technological conditions of material production. Thus, in Capital, Volume I, Marx shows how the technological development of the productive forces, rather than providing the motor for the growth of capitalism was a result of the emergence of capitalist social relations of production. The inter-imbricatedness of base and superstructure means that capitalist society is a complex totality comprising various relatively autonomous yet interrelated structural instances. The economy (which is ultimately determinant) exercises its effects indirectly, by determining the specific efficacy of other instances.

Insofar that the political and ideological instances are relatively autonomous from the economy, the formative influence exercised by the functional requirements of reproduction is neither simple nor unilateral; it is mediated by the complex, uneven and contradictory logic of the class struggle. Therefore, what we define as “structures”, namely relations that tend to be reproduced, materialized and interiorized, are also internally contradictory because of the effectivity of class antagonism and antagonistic social relations. In other words, the state and various politico-ideological apparatuses used for the reproduction of capitalism are “fields” (to use Pierre Bourdieu’s term) of conflicts. In a field, agents and institutions constantly struggle, according to the regularities constitutive of this space. Those who dominate in a given field are in a position to make it function to their advantage, but they must always contend with the resistance and contentions of the dominated.

From what we have discussed so far, it is evident that a capitalist society is a social formation of conflicting, differential, and multilayered forces constantly in flux. Furthermore, the structure of society is immanent within that uneven balance of forces, rather than transcendent on them. There are no guarantees about any practice or variation in the formation. Changes in social formations over time develop unevenly through these forces, the movements of all the combined practices and articulations of practices. Rather than a transcendent or mechanical structure imposed upon individuals and groups, the social structure in this case is tightly contained within the practices individuals and groups enact. The structure emerges. There is thus no teleogy or supervening subject in history. This view of immanent change is opposed to an understanding of capitalist society as an “expressive totality”, which involves treating the different aspects of social life as expressions of some core or basic principle. The effect is reductionism: these different aspects possess no life and movement of their own, but merely exist as indices of their underlying essence.

Marx was in favor of an immanentist theory of change. In Vol. 3 of Capital, Marx wrote: “[in] the division of…social labour and the reciprocal complementarity or metabolism of its products, subjugation to and insertion into the social mechanism, is left to the accidental and reciprocally countervailing motives of the individual capitalist producers. Since these confront one another only as commodity owners, each trying to sell his commodity as dear as possible (and seeming to be governed only by caprice even in the regulation of production), the inner law operates only by way of their competition, their reciprocal pressure on one another, which is how divergences are mutually counterbalanced. It is only as an inner law, a blind natural force vis-à-vis the individual agents, that the law of value operates here and that the social balance of production is asserted in the midst of accidental fluctuations.” Here, we can observe that structural patterns emerge not because of external regulation or command but as the result of the operation of an inner law - an immanent process. General trends, historical tendencies and regularities are not solid, law-like phenomena; they are constituted and reproduced by the daily activities of human beings. Capitalism perpetuates its existence not due to self-sustaining structures but due to the contradictory unity of myriad class-rooted practices performed by living individuals.

Reclaiming Hope

Our discussion of the origins of capitalism and nature of capitalist society should make it clear that (1) capitalism is a historically specific totality, a result of class struggle; (2) a capitalist society is a structured whole consisting of the economic base and other quasi-autonomous yet interrelated levels, with the interaction between these elements generating the matrix of the social formation. The interaction is made possible by acting individuals who reproduce structures through recursive social practices. Both these conclusions are situated in a common problematic: they emphasize the fact that history is ultimately made by individuals.

The material determinations of hope derive from this fundamental fact. Since individuals create their own history, structures can’t be considered as unsurpassable obstacles. Structures are themselves the result of social practices. To overcome structures, critical consciousness needs to be combined with revolutionary action; the glue binding them together is hope. In the current conjuncture, hope needs to be reclaimed so that the struggle to achieve socialism can be revitalized. Once this is done, the political praxis of the Left will gain the ability to appropriately problematize our structural conditionedness and pierce through the open-ended nature of history.

Calling On Action: A Review of Henry Giroux's 'Race, Politics, and Pandemic Pedagogy: Education in a Time of Crisis'

By Yanis Iqbal

Henry Giroux’s new book “Race, Politics, and Pandemic Pedagogy: Education in a Time of Crisis”, published by Bloomsbury Academic in 2021, is an informed, impassioned and insightful response to the politico-economic conjuncture in which we are living. Organized into four sections, the book discusses a variety of things: the significance of the COVID-19 pandemic for neoliberalism, the phenomenon of Trumpism, the continued relevance of fascism, and the role of education in bringing about a new world. Operating with a whole network of organically interpenetrating concepts, Giroux does not content himself with isolated terms and one-sided definitions. He is always trying to integrate the totality of particular points and phases in a dynamic movement without suppressing the existential vitality of the individual elements. It is this internal characteristic of the book which makes it a worthwhile read.

Pandemic Pedagogy

Pandemic pedagogy is one of the central themes of the book. It serves as a concentrated expression of the multiple modalities through which neoliberalism has created a reactionary ideological configuration to stabilize pandemic profiteering. Giroux writes: “Pandemic pedagogy is the enemy of critical pedagogy because it is wedded to reproducing a debased civic culture while renouncing democratic social and political relations. It is a pedagogy for which power functions in the cultural sphere to depoliticize people while replacing democratic forms of solidarity with a social order invested in ultra-nationalism, social atomization, hyper-masculinity, a war culture, and an unbridled individualism”. Pandemic pedagogy emerges directly from the various ways in which the pandemic has mapped onto existing inequalities and social injuries plaguing the American society.

Unlike liberals who consider the pandemic as a “great equalizer”, Giroux says that “Its disproportionate effects on the poor and vulnerable, especially black and brown communities, pointed to the widening chasm between the rich and powerful wealthy few and the vulnerable and precarious majority. The inequities that this crisis revealed made clear how disasters unfold through relations of power, making it easier to challenge the myth that major catastrophes such as pandemics that affect everyone equally.”

According to Giroux, the necropolitical reality of neoliberalism is concealed through the deliberate individualization of social problems: “As a politics of control, neoliberalism privatizes and individualizes social problems, i.e., wash your hands, do not sit on toilet seats, and practice social distancing, as a way to contain the pandemic. In this instance, we learned how to be safe while being depoliticized, or uninformed about the role that capitalist economies play in producing a range of ideological viruses that gut the social welfare state and public health systems, if not resistance itself”. Pandemic pedagogy is present at every level of society and has morphed into a seemingly unshakeable “common sense”. An example of this “common sense” is the discourse on pandemic education which, as Giroux says, “is dominated by a technocratic rationality obsessed with methodological considerations regarding online teaching and learning.”

Afraid that deteriorating material conditions would increase the appeal of socialist politics and strengthen the class cohesion of the proletariat, pandemic pedagogy uses conservative ideological tools to discursively decompose class. Trumpism is an example of such a tool wielded by the ruling class to continue to maintain a gap between the objective structure of class and its self-conscious subjective awareness among the people belonging to that class.

Trumpism

Giroux conducts the analysis of Trumpism in two steps. First, he posits that Trumpism is integrally interlinked to neoliberal capitalism. While reflecting on the movement of the pandemic through the medium of neoliberal social relations of production, Giroux writes: “neoliberalism could not be disconnected from the spectacle of racism, ultra-nationalism, anti-immigrant sentiment, and bigotry that dominated the national zeitgeist as a means of promoting shared fears rather than shared responsibilities. Neoliberal capitalism created through its destruction of the economy, environment, education, and public healthcare a petri dish for the virus to wreak havoc and wide-scale destruction.”

The dense feeling of alienation engendered by the intensifying capitalist crisis provides the soil on which Trumpism grows. As the distinction between consumers and citizens is increasingly blurred by the marketization of each sphere of life, people become culturally deracinated. In a situation like this, Trumpism promised to supply these alienated masses with an identitarian anchorage, a cultural fixity witch which they can associate themselves. Insofar as Trumpism aims to satiate the emotive needs of its support base, it is based on irrationalism. Giroux delineates how such irrationalism manifests itself in Trump’s everyday performative politics: “Trump’s…language exhibited a mounting compulsion and hyper-immediacy that flattened out and vulgarized any viable notion of communication…Trump employed a pandemic pedagogy in which language became unmoored from critical reason, informed debate, and the weight of scientific evidence. Instead, it was tied to pageantry, political theater, and the consolidation of power, as well as the dictates of violence.”

Situating Trump’s politics within a wider panorama of historical processes allows us to confront it not as an individual problem but rather as a symptom of a sick society. As Giroux writes, “Cruelty is not something that can be simply personalized in the figure of Donald Trump. Neoliberalism produces its own forms of institutional cruelty through its austerity measures, its decimation of the welfare state, and its support for racialized mass incarceration.” Insofar that Trump is enmeshed in the structural conditions generated by neoliberalism, his authoritarian politics can neither be eliminated through the simple transfer of executive and legislative power to a thoroughly corrupt and corporate Democratic leadership nor through an impeachment process. Commenting on the latter, Giroux says: “The impeachment process with its abundance of political theater and insipid media coverage mostly treated Trump’s crimes not as symptoms of a history of conditions that have led to the United States’ slide into the abyss of authoritarianism, but as the failings of individual character and a personal breach of constitutional law.”

To prevent people like Trump from capturing power, we need to build robust movements capable of uprooting the conditions which make people vulnerable to the propaganda of demagogic leaders. Giroux is forthright in acknowledging this: “the criminogenic response to the crisis on the part of the Trump administration should become a call to arms, if not a model on a global level, for a massive international protest movement that moves beyond the ritual of trying Trump and other authoritarian politicians for an abuse of power, however justified. Instead, such a movement should become a call to put on trial neoliberal capitalism while fighting for structural and ideological changes that will usher in a radical and socialist democracy worthy of the struggle.”

Second, Giroux frames Trumpism within the problematic of fascism. It is important to note that Giroux does not interpret fascism in the narrow way of the setting up of a police state. Instead, he perceives it as “a particular response to a range of capitalist crises that include the rise of massive inequality, a culture of fear, precarious employment, ruthless austerity policies that destroy the social contract, the rise of the carceral state, and the erosion of white privilege, among other issues.” Since fascism is invariably tied to specific social conditions, it will not be homologous to the state structures established in interwar Italy and post-WWII Germany. Giroux is spot-on here: “Fascism does not disappear because it does not surface as a mirror image of the past. Fascism is not static and the protean elements of fascism always run the risk of crystallizing into new forms…comparisons to the Nazi past withered in the false belief that historical events are fixed in time and place and can only be repeated in history books”.

Another important feature of Giroux’s conception of fascism is its dynamic nature. He writes: “Fascism is often an incoherent set of assumptions combined with anti-intellectualism, ultra-nationalism, and a demonizing rhetoric aimed at a group singled out as different and undeserving of human rights…Fascism does not operate according to an inflexible script. On the contrary, it is adaptive, and its mobilizing furors are mediated through local symbols, as it normalizes itself through a country’s customs and daily rituals”. This argument resembles Jairus Banaji’s assertion that “fascist ideology is actually only a pastiche of motifs, it is a pastiche of different ideological currents, it has very little coherence on its own.”

When the aforementioned two aspects of Giroux’s analysis of Trumpism are combined, we are presented with the concept of “neoliberal fascism” - “a new political formation…in which the principles and practices of a fascist past and neoliberal present have merged, connecting the worst dimensions and excesses of gangster capitalism with the fascist ideals of white nationalism and racial supremacy associated with the horrors of authoritarian states.” Neoliberal fascism is not the apogee of an empty struggle between authoritarianism and democratic ideals. Rather, it is a “fierce battle on the part of demagogues to destroy the institutions and conditions that make critical thought and oppositional accounts of power possible.” With this statement, Giroux delves into an incisive study of the deep impacts of neoliberal fascism on agency.

Agency and Hope

Agency, defined as conscious, goal-directed activity, is heavily impacted by neoliberal fascism. Agency is the condition for every struggle and hope is a prerequisite of agency. With the arrival of neoliberal fascism, “the connections between democracy and education wither, hope becomes the enemy of agency, and agency is reduced to learning how to survive rather than working to improve the conditions that bear down on one’s life and society in general.” The overwhelming of hope by “the sheer task of survival” is elaborated in the book “Resilient Life: The Art of Living Dangerously”, where Brad Evans and Julian Reid develop the new category of resilience to capture the broad contours of neoliberal asociality and passivity. Resilience, the authors say, is not about overcoming or resolving a crisis but about the ways and means of coming to terms with it. They argue that resilience teaches us to “live in a terrifying yet normal state of affairs that suspends us in petrified awe.”

The re-molding of agency and loss of hope is fundamentally aided by ignorance which renders us incapable of problematizing our structural conditionedness and piercing through the open-ended nature of history. According to Giroux, “Ignorance has lost its innocence and is no longer synonymous with the absence of knowledge. It has become malicious in its refusal to know, to disdain criticism, to undermine the value of historical consciousness, and to render invisible important issues that lie on the side of social and economic justice. Ignorance has become the organizing principle of a pandemic pedagogy that collapses fact and fantasy, truth and lies, evidence and opinion.” Ignore needs to be combated by the constant utilization of history which will make it possible to de-naturalize hierarchies and intensely engage in a movement for social justice. Whenever history is used as a terrain of struggle for hegemony, as a space for opening up to a contextualized understanding of world and as a lens to re-think and constantly evolve our own views, a new politics of memory is developed. Memory becomes an act of moral witnessing and helps to counter what Giroux calls the “bankrupt white supremacist notion of nostalgia that celebrated the most regressive moments in U.S. history.”

Need for Action

Throughout his book, Giroux refers to the imperative need for concrete action. He is not satisfied with a mere shift in consciousness or an educative endeavor aimed at empty verbosity. He is unfailingly dedicated to the construction of a movement capable of fighting against the state’s repressive and ideological apparatuses.

In an extremely important passage, Giroux writes: “I do not want to suggest…that the strength of argument can change the political balance of power exclusively through an appeal to interpretation, rationality, and the force of dialogue… Ideas gain their merit, in part, through the institutions that produce them, and as such merit the importance of recognizing that the knowledge/power/agency connection is both a battle over ideas as well as over cultural apparatuses and institutions, and the power relations that create them…Matters of critique now merge with the imperative of actions bringing together not merely critical ideas and balanced judgment, but theory and informed action.”

 A major takeaway from Giroux’s book is that the politico-strategic logic of hegemony should occupy a central position in socialist organizing. Mere academicism is totally incapable of overthrowing the bourgeois state. What is needed is the constant re-interpretation of the world in the context of struggles. Whether this re-interpretation is correct or not is decided from the practical consequences that might conceivably result from that intellectual conception. In sum, knowledge and pedagogy need to be dialectically located in the ecology of struggle where they get endlessly embodied in concrete consequences and thus, help in consolidating the dynamic of action and reflection in conversation with each other. Giroux’s book is an example of precisely that kind of knowledge-in-struggle which is singularly committed to the goal of socialism.

The Black Struggle, the Communist Movement, and the Role of Black Women: An Interview with Dr. CBS

By Chris Dilworth

Republished from Liberation School.

This first Liberation School Interview with Dr. Charisse Burden-Stelly focuses on the historical and contemporary links between the Black and Communist strug...

Editor’s note: The editorial collective is excited to release the first in our new series of Liberation School Interviews. Through video and text, these interviews with leading militant scholars, organizers, and activists, discuss their research and activities, concepts and approaches, and more. This doesn’t imply that the PSL endorses or shares every viewpoint or idea expressed; it means that we think they can provide us and others in the movement with new ideas, concepts, reference points, histories, approaches, contexts, and more.

This first Liberation School Interview is with Dr. Charisse Burden-Stelly and focuses on the historical and contemporary links between the Black and Communist struggles, the ways anti-communism and white supremacy reinforce one another, and why we must resist both. We get Dr. CBS’s thoughts on the relationship between capitalism, race, and gender, focusing on the contributions of Black women communists to various struggles.

About Dr. CBS

Dr. Charisse Burden-Stelly, or Dr. CBS. She is a critical Black Studies scholar of political theory, political economy, and intellectual history. Her research primarily focuses on transnational entanglements of U.S. racial capitalism, anticommunism, and antiblack structural racism. Together with Gerald Horne, she co-authored W.E.B. Du Bois: A Life in American History (ABC-CLIO, 2019). She is currently working on a book titled Black Scare/Red Scare: Antiblackness, Anticommunism, and the Rise of Capitalism in the United States. She also has a forthcoming book, co-edited with Jodi Dean, titled Organize, Fight, Win: Three Decades of Political Writing by Black Women Communists (Verso, 2022)

Dr. CBS is a member of the Coordinating Committee and the Co-Lead of the Research and Political Education Team for the Black Alliance for Peace. She is also the host of the podcast “The Last Dope Intellectual,” which is part of the Black Power Media Network.

She’s interviewed by PSL Indianapolis member Chris Dilworth.

Paywall or Open Book?: Power Dynamics in Academia and Higher Education

By Marcus Kahn

Academic spheres have a reputation among progressive and radical groups as being out-of-touch and disconnected from grassroots activist efforts. There is a long and troubling history of exclusion and deference to power leading right up to the present that lends weight to this perspective. Academic culture is deeply entrenched within networks of institutional decision-making power and is structured in ways that reinforce interlinking brands of elitism (classist, patriarchal, nationalist, ableist, and racist), despite optimistic rhetoric to the contrary. There are obvious systemic flaws in the U.S. higher education system, from the racial and socioeconomic inequities that selectively distribute resources and access, to the ways in which prestigious universities are implicated in the reproduction, growth, and maintenance of concentrated power. These sharp divisions rely upon the impermeability of academic spheres and the public’s inability to access knowledge and participate in knowledge production. By breaking down the physical, digital, and cognitive walls that keep knowledge contained, and opening doors for the public to participate in the closely guarded world of ‘intellectuals’, academic work can start to disentangle and detach from the constraints on perspective and action that limit its social relevance and reinforce social division, and take concrete steps towards the transformative deconstruction of existing power systems.

Barriers to Entry

The National Center for Education Statistics noted that in the U.S., “Of all full-time faculty in degree-granting postsecondary institutions in fall 2018, some 40 percent were White males; 35 percent were White females; 7 percent were Asian/Pacific Islander males; 5 percent were Asian/Pacific Islander females; and 3 percent each were Black males, Black females, Hispanic males, and Hispanic females.” Furthermore, “among full-time professors, 53 percent were White males, 27 percent were White females, 8 percent were Asian/Pacific Islander males, and 3 percent were Asian/Pacific Islander females. Black males, Black females, and Hispanic males each accounted for 2 percent of full-time professors.”

To enter into academic discussion, individuals need to ascend through a series of clear-cut stages. Attaining a PhD is a prerequisite for participation in academic discourse, which takes an investment of time and money most cannot afford. Of course, to get a PhD you need to have at least a bachelor’s or master’s degree. Huge segments of the population are effectively filtered out at each successive stage based off of the closely intertwined pressures surrounding wealth, gender, ability, nationality, and race, or else face the prospect of a completely unsustainable lifestyle.

Academic discourse tends to exist in its own world apart from the general public, filtering only indirectly into public awareness. Noam Chomsky cites the work of an early 20th century ‘pioneer’ in the field of communications often referred to as the ‘father of public relations’, Edward Bernays. Bernays distinguished the ‘bewildered herd’ (the public) from a ‘specialized class’ who understands their needs and the ways to provide for them. This viewpoint may not always be articulated as explicitly as it was by Bernays but emblemizes common attitudes within ‘intellectual’ circles.

Needlessly complex language and highly theoretical content can further serve to ostracize people who don’t devote their time to deciphering dense and convoluted academic texts. Chomsky has suggested that for the most part, core concepts and arguments in the social sciences can be conveyed at a high school level. The supposed complexity and impenetrability of social issues serves to exclude the majority of the population that isn’t highly versed in academic jargon, so that ‘laymen’ are unable to participate in the discussion of issues that pertain directly to their lives. This separation ultimately serves to disempower the public in determining its own affairs, since elites can justify their decisions and leadership roles through claimed ‘expertise’.

Institutional Interlocking

Academic research and higher education often conform to and serve the interests of dominant configurations of power. To take a few symbolic examples, Stanford was founded by a proto-Bezos, construction at UC Berkeley was funded by William Randolph Hearst, Princeton’s policy school is named after Woodrow Wilson, and Harvard’s political science school is named after John F. Kennedy. Academic institutions interlock with other dominant institutions in the public and private sectors, maintaining a mutualistic relationship which limits the ability of researchers and educators to examine institutional power with critical clarity and work towards meaningful social transformation.

Centers of concentrated power directly impact the research objectives of even the most seemingly ‘objective’ or value-free sciences. Highly technical fields such as physics, engineering, and computer science require intensive years-long training in university education systems. Major consulting firms, financial institutions, multinational corporations, and government agencies recruit talent from what essentially serves as a farm system to fill institutional ranks. Curriculum and the dominant intellectual culture that guides it are heavily instrumentalist, preparing students to enter uncritically into institutional roles with the ‘correct’ skills and mindset, so that by the time an engineer is developing ICBMs or an economist is assessing trade policy they have learned not to question or resist the ultimate impact of their work.

Research questions are often determined by the needs of these interlinked institutions, and research efforts within universities have consistently and directly informed the development of high-octane tools of oppression. Scientists trained and employed in U.S. universities have played critical roles in developing military and communications technology, as resources are continuously re-devoted to the pursuit of institutional objectives. Fields such as political science, history, economics, communications, and sociology are far from immune to the distorting effects of power on the trajectory of research and pedagogy. In the Science of Coercion, Christopher Simpson investigates the parallel development of communications research and government efforts to fine-tune methods of psychological warfare. Simpson maintains that “the U.S. government’s psychological warfare programs between 1945 and 1960 played either direct or indirect roles in several of the most important initiatives in mass communication research of the period.” He identifies a “positive feedback cycle” of funding, prestige, and participation that “tends to confine intellectual innovation to established formats.”

Breaking Down Silos

Library Genesis, an open-access online repository of books, published a Letter of Solidarity in 2015 that reads, “This is the time to recognize that the very existence of our massive knowledge commons is an act of collective civil disobedience.” This sentiment reflects the critical role of knowledge distribution and knowledge production in effecting transformative social change. Opening access to education and knowledge is a vital aspect of participatory public spheres in a democratic society. The artificial scarcity of instruction and resources is a means of enabling and exacerbating preexisting social divisions in a society that purports to provide equal opportunity, but ultimately filters out marginalized groups from attaining not only wealth and prestige, but also knowledge and participation in knowledge production. To continue quoting LibGen, “We have the means and methods to make knowledge accessible to everyone, with no economic barrier to access and a much lower cost to society.” In their critique of limited access, LibGen further argues that the current system “devalues us, authors, editors, and readers alike. It parasites on our labor, it thwarts our service to the public, it denies us access.” With these points in mind, there are very direct ways to increase public access to academia to the benefit of both academics and the public.

1.      Universal access to higher education

2.      Aggressive affirmative action in both admissions and faculty hiring processes

3.      Open-access digitized libraries like LibGen

4.      Lowering paywalls on academic journals and databases

5.      Recording and uploading all lectures onto the Internet

6.      Public participation in review and publication of articles and books

7.      Reducing technical language when unnecessary or simultaneously publishing parallel versions for public consumption

It’s no secret that higher education is artificially expensive and highly exclusive. This seemingly a priori late-stage capitalist reality is even more apparent in an era of skyrocketing college debt and overpriced digital education. Paywalls serve to reinforce barriers to entry and maintain the rigid stratigraphy of a society that can easily afford to distribute knowledge. The profit-driven world of academic publishing works in tandem with academic institutions that thrive on exclusion. Yet the focused and systematic pursuit of knowledge is critical to our collective well-being, and the resources of universities and publishers can be redirected to the benefit of the population. In order to advance transformative change, we need to enable knowledge redistribution, and take pragmatic steps towards enhancing the discourse between academics and the public, rather than allowing the public to remain the passive object of inquiry. Academic work can be invaluable or profoundly harmful depending on the interests driving research and pedagogy. At its worst, academia has unabashedly and effectively served elites. Increasing public access and participation can help flatten intersectional social hierarchies and transform how the public goes about solving its most pressing problems. 

The Necessity of Dismantling the U.S.: A conversation with Ajamu Baraka

By Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

On February 26th, I interviewed Ajamu Baraka for my podcast. Baraka is a veteran grassroots organizer whose roots are in the Black Liberation Movement and anti-apartheid and Central American solidarity struggles. He is an internationally recognized leader of the emerging human rights movement in the U.S. and has been at the forefront of efforts to apply the international human rights framework to social justice advocacy in the U.S. for more than 25 years. He is a National Organizer for the Black Alliance for Peace, whose activities we discussed.

Baraka has taught political science at various universities and has been a guest lecturer at academic institutions in the U.S. and abroad. He has appeared on a wide-range of media outlets including CNN, BBC, Telemundo, ABC, RT, the Black Commentator, the Washington Post and the New York Times. He is currently an editor and contributing columnist for the Black Agenda Report and a writer for Counterpunch.

What follows are excerpts from our conversation, edited for clarity. You can listen to the entire interview here.

Kollibri terre Sonnenblume: [In terms of foreign policy], it seems like this last election was just Trump or not-Trump and so there was no discussion about how a Biden administration might be different.

Ajamu Baraka: There really wasn’t. Within the context of the bourgeois press, during the so-called debates, the number of minutes devoted to foreign policy was less than one hour, total. But yet you see that once the Biden administration takes power, some of the first initiatives that they engage in have foreign policy implications. So it’s really incredible that, because of the weight of responsibility that the executive has, that there was so little conversation around foreign policy…

The result was that basically Biden got a pass and there was no real discussion in the campaign and even among civil society. There was an assumption that you just had to get rid of Trump and everything would be just fine. It would be a return to normal. No one talked about what did normal look like and whether what was so-called normal was really in the best interests of not only the people of the US but the people in the global south, who find themselves constantly in the cross-hairs of aggressive US policies.

Sonnenblume: It seems like one untouchable topic these days, both in politics and in civil society, is the US military budget, which as we know takes up over 50% of discretionary spending. It’s obscene. It’s ten times as much as Russia’s is. It’s more than the next ten countries combined. When the conversation comes up of, “How do we pay for Medicare for All?” that’s the perfect opportunity to be like, “Let’s cut that military budget” but then it never comes up…

Baraka: One reason people are not talking about it is because, again, there seems to be bipartisan consensus that the military would get not only what it wants, but even more so. When Donald Trump came into office, that first budget he submitted to Congress included a $54 billion increase in military spending. It’s very interesting because Donald Trump just didn’t know how to filter himself so every once in a while he would say something that was brutally honest, so be blurted out that he thought that that $54 billion was in fact crazy. At first, even Democrats were raising questions about the increase, until a couple months later, I guess they got the memo, and all of a sudden it went quiet. And not only did they give Donald Trump $54 billion increase, they increased it by almost another $30 billion that first year. So that’s been a bipartisan consensus…

The issue we have, as the people, is to make that an issue. To in fact demand that our resources are redeployed to address the objective human rights needs of the people. Because who is benefiting from this 750 billion, or really, over a trillion dollars, spent on defense? It’s the fat cats making the money. These military-industrial complex executives. Everybody’s making money off of this but the people. The people are the ones suffering, so we have to demand that they reduce the spending, that they close down these over 800 military bases worldwide, transfer those resources back to the people. Back to providing housing. Back to providing some decent healthcare. Cleaning up the environment. Creating a first class educational experience for our young people.

But as long as the interests of the rulers prevails, then you’re going to have this obscene behavior, this obscene budget…

We are trying to make people aware of the fact that we have this [global military] basing system, these command structure, and we’re asking a very simple question: Whose interests are being carried out with this enormous expenditure of the public funds? To have these troops, to have these bases that are being built in various parts of the world. Is that helping your family to get a better education? Is that helping you to have some healthcare? A rec center in your community? Do you have access to more capital if you want to start a business? Where is the emphasis? And see, those questions—if the Democrats had been raising those kinds of questions, or pursuing policies that were more in alignment with working class people and the lower elements of the middle class (what we call the petite bourgeoisie)—perhaps the conditions would not have been in place that would have allowed Trump to win the presidency.

These basic questions of whose interests are being served by these policies are the kind of questions that have to be raised on the liberal part of the equation. Because they’re being raised among the radical right and you see a radicalization taking place that culminated in terms of behavior on Jan. 6th.

So there’s a real disadvantage on the part of liberals because they have surrendered their political positions to the neoliberal bourgeoisie and they have disarmed themselves politically and ideologically. As a consequence, they have ceded significant ideological space to the radical right. They’re playing a game that’s very dangerous. Not only are they losing, but all of us are losing as a consequence.

Sonnenblume: You made a reference to neoliberalism being a form or expression of neofascism. I heard you speak about this recently, I believe it was on Black Agenda Radio, and this was new for me to think of it this way. [See Black Agenda Radio 1/25/21.]

Baraka: …What you see is this dangerous coalition of forces, of ruling class forces—Silicon Valley, the military industrial complex, the corporate media companies that control 90% of news and entertainment, and elements of the state: the intelligence agencies—you see the foundation there. We already have the dictatorship of capital. If we want to think about the liberal bourgeois process, it provides a shell for the dictatorship of capital. The shell is not becoming almost an impediment for the neoliberal bourgeoisie. So they are slowly conditioning the US population to accept open fascistic kinds of rule. That’s why they flaunt democracy. That’s why Biden can talk about how he wants to center democracy and human rights, but then turn around and support fascism in Haiti or right-wing elements that are trying to take power in Venezuela.

So not only do I talk about neofascism as having a neoliberal character, it’s important to understand that within the context of the global system, for many years this fascism that we have in the US has been disguised. Because you can have forms of democracy, of democratic practice, at the center, while the connected economies and societies that the empire was connected to, are basically fascism.

When we look at these relationships from the point of view of the oppressed, of the colonized, we say: “Someone explain to us how we didn’t have fascism.”

So for me, I’m hoping that people are alerted to this friendly fascism that’s being developed because in many ways it’s more insidious because it’s not being recognized. So for four years they had us fixated on the theatrics of Donald Trump with his incoherent and clownish behavior, while they were systematically tightening up the national security state, the conditioning of the population to accept an Orwellian-Big-Brother-doublespeak-newspeak kind of environment. It’s very troubling what’s unfolding now because elements who you think would be hip to it, and in opposition, they’ve been helping to go along with it. Just yesterday, the Nation jumped on this whole Facebook thing and called Mark Zuckerberg a danger to democracy. Why? Because they want to engage in even more censorship. To me, it’s kind of crazy.

Sonnenblume: You’ve made a point about this particular topic of social media before, where you’ve talked about how our public space has been privatized.

Baraka: Exactly. It’s been privatized. It’s been colonized. And as a consequence it’s becoming more and more difficult for alternative information to be disseminated. Look, they’ve been wanting to do this for quite some time. Ever since they saw the possibilities and the dangers of the internet and social media. You might recall that at one point, they were attacking what people were referring to as “citizen journalists.” That they weren’t authoritative. That they were just making things up, blah blah blah. It’s always been a concern that information not approved by the authorities would be disseminated and be the source of real political opposition in this country and throughout the entire West. But they never had the nerve to engage in open censorship. But with Russiagate, they had that opportunity to begin laying the ideological foundation and they did it and they did it with a vengeance. So now, four years later, you can have the Nation calling for censorship and no one bats an eye.

Sonnenblume: Within the context of decolonization, do we need to dismantle the United States?

Baraka: Well the short answer is, yes.

Because the United States is a settler-colonial project, a settler-colonial state. It’s had a continuity since 1791, once the new constitutional process was finalized, and that process just basically resulted in the consolidation of the power of the colonists that were on the land since 1619. Even with the Civil War, there’s been continuity, because the US national state won that conflict with the Confederacy. The very fact that the material basis of the US was the conquering of this land and then the confinement of Native peoples to concentration camps that we refer to as “reservations,” provides not only a moral critique but it provides a moral foundation for how a just resolution has to look.

That is, we can’t just be saying, “I’m sorry” and that’s it, or even reparations whatever that’s supposed to be, but it in fact has to be a dismantling of this power, a dismantling of the settler-colonial state.

And that process of dismantling the settler-colonial state and the colonial system requires a decolonization of one’s consciousness. It goes hand-in-hand. That process of decolonizing one’s consciousness is a process in which you root out the ideological foundations of white supremacy. In this society—in this white supremacist, settler-colonial society—everyone who was born—no matter what your ethnicity, nationality or race or whatever—you are subjected to it, and become in essence a white supremacist. It’s part and parcel of the DNA of the US experience. You are taught white supremacy from the very first moments… It’s so pervasive, it’s not even recognized. It becomes just common sense.

So you have to go through a process of purging oneself. Of not seeing Europe as the apex of civilizational development, of understanding that there are other people on this planet who have civilizations, who should be recognized and respected, who have value just as much as the lives of Europeans. You have to rid yourself of Euro-centrism because it’s so pervasive you can’t even see it. So the process of decolonization structurally requires a simultaneous process—maybe even a prior process—of decolonizing one’s consciousness, decolonizing knowledge, decolonizing the very basis of being.

That is the simultaneous process we need to engage in, in this country, and throughout the Western world, because the very notion of modernity, of what is human development, has to be re-thought. Part of that re-thinking is part of the decolonization process. De-centering Europe. De-centering the entire process of modernity.

Sonnenblume: So this makes me wonder: To what degree is the modern technological and industrial state dependent on white supremacy then? Because the wealth that makes it happen comes from these structures. We look at our phones and our other technologies and it’s a colonial and white supremacist process that’s extracting those materials. We know about the child slave labor that’s happening in Africa. Is it even possible to have modern life without it? Can we make a cell phone without colonialism, I guess I’m asking?

Baraka: That’s a very important and profound question. The relationships of colonialism are such that they when they are separate, there has to be a change in what we consume, how we consume, how we relate to nature. That’s part of the process. Now we can’t turn back the hands of time. We have these industrial processes, but right now those industrial processes and the technologies being developed are such that they are almost instruments against collective humanity.

So part of the decolonization process is to take hold of those technological innovations and industrial processes, and reorganize them in a way that makes more sense, that helps to elevate life, and to protect life. And that means a lot of profound changes. For example, what that might mean for these megacities that we have? Can we continue to afford these megacities? When we take hold of the industrial base, maybe we will be able to reorganize agriculture in a different way that will allow people to leave these cities and go back to the countryside and engage in small plot farming, for local and national markets.

The whole logic and rationale of capitalist society has to be looked at in a new way. There are a number of movements that are in fact doing that. That make an argument that we’ve got to completely reorganize every aspect of society if we’re going to be able to survive, because one of the obvious contradictions and consequences of the industrial processes we have is that we’re basically destroying the ability of human beings to sustain themselves on this planet. Mother Earth is going to survive. She might be altered in many ways, but we are the ones who are going to destroy our ability to live on this planet.

So until we’re able to seize power from this minority of the human population that is invested in production processes and social relations that force all of to have to work for them, that put profit over the planet, and over people, then that kind of irrational production will continue, to our detriment. So we have a vested interest in a global revolutionary process.

The major contradiction that Marx identified was between the capitalists and the workers. And that’s a continuing contradiction, but at this stage of monopoly global capital and the irrationality of these processes, the major contradiction today, in my opinion, is between capitalism—the capitalist class—and collective humanity. We have to take power from these maniacs if we’re going to survive. So there’s an objective, material need for us to recognize that we have an interest in taking power back from the capitalist class if we want to survive for ourselves and for our children.

These are the kinds of things we have to look at. When we take power, what kind of societies do we build? That is the other part of the conversation, because you have some people that will argue that there’s some models being developed that represent how a post-capitalist society might look. Well, maybe. But there’s some things in some of these models that some of us don’t want to follow. So what would be created remains to be seen.

But we’ve got to find a new kind of ethical framework, a framework that is based on cooperation, based on equality, based on rationality and decency. I think we will collectively be able to figure out how to reorganize society in ways that will ensure we can survive and live as decent human beings in a new kind of world. I think we can do that.

Listen to the entire interview here.